"Sweet sleep, come to me Underneath this tree;

Do father, mother, weep?
Where can Lyca sleep?

"Lost in desert wild
Is your little child.
How can Lyca sleep
If her mother weep?

"If her heart does ache,
Then let Lyca wake;
If my mother sleep,

Lyca shall not weep.

"Frowning, frowning night,

O'er this desert bright

Let thy moon arise,

While I close my eyes."

Sleeping Lyca lay

While the beasts of prey,
Come from caverns deep,
Viewed the maid asleep.

THE LITTLE GIRL FOUND.

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 traced the desert ways.

Seven nights they sleep

Among shadows deep,

And dream they see their child

Starved in desert wild.

Pale through pathless ways
The fancied image strays,
Famished, weeping, weak,
With hollow piteous shriek.

Rising from unrest,

The trembling woman pressed With feet of weary woe;

She could no further go.

In his arms he bore

Her, armed with sorrow sore; Till before their way

A crouching lion lay.

Turning back was vain :
Soon his heavy mane
Bore them to the ground.
Then he stalked around,

Smelling to his prey ;
But their fears allay
When he licks their hands,
And silent by them stands.

They look upon his eyes,
Filled with deep surprise ;
And wondering behold
A spirit armed in gold.

On his head a crown,
On his shoulders down
Flowed 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 tigers wild.

To this day they dwell

In a lonely dell,

Nor fear the wolvish howl

Nor the lion's growl.