That feast the stranger in the Syrian tent.
"'Go fetch us grapes from all the vintage rows
Where the brave Spaniards gaily quaff the wine,
What time the azure ripple of the waves
Laughs bright beneath the green leaves of the vine!
"'Nor yet, unmindful of the fabled scrip,
Forget the nuts from Barcelona's shore,
Soaked in Iberian oil from olives pressed,
To the crisp kernels adding one charm more.
"'The almonds last, plucked from a sunny tree,