The Little Girl Lost


In futurity

I prophetic see

That the earth from sleep

(Grave the sentence deep)


Shall arise and seek

For her maker meek;

And the desart 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 wander’d long

Hearing wild birds’ song.


‘Sweet sleep, come to me

‘Underneath this tree.

‘Do father, mother weep,

‘Where can Lyca sleep?’


lost in desart wild

‘Is your little child.

‘How can Lyca sleep

‘If her mother weep?’


‘If her heart does ake

‘Then let Lyca wake;

‘If my mother sleep,

Lyca shall not weep.’


‘Frowning, frowning night,

‘O’er this desart bright

‘Let thy moon arise

‘While I close my eyes.’


Sleeping Lyca lay

While the beasts of prey,

Come from caverns deep,

View’d the maid asleep.


The kingly lion stood

And the virgin view’d

Then he gamboll’d round

O’er the hallowed ground


Leopards, tigers, play

Round her as she lay,

While the lion old

Bow’d his man 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.