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