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2001-08-03 00:33:38 (UTC)

The Little Girl Found

All the night in woe
James goes
Over vallies deep,
While the desarts weep.

Seven nights he sleeps
Among the shadows deep,
And dream he sees his love
Starv'd in desart wild.

Pale, thro' pathless ways
The fancied image strays
Famish'd, weeping, weak,
With hollow piteous shriek.

Rising from unrest,
The trembling James prest
With feet of weary woe:
he could no further go.

arm's sorrow sore;
Till before the way
A couching lion lay.

Turning back was vain:
Soon his heavy mane
Bore to the ground.
Then he stalk'd around,

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

looking 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
Christine's lies asleep.''

Then they followed
Where the vision led,
And saw the sleeping child
Among the tygers wild.

To this day they dwell
In a lonely dell;
Nor fear the wolvish howl
Nor the lion's growl.