Poems of James Clarence Mangan (Many hitherto uncollected): Centenary edition: Edited, with preface and notes by D. J. O'Donoghue: Introduction by John Mitchel |
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 | IV. |
THE TIME OF THE BARMECIDES. |
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 | Poems of James Clarence Mangan |  |
175
THE TIME OF THE BARMECIDES.
My eyes are filmed, my beard is grey,
I am bowed with the weight of years;
I would I were stretched in my bed of clay,
With my long lost youth's compeers;
For back to the Past, though the thought brings woe,
My memory ever glides—
To the old, old time, long, long ago,
The time of the Barmecides.
To the old, old time, long, long ago,
The time of the Barmecides.
I am bowed with the weight of years;
I would I were stretched in my bed of clay,
With my long lost youth's compeers;
For back to the Past, though the thought brings woe,
My memory ever glides—
To the old, old time, long, long ago,
The time of the Barmecides.
To the old, old time, long, long ago,
The time of the Barmecides.
Then Youth was mine, and a fierce wild will,
And an iron arm in war,
And a fleet foot high upon Ishkar's hill,
When the watch-lights glimmered afar,
And a barb as fiery as any I know,
That Khoord or Beddaween rides,
Ere my friends lay low—long, long ago,
In the time of the Barmecides;
Ere my friends lay low—long, long ago,
In the time of the Barmecides.
And an iron arm in war,
And a fleet foot high upon Ishkar's hill,
When the watch-lights glimmered afar,
And a barb as fiery as any I know,
That Khoord or Beddaween rides,
Ere my friends lay low—long, long ago,
In the time of the Barmecides;
Ere my friends lay low—long, long ago,
In the time of the Barmecides.
One golden goblet illumed my board,
One silver dish was there;
At hand my tried Karamanian sword,
Lay always bright and bare;
For those were the days when the angry blow
Supplanted the word that chides—
When hearts could glow—long, long ago,
In the time of the Barmecides;
When hearts could glow—long, long ago,
In the time of the Barmecides.
One silver dish was there;
At hand my tried Karamanian sword,
Lay always bright and bare;
For those were the days when the angry blow
Supplanted the word that chides—
When hearts could glow—long, long ago,
In the time of the Barmecides;
When hearts could glow—long, long ago,
In the time of the Barmecides.
176
Through city and desert my mates and I
Were free to rove and roam,
Our diapered canopy the deep of the sky,
Or the roof of the palace dome—
O! ours was that vivid life to and fro
Which only sloth derides—
Men spent Life so, long, long ago,
In the time of the Barmecides,
Men spent Life so, long, long ago,
In the time of the Barmecides.
Were free to rove and roam,
Our diapered canopy the deep of the sky,
Or the roof of the palace dome—
O! ours was that vivid life to and fro
Which only sloth derides—
Men spent Life so, long, long ago,
In the time of the Barmecides,
Men spent Life so, long, long ago,
In the time of the Barmecides.
I see rich Bagdad once again,
With its turrets of Moorish mould,
And the Khalif's twice five hundred men,
Whose binishes flamed with gold;
I call up many a gorgeous show—
Which the Pall of Oblivion hides—
All passed like snow, long, long ago,
With the time of the Barmecides;
All passed like snow, long, long ago,
With the time of the Barmecides!
With its turrets of Moorish mould,
And the Khalif's twice five hundred men,
Whose binishes flamed with gold;
I call up many a gorgeous show—
Which the Pall of Oblivion hides—
All passed like snow, long, long ago,
With the time of the Barmecides;
All passed like snow, long, long ago,
With the time of the Barmecides!
But mine eye is dim, and my beard is grey,
And I bend with the weight of years—
May I soon go down to the House of Clay
Where slumber my Youth's compeers!
For with them and the Past, though the thought wakes woe,
My memory ever abides;
And I mourn for the Times gone long ago,
For the Times of the Barmecides!
I mourn for the Times gone long ago,
For the Times of the Barmecides!
And I bend with the weight of years—
May I soon go down to the House of Clay
Where slumber my Youth's compeers!
For with them and the Past, though the thought wakes woe,
My memory ever abides;
And I mourn for the Times gone long ago,
For the Times of the Barmecides!
I mourn for the Times gone long ago,
For the Times of the Barmecides!
| Poems of James Clarence Mangan | |