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.