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UNBIDDEN
A sound more dread than frenzy's shriek,—
And prate of a wind-blown bough!
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Thine errand, sirrah! Who's without
That may not be denied?
A stranger? And thou darest bring
His hests unbidden before thy king?
A stranger? Though his need be stout,
And stubborn as his pride,
Is 't here that he should seek our face?
Command him to the appointed place,
And those who should provide!
Ha! answerest thou? Not be denied?—
Grows life so worthless then?—
Go drive him hence, thou tiresome knave!
. . . Friends, to our feast again!
105
