With none but hirelings round him. Dearest father,
I fear that sometimes in the happy years
Which have come since, my wandering regards,
Fixed on one overmastering thought, have failed
To keep their wonted duty. If indeed
This thing has been, I joy the time has come
When I may show my love. But I forget!
The fetters honour binds are adamant;
I am free no more. Nay, nay, there is no bond
Can bind a son who hears his father's voice