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.
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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.
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?
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?
Whoe'er has travel'd life's dull round,
Where'er his stages may have been,
May sigh to think he read more
Whoe'er has travel'd life's dull round,
Where'er his stages may have been,
May sigh to think he still has found
The warmest welcome, at an inn.
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!
You may go to Carlisle's and to Almanac's too;
And I'll give you my Head if you find such read more
You may go to Carlisle's and to Almanac's too;
And I'll give you my Head if you find such a Host,
For Coffee, Tea, Chocolate, Butter, or Toast;
How he welcomes at once all the World and his Wife,
And how civil to Folks he ne'er saw in his Life.
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.
The atmosphere
Breathes rest and comfort and the many chambers
Seem full of welcomes.
The atmosphere
Breathes rest and comfort and the many chambers
Seem full of welcomes.
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?
