There is a kingdom in a rugged land;
It lies between a mountain and a sea;
A torrent roaring down in headlong glee
Divides it from a forest's ancient stand,
And in its narrow bounds by nature planned
A happy monarch reigns in majesty;
Though small his realm and few his subjects be,
Supremest powers obey his mild command;
And I, a pilgrim from a land forlorn,
Find shelter there, and rest for weary feet,
Welcome from fiery toil and desert heat
To genial feasts of royal wine and corn,
The king and I together sit at meat,
And drink deep draughts from friendship's holy horn.