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.