My father's parting curse rang in my ears;
'Go! Go!' said he, 'but nevermore return,
Go, slay your neighbors, pillage, sack and burn,
But never while the golden sun doth shine
Be welcomed home as son and heir of mine.'
I felt but little longing to return,
And less desire to pillage, sack and burn.
And yet,—those cruel orders I must give,
No power had I to voice the negative.
In commonplace affairs of life, 'tis true,