| |
| SOULS of Poets dead and gone, | |
| What Elysium have ye known, | |
| Happy field or mossy cavern, | |
| Choicer than the Mermaid Tavern? | |
| Have ye tippled drink more fine | 5 |
| Than mine host’s Canary wine? | |
| Or are fruits of Paradise | |
| Sweeter than those dainty pies | |
| Of venison? O generous food! | |
| Drest as though bold Robin Hood | 10 |
| Would, with his maid Marian, | |
| Sup and bowse from horn and can. | |
| |
| I have heard that on a day | |
| Mine host’s sign-board flew away, | |
| Nobody knew whither, till | 15 |
| An astrologer’s old quill | |
| To a sheepskin gave the story, | |
| Said he saw you in your glory, | |
| Underneath a new old-sign | |
| Sipping beverage divine, | 20 |
| And pledging with contented smack | |
| The Mermaid in the Zodiac. | |
| |
| Souls of Poets dead and gone, | |
| What Elysium have ye known, | |
| Happy field or mossy cavern, | 25 |
| Choicer than the Mermaid Tavern? | |
| |
