To barter him for gold!
A curse on him who would the old man’s stay,
That bears him up, with money buy away!
Require me not to offer child of mine
To serve and brim a tyrant’s cup with wine;
To waste a life from morning to its grave,
Branded in mind and soul and body ‘Slave!’
How could I be repaid?
His artless fondlings, all his childish ways:
The reminiscences of olden days,