<h3><SPAN name="25">THE LITTLE GIRL FOUND</SPAN></h3>
All the night in woe<br/>
Lyca’s parents go<br/>
Over valleys deep,<br/>
While the deserts weep.
<br/><br/>Tired and woe-begone,<br/>
Hoarse with making moan,<br/>
Arm in arm, seven days<br/>
They traced the desert ways.
<br/><br/>Seven nights they sleep<br/>
Among shadows deep,<br/>
And dream they see their child<br/>
Starved in desert wild.
<br/><br/>Pale through pathless ways<br/>
The fancied image strays,<br/>
Famished, weeping, weak,<br/>
With hollow piteous shriek.
<br/><br/>Rising from unrest,<br/>
The trembling woman pressed<br/>
With feet of weary woe;<br/>
She could no further go.
<br/><br/>In his arms he bore<br/>
Her, armed with sorrow sore;<br/>
Till before their way<br/>
A couching lion lay.
<br/><br/>Turning back was vain:<br/>
Soon his heavy mane<br/>
Bore them to the ground,<br/>
Then he stalked around,
<br/><br/>Smelling to his prey;<br/>
But their fears allay<br/>
When he licks their hands,<br/>
And silent by them stands.
<br/><br/>They look upon his eyes,<br/>
Filled with deep surprise;<br/>
And wondering behold<br/>
A spirit armed in gold.
<br/><br/>On his head a crown,<br/>
On his shoulders down<br/>
Flowed his golden hair.<br/>
Gone was all their care.
<br/><br/>‘Follow me,’ he said;<br/>
‘Weep not for the maid;<br/>
In my palace deep,<br/>
Lyca lies asleep.’
<br/><br/>Then they followed<br/>
Where the vision led,<br/>
And saw their sleeping child<br/>
Among tigers wild.
<br/><br/>To this day they dwell<br/>
In a lonely dell,<br/>
Nor fear the wolvish howl<br/>
Nor the lion’s growl.
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