The Nameless Quest in The Gate of the Sanctuary from The Temple of the Holy Ghost (Collected Works, Vol I) by Aleister Crowley.

“Night came upon me thus—a wizard hand
Grasping with silence the reluctant land.
Through night I clomb—behind me grew the light
Reflected in the portal of the night.
I reached the crest at dawn—pallid I stand,
Uncomprehending of the sudden sight.
The river and the bridge! The river flows,
Tears of young orphans for its limpid woes.
The red bridge quivers—how my spirit starts,
Its seeming glory built of widows’ hearts!
And yet I could disdain it—heaven knows
I had no dear ones for their counterparts.” [via]

Consider also:

  1. “After a while he took the word again: ‘Go thou then moonwards; on the great salt plain; So to a pillar. Adamant, alone, It stands. Around it see them overthrown, King, earl, and knight. There lie the questing slain, A thousand years forgotten–bone by bone. ‘No more is spoken–the tradition goes: ‘There learns the seeker what he seeks or knows,’ Thence–none have passed. The desert leagues may keep Some other secret–some profounder deep Than this one echoed fear: the desert shows Its ghastly triumph–silence. There they sleep. ‘There, brave and pure, there, true and strong, they stay Bleached in the desert, till the solemn day Of God’s revenge–none knoweth them: they rest Unburied, unremembered, unconfessed. What names of strength, of majesty, had they? What suns are these gone down into the West?”
  2. “Loved, and no sin done! Ay, the world shall see The quest is first–a love less terrible. Yet, as I ride toward the edge of snow That cuts the blue, I think. For even so Comes reason to me: ‘Oh, return, return! What folly is it for two souls to burn With hell’s own fire! What is this quest of woe? What is the end? Consider and discern!’ Banish the thought! My working reason still Is the rebellious vassal to my will, Because I will it. That is God’s own mind. I cast all thought and prudence to the wind: On, to the quest! The cursed parrot hill Mocks on, on, on! The thought is left behind.”
  3. “‘King, you are touched!’ ‘Fight on, Earl Lecherer!’ I cursed him to his face–the added spur Sticks venom in my lunge–a sudden thrust! No cry, no gasp; but he is in the dust, Stark dead. The queen–I hate the name of her! So grew the mustard-seed, one moment’s lust.”
  4. “Behold! I came with haggard mien again Into the hall, and mingled with the train, A corpse amid the dancers. Then the king Saw me, and knew me–and he knew the ring!”
  5. “What meets mine ear, That every nerve and bone of me cries halt? What is this cold that nips me at the throat? This shiver in my blood? this icy note Of awe within my agonising brain? Neither of shame, nor love, nor fear, nor pain, Nor anything? Has love no antidote, Courage no buckler? Hark! it comes again. Friend, hast thou heard the wailing of the damned? Friend, hast thou listened when a murderer shammed Pale smiles amid his fellows as they spoke Low of his crime: his fear is like to choke His palsied throat. How, if Hell’s gate were slammed This very hour upon thy womanfolk? Conceive, I charge thee! Brace thy spirit up To drink at that imagination’s cup! Then, shriek, and pass! For thou shalt understand A little of the pressure of the hand That crushed me now.”