Classic Poem

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?"