One of the poets, Osmyn's enemy, was employed to compose a satire
against the Caliph, and it was agreed that this should be circulated
under the favourite's name. From that time the avenger of the common
cause never quitted Osmyn, nor ceased to load him with praises and
caresses.

One day when Osmyn delivered an extempore poem before the Caliph, his
rival, after having warmly applauded him, cast down his eyes by
accident, and saw shining on the floor one of the pastilles that Osmyn,
who was led away by the vivacity of his declamation, had let fall by
mistake. The traitor snatched it up, and put it mechanically in his
mouth.

The pastille produced its effect; the poet felt a sudden inspiration,
left the hall and flew to compose the projected satire. He was surprised
at his own aptitude; the verses cost him no trouble, but flowed of
themselves. The bitterest expressions escaped from his pen without his
seeking for them. In short, in an instant, he brought forth a true
_chef-d'oeuvre_ of malice.

He continued some moments in ecstacy with his work, and carried it in
triumph to his friends--or rather to his accomplices. The satire was
received with the liveliest applause: it was the pure and vigorous style
of Osmyn. The writer had imitated his handwriting; and soon the libel
was spread about in his name.

Murmurs arose on all sides against the ingratitude of Osmyn. The satire
fell into the hands of the Caliph, who in his rage ordered the
unfortunate Osmyn to be stript of all his property, and driven from
Bagdad. Osmyn, overpowered by the blow, could not defend himself;