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.
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 glittered afar;And a barb as fiery as any, I trow, That Khoord or Bedouin 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 wordthat 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.
Through city and desert my mates and I
Were free to rove and
roam,
Our canopy by turns the deep of the sky,
Or the roof of the palace-dome;
James Clarence Mangan
Oh! 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 Caliph"s twice five hundred menWhose binishes flamed with gold; I call up many a gorgeous showWhich 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 !
James Clarence Mancan
The soul that gives is the soul that lives; And in bearing another"s loadWe lighten our own, and shorten the way, And brighten the homeward road.
George Macdonald
Author.-James Clarence Mangan (1803-1849) was an Irish poet who was for many years in an attorney"s office and who died in hospital. His most notable poems are "The Time of the Barmecides, " "Dark Rosaleen," " Solomon, Where is Thy Throne? " and "" The Nameless One. " General.- What is the character of this song-sad or merry? What reason has the old man to regret old times? Is the Golden Age in the past, the present, or the future? Who is supposed to be speaking? Draw a picture of him. Remember that the Barmecides were a noble Persian family of the eighth century; Ishkar"s Hill is in Asiatic Turkey; a Khoord or Kurd is a member of a certain Western Asiatic tribe; a Bedouin is a wandering Arab; Karamania is a district near the centre of Asia Minor; Bagdad (see atlas or geography book); a binish, or burnous, is a loose flowing outer robe. Read up something about the Moors and the Caliphs. What other sad songs by Irish authors do you know? Is it true that " all their fights are merry and all their songs are sad "? What are the merits of the poem?
