Brought me no titles that I held so dear
As father of the poor, and comforter
Of all who mourn.
When in the gate I sate
The nobles did me honor, and the wise
Sought counsel of me. To my words the young
Gave earnest heed, the white-hair'd men stood up,
And princes waited for my speech, as wait
The fields in summer for the latter rain.
But now, the children of base men spring up