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 for days
Traced the desert ways
Seven nights they sleep
Among shadows deep
Dreaming see their child
Starved in desert wild
Pale, through pathless ways
Fancied image strays
Famished, weeping, weak
Hollow piteous shriek
Rising from unrest
Trembling woman prest
Feet of weary woe
Could no further go
In his arms he bore
Her 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 stalked around
Smelling to his prey
But their fears allay
When he licks their hands
Silent by them stands
They look 'pon his eyes
Filled with deep surprise
Wondering behold
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
To this day they dwell
In a lonely dell
Fear not wolfish howl
Nor the lions' growl
To this day they dwell
In a lonely dell
Not fear the wolfish howl
Nor the lions' growl
Lyca lies asleep
Lyca lies asleep
Lyca lies asleep