So once a lion's cub,
A mischief in his house,
As foster child one reared,[325]
While still it loved the teats;
In life's preluding dawn
Tame, by the children loved, 700
And fondled by the old,[326]
Oft in his arms 'twas held,
Like infant newly born,
With eyes that brightened to the hand that stroked,
And fawning at the hest of hunger keen.