The Horoscope by Jean de La Fontaine — Read

On death we mortals often run, / Just by the roads we take to shun.

A father's only heir, a son, / Was over-loved, and doted on / So greatly, that astrology / Was question'd what his fate might be. / The man of stars this caution gave -- / That, until twenty years of age, / No lion, even in a cage, / The boy should see, -- his life to save. / The sire, to silence every fear / About a life so very dear, / Forbade that any one should let / His son beyond his threshold get. / Within his palace walls, the boy / Might all that heart could wish enjoy -- / Might with his mates walk, leap, and run, / And frolic in the wildest fun. / When come of age to love the chase, / That exercise was oft depicted / To him as one that brought disgrace, / To which but blackguards were addicted. / But neither warning nor derision / Could change his ardent disposition. / The youth, fierce, restless, full of blood, / Was prompted by the boiling flood / To love the dangers of the wood. / The more opposed, the stronger grew / His mad desire. The cause he knew, / For which he was so closely pent; / And as, where'er he went, / In that magnificent abode, / Both tapestry and canvas show'd / The feats he did so much admire, / A painted lion roused his ire. / 'Ah, monster! ' cried he, in his rage, / 'Tis you that keep me in my cage. ' / With that, he clinch'd his fist, / To strike the harmless beast -- / And did his hand impale / Upon a hidden nail! / And thus this cherish'd head, / For which the healing art / But vainly did its part, / Was hurried to the dead, / By caution blindly meant / To shun that sad event.