he composed a song, wherein he should declare the
greatness of his anger, as follows:

"As the unreturning waters sweep down the channel; so, as the years run
by, the life of man flows on never to come back; fast gallops the cycle
of doom, child of old age who shall make an end of all. Old age smites
alike the eyes and the steps of men, robs the warrior of his speech and
soul, tarnishes his fame by slow degrees, and wipes out his deeds of
honour. It seizes his failing limbs, chokes his panting utterance, and
numbs his nimble wit. When a cough is taken, when the skin itches with
the scab, and the teeth are numb and hollow, and the stomach turns
squeamish,--then old age banishes the grace of youth, covers the
complexion with decay, and sows many a wrinkle in the dusky skin. Old
age crushes noble arts, brings down the memorials of men of old, and
scorches ancient glories up; shatters wealth, hungrily gnaws away the
worth and good of virtue, turns athwart and disorders all things.

"I myself have felt the hurtful power of injurious age, I, dim-sighted,
and hoarse in my tones and in my chest; and all helpful things have
turned to my hurt. Now my body is less nimble, and I prop it up, leaning
my faint limbs on the support of staves. Sightless I guide my steps with
two sticks, and follow the short path which the rod shows me, trusting
more in the leading of a stock than in my eyes. None takes any charge
of me, and no man in the ranks brings comfort to the veteran, unless,
perchance, Hather is here, and succours his shattered friend. Whomsoever
Hather once thinks worthy of his duteous love, that man he attends
continually with even zeal, constant to his purpose, and fearing to
break his early ties. He also often pays fit rewards to those that have
deserved well in war, and fosters their courage; he bestows dignities
on the brave, and honours his famous friends with gifts. Free with his
wealth, he is fain to increase with bounty the brightness of his name,
and to surpass many of the mighty. Nor is he less in war: his strength
is equal to his goodness; he is swift in the fray, slow to waver, ready
to give battle; and he cannot turn his back when the foe bears him hard.
But for me, if I remember right, fate appointed at my birth that wars
I should follow and in war I should die, that I should mix in broils,
watch in arms, and pass a life of bloodshed. I was a man of camps, and
rested not; hating peace, I grew old under thy standar