TO one in Eastern clime, -- 'tis said, -- There came a man at eve with 'Lo! Friend, ere the day be dimmed and dead, Hast thou a mind to feast, and know Fair cates, and sweet wine's overflow?' To whom that other fain replied -- 'Lead on. Not backward I nor slow; -- Where is thy feast, O Barmecide?' Thereon the bidder passed and led To where, apart from dust and glow, They found a board with napery spread, And gold, and glistering cups a-row. 'Eat,' quoth the host, yet naught did show. To whom his guest -- 'Thy board is wide; But barren is the cheer, I trow; Where is thy feast, O Barmecide?' 'Eat,' quoth the man not less, and fed From meats unseen, and made as though He drank of wine both white and red. 'Eat, -- ere the day to darkness grow. Short space and scant the Fates bestow!' What time his guest him wondering eyed, Muttering in wrath his beard below -- 'Where is thy feast, O Barmecide?' ENVOY. LIFE, -- 'tis of thee they fable so. Thou bidd'st us eat, and still denied, Still fasting, from thy board we go: -- 'Where is thy feast, O Barmecide?' |