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122
SONGS OF
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,
Famish'd, weeping, weak,
With hollow piteous shriek.
Rising from unrest
The trembling woman press'd
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,
