The Little Girl Lost

In futurity 
I prophesy 
That the earth from sleep 
(Grave the sentence deep) 

Shall arise, and seek 
For her Maker meek; 
And the desert wild 
Become a garden mild. 

In the southern clime, 
Where the summer’s prime 
Never fades away, 
Lovely Lyca lay. 

Seven summers old 
Lovely Lyca told. 
She had wandered long, 
Hearing wild birds’ song. 

‘Sweet sleep, come to me, 
Underneath this tree; 
Do father, mother, weep? 
Where can Lyca sleep? 

‘Lost in desert wild 
Is your little child. 
How can Lyca sleep 
If her mother weep? 

‘If her heart does ache, 
Then let Lyca wake; 
If my mother sleep, 
Lyca shall not weep. 

‘Frowning, frowning night, 
O’er this desert bright 
Let thy moon arise, 
While I close my eyes.’ 

Sleeping Lyca lay, 
While the beasts of prey, 
Come from caverns deep, 
Viewed the maid asleep. 

The kingly lion stood, 
And the virgin viewed: 
 Then he gambolled round 
O’er the hallowed ground. 

Leopards, tigers, play 
Round her as she lay; 
While the lion old 
Bowed his mane of gold, 

And her bosom lick, 
And upon her neck, 
From his eyes of flame, 
Ruby tears there came; 

While the lioness 
Loosed her slender dress, 
And naked they conveyed 
To caves the sleeping maid.