The Lioness and the Bear by Jean de La Fontaine

The lioness had lost her young; / A hunter stole it from the vale; / The forests and the mountains rung / Responsive to her hideous wail. / Nor night, nor charms of sweet repose, / Could still the loud lament that rose / From that grim forest queen. / No animal, as you might think, / With such a noise could sleep a wink. / A bear presumed to intervene. / 'One word, sweet friend,' quoth she, / 'And that is all, from me. / The young that through your teeth have pass'd, / In file unbroken by a fast, / Had they nor dam nor sire? ' / 'They had them both. ' 'Then I desire, / Since all their deaths caused no such grievous riot, / While mothers died of grief beneath your fiat, / To know why you yourself cannot be quiet? ' / 'I quiet! -- I! -- a wretch bereaved! / My only son! -- such anguish be relieved! / No, never! All for me below / Is but a life of tears and woe! ' -- / 'But say, why doom yourself to sorrow so? ' -- / 'Alas! 'tis Destiny that is my foe.'

Such language, since the mortal fall, / Has fallen from the lips of all. / Ye human wretches, give your heed; / For your complaints there's little need. / Let him who thinks his own the hardest case, / Some widowed, childless Hecuba behold, / Herself to toil and shame of slavery sold, / And he will own the wealth of heavenly grace.