Combined their stores; each from his wallet drew
Handfuls of stolen fruit, and sang for glee.
"So runs the story,—'Garçon, bring the carte,
Soup, cutlets—stay—and mind, a matelotte.'
And 'Charles,—a pint of Burgundy's best Beanne;
In our deep glasses every joy shall float!'
"And 'Garçon, bring me from the woven frail
That turbaned merchants from fair Smyrna sent,
The figs with golden seeds, the honeyed fruit,