Impatiently confinement bore.
Remarking, one unlucky day,
In the fine chamber where he lay,
A lion painted on the wall,
"Thou art," he cried, "the cause of all."
With idle rage the wall he struck,
And in his hand an iron stuck,
Which piercing bones and sinews through,
Fester'd and then a gangrene grew.
And thus the father's ill-tim'd care