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Lettered inside image, upper center: "Leopards, tygers play, | Round her as she lay, | While the lion old, | Bow'd his mane of gold, | And her bosom lick, | And upon her neck, | From his eyes of flame, | Ruby tears there came; | While the lioness | Loos'd her slender dress, | And naked they convey'd | To caves the sleeping maid."; lower center: "The Little Girl Found | All the night in woe, | Lyca's parents go: | Over vallies deep | While the desarts weep. | Tired and woe-begone, | Hoarse with making moan: | Arm in arm seven days, | They trae'd the desart ways. | Seven nights they sleep. | Among shadows deep: | And dream they see their child | Starv'd in desart wild. | Pale thro' pathless ways | The fancied image strays. | Famish'd"; Lettered on verso, inside image: "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 wolfish howl, | Nor the lions growl."