A region of repose it seems,
A place of slumber and of dreams.

A region of repose it seems,
A place of slumber and of dreams.

Where'er his fancy bids him roam,
In ev'ry Inn he finds a home--
. . . .
read more

Where'er his fancy bids him roam,
In ev'ry Inn he finds a home--
. . . .
Will not an Inn his cares beguile,
Where on each face he sees a smile?

He had scarcely gone a short league, when Fortune, that was
conducting his affairs from good to better, discovered read more

He had scarcely gone a short league, when Fortune, that was
conducting his affairs from good to better, discovered to him the
road, where he also espied an Inn. Sancho positively maintained
it was an Inn, and his master that it was a castle; and the
dispute lasted so long that they arrived there before it was
determined.

Along the varying road of life,
In calm content, in toil or strife,
At morn or noon, read more

Along the varying road of life,
In calm content, in toil or strife,
At morn or noon, by night or day,
As time conducts him on his way,
How oft doth man, by care oppressed,
Find in an Inn a place of rest.

Souls of poets dead and gone,
What Elysium have ye known,
Happy field or mossy cavern,
read more

Souls of poets dead and gone,
What Elysium have ye known,
Happy field or mossy cavern,
Choicer than the Mermaid Tavern?

He who has not been at a tavern knows not what a paradise it is.
O holy tavern! O read more

He who has not been at a tavern knows not what a paradise it is.
O holy tavern! O miraculous tavern!--holy, because no carking
cares are there, nor weariness, nor pain; and miraculous, because
of the spits, which themselves turn round and round!

Now musing o'er the changing scene
Farmers behind the tavern screen
Collect; with elbows idly press'd
read more

Now musing o'er the changing scene
Farmers behind the tavern screen
Collect; with elbows idly press'd
On hob, reclines the corner's guest,
Reading the news to mark again
The bankrupt lists or price of grain.
Puffing the while his red-tipt pipe
He dreams o'er troubles nearly ripe,
Yet, winter's leisure to regale,
Hopes better times, and sips his ale.

The west yet glimmers with some streaks of day.
Now spurs the lated traveller apace
To gain read more

The west yet glimmers with some streaks of day.
Now spurs the lated traveller apace
To gain the timely inn, and near approaches
The subject of our watch.

Shall I not take mine ease in mine inn but I shall have my pocket
picked?

Shall I not take mine ease in mine inn but I shall have my pocket
picked?