An Arab Welcome


BECAUSE thou com’st, a tired 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, Hassan, there,
Shall bathe the heated nostrils of thy mare.


Allah, 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 !