Whom last she rocked upon her breast:
My youngest I will ne'er forsake.”
As thus the sire and mother spake,
Young Śunahśepha, of the three
The midmost, cried unurged and free:
“My sire withholds his eldest son,
My mother keeps her youngest one:
Then take me with thee, King: I ween
The son is sold who comes between.”
The king with joy his home resought,