1 And now, laughed at me, Have the younger in days than I, Whose fathers I have loathed to set With the dogs of my flock.
2 Also--the power of their hands, why [is it] to me? On them hath old age perished.
3 With want and with famine gloomy, Those fleeing to a dry place, Formerly a desolation and waste,
4 Those cropping mallows near a shrub, And broom-roots [is] their food.