BECAUSE thou com'st, a weary guest, Unto my tent, I bid thee rest. This cruse of oil, this skin of wine, These tamarinds and dates are thine; And while thou eatest, Medjid, there, Shall bathe the heated nostrils of thy mare. Illah il' Allah! Even so An Arab chieftain treats a foe, Holds him as one without a fault Who breaks his bread and tastes his salt; And, in fair battle, strikes him dead With the same pleasure that he gives him bread! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LITTLE BOY FOUND, FR. SONGS OF INNOCENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE THE END OF THE EPISODE by THOMAS HARDY THIRTEEN WAYS OF LOOKING AT A BLACKBIRD by WALLACE STEVENS FOOTLIGHT MOTIFS: 2. PHOEBE FOSTER by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS COUPLETS IN PRAISE by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT SUMMING UP ITALY; INSCRIBED TO INTELLIGENT PUBLICS OUT OF IT by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING |