{"collection":"Northern European Mythology","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/browse/neu/eng/sie/sie28.htm","path":"neu/eng/sie/sie28.htm","source_url":"https://sacred-texts.com/neu/eng/sie/sie28.htm","text":"Songs of Innocence and of Experience, by William Blake, [1789-1794]\nIn futurity\n I prophetic see,\n That the earth from sleep,\n (Grave the sentence deep)\nShall arise and seek\n For her maker meek:\n And the desart wild\n Become a garden mild.\nIn the southern clime,\n Where the summers prime,\n Never fades away;\n Lovely Lyca lay.\nSeven summers old\n Lovely Lyca told,\n She had wanderd long,\n Hearing wild birds song.\nSweet sleep come to me\n Underneath this tree;\n Do father, mother weep,\u2014\n \"Where can Lyca sleep\".\nLost in desart wild\n Is your little child.\n How can Lyca sleep,\n If her mother weep.\nIf her heart does ake,\n Then let Lyca wake;\n If my mother sleep,\n Lyca shall not weep.\nFrowning frowning night,\n O\u2019er this desart bright,\n Let thy moon arise,\n While I close my eyes.\nSleeping Lyca lay;\n While the beasts of prey,\n Come from caverns deep,\n View\u2019d the maid asleep\nThe kingly lion stood\n And the virgin view\u2019d,\n Then he gambold round\n O\u2019er the hallowd ground:\nLeopards\nLeopards, tygers play,\n Round her as she lay;\n While the lion old,\n Bow\u2019d his mane of gold,\nAnd her bosom lick,\n And upon her neck,\nFrom his eyes of flame,\n Ruby tears there came;\nWhile the lioness\n Loos\u2019d her slender dress,\n And naked they convey\u2019d\n To caves the sleeping maid.\nAll the night in woe,\n Lyca's parents go:\n Over vallies deep,\n While the desarts weep.\nTired and woe-begone,\n Hoarse with making moan:\n Arm in arm seven days,\n They trac\u2019d the desart ways.\nSeven nights they sleep,\n Among shadows deep:\n And dream they see their child\n Starv\u2019d in desart wild.\nPale thro\u2019 pathless ways\n The fancied image strays,\nFamish\u2019d\nFamish\u2019d, weeping, weak\n With hollow piteous shriek\nRising from unrest,\n The trembling woman prest,\n With feet of weary woe;\n She could no further go.\nIn his arms he bore,\n Her arm\u2019d with sorrow sore:\n Till before their way,\n A couching lion lay.\nTurning back was vain,\n Soon his heavy mane,\n Bore them to the ground;\n Then he stalk\u2019d around.\nSmelling to his prey,\n But their fears allay,\n When he licks their hands:\n And silent by them stands.\nThey look upon his eyes\n Fill\u2019d with deep surprise:\n And wondering behold,\n A spirit arm\u2019d in gold.\nOn his head a crown\n On his shoulders down,\n Flow\u2019d his golden hair.\n Gone was all their care.\nFollow me he said,\n Weep not for the maid:\n In my palace deep,\n Lyca lies asleep.\nThen they followed,\n Where the vision led:\n And saw their sleeping child,\n Among tygers wild.\nTo this day they dwell\n In a lonely dell\n Nor fear the wolvish howl,\n Nor the lions growl.","title":"Songs of Innocence and of Experience: Songs of Experience...","type":"page"}