The sons reflect no more the father’s face:
The host with kindness greets his guest no more,
And friends and brethren love not as of yore.
Reckless of heaven’s revenge, the sons behold
The hoary parents wax too swiftly old:
And impious point the keen dishonouring tongue
With hard reproofs and bitter mockeries hung:
Nor grateful in declining age repay
The nurturing fondness of their better day.
[51]Now man’s right hand is law: for spoil they wait,