The Poetry and Prose Books
Broadwick Street, Soho, London — Blake’s birthplace and home until he was 25 years old. The original building was later demolished to make way for a block of flats.
Blake’s house, 1912
POETICAL SKETCHES
William Blake was a poet, painter and master engraver, who was largely unrecognised in his lifetime, although he is now considered as being one of the greatest minds of the Romantic Age. His poetry is charged with a prophetic power and his visual artistry has led many critics to regard him as one of Britain’s greatest artists. Having lived in London almost all of his life, Blake produced a diverse and symbolically rich oeuvre of poetry and paintings, depicting his own inimitable view of religion and the world he lived in.
Poetical Sketches by W. B. was Blake’s first poetry collection to be printed and it contained poems written between 1769 and 1777. Only forty copies were printed in 1783, with the help of Blake’s friends, the artist John Flaxman and the Reverend Anthony Stephen Mathew. The book was never published for the public and the copies were given as gifts to the poet’s friends and family members. It contains nineteen lyric poems and a dramatic fragment, revealing the influence of such writers as Shakespeare, John Milton, Ben Jonson, Edmund Spenser and Horace Walpole, whose The Castle of Otranto had been released in 1764.
In the text, there are several misreadings and errors in punctuation, suggesting that it was printed with little care and was not proofread by the poet. Poetical Sketches was never mentioned in the Monthly Review, which listed every book published in London at the time, signifying that it had been virtually unnoticed.
The collection was seventy-two pages in length, printed in octavo by John Flaxman’s aunt, who owned a small print shop on the Strand. Each individual copy was hand-stitched, with a grey back and a blue cover. Poetical Sketches is one of only two works by Blake to be printed conventionally with typesetting. However, the collection never got beyond the proof copy and was never officially published. Of the original forty copies, only twenty-three survive, with the most recent being sold at a London auction in March 2012 for £72,000.
The original title page
John Flaxman (1755-1826) was a British sculptor, draughtsman and later leading figure in Neoclassicism. He was a close friend of Blake and supported him the printing of his first poetry collection.
CONTENTS
SONG. HOW SWEET I ROAM’D FROM FIELD TO FIELD.
SONG. MY SILKS AND FINE ARRAY.
SONG. LOVE AND HARMONY COMBINE.
SONG. I LOVE THE JOCUND DANCE.
MAD SONG. THE WILD WINDS WEEP.
SONG. FRESH FROM THE DEWY HILL, THE MERRY YEAR.
SONG. WHEN EARLY MORN WALKS FORTH IN SOBER GRAY.
PROLOGUE INTENDED FOE A DRAMATIC PIECE OF KING EDWARD THE FOURTH.
A page from the original edition, showing Blake’s handwritten corrections
PREFACE.
THE period between 1768 and 1783 may be described as one of utter stagnation in poetry — the low-water mark of the eighteenth century, in no part of it very fruitful in verse of a high order. With Mason, Hayley, and Darwin installed as the high priests of the Muses, and a host of satellites of the Charlotte Smith and Jerningham order, pouring forth volumes of mediocre verses, tolerable now neither to gods nor men nor columns — feeble echoes of a school which, at its best, drew but little of its inspiration from Nature, how welcome to the ear are the fresh notes of William Blake, recalling here the grand Elizabethan melodies, anticipating now the pathos and simplicity of Wordsworth, now the subtlety and daring of Shelley.
The “Poetical Sketches,” though not printed till 1783, a year after Cowper’s first volume made its appearance, were written, it appears, between 1768 and 1777 — the earliest in the author’s twelfth and the latest in his twentieth year. They lay in manuscript for six years, before, by the good offices of Flaxman and other friends, they could get into print. The little volume, which extended to only seventy pages, cannot, indeed, be said to have been published. The whole impression seems to have fallen into the hands of Blake’s personal friends: certain it is that it attracted no notice whatever from the critics. The book has now become so scarce that no copy is to be found even in the British Museum; and as Mr. Rossetti has confined himself to a few selections, we have thought that a faithful reprint of the whole from a copy that has luckily fallen into our hands, might be an acceptable present to the numerous body of readers now awakening gradually to a sense of the rare merit and originality of the artist-poet, and form a fitting companion volume to the “Songs of Innocence and Experience.”
Before closing the bibliographical portion of our remarks, we must say a final word respecting the principle adopted by Mr. Rossetti in his reprint of some of these poems in the second volume of Gilchrist’s “Life of Blake.” Once for all, while rendering due homage to his genius and rare critical perception, as well as to the great services he has rendered to the fame of Blake, we must firmly protest against the dangerous precedent he has established of tampering with his author’s text. Much ruggedness of metre and crudeness of expression he has doubtless removed or toned down by this process : but, however delicately and tastefully done, we contend that the doing of it was unwarrantable — nay, that it destroys to a certain extent the historical value of the poems. It was the growth of this mischievous system which prevented the readers of the eighteenth century from enjoying a pure text of Shakespeare ; which to this day, in nine editions out of ten, gives us a corrupt and mutilated text of such writers as Bunyan, Walton, and De Foe, and which has spoilt some of the finest hymns in our language. For where is the process, once admitted as legitimate, to stop? It is not every emendator who possesses the taste and judgment of Mr. Rossetti, and, in a case like the present one, where the original edition is almost inaccessible as a check, what protection has the reader against the caprice or vanity of an editor who does not adhere religiously to his author’s text? Mr. Rossetti (though sanctioned by Mr. Swinburne) has no more right to alter William Blake’s poems than Mr. Millais would have to paint out some obnoxious detail of medievalism in a work of Giotto or Cimabue; or Mr. Leighton to improve some flaw in the flesh-colour of Correggio. The duty of an editor, in such a case as that of Blake’s “Poetical Sketches,” is confined to the silent correction of obvious clerical errors, and to the rectification of faulty orthography or punctuation, due either to the lax and uncertain spelling of the time, or to the ignorance and carelessness of the printer.
Having spoken this word in season, we pass on to the pleasanter duty of examining these poems separately.
Of the opening poems addressed to the four Seasons, we may say that the first three, though marred here and there by irregularities of metre, have a wealth of imagery and felicity of expression worthy of some of the finest things in Keats and Shelley and Tennyson. There are lines too in them which stand out rememberable for ever, and haunt the ear with their melody. The “Winter,” though it opens vigorously, soon falls into the pseudo-Ossianic grandiloquence, of which there is also a taint in several other pieces, and the last three lines, stumbling and staggering, remind us irresistibly of the same incongruous blending of sublime and ludicrous images (going on halting feet) in Turner’s unfortunate “Fallacies of Hope.”
The lines to the “Evening Star” are almost Tennysonian in happily-chosen epithet and perfect cadence of music:
“Smile on our loves; and while thou drawest the
“Blue curtains of the sky, scatter thy silver dew
“On every flower that shuts its sweet eyes
“In timely sleep. Let thy west wind sleep on
“The lake; speak silence with thy glimmering eyes,
“And wash the dusk with silver.”
“Fair Eleanor” — a sort of blank-verse ballad of the Radcliffe type of crime and mystery and horror — is a somewhat abortive attempt, much in the style of some of Shelley’s early poetry of the St. Irvyne and Margaret Nicholson period — not without lines of singular beauty that stand out in relief to the dulness and insipidity of the rest.
But what fitting tribute can we pay to the marvellous beauty of the six lyrics which follow, and of the lines “To the Muses?” We must go back to apology for the less happy efforts of a poet who in his best things has hardly fallen short of the large utterance of the Elizabethan dramatists, the pastoral simplicity of Wordsworth, the subtlety and fire of Shelley, and the lyrical tenderness of Tennyson.
ADVERTISEMENT.
THE following Sketches were the production of untutored youth, commenced in his twelfth, and occasionally resumed by the author till his twentieth year; since which time, his talents having been wholly directed to the attainment of excellence in his profession, he has been deprived of the leisure requisite to such a revisal of these sheets, as might have rendered them less unfit to meet the public eye.
Conscious of the irregularities and defects to be found in almost every page, his friends have still believed that they possessed a poetical originality, which merited some respite from oblivion. These their opinions remain, however, to be now reproved or confirmed by a less partial public.
TO SPRING.
O THOU with dewy locks, who lookest
down
Thro’ the clear windows of the morning,
turn
Thine angel eyes upon our western isle,
Which in full choir hails thy approach, O Spring!
The hills tell each other, and the listening
Valleys hear; all our longing eyes are turn’d
Up to thy bright pavilions: issue forth,
And let thy holy feet visit our clime.
Come o’er the eastern hills, and let our winds
Kiss thy perfumed garments; let us taste
Thy morn and evening breath; scatter thy pearls
Upon our lovesick land that mourns for thee.
O deck her forth with thy fair fingers; pour
Thy soft kisses on her bosom; and put
Thy golden crown upon her languish’d head,
Whose modest tresses were bound up for thee!
TO SUMMER.
O THOU who passest thro’ our valleys in
Thy strength, curb thy fierce steeds, allay the heat
That flames from their large nostrils! thou, O Summer,
Oft pitchedst here thy golden tent, and oft
Beneath our oaks hast slept, while we beheld
With joy, thy ruddy limbs and flourishing hair.
Beneath our thickest shades we oft have heard
Thy voice, when noon upon his fervid car
Rode o’er the deep of heaven: beside our springs
Sit down, and in our mossy valleys, on
Some bank beside a river clear, throw thy
Silk draperies off, and rush into the stream:
Our valleys love the Summer in his pride.
Our bards are famed who strike the silver wire:
Our youth are bolder than the southern swains:
Our maidens fairer in the sprightly dance:
We lack not songs, nor instruments of joy,
Nor echoes sweet, nor waters clear as heaven,
Nor laurel wreaths against the sultry heat.
TO AUTUMN.
O AUTUMN, laden with fruit, and stain’d
With the blood of the grape, pass not, but sit
Beneath my shady roof, there thou mayst rest,
And tune thy jolly voice to my fresh pipe,
And all the daughters of the year shall dance!
Sing now the lusty song of fruits and flowers.
“The narrow bud opens her beauties to
“The sun, and love runs in her thrilling veins;
“Blossoms hang round the brows of morning, and
“Flourish down the bright cheek of modest eve,
“Till clustering Summer breaks forth into singing,
“And feather’d clouds strew flowers round her head.
“The spirits of the air live on the smells
“Of fruit; and joy, with pinions light, roves round
“The gardens, or sits singing in the trees.”
Thus sang the jolly Autumn as he sat;
Then rose, girded himself, and o’er the bleak
Hills fled from our sight; but left his golden load.
TO WINTER.
O WINTER! bar thine adamantine doors:
The north is thine; there hast thou built thy dark
Deep-founded habitation. Shake not thy roofs
Nor bend thy pillars with thine iron car.
He hears me not, but o’er the yawning deep
Rides heavy; his storms are unchain’d, sheathed
In ribbed steel; I dare not lift mine eyes;
For he hath rear’d his sceptre o’er the world.
Lo! now the direful monster, whose skin clings
To his strong bones, strides o’er the groaning rocks:
He withers all in silence, and in his hand
Unclothes the earth, and freezes up frail life.
He takes his seat upon the cliffs, the mariner
Cries in vain. Poor little wretch! that deal’st
With storms, till heaven smiles, and the monster
Is driven yelling to his caves beneath Mount Hecla.
TO THE EVENING STAR.
THOU fair-hair’d angel of the evening,
Now, whilst the sun rests on the mountains, light
Thy bright torch of love — thy radiant crown
Put on, and smile upon our evening bed!
Smile on our loves; and, while thou drawest the
Blue curtains of the sky, scatter thy silver dew
On every flower that shuts its sweet eyes
In timely sleep. Let thy west wind sleep on
The lake; speak silence with thy glimmering eyes,
And wash the dusk with silver. Soon, full soon,
Dost thou withdraw; then the wolf rages wide,
And the lion glares thro’ the dun forest:
The fleeces of our flocks are cover’d with
Thy sacred dew: protect them with thine influence.
TO MORNING.
O HOLY virgin! clad in purest white,
Unlock heaven’s golden gates and issue forth;
Awake the dawn that sleeps in heaven; let light
Rise from the chambers of the east, and bring
The honey’d dew that cometh on waking day.
O radiant morning, salute the sun,
Roused like a huntsman to the chase, and with
Thy buskin’d feet appear upon our hills.
FAIR ELEANOR.
THE bell struck one and shook the silent tower;
The graves give up their dead: fair Eleanor
Walk’d by the castle-gate, and looked in:
A hollow groan ran thro’ the dreary vaults.
She shriek’d aloud, and sunk upon the steps,
On the cold stone her pale cheek. Sickly smells
Of death, issue as from a sepulchre,
And all is silent but the sighing vaults.
Chill death withdraws his hand, and she revives;
Amazed she finds herself upon her feet,
And, like a ghost, thro’ narrow passages
Walking, feeling the cold walls with her hands.
Fancy returns, and now she thinks of bones
And grinning skulls, and corruptible death
Wrapt in his shroud; and now fancies she hears
Deep sighs, and sees pale sickly ghosts gliding.
At length, no fancy, but reality
Distracts her. A rushing sound, and the feet
Of one that fled, approaches. — Ellen stood,
Like a dumb statue, froze to stone with fear.
The wretch approaches, crying, “The deed is done;
“Take this, and send it by whom thou wilt send;
“It is my life — send it to Eleanor: —
“He’s dead, and howling after me for blood!
“Take this,” he cried; and thrust into her arms
A wet napkin, wrapt about; then rush’d
Past, howling: she received into her arms
Pale death, and follow’d on the wings of fear.
They pass’d swift thro’ the outer gate; the wretch,
Howling, leap’d o’er the wall into the moat,
Stifling in mud. Fair Ellen pass’d the bridge,
And heard a gloomy voice cry, “Is it done?”
As the deer wounded Ellen flew over
The pathless plain; as the arrows that fly
By night; destruction flies, and strikes in darkness.
She fled from fear, till at her house arrived.
Her maids await her; on her bed she falls,
That bed of joy where erst her lord hath press’d:
“ Ah, woman’s fear! “ she cried, “ Ah, cursed duke!
“ Ah, my dear lord! ah, wretched Eleanor!
“ My lord was like a flower upon the brows
“ Of lusty May! Ah, life as frail as flower!
“ O ghastly death! withdraw thy cruel hand,
“ Seek’st thou that flower to deck thy horrid temples?
“ My lord was like a star in highest heaven
“ Drawn down to earth by spells and wickedness;
“ My lord was like the opening eyes of day,
“ When western winds creep softly o’er the flowers.
“ But he is darken’d; like the summer’s noon
“ Clouded; fall’n like the stately tree, cut down;
“ The breath of heaven dwelt among his leaves.
“ O Eleanor, weak woman, fill’d with woe!”
Thus having spoke, she raised up her head,
And saw the bloody napkin by her side,
Which in her arms she brought; and how, tenfold
More terrified, saw it unfold itself.
Her eyes were fix’d; the bloody cloth unfolds,
Disclosing to her sight the murder’d head
Of her dear lord, all ghastly pale, clotted
With gory blood; it groan’d, and thus it spake:
“O Eleanor, behold thy husband’s head
“Who, sleeping on the stones of yonder tower,
“Was ‘reft of life by the accursed duke!
“A hired villain turn’d my sleep to death!
“O Eleanor, beware the cursed duke,
“O give not him thy hand, now I am dead;
“He seeks thy love; who, coward, in the night,
“Hired a villain to bereave my life.”
She sat with dead cold limbs, stiflen’d to stone;
She took the gory head up in her arms;
She kiss’d the pale lips; she had no tears to shed;
She hugg’d it to her breast, and groan’d her last.
SONG. HOW SWEET I ROAM’D FROM FIELD TO FIELD.
HOW sweet I roam’d from field to field
And tasted all the summer’s pride,
Till I the Prince of Love beheld
Who in the sunny beams did glide.
He shew’d me lilies for my hair,
And blushing roses for my brow;
He led me thro’ his gardens fair
Where all his golden pleasures grow.
With sweet May-dews my wings were wet,
And Phœbus fired my vocal rage;
He caught me in his silken net,
And shut me in his golden cage.
He loves to sit and hear me sing,
Then, laughing, sports and plays with me;
Then stretches out my golden wing
And mocks my loss of liberty.
SONG. MY SILKS AND FINE ARRAY.
MY silks and fine array,
My smiles and languish’d air
By love are driven away;
And mournful lean Despair
Brings me yew to deck my grave:
Such end true lovers have.
His face is fair as heaven
When springing buds unfold;
O why to him was’t given,
Whose heart is wintry cold?
His breast is love’s all-worshipp’d tomb,
Where all love’s pilgrims come.
Bring me an axe and spade,
Bring me a winding sheet;
When I my grave have made
Let winds and tempests beat:
Then down I’ll lie, as cold as clay.
True love doth pass away!
SONG. LOVE AND HARMONY COMBINE.
LOVE and harmony combine
And around our souls entwine,
While thy branches mix with mine
And our roots together join.
Joys upon our branches sit
Chirping loud and singing sweet;
Like gentle streams beneath our feet
Innocence and virtue meet.
Thou the golden fruit dost bear,
I am clad in flowers fair;
Thy sweet boughs perfume the air,
And the turtle buildeth there.
There she sits and feeds her young,
Sweet I hear her mournful song;
And thy lovely leaves among
There is love; I hear his tongue.
There his charming nest doth lay,
There he sleeps the night away;
There he sports along the day
And doth among our branches play.
SONG. I LOVE THE JOCUND DANCE.
I LOVE the jocund dance,
The softly-breathing song,
Where innocent eyes do glance
And where lisps the maiden’s tongue.
I love the laughing vale,
I love the echoing hill,
Where mirth does never fail,
And the jolly swain laughs his fill.
I love the pleasant cot,
I love the innocent bower,
Where white and brown is our lot
Or fruit in the mid-day hour.
I love the oaken seat,
Beneath the oaken tree,
Where all the old villagers meet,
And laugh our sports to see.
I love our neighbours all,
But, Kitty, I better love thee;
And love them I ever shall,
But thou art all to me.
SONG. MEMORY, HITHER COME.
MEMORY, hither come
And tune your merry notes:
And while upon the wind
Your music floats
I’ll pore upon the stream
Where sighing lovers dream,
And fish for fancies as they pass
Within the watery glass.
I’ll drink of the clear stream
And hear the linnet’s song,
And there I’ll lie and dream
The day along:
And, when night comes, I’ll go
To places fit for woe
Walking along the darken’d valley
With silent Melancholy.
MAD SONG. THE WILD WINDS WEEP.
THE wild winds weep,
And the night is a-cold;
Come hither, Sleep,
And my griefs enfold:
But lo! the morning peeps
Over the eastern steeps,
And the rustling beds of dawn
The earth do scorn.
Lo! to the vault
Of paved heaven,
With sorrow fraught
My notes are driven:
They strike the ear of night,
Make weep the eyes of day;
They make mad the roaring winds,
And with tempests play.
Like a fiend in a cloud
With howling woe,
After night I do crowd
And with night will go;
I turn my back to the east
From whence comforts have increased;
For light doth seize my brain
With frantic pain.
SONG. FRESH FROM THE DEWY HILL, THE MERRY YEAR.
FRESH from the dewy hill, the merry year
Smiles on my head and mounts his flaming car;
Round my young brows the laurel wreathes a shade
And rising glories beam around my head.
My feet are wing’d while o’er the dewy lawn
I meet my maiden risen like the morn.
Oh bless those holy feet, like angels’ feet;
Oh bless those limbs, beaming with heavenly light!
Like as an angel glittering in the sky
In times of innocence and holy joy;
The joyful shepherd stops his grateful song
To hear the music of an angel’s tongue.
So when she speaks, the voice of Heaven I hear;
So when we walk, nothing impure comes near;
Each field seems Eden, and each calm retreat;
Each village seems the haunt of holy feet.
But that sweet village, where my black-eyed maid
Closes her eyes in sleep beneath night’s shade,
Whene’er I enter, more than mortal fire
Burns in my soul, and does my song inspire.
SONG. WHEN EARLY MORN WALKS FORTH IN SOBER GRAY.
WHEN early morn walks forth in sober gray,
Then to my black-eyed maid I haste away,
When evening sits beneath her dusky bower
And gently sighs away the silent hour,
The village bell alarms, away I go,
And the vale darkens at my pensive woe.
To that sweet village, where my black-eyed maid
Doth drop a tear beneath the silent shade,
I turn my eyes; and pensive as I go
Curse my black stars, and bless my pleasing woe.
Oft when the summer sleeps among the trees,
Whispering faint murmurs to the scanty breeze,
I walk the village round; if at her side
A youth doth walk in stolen joy and pride,
I curse my stars in bitter grief and woe,
That made my love so high, and me so low.
O should she e’er prove false, his limbs I’d tear,
And throw all pity on the burning air;
I’d curse bright fortune for my mixed lot,
And then I’d die in peace, and be forgot.
TO THE MUSES.
WHETHER on Ida’s shady brow
Or in the chambers of the East,
The chambers of the Sun, that now
From ancient melody have ceased;
Whether in heaven ye wander fair
Or the green corners of the earth,
Or the blue regions of the air,
Where the melodious winds have birth;
Whether on crystal rocks ye rove,
Beneath the bosom of the sea
Wandering in many a coral grove,
Fair Nine, forsaking Poetry;
How have you left the ancient love
That bards of old enjoy’d in you!
The languid strings do scarcely move,
The sound is forced, the notes are few!
GWIN, KING OF NORWAY.
COME, Kings, and listen to my song:
When Gwin, the son of Nore,
Over the nations of the North
His cruel sceptre bore;
The Nobles of the land did feed
Upon the hungry poor;
They tear the poor man’s lamb, and drive
The needy from their door!
The land is desolate; our wives
And children cry for bread;
Arise, and pull the tyrant down,
Let Gwin be humbled.
Gordred the giant roused himself
From sleeping in his cave;
He shook the hills, and in the clouds
The troubled banners wave.
Beneath them roll’d, like tempests black,
The numerous sons of blood;
Like lions’ whelps, roaring abroad,
Seeking their nightly food.
Down Bleron’s hills they dreadful rush,
Their cry ascends the clouds;
The trampling horse and clanging arms
Like rushing mighty floods!
Their wives and children, weeping loud,
Follow in wild array,
Howling like ghosts, furious as wolves
In the bleak wintry day.
“Pull down the tyrant to the dust,
”Let Gwin be humbled,”
They cry, “ and let ten thousand lives
”Pay for the tyrant’s head.”
From tower to tower the watchmen cry,
”O Gwin, the son of Nore,
“Arouse thyself! the nations black
”Like clouds, come rolling o’er!”
Gwin rear’d his shield, his palace shakes,
His chiefs come rushing round;
Each, like an awful thunder-cloud
With voice of solemn sound:
Like reared stones around a grave
They stand around the King;
Then suddenly each seized his spear,
And clashing steel does ring.
The husbandman does leave his plough
To wade thro’ fields of gore;
The merchant binds his brows in steel,
And leaves the trading shore;
The shepherd leaves his mellow pipe,
And sounds the trumpet shrill,
The workman throws his hammer down
To heave the bloody bill.
Like the tall ghost of Barraton
Who sports in stormy sky,
Gwin leads his host as black as night,
When pestilence does fly,
With horses and with chariots —
And all his spearmen bold,
March to the sound of mournful song,
Like clouds around him roll’d.
Gwin lifts his hand — the nations halt;
”Prepare for war,” he cries —
Gordred appears! — his frowning brow
Troubles our northern skies.
The armies stand, like balances
Held in the Almighty’s hand; —
“Gwin, thou hast fill’d thy measure up,
”Thou’rt swept from out the land.”
And now the raging armies rush’d
Like warring mighty seas;
The Heavens are shook with roaring war,
The dust ascends the skies!
Earth smokes with blood, and groans, and shakes,
To drink her children’s gore,
A sea of blood; nor can the eye
See to the trembling shore.
And on the verge of this wild sea
Famine and death doth cry;
The cries of women and of babes
Over the field doth fly.
The king is seen raging afar,
With all his men of might;
Like blazing comets scattering death
Thro’ the red feverous night.
Beneath his arm like sheep they die,
And groan upon the plain;
The battle faints, and bloody men
Fight upon hills of slain.
Now death is sick, and riven men.
Labour and toil for life;
Steed rolls on steed, and shield on shield,
Sunk in this sea of strife!
The god of war is drunk with blood,
The earth doth faint and fail;
The stench of blood makes sick the heavens,
Ghosts glut the throat of hell!
O what have Kings to answer for
Before that awful throne!
When thousand deaths for vengeance cry
And ghosts accusing groan!
Like blazing comets in the sky
That shake the stars of light,
Which drop like fruit unto the earth
Thro’ the fierce burning night;
Like these did Gwin and Gordred meet,
And the first blow decides;
Down from the brow unto the breast
Gordred his head divides!
Gwin fell: the Sons of Norway fled,
All that remain’d alive;
The rest did fill the vale of death,
For them the eagles strive.
The river Dorman roll’d their blood
Into the northern sea;
Who mourn’d his sons, and overwhelm’d
The pleasant south country.
AN IMITATION OF SPENSER.
GOLDEN Apollo, that thro’ heaven wide
Scatter’st the rays of light, and truth his beams,
In lucent words my darkling verses dight
And wash my earthy mind in thy clear streams,
That wisdom may descend in fairy dreams:
All while the jocund hours in thy train
Scatter their fancies at thy poet’s feet;
And when thou yield’st to night thy wide domain,
Let rays of truth enlight his sleeping brain.
For brutish Pan in vain might thee assay
With tinkling sounds to dash thy nervous verse,
Sound without sense; yet in his rude affray,
(For Ignorance is Folly’s leasing nurse,
And love of Folly needs none other’s curse;)
Midas the praise hath gain’d of lengthen’d ears,
For which himself might deem him ne’er the worse
To sit in council with his modern peers
And judge of tinkling rhymes and elegances terse.
And thou, Mercurius, that with winged bow
Dost mount aloft into the yielding sky,
And thro’ Heaven’s halls thy airy flight dost throw,
Entering with holy feet to where on high
Jove weighs the counsel of futurity;
Then, laden with eternal fate, dost go
Down, like a falling star, from autumn sky,
And o’er the surface of the silent deep dost fly:
If thou arrivest at the sandy shore
Where nought but envious hissing adders dwell,
Thy golden rod, thrown on the dusty floor,
Can charm to harmony with potent spell;
Such is sweet Eloquence, that does dispel
Envy and Hate, that thirst for human gore;
And cause in sweet society to dwell
Vile savage minds that lurk in lonely cell.
O Mercury, assist my labouring sense
That round the circle of the world would fly,
As the wing’d eagle scorns the towery fence
Of Alpine hills round his high aëry,
And searches thro’ the corners of the sky,
Sports in the clouds to hear the thunder’s sound
And see the winged lightnings as they fly;
Then, bosom’d in an amber cloud, around
Plumes his wide wings, and seeks Sol’s palace high.
And thou, O warrior Maid invincible,
Arm’d with the terrors of Almighty Jove.
Pallas, Minerva, maiden terrible,
Lovest thou to walk the peaceful solemn grove,
In solemn gloom of branches interwove?
Or bear’st thy Ægis o’er the burning field,
Where, like the sea, the waves of battle move?
Or have thy soft piteous eyes beheld
The weary wanderer thro’ the desert rove?
Or does th’ afflicted man thy heavenly bosom move?
BLIND-MAN’S BUFF.
WHEN silver snow decks Susan’s clothes,
And jewel hangs at th’ shepherd’s nose,
The blushing bank is all my care,
With hearth so red, and walls so fair.
“Heap the sea-coal, come, heap it higher,
“The oaken log lay on the fire:”
The well-wash’d stools, a circling row,
With lad and lass, how fair the show!
The merry can of nut-brown ale,
The laughing jest, the love-sick tale,
Till, tired of chat, the game begins,
The lasses prick the lads with pins;
Roger from Dolly twitch’d the stool,
She falling, kiss’d the ground, poor fool!
She blush’d so red, with side-long glance
At hobnail Dick, who grieved the chance.
But now for Blind-man’s Buff they call;
Of each incumbrance clear the hall —
Jenny her silken kerchief folds,
And blear-eyed Will the black lot holds,
Now laughing, stops, with “Silence, hush!”
And Peggy Pout gives Sam a push. —
The Blind-man’s arms, extended wide,
Sam slips between: — ”O woe betide
Thee, clumsy Will! — ”but tittering Kate
Is penn’d up in the corner strait!
And now Will’s eyes beheld the play,
He thought his face was t’other way.
“Now, Kitty, now; what chance hast thou,
“Roger so near thee trips, I vow!”
She catches him — then Roger ties
His own head up — but not his eyes;
For thro’ the slender cloth he sees,
And runs at Sam, who slips with ease
His clumsy hold; and, dodging round,
Sukey is tumbled on the ground! —
“See what it is to play unfair!
“Where cheating is, there’s mischief there”
But Roger still pursues the chace, —
“He sees! he sees!” cries softly Grace;
“O Roger, thou, unskill’d in art
“Must, surer bound, go thro’ thy part!”
Now Kitty, pert, repeats the rhymes
And Roger turns him round three times,
Then pauses ere he starts; but Dick
Was mischief-bent upon a trick;
Down on his hands and knees he lay
Directly in the Blind-man’s way,
Then cries out, “Hem!” Hodge heard, and ran
With hood-wink’d chance — sure of his man;
But down he came. — Alas, how frail
Our best of hopes, how soon they fail!
With crimson drops he stains the ground,
Confusion startles all around!
Poor piteous Dick supports his head,
And fain would cure the hurt he made;
But Kitty hasted with a key
And down his back they straight convey
The cold relief — the blood is stay’d
And Hodge again holds up his head.
Such are the fortunes of the game,
And those who play should stop the same
By wholesome laws, such as — all those
Who on the blinded man impose,
Stand in his stead; as long agone
When men were first a nation grown,
Lawless they lived, till wantonness
And liberty began t’ increase,
And one man lay in another’s way;
Then laws were made to keep fair play.
KING EDWARD THE THIRD.
PERSONS.
King Edward.
The Black Prince.
Queen Philippa.
Duke of Clarence.
Sir John Chandos.
Sir Thomas Dagworth.
Sir Walter Manny.
Lord Audley.
Lord Percy.
Bishop.
William, Dagworth’s man.
Peter Blunt, a common soldier.
KING EDWARD THE THIRD.
SCENE. The Coast of France, King Edward and Nobles before it. The Army.
King.
O THOU to whose fury the nations are
But as dust! maintain thy servant’s right.
Without thine aid, the twisted mail, and spear,
And forged helm, and shield of seven times beaten brass,
Are idle trophies of the vanquisher.
When confusion rages, when the field is in a flame,
When the cries of blood tear horror from heaven,
And yelling death runs up and down the ranks,
Let Liberty, the charter’d right of Englishmen,
Won by our fathers in many a glorious field,
Enerve my soldiers; let Liberty
Blaze in each countenance, and fire the battle.
The enemy fight in chains, invisible chains, but heavy;
Their minds are fetter’d; then how can they be free,
While, like the mounting flame,
We spring to battle o’er the floods of death?
And these fair youths, the flower of England,
Venturing their lives in my most righteous cause,
O sheathe their hearts with triple steel, that they
May emulate their fathers’ virtues.
And thou, my son, be strong; thou fightest for a crown
That death can never ravish from thy brow,
A crown of glory but from thy very dust
Shall beam a radiance, to fire the breasts
Of youth unborn! Our names are written equal
In fame’s wide-trophied hall; ‘tis ours to gild
The letters, and to make them shine with gold
That never tarnishes: whether Third Edward,
Or the Prince of Wales, or Montacute, or Mortimer,
Or ev’n the least by birth, shall gain the brightest fame,
Is in His hand to whom all men are equal
The world of men are like the numerous stars
That beam and twinkle in the depth of night,
Each clad in glory according to his sphere;
But we, that wander from our native seats
And beam forth lustre on a darkling world,
Grow large as we advance! and some perhaps
The most obscure at home, that scarce were seen
To twinkle in their sphere, may so advance,
That the astonish’d world, with upturn’d eyes,
Regardless of the moon, and those that once were bright,
Stand only for to gaze upon their splendour!
[He here knights the Prince and other
young Nobles.
Now let us take a just revenge for those
Brave Lords, who fell beneath the bloody axe
At Paris. Thanks, noble Harcourt, for ‘twas
By your advice we landed here in Brittany,
A country not yet sown with destruction,
And where the fiery whirlwind of swift war
Has not yet swept its desolating wing. —
Into three parties we divide by day
And separate march, but join again at night:
Each knows his rank, and Heaven marshal all.
[Exeunt.
SCENE. English Court; Lionel, Duke of Clarence, Queen Philippa, Lords, Bishop, &c.
Clarence.
MY Lords, I have by the advice of her
Whom I am doubly bound to obey, my Parent
And my Sovereign, called you together.
My task is great, my burden heavier than
My unfledged years;
Yet with your kind assistance, Lords, I hope
England shall dwell in peace: that while my father
Toils in his wars and turns his eyes on this
His native shore, and sees commerce fly round
With his white wings, and sees his golden London
And her silver Thames, throng’d with shining spires
And corded ships, her merchants buzzing round
Like summer bees, and all the golden cities
In his land, overflowing with honey,
Glory may not be dimm’d with clouds of care.
Say, Lords, should not our thoughts be first to commerce?
My Lord Bishop, you would recommend us agriculture?
Bishop.
Sweet Prince, the arts of peace are great,
And no less glorious than those of war,
Perhaps more glorious in the philosophic mind.
When I sit at my home, a private man,
My thoughts are on my gardens and my fields,
How to employ the hand that lacketh bread.
If Industry is in my diocese
Religion will flourish; each man’s heart
Is cultivated and will bring forth fruit:
This is my private duty and my pleasure.
But as I sit in council with my prince,
My thoughts take in the general good of the whole,
And England is the land favour’d by Commerce;
For Commerce, tho’ the child of Agriculture,
Fosters his parent, who else must sweat and toil
And gain but scanty fare. Then, my dear Lord,
Be England’s trade our care; and we, as tradesmen,
Looking to the gain of this our native land.
Clarence.
O my good Lord, true wisdom drops like honey
From your tongue, as from a worshipp’d oak!
Forgive, my Lords, my talkative youth, that speaks
Not merely what my narrow observation has
Pick’d up, but what I have concluded from your lessons:
Now, by the Queen’s advice, I ask your leave
To dine to-morrow with the Mayor of London:
If I obtain your leave, I have another boon
To ask, which is the favour of your company.
I fear Lord Percy will not give me leave.
Percy.
Dear Sir, a prince should always keep his state,
And grant his favours with a sparing hand,
Or they are never rightly valued.
These are my thoughts: yet it were best to go:
But keep a proper dignity, for now
You represent the sacred person of
Your father; ‘tis with princes as ‘tis with the sun;
If not sometimes o’erclouded, we grow weary
Of his officious glory.
Clarence.
Then you will give me leave to shine sometimes,
My Lord?
Lord.
Thou hast a gallant spirit, which I fear
Will be imposed on by the closer sort
A WAR SONG TO ENGLISHMEN.
TO ENGLISHMEN.
PREPARE, prepare the iron helm of war,
Bring forth the lots, cast in the spacious orb;
The Angel of Fate turns them with mighty hands,
And casts them out upon the darken’d earth!
Prepare, prepare.
Prepare your hearts for Death’s cold hand! prepare
Your souls for flight, your bodies for the earth!
Prepare your arms for glorious victory!
Prepare your eyes to meet a holy God!
Prepare, prepare.
Whose fatal scroll is that? Methinks ‘tis mine!
Why sinks my heart, why faltereth my tongue?
Had I three lives, I ‘d die in such a cause,
And rise, with ghosts, over the well-fought field.
Prepare, prepare.
The arrows of Almighty God are drawn!
Angels of Death stand in the lowering heavens!
Thousands of souls must seek the realms of light,
And walk together on the clouds of heaven!
Prepare, prepare.
Soldiers, prepare! Our cause is Heaven’s cause;
Soldiers, prepare! Be worthy of our cause:
Prepare to meet our fathers in the sky:
Prepare, O troops that are to fall to-day!
Prepare, prepare.
Alfred shall smile, and make his harp rejoice;
The Norman William and the learned Clerk,
And Lion-Heart, and black-brow’d Edward with
His loyal queen shall rise, and welcome us!
Prepare, prepare.
THE COUCH OF DEATH.
THE veiled Evening walked solitary down the western hills, and Silence reposed in the valley; the birds of day were heard in their nests, rustling in brakes and thickets; and the owl and bat flew round the darkening trees: all is silent when Nature takes her repose. — In former times, on such an evening, when the cold clay breathed with life, and our ancestors, who now sleep in their graves, walked on the steadfast globe, the remains of a family of the tribes of Earth, a mother and a sister were gathered to the sick bed of a youth. Sorrow linked them together; leaning on one another’s necks alternately — like lilies, dropping tears in each other’s bosom, they stood by the bed like reeds bending over a lake, when the evening drops trickle down. His voice was low as the whisperings of the woods when the wind is asleep, and the visions of Heaven unfold their visitation. “Parting is hard, and death is terrible; I seem to walk through a deep valley, far from the light of day, alone and comfortless! The damps of death fall thick upon me! Horrors stare me in the face! I look behind, there is no returning; Death follows after me; I walk in regions of Death, where no tree is; without a lantern to direct my steps, without a staff to support me.” — Thus he laments through the still evening, till the curtains of darkness were drawn! Like the sound of a broken pipe, the aged woman raised her voice. “O my son, my son, I know but little of the path thou goest! But lo, there is a God, who made the world; stretch out thy hand to Him.” The youth replied, like a voice heard from a sepulchre, “My hand is feeble, how should I stretch it out? My ways are sinful, how should I raise mine eyes? My voice hath used deceit, how should I call on Him who is Truth? My breath is loathsome, how should He not be offended? If I lay my face in the dust, the grave opens its mouth for me; if I lift up my head, sin covers me as a cloak! O my dear friends, pray ye for me! stretch forth your hands, that my Helper may come! Through the void space I walk between the sinful world and eternity! Beneath me burns eternal fire! O for a hand to pluck me forth!” As the voice of an omen heard in the silent valley, when the few inhabitants cling trembling together; as the voice of the Angel of Death, when the thin beams of the moon give a faint light, such was this young man’s voice to his friends. Like the bubbling waters of the brook in the dead of night, the aged woman raised her cry, and said, “O voice, that dwellest in my breast, can I not cry, and lift my eyes to heaven? Thinking of this, my spirit is turned within me into confusion. O my child, my child! is thy breath infected? so is mine. As the deer wounded, by the brooks of water, so the arrows of sin stick in my flesh; the poison hath entered into my marrow.” — Like rolling waves upon a desert shore, sighs succeeded sighs; they covered their faces, and wept. The youth lay silent — his mother’s arm was under his head; he was like a cloud tossed by the winds, till the sun shine, and the drops of rain glisten, the yellow harvest breathes, and the thankful eyes of the villagers are turned up in smiles — the traveller that hath taken shelter under an oak, eyes the distant country with joy. Such smiles were seen upon the face of the youth! a visionary hand wiped away his tears, and a ray of light beamed around his head! All was still. The moon hung not out her lamp, and the stars faintly glimmered in the summer sky; the breath of night slept among the leaves of the forest; the bosom of the lofty hill drank in the silent dew, while on his majestic brow the voice of angels is heard, and stringed sounds ride upon the wings of night. The sorrowful pair lift up their heads, hovering angels are around them, voices of comfort are heard over the Couch of Death, and the youth breathes out his soul with joy into eternity.
CONTEMPLATION.
WHO is this, that with unerring step dares tempt the wilds, where only Nature’s foot hath trod? ‘Tis Contemplation, daughter of the grey Morning! Majestical she steppeth, and with her pure quill on every flower writeth Wisdom’s name, now lowly bending, whispers in mine ear, “O man, how great, how little thou! O man, slave of each moment, lord of eternity! seest thou where Mirth sits on the painted cheek? doth it not seem ashamed of such a place, and grow immoderate to brave it out? O what an humble garb true Joy puts on! Those who want Happiness must stoop to find it; it is a flower that grows in every vale. Vain foolish man, that roams on lofty rocks, where, ‘cause his garments are swoln with wind, he fancies he is grown into a giant! Lo, then, Humility, take it, and wear it in thine heart; lord of thyself, thou then art lord of all. Clamour brawls along the streets, and destruction hovers in the city’s smoke; but on these plains, and in these silent woods, true joys descend: here build thy nest; here fix thy staff; delights blossom around; numberless beauties blow; the green grass springs in joy, and the nimble air kisses the leaves; the brook stretches its arms along the velvet meadow, its silver inhabitants sport and play. The youthful sun joys like a hunter roused to the chase: he rushes up the sky, and lays hold on the immortal coursers of day; the sky glitters with the jingling trappings! Like a triumph, season follows season, while the airy music fills the world with joyful sounds.” I answered, “Heavenly goddess! I am wrapped in mortality, my flesh is a prison, my bones the bars of death, Misery builds over our cottage roofs, and Discontent runs like a brook. Even in childhood, sorrow slept with me in my cradle; he followed me up and down in the house when I grew up; he was my school-fellow: thus he was in my steps and in my play, till he became to me as my brother. I walked through dreary places with him, and in church-yards; and oft I found myself sitting by Sorrow on a tomb-stone.”
SAMSON.
SAMSON, the strongest of the children of men, I sing; how he was foiled by woman’s arts, by a false wife brought to the gates of death! O Truth, that shinest with propitious beams, turning our earthly night to heavenly day, from presence of the Almighty Father! thou visitest our darkling world with blessed feet, bringing good news of Sin and Death destroyed! O white-robed Angel, guide my timorous hand to write as on a lofty rock with iron pen the words of truth, that all who pass may read. Now Night, noon-tide of damned spirits, over the silent earth spreads her pavilion, while in dark council sat Philistia’s lords; and where strength failed, black thoughts in ambush lay. There helmed youth and aged warriors in dust together lie, and Desolation spreads his wings over the land of Palestine: from side to side the land groans, her prowess lost, and seeks to hide her bruised head under the mists of night, breeding dark plots. For Dalila’s fair arts have long been tried in vain; in vain she wept in many a treacherous tear. “Go on, fair traitress; do thy guileful work; ere once again the changing moon her circuit hath performed, thou shalt overcome, and conquer him by force unconquerable, and wrest his secret from him. Call thine alluring arts and honest-seeming brow, the holy kiss of love and the transparent tear; put on fair linen, that with the lily vies, purple and silver; neglect thy hair, to seem more lovely in thy loose attire; put on thy country’s pride, deceit; and eyes of love decked in mild sorrow, and sell thy lord for gold.” For now, upon her sumptuous couch, reclined, in gorgeous pride, she still entreats, and still she grasps his vigorous knees with her fair arms. “Thou lovest me not! thou’rt war, thou art not love! O foolish Dalila! O weak woman! it is death clothed in flesh thou lovest, and thou hast been encircled in his arms! Alas, my lord, what am I calling thee? Thou art my God! To thee I pour my tears for sacrifice morning and evening: my days are covered with sorrow! shut up, darkened: by night I am deceived! Who says that thou wast born of mortal kind? Destruction was thy father, a lioness suckled thee, thy young hands tore human limbs, and gorged human flesh! Come hither, Death; art thou not Samson’s servant? ‘Tis Dalila that calls; thy master’s wife; no, stay, and let thy master do the deed: one blow of that strong arm would ease my pain; then I should lie at quiet and have rest. Pity forsook thee at thy birth! O Dagon furious, and all ye gods of Palestine, withdraw your hand! I am but a weak woman. Alas, I am wedded to your enemy! I will go mad, and tear my crisped hair; I’ll run about, and pierce the ears o’ th’ gods! O Samson, hold me not; thou lovest me not! Look not upon me with those deathful eyes! Thou wouldst my death, and death approaches fast.” Thus, in false tears, she bathed his feet, and thus she day by day oppressed his soul: he seemed a mountain, his brow among the clouds; she seemed a silver stream, his feet embracing. Dark thoughts rolled to and fro in his mind, like thunder clouds troubling the sky; his visage was troubled; his soul was distressed. “Though I should tell her all my heart, what can I fear? Though I should tell this secret of my birth, the utmost may be warded off as well when told as now.” She saw him moved, and thus resumes her wiles: “Samson, I’m thine; do with me what thou wilt; my friends are enemies; my life is death; I am a traitor to my nation, and despised; my joy is given into the hands of him who hates me, using deceit to the wife of his bosom. Thrice hast thou mocked me and grieved my soul. Didst thou not tell me with green withes to bind thy nervous arms, and after that, when I had found thy falsehood, with new ropes to bind thee fast? I knew thou didst but mock me. Alas, when in thy sleep I bound thee with them to try thy truth, I cried, The Philistines be upon thee, Samson! then did suspicion wake thee; how didst thou rend the feeble ties! Thou fearest nought, what shouldst thou fear? Thy power is more than mortal, none can hurt thee; thy bones are brass, thy sinews are iron! Ten thousand spears are like the summer grass; an army of mighty men are as flocks in the valleys: what canst thou fear? I drink my tears like water; I live upon sorrow! O worse than wolves and tigers, what canst thou give when such a trifle is denied me? But, oh! at last thou mockest me, to shame my over-fond inquiry! Thou toldest me to weave thee to the beam by thy strong hair; I did even that to try thy truth: but when I cried, The Philistines be upon thee! then didst thou leave me to bewail that Samson loved me not.” He sat, and inward grieved, he saw and loved the beauteous suppliant, nor could conceal aught that might appease her; then, leaning on her bosom, thus he spoke: “Hear, O Dalila! doubt no more of Samson’s love; for that fair breast was made the ivory palace of my inmost heart, where it shall lie at rest; for sorrow is the lot of all of woman born: for care was I brought forth, and labour is my lot: nor matchless might, nor wisdom, nor every gift enjoyed, can from the heart of man hide sorrow. Twice was my birth foretold from heaven, and twice a sacred vow enjoined me that I should drink no wine, nor eat of any unclean thing, for holy unto Israel’s God I am, a Nazarite even from my mother’s womb. Twice was it told that it might not be broken: Grant me a son, kind Heaven, Manoa cried; but Heaven refused! Childless he mourned, but thought his God knew best. In solitude, though not obscure, in Israel he lived, till venerable age came on: his flocks increased, and plenty crowned his board: beloved, revered of man! But God hath other joys in store. Is burdened Israel his grief? The son of his old age shall set it free! The venerable sweetener of his life receives the promise first from Heaven. She saw the maidens play, and blessed their innocent mirth; she blessed each new-joined pair; but from her the long-wished deliverer shall spring. Pensive, alone she sat within the house, when busy day was fading, and calm evening, time for contemplation, rose from the forsaken east, and drew the curtains of heaven: pensive she sat, and thought on Israel’s grief, and silent prayed to Israel’s God; when lo! an angel from the fields of light entered the house: His form was manhood in the prime, and from his spacious brow shot terrors through the evening shade! But mild he hailed her — Hail, highly favoured! said he; for lo! thou shalt conceive, and bear a son, and Israel’s strength shall be upon his shoulders, and he shall be called Israel’s Deliverer. Now, therefore, drink no wine, and eat not any unclean thing, for he shall be a Nazarite to God. — Then, as a neighbour, when his evening tale is told, departs, his blessing leaving, so seemed he to depart: she wondered with exceeding joy, nor knew he was an angel. Manoa left his fields to sit in the house, and take his evening’s rest from labour — the sweetest time that God has allotted mortal man. He sat, and heard with joy, and praised God, who Israel still doth keep. The time rolled on, and Israel groaned oppressed. The sword was bright, while the ploughshare rusted, till hope grew feeble, and was ready to give place to doubting; then prayed Manoa: O Lord, thy flock is scattered on the hills! The wolf teareth them: Oppression stretches his rod over our land, our country is ploughed with swords, and reaped in blood! The echoes of slaughter reach from hill to hill! Instead of peaceful pipe the shepherd bears a sword; the ox-goad is turned into a spear! O when shall our Deliverer come? The Philistine riots on our flocks, our vintage is gathered by bands of enemies! Stretch forth thy hand, and save. Thus prayed Manoa. The aged woman walked into the field, and lo! again the angel came! Clad as a traveller fresh risen on his journey. She ran and called her husband, who came and talked with him. O man of God, said he, thou comest from far! Let us detain thee while I make ready a kid, that thou mayest sit and eat, and tell us of thy name and warfare; that when thy sayings come to pass, we may honour thee. The angel answered, My name is Wonderful; inquire not after it, seeing it is a secret; but, if thou wilt, offer an offering unto the Lord.”
AN ISLAND IN THE MOON
This unfinished prose satire was written in late 1784, containing early versions of three poems later included in Songs of Innocence. The work strives to satirise the “contrived and empty productions of the contemporary culture”, demonstrating Blake’s increasing dissatisfaction with convention and his developing interest in prophetic modes of expression. The satire was unpublished during Blake’s lifetime, surviving only in a single manuscript copy, residing in the University of Cambridge.
An Island in the Moon begins with a promise to engage the reader with an analysis of contemporary thought, “but the grand scheme degenerates immediately into nonsensical and ignorant chatter.” A major theme in the first chapter is that no one listens to anyone else and it also introduces Blake’s satiric treatment of the sciences and mathematics.
The first page of the surviving manuscript
CONTENTS
Page 18 of the manuscript, detailing random words and images
Dramatis Personae
Suction the Epicurean
Quod the Cynic
Sipsop the Pithagorean
Etruscan Column
Mrs Gimblet
Inflammable Gass
Obtuse Angle the Mathematician
Steelyard the Lawgiver
Tilli Lally, the Siptippidist
Aradobo, the Dean of Morocco
Miss Gittipin
Mrs Nannicantipot
Mrs Sistagatist (or Sigtagatist)
Gibble Gabble, the wife of Inflammable Gass
Little Scopprell
Chapter 1
In the Moon, is a certain Island near by a mighty continent, which small island seems to have some affinity to England, & what is more extraordinary the people are so much alike & their language so much the same that you would think you was among your friends.
In this Island dwells three Philosophers--Suction, the Epicurean, Quid the Cynic, & Sipsop, the Pythagorean. I call them by the names of these sects tho the sects are not ever mentiond there as being quite out of date however the things still remain, and the vanities are the same. the three Philosophers sat together thinking of nothing.
In comes--Etruscan Column the Antiquarian & after an abundance of Enquiries to no purpose sat himself down & described something that nobody listend to so they were employd when Mrs Gimblet came in [tipsy] the corners of her mouth seemd I dont know how, but very odd as if she hoped you had not an ill opinion of her. to be sure we are all poor creatures. well she seated & [listend] seemd to listen with great attention while the Antiquarian seemd to be talking of virtuous cats, but it was not so. she was thinking of the shape of her eyes & mouth & he was thinking, of his eternal fame the three Philosophers at this time were each endeavouring to conceal [the] his laughter, (not at them but) at his own imaginations this was the situation of this improving company, when in a great hurry, Inflammable Gass the Wind finder enterd. they seemd to rise & salute each other Etruscan Column & Inflammable Gass fixd their eyes on each other, their tongues went in question & answer, but their thoughts were otherwise employd
“I don’t like his eyes,” said Etruscan Column.
“He’s a foolish puppy,” said Inflammable Gass, smiling on him.
The 3 Philosophers --[Quid] [the Elder] the Cynic smiling, the Epicurean seeming [not] studying the flame of the candle, & the Pythagorean playing with the cat--listen’d with open mouths to the edifying discourses.
“Sir said,” the Antiquarian, “I have seen these works, & I do affirm that they are no such thing. They seem to me to be the most wretched, paltry, flimsy Stuff that ever--”
“What d’ye say? What dye say?” said Inflammable Gass. “Why--why I wish I could see you write so.”
“Sir,” said the Antiquarian, “according to my opinion the author is an errant blockhead.”
“Your reason--Your reason?” said Inflammable Gass.”Why--why, I think it very abominable to call a man a blockhead that you know nothing of.”
“Reason Sir?” said the Antiquarian. “I’ll give you an example for your reason As I was walking along the street I saw a <vast> number of swallows on the [top of an house] rails of an old Gothic square they seemd to be going on their passage, as Pliny says as I was looking up, a little outre<accent> fellow pulling me by the sleeve, cries, ‘Pray Sir who do all they belong to?’ I turnd my self about with [PAGE 2] great contempt. Said I, ‘Go along, you fool!’ ‘Fool!’ said he, ‘who do you call fool I only askd you a civil question.’ [here Etr] I had a great mind to have thrash’d the fellow only he was bigger than I”
Here Etruscan column left off--Inflammable Gass, recollecting himself [said], “Indeed I do not think the man was a fool for he seems to me to have been desirous of enquiring into the works of nature!”
“Ha! Ha! Ha!” said the Pythagorean.
It was re-echo’d by [the] Inflammable Gass to overthrow the argument.
Etruscan Column then star[t]ing up & clenching both his fists was prepared to give a formal answer to the company But Ob[t]use Angle, entering the room having made a gentle bow, proceeded to empty his pockets of a vast number of papers, turned about & sat down wiped his [head] <face> with his pocket handkerchief & shutting his eyes began to scratch his head.
“Well, gentlemen,” said he, “what is the cause of strife?
The Cynic answer’d, “They are only quarreling about Voltaire.”
“Yes,” said the Epicurean, “& having a bit of fun with him.”
“And,” said the Pythagorean, “endeavoring to incorporate their souls with their bodies,”
Obtuse Angle giving a grin, said, “Voltaire understood nothing of the Mathematics, and a man must be a fool i’faith not to understand the Mathematics.”
Inflammable Gass turning round hastily in his chair said, “Mathematics he found out a number of Queries in Philosophy.”
Obtuse Angle shutting his eyes & saying that he always understood better when he shut his eyes [It is not of use to make] <said> “In the first place it is of no use for a man to make Queries but to solve them, for a man may be a fool & make Queries but a man must have good sound sense to solve them. a query & an answer are as different as a strait line & a crooked one. secondly--”
“I--I--I--aye! Secondly, Voltaire’s a fool,” says the Epicurean.
“Pooh,” says the Mathematician scratching his head with double violence, “it is not worth Quarreling about.”
The Antiquarian here got up--& hemming twice to shew the strength of his Lungs, said, “But my Good Sir, Voltaire was immersed in matter, & seems to have understood very little but what he saw before his eyes, like the Animal upon the Pythagoreans lap always playing with its own tail.”
“Ha! Ha! Ha!” said Inflammable Gass, “He was the Glory of France. I have got a bottle of air that would spread a Plague.”
Here the Antiquarian shruggd up his shoulders & was silent [talkd for half an hour] while Inflammable Gass talk’d for half an hour.
When Steelyard, the lawgiver, coming in stalking--with an act of parliament in his hand, said that it was a shameful thing that acts of parliament should be in a free state, it had so engrossed his mind that he did not salute the company.
Mrs Gimblet drew her mouth downwards.
Chapter 2
Tilly Lally the Siptippidist Aradobo, the dean of Morocco, Miss Gittipin [&] Mrs Nannicantipot, Mrs Sigtagatist, Gibble Gabble the wife of Inflammable Gass--& Little Scopprell enterd the room (If I have not presented you with every character in the piece call me [Ass*Arse] — Ass.)
Chapter 3
In the Moon, as Phebus stood over his oriental Gardening, “O ay, come, I’ll sing you a song,” said the Cynic.
“The trumpeter shit in his hat,” said the Epicurean.
“––& clapt it on his head,” said the Pythagorean.
“I’ll begin again said the Cynic
AN ISLAND IN THE MOON: SONG 1
”Little Phebus came strutting in
”With his fat belly & his round chin
”What is it you would please to have
”Ho! Ho!
”I wont let it go at only so & so.”
Mrs Gimblet look’d as if they meant her. Tilly Lally laught like a Cherry clapper. Aradobo ask’d, “Who was Phebus Sir?”
Obtuse Angle answerd, quickly, “He was the God of Physic, Painting, Perspective, Geometry, Geography, Astronomy, Cookery, Chymistry, [Conjunctives], Mechanics, Tactics, Pathology, Phraseology, Theolog[y], Mythology, Astrology, Osteology, Somatology, in short every art & science adorn’d him as beads round his neck.”
Here Aradobo lookd Astonishd & askd if he understood Engraving.
Obtuse Angle Answerd indeed he did.
“Well,” said the other, “he was as great as Chatterton.”
Tilly Lally turnd round to Obtuse Angle & askd who it was that was as great as Chatterton.
“Hay! How should I know? Answerd Obtuse Angle. “Who was It, Aradobo?”
“Why sir,” said he, the Gentleman that the song was about.”
“Ah,” said Tilly Lally, “I did not hear it. What was it, Obtuse Angle?
“Pooh,” said he. “Nonsense!”
“Mhm, said Tilly Lally.
“It was Phebus,” said the Epicurean.
“Ah, that was the Gentleman,” said Aradobo.
“Pray Sir,” said Tilly Lally, “who was Phebus?”
Obtuse Angle answerd, “The heathens in the old ages us’d to have Gods that they worship’d, & they us’d to sacrifice to them you have read about that in the bible.”
“Ah,” said Aradobo, “I thought I had read of Phebus in the Bible.”
“Aradobo, you should always think [of what you st] before you speak said Obtuse Angle.
“Ha! Ha! Ha! he means Pharaoh said Tilly Lally.
“I am ashamd of you,–– making [PAGE 4] use of the names [of] in the Bible,” said Mrs. Sigtagatist.
“Ill tell you what Mrs Sinagain I don’t think there’s any harm in it,” said Tilly Lally.
“No,” said Inflammable Gass. “I have got a camera obscura at home. What was it you was talking about?
“Law!” said Tilly Lally. “What has that to do with Pharaoh?”
“Pho! nonsense! hang Pharoh & all his host,” said the Pythagorean. “Sing away, Quid.”
Then the Cynic sung ––
”Honour & Genius is all I ask
”And I ask the Gods no more
”No more, No more, | the three Philosophers
”No more, No more.” | bear Chorus.
Here Aradobo suck’d his under lip.
Chapter 4
“Hang names!” said the Pythagorean. “What’s Pharoh better than Phebus, or Phebus than Pharoh?”
“Hang them both,” said the Cynic.
“Don’t be prophane,” said Mrs Sistagatist.
“Why?” said Mrs Nannicantipot, “I don’t think it’s prophane to say ‘Hang Pharoh.’” “Oh,” said Mrs Sinagain. “I’m sure you ought to hold your tongue, for you never say any thing about the scriptures, & you hinder your husband from going to church.”
“Ha, Ha!” said Inflammable Gass. “What! don’t you like to go to church?”
“No,” said Mrs Nannicantipot. “I think a person may be as good at home.”
“If I had not a place of profit that forces me to go to church”, said Inflammable Gass, “I’d see the parsons all hang’d, – a parcel of lying — ”
“O!” said Mrs Sigtagatist. “If it was not for churches & chapels I should not have liv’d so long. There was I, up in a Morning at four o’clock when I was a Girl. I would run like the dickins till I was all in a heat. I would stand till I was ready to sink into the earth. Ah, Mr Huffcap would kick the bottom of the Pulpit out, with Passion, would tear off the sleeve of his Gown & set his wig on fire & throw it at the people. He’d cry & stamp & kick & sweat and all for the good of their souls.”
“I’m sure he must be a wicked villain,” said Mrs Nannicantipot, “a passionate wretch. If I was a man I’d wait at the bottom of the pulpit stairs & knock him down & run away!”
“You would, you Ignorant jade? I wish I could see you hit any of the ministers! You deserve to have your ears boxed you do.”
“Im sure this is not religion answers the [PAGE 5] other.
Then Mr Inflammable Gass ran & shov’d his head into the fire & set his [head] hair all in a flame & ran about the room. No–no, he did not; I was only making a fool of you.
Chapter 5
Obtuse Angle, Scopprell, Aradobo, & Tilly Lally are all met in Obtuse Angle’s study.
“Pray,” said Aradobo, “is Chatterton a Mathematician?”
“No,” said Obtuse Angle. “How can you be so foolish as to think he was?”
“Oh, I did not think he was–I only ask’d,” said Aradobo.
“How could you think he was not, & ask if he was?” said Obtuse Angle.
“Oh no, Sir. I did think he was, before you told me, but afterwards I thought he was not.”
Obtuse Angle said, “In the first place you thought he was & then afterwards when I said he was not you thought he was not. Why I know that––”
“Oh no, sir, I thought that lie was not, but I ask’d t to know whether he was.”
“How can that be?” said Obtuse Angle. “How could you ask & think that he was not?”
“Why,” said he, “it came into my bead that he was not.”
“Why then,” said Obtuse Angle, “you said that he was?”
“Did I say so? Law! I did not think I said that.”
“Did not he?” said Obtuse Angle.
“Yes,” said Scopprell.
“But I meant–––” said Aradobo, “I–-I–-I can’t think. Law! Sir, I wish you’d tell me, how it is.”
Then Obtuse Angle put his chin in his hand & said, “Whenever you think, you must always think for yourself.”
“How Sir!” said Aradobo. “Whenever I think, I must think myself? I think I do. In the first place–––” said he with a grin.
“Poo! Poo!” said Obtuse Angle. “Don’t be a fool.”
Then Tilly Lally took up a Quadrant & ask’d, “[what is this gim crank for]. Is not this a sun dial?”
“Yes,” said Scopprell, “but it’s broke.”
At this moment the three Philosophers enter’d and low’ring darkness hover’d o’er th’ assembly.
“Come,” said the Epicurean, “let’s have some rum & water, & hang the mathematics! Come Aradobo! Say some thing.”
Then Aradobo began, “In the first place I think, I think in the first place that Chatterton was clever at Fissic, Follogy, Pistinology, Aridology, Arography, Transmography, Phizography, Hogamy, Hatomy, & hall that, but in the first place he eat wery little, wickly–that is, he slept very little which he brought into a consumsion; & what was that that he took? [Cha] Fissic or somethink,––& so died!
So all the people in the book enter’d into the room & they could not talk any more to the present purpose.
Chapter 6
They all went home & left the Philosophers. Then Suction Ask’d if Pindar was not a better Poet, than Ghiotto was a Painter.
“Plutarch has not the life of Ghiotto,” said Sipsop.
“No,” said Quid, “to be sure, he was an Italian.”
“Well,” said Suction, “that is not any proof.”
“Plutarch was a nasty ignorant puppy,” said Quid. “I hate your sneaking rascals. there’s Aradobo in [twen[ty]] ten or twelve years will be a far superior genius.”
“Ah!” said the Pythagorean, “Aradobo will make a very clever fellow.”
“Why,” said Quid, “I think that [a] any natural fool would make a clever fellow if he was properly brought up.”
“Ah, hang your reasoning!” said the Epicurean. I hate reasoning. I do every thing by my feelings.”
“Ah!” said Sipsop, “I only wish Jack [Hunter] Tearguts had had the cutting of Plutarch. He understands anatomy better than any of the Ancients. He’ll plunge his knife up to the hilt in a single drive, and thrust his fist in, and all in the space of a quarter of an hour. He does not mind their crying, tho’ they cry ever so. He’ll swear at them & keep them down with his fist, & tell them that he’ll scrape their bones if they don’t lay still & be quiet. What the devil should the people in the hospital that have it done for nothing, make such a piece of work for?”
“Hang that,” said Suction; “let us have a Song.”
“Then [Sipsop sang] the Cynic sang––
AN ISLAND IN THE MOON: SONG 2
1
“When old corruption first begun,
Adorn’d in yellow vest,
He committed on flesh a whoredom–
O, what wicked beast!
2
From them a callow babe did spring,
And old corruption smil’d
To think his race should never end.
For now he had a child.
3
He call’d him Surgery, & fed
The babe with his own milk,
For flesh & he could ne’er agree,
She would not let him suck.
4
And this he always kept in mind,
And form’d a crooked knife,
And ran about with bloody hands
To seek his mother’s life.
5
And as he ran to seek his mother
He met with a dead woman,
He fell in love & married her,
A deed which is not common.
6
She soon grew pregnant & brought forth
Scurvy & spotted fever.
The father grin’d & skipt about
And said, ‘I’m made for ever!
7
For now I have procur’d these imps
I’ll try experiments.’
With that he tied poor scurvy down
& stopt up all its vents.
8
And when the child began to swell,
He shouted out aloud,
I’ve found the dropsy out, & soon
Shall do the world more good.’
9
He took up fever by the neck
And cut out all its spots,
And thro’ the holes which he had made
He first discover’d guts.”
“Ah,” said Sipsop, “you think we are rascals––& we think you are rascals. I do as I chuse. What is it to any body what I do? I am always unhappy too. When I think of Surgery––I don’t know. I do it because I like it. My father does what he likes & so do I. I think, somehow, I’ll leave it off. There was a woman having her cancer cut, & she shriek’d so, that I was quite sick”
Chapter 7
“Good-night,” said Sipsop. “Good-night,” said the other two. Then [they] Quid & Suction were left alone. Then said Quid, “I think that Homer is bombast, & Shakespeare is too wild, & Milton has no feelings; they might be easily outdone. Chatterton never writ those poems! A parcel of fools, going to Bristol! If I was to go I’d find it out in a minute, but I’ve found it out already.”
“If I don’t knock them all up next year in the Exhibition, I’ll be hang’d,” said Suction, “Hang Philosophy! I would not give a farthing for it! Do all by your feelings, and never think at all about it. I’m hang’d if I don’t get up to-morrow morning by four o’clock & work Sir Joshua.”
“Before ten years are at an end,” said Quid, “how I will work these poor milk [PAGE 8] sop devils,––an ignorant pack of wretches!”
So they went to bed.
Chapter 8
Steelyard the Lawgiver, sitting at his table, taking extracts from Hervey’s Meditations among the tombs & Young’s Night thoughts. [This is unfair and ?I ?think]
“He is not able to hurt me,” (said he) “more than making me Constable or taking away the parish business. Hah!
[O what a scene is here what a disguise]
My crop of corn is but a field of tares”,
Says Jerome happiness is not for us poor crawling reptiles of the earth. Talk of happiness & happiness! It’s no such thing. Every person has as something.
Hear then the pride & knowledge of a Sailor,
His sprit sail fore sail main sail & his mizzen.
A poor frail man! god wot I know none frailer.
I know no greater sinner than John Taylor.
If I had only myself to care for I’d soon make Double Elephant look foolish, & Filligree work. I hope [I] shall live to see–
‘The wreck of matter & the crush of worlds’,
as Younge says.”
Obtuse Angle enterd the Room.
“What news, Mr Steelyard?
“I am Reading ‘Theron & Aspasio’, said he.
Obtuse Angle took up the books one by one.
“I don’t find it here,” said he.
“Oh no,” said the other, “it was the meditations!”
Obtuse Angle took up the book & read till the other was quite tir’d out.
Then Scopprell & Miss Gittipin, coming in Scopprell took up a book & read <the following passage:–
“An Easy of [Human] Huming Understanding, by John Lookye [Gentleman] Gent.
“John Locke,” said Obtuse Angle.
“O, ay–Lock,” said Scopprell. [“Its a book about…”]
“Now here,” said Miss Gittipin I never saw such company in my life. You are always talking of your books. I like to be where we talk. You had better take a walk, that we may have some pleasure. I am sure I never see any pleasure. There’s Double Elephant’s Girls, they have their own way; & there’s Miss Filligreework she goes out in her coaches, & her footman, & her maids, & Stormonts, & Balloon hats, & a pair of Gloves every day, & the sorrows of Werter, & Robinsons, & the Queen of France’s Puss colou, & my Cousin Gibble Gabble says that I am like nobody else. I might as well be in a nunnery. There they go [to] in Postchaises & Stages to Vauxhall & Ranelagh. And I hardly know what a coach is, except when I go to [PAGE 9] Mr Jacko’s he knows what riding is, [& he does not] & his wife is the most agreeable woman. You hardly know she has a tongue in her head, and he is the funniest fellow, & I do believe he’ll go in partnership with his master, & they have black servants lodge at their house. I never saw such a place in my life. He says he as Six & twenty rooms in his house, and I believe it, & he is not such a liar as Quid thinks he is.” [but he is always Envying]
“Poo! Poo! Hold your tongue! Hold your tongue,” said the Lawgiver.
This quite provok’d Miss Gittipin, to interrupt her in her favourite topic, & she proceeded to use every Provoking speech that ever she could, & he bore it [more] like a Saint than a Lawgiver, and with great Solemnity he address’d the company in these words:–
“They call women the weakest vessel, but I think they are the strongest. A girl has always more tongue than a boy. I have seen a little brat no higher than a nettle, & she had as much tongue as a city clark; but a boy would be such a fool, not have any thing to say and, if any body ask’d him a question he would put his head into a hole & hide it. I am sure I take but little pleasure. You have as much pleasure as I have. There I stand & bear every fool’s insult. if I had only myself to care for, I’d wring off their noses.”
To this Scopprell answer’d, “I think the Ladies discourses, Mr Steelyard, are some of them more improving than any book. That is the way I have got some of my knowledge.”
“Then,” said Miss Gittipin, “Mr Scopprell, do you know the song of Phebe and Jellicoe?
“No, Miss,” said Scopprell.
Then she repeated these verses while Steelyard walk’d about the room:
AN ISLAND IN THE MOON: SONG 3
“Phebe, drest like beauties Queen,
Jellicoe in faint peagreen,
Sitting all beneath a grot
Where the little lambkins trot;
Maidens dancing loves a sporting,
All the country folks a courting,
Susan, Johnny, Bet, & Joe
Lightly tripping on a row.
Happy people who can be
In happiness compard with ye?
The Pilgrim with his crook & hat
Sees your happiness compleat.”
“A charming Song, indeed miss,” said Scopprell.
[That was all for..] here they reciev’d a summons for a merry making at the Philosopher’s house.
Chapter 9
“I say, this evening [we’d] we’ll all get drunk. I say — dash! an Anthem an Anthem!” said Suction.
AN ISLAND IN THE MOON: SONG 4
”Lo the Bat with Leathern wing,
Winking & blinking,
Winking & blinking,
Winking & blinking,
Like Doctor Johnson.”
Quid. ‘Oho’, said Doctor Johnson
To Scipio Africanus,
’If you dont own me a Philosopher
I’ll kick your Roman Anus’.”
Suction. “A ha To Doctor Johnson
Said Scipio Africanus
Lift up my Roman Petticoatt
And kiss my Roman Anus.’”
”And the Cellar goes down with a Step.” (Grand Chorus.)
“Ho, Ho, Ho, Ho, Ho, Ho, Hom Hooooo, my poooooor siiides! I I should die if I was to live here! said Scopprell. “Ho, Ho, Ho, Ho, Ho!”
1st Vo. Want Matches
2d Vo. Yes Yes Yes
1st Vo. Want Matches
2d Vo. No----------
1st Vo. “Want Matches?”
2d Vo. “Yes Yes Yes “
1st Vo. “Want Matches”
2d Vo. “No---------”
Here was Great confusion & disorder Aradobo said that the boys in the street sing something very pritty & funny [about London — O no] about Matches. Then Mrs Nannicantipot sung:
”I cry my matches as far as Guild hall;
God bless the duke & his aldermen all!”
Then sung Scopprell:
”I ask the Gods no more, —
no more, no more.”
“Then,” said Suction, “come Mr Lawgiver, your song”; and the Lawgiver sung:
”As I walkd forth one may morning
To see the fields so pleasant & so gay
O there did I spy a young maiden sweet [PAGE 11]
Among the Violets that smell so sweet
Smell so sweet
Smell so sweet
Among the Violets that smell so sweet.”
“Hang your Violets! Here’s your Rum & water [sweeter]. “O ay,” said Tilly Lally, “Joe Bradley & I was going along one day in the Sugar house. Joe Bradley saw — for he had but one eye — [?one] saw a treacle Jar. So he goes of his blind side & dips his hand up to the shoulder in treacle. ‘Here, [ll] lick, lick, lick!’ said he. Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! For he had but one eye. Ha! Ha! Ha! Ho!’
Then sung Scopprell:
”And I ask the Gods no more, —
no more, no more,
no more, no more”
“Miss Gittipin,” said he, “you sing like a harpsichord. Let your bounty descend to our fair ears and favour us with a fine song.”
Then she sung:
”This frog he would a-wooing ride,
Kitty alone, — Kitty alone, —
This frog he would a-wooing ride, —
Kitty alone & I!
Sing cock I cary, Kitty alone, —
Kitty alone, — Kitty alone, —
Cock I car, Kitty alone, —
Kitty alone & I!”
“Charming! truly elegant!” said Scopprell.
”And I ask the gods no more!”
“Hang your Serious Songs!” said Sipsop, & he sung as follows:
”Fa ra so bo ro
Fa ra bo ra
Sa ba ra ra ba rare roro
Sa ra ra ra bo ro ro ro
Radara
Sarapodo no flo ro.”
“Hang Italian songs! Let’s have English!” said Quid. “[Sing a Mathematical Song Obtuse Angle then he sung] English Genius for ever! here I go:
”Hail Matrimony, made of Love,
To thy wide gates how great a drove
On purpose to be yok’d do come!
Widows & maids & Youths also,
That lightly trip on beauty’s toe,
Or sit on beauty’s bum.
Hail, fingerfooted lovely Creatures!
The females of our human Natures,
Formed to suckle all Mankind.
Tis you that come in time of need;
Without you we shoud never Breed,
Or any Comfort find.
For if a Damsel’s blind or lame,
Or Nature’s hand has crooked her frame, [PAGE 12]
Or if she’s deaf, or is wall eyed,
Yet if her heart is well inclined,
Some tender lover she shall find
That panteth for a Bride.
The universal Poultice this,
To cure whatever is amiss
In damsel or in Widow gay.
It makes them smile, it makes them skip,
Like Birds just cured of the pip,
They chirp, & hop away.
Then come ye Maidens,come ye Swains,
Come & be eased of all your pains
In Matrimony’s Golden cage.”
“[None of] Go & be hanged!” said Scopprel. “How can you have the face to make game of Matrimony?”
[“What you skipping flea how dare ye? I’ll dash you through your chair,” says the Cynic. “This Quid” (cries out Miss Gittipin), always spoils good company in this manner & its a shame.”]
Then Quid call’d upon Obtuse Angle for a Song, & he, wiping his face & looking on the corner of the ceiling, sang:
”To be or not to be
Of great capacity,
Like Sir Isaac Newton,
Or Locke? or Doctor South,
Or Sherlock upon death?
I’d rather be Sutton.
For he did build a house
For aged men & youthm
With walls of brick & stone.
He furnish’d it within
With whatever he could win
And all his own.
He drew out of the Stocks
His money in a box,
And sent his servant
To Green the Bricklayer
And to the Carpenter:
He was so fervent.
The chimneys were three score,
The windows many more,
And for convenience
He sinks & gutters made,
And all the way he pav’d
To hinder pestilence.
Was not this a good man,
Whose life was but a span,
Whose name was Sutton,
As Locke or Doctor South,
Or Sherlock upon Death.
Or Sir Isaac Newton?”
The Lawgiver was very attentive & beg’d to have it sung over again & again till the company were tired & insisted on the Lawgiver singing song himself, which he readily complied with.
”This city & this country has brought forth many mayors,
To sit in state & give forth laws out of their old oak chairs,
With face as brown as any nut with drinking of strong ale;
Good English hospitality, O then it did not fail!
With scarlet gowns & broad gold lace would make a yeoman sweat,
With stockings roll’d above their knees & shoes as black as jet,
With eating beef & drinking beer, O they were stout & hale!
Good English hospitality, O then it did not fail!
Thus sitting at the table wide, the Mayor & Aldermen
Were fit to give law to the city; each eat as much as ten.
The hungry poor ente’rd the hall to eat good beef & ale.
Good English hospitality, O then it did not fail!”
Here they gave a shout, & the company broke up.
Chapter 10
Thus these happy Islanders spent their time. But felicity does not last long, for being met at the house of Inflammable Gass the windfinder, the following affairs happen’d.
“Come, Flammable,” said Gibble Gabble, “& let’s enjoy ourselves. Bring the Puppets.”
“Hay, — Hay,” said he, “you — sho — why — ya, ya, how can you be so foolish? Ha! Ha! Ha! She calls the experiments puppets!”
Then he went up stairs & loaded the maid, with glasses, & brass tubes, & magic pictures.
“Here ladies & gentlemen,” said he I’ll shew you a louse, [climing] or a flea, or a butterfly, or a cock chafer, the blade bone of a tittle back. No, no. Here’s a bottle of wind that I took up in the bog house, O dear, O dear, the water’s got into the sliders! Look here, Gibble Gabble! Lend me your handkerchief, Tilly Lally.
Tilly Lally took out his handkerchief, which smear’d the glass worse than ever. Then he screw’d it on. Then he took the sliders, & then he set up the glasses for the Ladies to view the pictures. Thus he was employ’d, & quite out of breath. While Tilly Laily & Scopprell were pumping at the air pump, Smack went the glass.
“Hang!” said Tilly Lally.
Inflammable Gass turn’d short round & threw down the table & Glasses, & Pictures, & broke the bottles of wind, & let out the Pestilence. He saw the Pestilence fly out of the bottle, & cried out, [PAGE 14] while he ran out of the room:
“[Go] Come out! Come out! [you ar] We are putrified! We are corrupted! Our lungs are destroy’d with the Flogiston. This will spread a plague all thro’ the Island!
He was down stairs the very first. On the back of him came all the others in a heap.
So they need not bidding go.
Chapter 11
Another merry meeting at the house of Steelyard the Lawgiver. After Supper Steelyard & Obtuse Angle. had pump’d Inflammable Gass quite dry. They play’d at forfeits & try’d every method to get good song then he sung humour.
Said Miss Gittipin, “Pray, Mr Obtuse Angle, sing us a song.”
AN ISLAND IN THE MOON: SONG 5
”Upon a holy Thursday, their innocent faces clean,
The children walking two & two in grey & blue & green,
Grey headed beadles walk’d before with wands as white as snow,
Till into the high dome of Paul’s they like Thames’ waters flow.
O what a multitude they seem’d, these flowers of London town!
Seated in companies, they sit with radiance all their own.
The hum of multitudes were there, but multitudes of lambs,
[And all in order sit and waiting the chief chanter’s commands]
Thousands of little girls & boys raising their innocent hands
[Then like a mighty wind they raise to heav’n the voice of song,
Or like harmonious thunderings the seats of heav’n among,
When the whole multitude of innocents their voices raise
Like angels on the throne of heav’n, raising the voice of phraise]
Let Cherubim & Seraphim now raise their voices high]
Then like a mighty wind they raise to heav’n the voice of song,
Or like harmonious thunderings the seats of heav’n among,
Beneath them sit the rev’rend men the guardians of the poor
Then cherish pity lest you drive an angel from your door.”
After this they all sat silent for a quarter of an hour, [& Mrs Sistagatist]
& Mrs Nannicantipot said, “It puts me in Mind of my [grand] mother’s song:”
[The voice]
”When the tongues of children are heard on the green,
And laughing is heard on the hill,
My heart is at rest within my breast,
And every thing else is still.
’Then come home my children the sun is gone down,
And the dews of night arise;
Come, Come, leave off play, & let us away
Till the morning appears in the skies’ [PAGE 15]
’No, No, let us play, for it is yet day,
And we cannot [go to] go to sleep [till it’s dark]
[The flocks are at play & we can’t go away]
Besides in the Sky the little birds fly,
And the meadows are cover’d with Sheep’
’Well, Well, go & play till the light fades away,
And then go home to bed.
The little ones leaped & shouted & laugh’d,
And all the hills echoed.”
Then [Miss Gittipin] [Tilly Lally sung] [Quid] sung Quid:
”O father father where are you going
Oh do not walk so fast;
Oh, speak, father, speak to your little boy,
Or else I shall be lost.
The night it was dark & no father was there,
And the child was wet with dew.
The mire was deep, & the child did weep
And away the vapour flew.”
Here nobody could sing any longer, till Tilly Lally pluck’d up a spirit & he sung:
”O I say, you Joe,
Throw us the ball.
I’ve a good mind to go,
And leave you all.
I never saw such a bowler,
To bowl the ball in a [turd] tansey,
And to clean it with my handkercher
Without saying a word.
That Bill’s a foolish fellow,
[To hit me with the bat]
He has given me a black eye.
He does not know how to handle a bat
Any more than a dog or a cat.
He has knock’d down the wicket
And broke the stumps,
And runs without shoes to save his pumps.”
Here a laugh began and Miss Gittipin sung:
”Leave O leave [me] to my sorrows,
Here Ill sit & fade away;
Till I’m nothing but a spirit,
And I lose this form of clay. [PAGE 16]
Then if chance along this forest
Any walk in pathless ways,
Thro’ the gloom he’ll see my shadow,
Hear my voice upon the Breeze.”
The Lawgiver all the while sat delighted to see them in such a serious humour.
“Mr Scopprel,” said he, “you must be acquainted with a great many songs.”
“O, dear sir! Ho, Ho, Ho, I am no singer. I must beg of one of these tender hearted ladies to sing for me.”
They all declined, & he was forced to sing himself:
”There’s Doctor Clash
And Signior Falalasole:
O they sweep in the cash
Into their purse hole.
Fa me la sol. La me fa sol.
[how many Blackamoors
cou’d singwith their thick lips]
Great A, little A,
Bouncing B.
Play away, Play away,
Your out of the key.
Fa me la sol. La me fa sol.
Musicians should have
A pair of very good ears,
And Long fingers & thumbs,
And not like clumsy bears.
Fa me la sol. La me fa sol.
Gentlemen, Gentlemen,
Rap, Rap, Rap,
Fiddle, Fiddle, Fiddle,
Clap, Clap, Clap.
Fa me la sol. La me fa sol.
“Hm” said the Lawgiver, “Funny enough! Let’s have handel’s water piece.”
Then Sipsop sung:
”A crowned king,
On a white horse sitting,
With his trumpets sounding,
And Banners flying,
Thro’ the clouds of smoke he makes his way,
And the shout of his thousands fills his heart with rejoicing & victory:
And the shout of his thousands fills his heart with rejoicing & victory.
Victory Victory! ‘twas William, the prince of Orange, — ”
[Here a leaf or more is missing]
“ — them Illuminating the Manuscript.”
“Ay,” said she, “that would be excellent.”
“Then,”said he, “I would have all the writing Engraved instead of Printed, & at every other leaf a high finish’d print — all in three Volumes folio — & sell them a hundred pounds apiece. They would print off two thousand.”
“Then,” said she, “whoever will not have them will be ignorant fools & will not deserve to live.”
“Don’t you think I have something of the Goat’s face?” says he.
“Very like a Goat’s face,” she answerd.
“I think your face,” said he, “is like that noble beast the Tyger. Oh, I was at Mrs Sicknaken’s & I was speaking of my abilities but their nasty hearts, poor devils, are
eat up with envy. They envy me my abilities, & all the Women envy your abilities.”
“My dear, they hate people who are of higher abil[it]ies than their nasty, filthy [Souls] Selves. But do you outface them, & then Strangers will see you have an
opinion.”
“Now I think we should do as much good as we can when we are at Mr Femality’s. Do yo[u] snap, & take me up, and I will fall into such a passion. I’ll hollow and stamp & frighten all the People there, & show them what truth is.”
At this Instant Obtuse Angle came in.
“Oh, I am glad you are come,” said Quid.
THE END
ALL RELIGIONS ARE ONE
This book presents a series of philosophical aphorisms, written in 1788, representing Blake’s first successful attempt to combine image and text with relief etching. During his training as a professional copy engraver with James Basire in the 1770s, the most common method of engraving was stippling, which was thought to give a more accurate impression of the original picture than the previous method of line engraving. Around that time, George Cumberland had been experimenting with a method of reproducing handwriting with an etched plate, and Blake used Cumberland’s method in his own relief etching, treating the text as handwritten script rather than mechanical letterpress, allowing him to make it a component of the image.
Blake’s great innovation in relief etching was to print from the raised parts of the plate rather than the incised parts. Whereas previous methods worked by creating furrows in which the acid was poured to create holes for the ink, Blake wrote and drew directly on to the plate with an acid-resistant material known as a ‘stop-out’. The engraver would then embed the plate’s edges in strips of wax to create a self-contained tray and pour the acid a quarter of an inch deep, causing the exposed parts of the plate to melt away and the design to remain slightly above the rest of the plate. Blake also coloured the plates themselves in coloured inks, before pressing them or tinting them with watercolours after printing. Due to this aspect, a major component of relief etching was that every book’s pages depicted unique images – a major selling point.
All Religions are One features ten plates, each with a paragraph on a separate plate, except Plate 10, which contains both Principal 7d and a short paragraph which functions as a conclusion to the series. In numerous cases, it seems as if the acid has eaten away too much of the relief and Blake has had to go over sections with ink and wash, often touching the text and design outlines with pen. Several of the plates also feature examples of white line engraving, a technique where Blake would literally cut into the stop-out to create tiny furrows, which would be eaten away by the acid, creating a streak effect in the final print.
The original title page
George Cumberland (1754–1848), the pioneering engraver, whose new technique inspired Blake’s early illuminated books.
CONTENTS
ALL RELIGIONS ARE ONE: THE ARGUMENT
The Voice of one crying in the Wilderness
ALL RELIGIONS ARE ONE: THE ARGUMENT
As the true method of Knowledge is Experiment, the true faculty of knowing must be the faculty which experiences. This faculty I treat of:
ALL RELIGIONS ARE ONE
Principle 1
That the Poetic Genius is the True Man, and that the Body or Outward Form of Man is derived from the Poetic Genius. Likewise that the Forms of all things are derived from their Genius, which by the Ancients was call’d an Angel and Spirit and Demon.
Principle 2
As all men are alike in Outward Form; so, and with the same infinite variety, all are alike in the Poetic Genius.
Principle 3
No man can think, write, or speak from his heart, but he must intend Truth. Thus all sects of Philosophy are from the Poetic Genius, adapted to the weaknesses of every individual.
Principle 4
As none by travelling over known lands can find out the unknown; so, from already acquired knowledge, Man could not acquire more; therefore an universal Poetic Genius exists.
Principle 5
The Religions of all Nations are derived from each Nation’s different reception of the Poetic Genius, which is everywhere call’d the Spirit of Prophecy.
Principle 6
The Jewish and Christian Testaments are an original derivation from the Poetic Genius. This is necessary from the confined nature of bodily sensation.
Principle 7
As all men are alike, tho’ infinitely various; so all Religions: and as all similars have one source the True Man is the source, he being the Poetic Genius.
THERE IS NO NATURAL RELIGION
This series of philosophical aphorisms was written in 1788 and is one of the most complex and ambiguous of Blake’s illuminated manuscripts. The earliest known printing was in 1794 and consists of eighty-seven known impressions of a total of twelve plates. All impressions of the plates have been colour printed in reddish-brown ink on the same type of paper. After the second printing in 1795, the text of There is No Natural Religion was not published again until 1886, in a facsimile edition edited by William Muir.
The title page of the book
CONTENTS
THERE IS NO NATURAL RELIGION : THE ARGUMENT
THERE IS NO NATURAL RELIGION : THE ARGUMENT
Man has no notion of moral
fitness but from Education.
Naturally he is only a natu-
ral organ subject to Sense.
I
Man cannot naturally Per-
ceive, but through his natural
or bodily organs
II
Man by his reason-
ing power. can only
compare & judge of
what he has already
perceiv’d.
III
From a perception of
only 3 senses or 3 ele
-ments none could de-
-duce a fourth or fifth
IV
None could have other
than natural or organic
thoughts if he had none
but organic perceptions
V
Mans desires are
limited by his percepti
ons. none can de-
-sire what he has not
prceiv’d
VI
The desires & percepti-
-ons of man untaught by
any thing but organs of
sense, must be limited
to objects of sense.
THERE IS NO NATURAL RELIGION
I
Man’s percepti-
-ons are not bound
-ed by organs of
perception. he per-
-ceives more than
sense (tho’ ever
so acute) can
discover
II
Reason or the ra-
-tio of all we have
already known is
not the same that
it shall be when
we know more
IV
The bounded is
loathed by its pos-
-sessor.The same
dull round even
of the univer[s]e, would
soon become a
mill with complica-
-ted wheels.
V
If the many bec-
-ome the same as
the few, when pos-
-sess’d, More! More!
is the cry of a mista-
-ken soul, less than
All cannot satisfy
Man
VI
If any could de-
-sire what he is in-
-capable of posses-
sing, despair must
be his eternal
lot
VII
The desire of
Man being Infi-
-nite the possession
is Infinite & him-
-self Infinite
Application
He who sees the In-
-finite in all things
sees God. He who
sees the Ratio only
sees himself only
Conclusion
If it were not for the
Poetic or Prophetic
character, the Philo-
-sophic& Experimen-
-tal would soon be
at the ratio of all
things, & stand still,
unable to do other
than repeat the same
dull round over a-
-gain
Therefore
God becomes as
we are, that we
may be as he
is
TIRIEL
Written in 1789, this narrative poem is the first poetry in which Blake used free septenaries (lines of verse containing seven metrical feet), which the poet would go on to use in many of his later works. Unpublished throughout Blake’s lifetime, Tiriel was first printed in 1874, when it appeared in William Michael Rossetti’s Poetical Works of William Blake. Although Blake chose not to engrave the poem, he did make twelve sepia drawings to accompany the rough and unfinished manuscript, although three of them are considered lost as they have not been traced since 1863.
The narrative introduces the history of the sons of Har and Heva, characters in Blake’s mythological writings that roughly correspond to an aged Adam and Eve, who have revolted and abandoned their parents. Tiriel subsequently sets himself up as a tyrant in the west, driving one of his brothers, Ijim, into exile in the wilderness and chaining the other, Zazel, in a cave in the mountains.
Tiriel supporting Myratana
CONTENTS
TIRIEL 1
And Aged Tiriel. stood before the Gates of his beautiful palace
With Myratana. once the Queen of all the western plains
But now his eyes were darkned. & his wife fading in death
They stood before their once delightful palace. & thus the Voice
Of aged Tiriel. arose. that his sons might hear in their gates
Accursed race of Tiriel. behold your father
Come forth & look on her that bore you. come you accursed sons.
In my weak arms. I here have borne your dying mother
Come forth sons of the Curse come forth. see the death of Myratana
His sons ran from their gates. & saw their aged parents stand
And thus the eldest son of Tiriel raisd his mighty voice
Old man unworthy to be calld. the father of Tiriels race
For evry one of those thy wrinkles. each of those grey hairs
Are cruel as death. & as obdurate as the devouring pit
Why should thy sons care for thy curses thou accursed man
Were we not slaves till we rebeld. Who cares for Tiriels curse
His blessing was a cruel curse. His curse may be a blessing
He ceast the aged man raisd up his right hand to the heavens
His left supported Myratana shrinking in pangs of death
The orbs of his large eyes he opend. & thus his voice went forth
Serpents not sons. wreathing around the bones of Tiriel
Ye worms of death feasting upon your aged parents flesh
Listen & hear your mothers groans. No more accursed Sons
She bears. she groans not at the birth of Heuxos or Yuva
These are the groans of death ye serpents These are the groans of death
Nourishd with milk ye serpents. nourishd with mothers tears & cares
Look at my eyes blind as the orbless scull among the stones
Look at my bald head. Hark listen ye serpents listen
What Myratana. What my wife. O Soul O Spirit O fire
What Myratana. art thou dead. Look here ye serpents look
The serpents sprung from her own bowels have draind her dry as this[.]
Curse on your ruthless heads. for I will bury her even here
So saying he began to dig a grave with his aged hands
But Heuxos calld a son of Zazel. to dig their mother a grave
Old cruelty desist & let us dig a grave for thee
Thou hast refusd our charity thou hast refusd our food
Thou hast refusd our clothes our beds our houses for thy dwelling
Chusing to wander like a Son of Zazel in the rocks
Why dost thou curse. is not the curse now come upon your head
Was it not you enslavd the sons of Zazel. & they have cursd
And now you feel it. Dig a grave & let us bury our mother
There take the body. cursed sons. & may the heavens rain wrath
As thick as northern fogs. around your gates. to choke you up
That you may lie as now your mother lies. like dogs. cast out
The stink. of your dead carcases. annoying man & beast
Till your white bones are bleachd with age for a memorial.
No your remembrance shall perish. for when your carcases
Lie stinking on the earth. the buriers shall arise from the east
And. not a bone of all the soils of Tiriel remain
Bury your mother but you cannot bury the curse of Tiriel
He ceast & darkling oer the mountains sought his pathless way
TIRIEL 2
He wanderd day & night to him both day & night were dark
The sun he felt but the bright moon was now a useless globe
Oer mountains & thro vales of woe. the blind & aged man
Wanderd till he that leadeth all. led him to the vales of Har
And Har & Heva like two children sat beneath the Oak
Mnetha now aged waited on them. & brought them food & clothing
But they were as the shadow of Har. & as the years forgotten
Playing with flowers. & running after birds they spent the day
And in the night like infants slept delighted with infant dreams
Soon as the blind wanderer enterd the pleasant gardens of Har
They ran weeping like frighted infants for refuge in Mnethas arms
The blind man felt his way & cried peace to these open doors
Let no one fear for poor blind Tiriel hurts none but himself
Tell me O friends where am I now. & in what pleasant place
This is the valley of Har said Mnetha & this the tent of Har
Who art thou poor blind man. that takest the name of Tiriel on thee
Tiriel is king of all the west. who art thou I am Mnetha
And this is Har & Heva. trembling like infants by my side
I know Tiriel is king of the west & there he lives in joy
No matter who I am O Mnetha. if thou hast any food
Give it me. for I cannot stay my journey is far from hence
Then Har said O my mother Mnetha venture not so near him
For he is the king of rotten wood & of the bones of death
He wanders. without eyes. & passes thro thick walls & doors
Thou shalt not smite my mother Mnetha O thou eyeless man
A wanderer. I beg for food. you see I cannot weep
I cast away my staff the kind companion of my travel
And I kneel down that you may see I am a harmless man
He kneeled down & Mnetha said Come Har & Heva rise
He is an innocent old man & hungry with his travel
Then Har arose & laid his hand upon old Tiriels head
God bless thy poor bald pate. God bless. thy hollow winking eyes
God bless thy shriveld beard. God. bless. thy many wrinkled forehead
Thou hast no teeth old man & thus I kiss thy sleek bald head
Heva come kiss his bald head for he will not hurt us Heva
Then Heva came & took old Tiriel in her mothers arms
Bless thy poor eyes old man. & bless the old father of Tiriel
Thou art my Tiriels old father. I know thee thro thy wrinkles
Because thou smellest. like the figtree. thou smellest like ripe figs
How didst thou lose thy eyes old Tiriel. bless thy wrinkled face
Mnetha said come in aged wanderer tell us of thy name
Why shouldest thou conceal thyself from those of thine own flesh
I am not of this region. said Tiriel dissemblingly
I am an aged wanderer once father of a race
Far in the north. but they were wicked & were all destroyd
And I their father sent an outcast. I have told you all
Ask me no more I pray for grief hath seald my precious sight
O Lord said Mnetha how I tremble are there then more people
More human creatures on this earth beside the sons of Har
No more said Tiriel but I remain on all this globe
And I remain an outcast. hast thou any thing to drink
Then Mnetha gave him milk & fruits. & they sat down together
TIRIEL 3
They sat & eat & Har & Heva smild on Tiriel
Thou art a very old old man but I am older than thou
How came thine hair to leave thy forehead how came thy face so brown
My hair is very long my beard. doth cover all my breast
God bless thy piteous face. to count the wrinkles in thy face
Would puzzle Mnetha. bless thy face for thou art Tiriel
Tiriel I never saw but once I sat with him & eat
He was as chearful as a prince & gave me entertainment
But long I staid not at his palace for I am forcd to wander
What wilt thou leave us too said Heva thou shalt not leave us too
For we have many sports to shew thee & many songs to sing
And after dinner we will walk into the cage of Har
And thou shalt help us to catch birds. & gather them ripe cherries
Then let thy name be Tiriel & never leave us more
If thou dost go said Har I wish thine eyes may see thy folly
My sons have left me did thine leave thee O twas very cruel
No venerable man said Tiriel ask me not such things
For thou dost make my heart to bleed my sons were not like thine
But worse O never ask me more or I must flee away
Thou shalt not go said Heva till thou hast seen our singing birds
And heard Har sing in the great cage & slept upon our fleeces
Go not for thou art so like Tiriel. that I love thine head
Tho it is wrinkled like the earth parchd with the summer heat
Then Tiriel rose up from the seat & said god bless these tents
My Journey is oer rocks & mountains. not in pleasant vales
I must not sleep nor rest because of madness & dismay
And Mnetha said Thou must not go to wander dark. alone
But dwell with us & let us be to thee instead of eyes
And I will bring thee food old man. till death shall call thee hence
Then Tiriel frownd & answerd. Did I not command you saying
Madness & deep dismay posses[s] the heart of the blind man
The wanderer who seeks the woods leaning upon his staff
Then Mnetha trembling at his frowns led him to the tent door
And gave to him his staff & blest him. he went on his way
But Har & Heva stood & watchd him till he enterd the wood
And then they went & wept to Mnetha. but they soon forgot their tears
TIRIEL 4
Over the weary hills the blind man took his lonely way
To him the day & night alike was dark & desolate
But far he had not gone when Ijim from his woods come down
Met him at entrance of the forest in a dark & lonely way
Who art thou Eyeless wretch that thus obstructst the lions path
Ijim shall rend thy feeble joints thou tempter of dark Ijim
Thous hast the form of Tiriel but I know thee well enough
Stand from my path foul fiend is this the las of thy deceits
To be a hypocrite & stand in shape of a blind beggar
The blind man heard his brothers voice & kneeld down on his knee
O brother Ijim if it is thy voice that speaks to me
Smite not thy brother Tiriel tho weary of his life
My sons have smitten me already. and if thou smitest me
The curse that rolls over their heads will rest itself on thine
Tis now seven years since in my palace I beheld thy face
Come thou dark fiend I dare thy cunning know that Ijim scorns
To smite the[e] in the form of helpless age & eyeless policy
Rise up for I discern thee & I dare thy eloquent tongue
Come I will lead thee on thy way & use thee as a scoff
O Brother Ijim thou beholdest wretched Tiriel
Kiss me my brother & then leave me to wander desolate
No artful fiend. but I will lead thee dost thou want to go
Reply not lest I bind thee with the green flags of the brook
Ay now thou art discoverd I will use thee like a slave
When Tiriel heard the words of Ijim he sought not to reply
He knew twas vain for Ijims words were as the voice of Fate
And they went on together over hills thro woody dales
Blind to the pleasures of the sight & deaf to warbling birds
All day they walkd & all the night beneath the pleasant Moon
Westwardly journeying till Tiriel grew weary with his travel
O Ijim I am faint & weary for my knees forbid
To bear me further. urge me not lest I should die with travel
A little rest I crave a little water from a brook
Or I shall soon discover that I am a mortal man
And you will lose your once lovd Tiriel alas how fain I am
Impudent fiend said Ijim hold thy glib & eloquent tongue
Tiriel is a king. & thou the tempter of dark Ijim
Drink of this runing brook. & I will bear thee on my shoulders
He drank & Ijim raisd him up & bore him on his shoulders
All day he bore him & when evening drew her solemn curtain
Enterd the gates of Tiriels palace. & stood & calld aloud
Heuxos come forth I here have brought the fiend that troubles Ijim
Look knowst thou aught of this grey beard. or of these blinded eyes
Heuxos & Lotho ran forth at the sound of Ijims voice
And saw their aged father borne upon his mighty shoulders
Their eloquent tongues were dumb & sweat stood on. their trembling limbs
They knew twas vain to strive with Ijim they bowd & silent stood
What Heuxos call thy father for I mean to sport to night
This is the Hypocritc that sometimes roars a dreadful lion
Then I have rent his limbs & left him rotting in the forest
For birds to eat but I have scarce departed from the place
But like a tyger he would come & so I rent him too
Then like a river be would seek to drown me in his waves
But soon I buffetted the torrent anon like to a cloud
Fraught with the swords of lightning. but I bravd the vengeance too
Then he would creep like a bright serpent till around my neck
While I was Sleeping he would twine I squeezd his poisnous soul
Then like a toad or like a newt. would whisper in my ears
Or like a rock stood in my way. or like a poisnous shrub
At last I caught him in the form of Tiriel blind & old
And so Ill keep him fetch your father fetch forth Myratana
They stood confounded. and Thus Tiriel raisd his silver voice
Serpents not sons why do you stand fetch hither Tiriel
Fetch hither Myratana & delight yourselves with scoffs
For poor blind Tiriel is returnd & this much injurd head
Is ready for your bitter taunts. come forth sons of the curse
Mean time the other sons of Tiriel ran around their father
Confounded at the terrible strength of Ijim they knew twas vain
Both spear & shield were useless & the coat of iron mail
When Ijim stretchd his mighty arm. the arrow from his limbs
Rebounded & the piercing sword broke on his naked flesh
Then is it true Heuxos that thou hast turnd thy aged parent
To be the sport of wintry winds. (said Ijim) is this true
It is a lie & I am like the tree torn by the wind
Thou eyeless fiend. & you dissemblers. Is this Tiriels house
It is as false [as] Matha. & as dark as vacant Orcus
Escape ye fiends for Ijim will not lift his hand against ye
So saying. Ijim gloomy turnd his back & silent sought
The secret forests & all night wanderd in desolate ways
TIRIEL 5
And aged Tiriel stood & said where does the thunder sleep
Where doth he hide his terrible head & his swift & fiery daughters
Where do they shroud their fiery wings & the terrors of their hair
Earth thus I stamp thy bosom rouse the earthquake from his den
To raise his dark & burning visage thro the cleaving ground
To thrust these towers with his shoulders. let his fiery dogs
Rise from the center belching flames & roarings. dark smoke
Where art thou Pestilence that bathest in fogs & standing lakes
Rise up thy sluggish limbs. & let the loathsomest of poisons
Drop from thy garments as thou walkest. wrapt in yellow clouds
Here take thy seat. in this wide court. let it be strewn with dead
And sit & smile upon these cursed sons of Tiriel
Thunder & fire & pestilence. here you not Tiriels curse
He ceast the heavy clouds confusd rolld round the lofty towers
Discharging their enormous voices. at the fathers curse
The earth trembled fires belched from the yawning clefts
And when the shaking ceast a fog possest the accursed clime
The cry was great in Tiriels palace his five daughters ran
And caught him by the garments weeping with cries of bitter woe
Aye now you feel the curse you cry. but may all ears be deaf
As Tiriels & all eyes as blind as Tiriels to your woes
May never stars shine on your roofs may never sun nor moon
Visit you but eternal fogs hover around your walls
Hela my youngest daughter you shall lead me from this place
And let the curse fall on the rest & wrap them up together
He ceast & Hela led her father from the noisom place
In haste they fled while all the sons & daughters of Tiriel
Chaind in thick darkness utterd cries of mourning all the night
And in the morning Lo an hundred men in ghastly death
The four daughters stretchd on the marble pavement silent all
falln by the pestilence the rest moped round in guilty fears
And all the children in their beds were cut off in one night
Thirty of Tiriels sons remaind. to wither in the palace
Desolate. Loathed. Dumb Astonishd waiting for black death
TIRIEL 6
And Hela led her father thro the silent of the night
Astonishd silent. till the morning beams began to spring
Now Hela I can go with pleasure & dwell with Har & Heva
Now that the curse shall clean devour all those guilty sons
This is the right & ready way I know it by the sound
That our feet make. Remember Hela I have savd thee from death
Then be obedient to thy father for the curse is taken off thee
I dwelt with Myratana five years in the desolate rock
And all that time we waited for the fire to fall from heaven
Or for the torrents of the sea to overwhelm you all
But now my wife is dead & all the time of grace is past
You see the parents curse. Now lead me where I have commanded
O Leagued with evil spirits thou accursed man of sin
True I was born thy slave who askd thee to save me from death —
Twas for thy self thou cruel man because thou wantest eyes
True Hela this is the desert of all those cruel ones
Is Tiriel cruel look. his daughter & his youngest daughter
Laughs at affection glories in rebellion. scoffs at Love: —
I have not eat these two days lead me to Har & Hevas tent
Or I will wrap the[e] up in such a terrible fathers curse
That thou shalt feel worms in thy marrow creeping thro thy bones
Yet thou shalt lead me. Lead me I command to Har & Heva
O cruel O destroyer O consumer. O avenger
To Har & Heva I will lead thee then would that they would curse
Then would they curse as thou hast cursed but they are not like thee
O they are holy. & forgiving filld with loving mercy
Forgetting the offences of their most rebellious children
Or else thou wouldest not have livd to curse thy helpless children
Look on my eyes Hela & see for thou has eyes to see
The tears swell from my stony fountains. wherefore do I weep
Wherefore from my blind orbs art thou not siezd with poisnous stings
Laugh serpent youngest venomous reptile of the flesh of Tiriel
Laugh. for thy father Tiriel shall give the[e] cause to laugh
Unless thou lead me to the tent of Har child of the curse
Silence thy evil tongue thou murderer of thy helpless children
I lead thee to the tent of Har not that I mind thy curse
But that I feel they will curse thee & hang upon thy bones
Fell shaking agonies. & in each wrinkle of that face
Plant worms of death to feast upon the tongue of terrible curses
Hela my daughter listen. thou art the daughter of Tiriel
Thy father calls. Thy father lifts his hand unto the heavens
For thou hast laughed at my tears. & curst thy aged father
Let snakes rise from thy bedded locks & laugh among thy curls
He ceast her dark hair upright stood while snakes infolded round
Her madding brows. her shrieks apalld the soul of Tiriel
What have I done Hela my daughter fearst thou now the curse
Or wherefore dost thou cry Ah wretch to curse thy aged father
Lead me to Har & Heva & the curse of Tiriel
Shall fail. If thou refuse howl in the desolate mountains
TIRIEL 7
She howling led him over mountains & thro frighted vales
Till to the caves of Zazel they approachd at even tide
Forth from their caves old Zazel & his sons ran. when they saw
Their tyrant prince blind & his daughter howling & leading him
They laughd & mocked some threw dirt & stones as they passd by
But when Tiriel turnd around & raisd his awful voice
Some fled away but Zazel stood still & thus began
Bald tyrant. wrinkled cunning listen to Zazels chains
Twas thou that chaind thy brother Zazel where are now thine eyes
Shout beautiful daughter of Tiriel. thou singest a sweet song
Where are you going. come & eat some roots & drink some water
Thy crown is bald old man. the sun will dry thy brains away
And thou wilt be as foolish as thy foolish brother Zazel
The blind man heard. & smote his breast & trembling passed on
They threw dirt after them. till to the covert of a wood
The howling maiden led her father where wild beasts resort
Hoping to end her woes. but from her cries the tygers fled
All night they wanderd thro the wood & when the sun arose
They enterd on the mountains of Har at Noon the happy tents
Were frighted by the dismal cries of Hela on the mountains
But Har & Heva slept fearless as babes. on loving breasts
Mnetha awoke she ran & stood at the tent door & saw
The aged wanderer led towards the tents she took her bow
And chose her arrows then advancd to meet the terrible pair
TIRIEL 8
And Mnetha hasted & met them at the gate of the lower garden
Stand still or from my bow receive a sharp & winged death
Then Tiriel stood. saying what soft voice threatens such bitter things
Lead me to Har & Heva I am Tiriel King of the west
And Mnetha led them to the tent of Har. and Har & Heva
Ran to the door. when Tiriel felt the ankles of aged Har
He said. O weak mistaken father of a lawless race
Thy laws O Har & Tiriels wisdom end together in a curse
Why is one law given to the lion & th patient Ox
And why men bound beneath the heavens in a reptile form
A worm of sixty winters creeping on the dusky ground
The child springs from the womb. the father ready stands to form
The infant head while the mother idle plays with her dog on her couch
The young bosom is cold for lack of mothers nourishment & milk
Is cut off from the weeping mouth with difficulty & pain
The little lids are lifted & the little nostrils opend
The father forms a whip to rouze the sluggish senses to act
And scourges off all youthful fancies from the newborn man
Then walks the weak infant in sorrow compelld to number footsteps
Upon the sand. &c
And when the drone has reachd his crawling length
Black berries appear that poison all around him. Such was Tiriel
Compelld to pray repugnant & to humble the immortal spirit
Till I am subtil as a serpent in a paradise
Consuming all both flowers & fruits insects & warbling birds
And now my paradise is falln & a drear sandy plain
Returns my thirsty hissings in a curse on thee O Har
Mistaken father of a lawless race my voice is past
He ceast outstretchd at Har & Hevas feet in awful death
SONGS OF INNOCENCE
This famous collection of illustrated poems first appeared in 1789, with only a few copies printed and illuminated by Blake himself. Five years later, he bound these poems with a set of new poems in a volume titled Songs of Innocence and of Experience Showing the Two Contrary States of the Human Soul.
Innocence and Experience are terms linking to Milton’s concepts of Paradise and the Fall of Man in the great epic Paradise Lost, which influenced Blake’s own poetic ambitions. Blake’s poems depict childhood as a time of protected innocence, with famous works such as The Lamb depicting the purity and naivety of youth. Nevertheless, these innocent creatures are not immune to the fallen world and its evils. In the darker side to some of the poems, the world possesses the power to corrupt childhood itself, leading to experience, a state of being marked by the loss of childhood. The poetry is fused with Blake’s prophetic power, whilst still possessing a child-like simplicity, in spite of the complex and latent meanings underlying the songs.
The frontispiece of the second combined edition of the collection
CONTENTS
Blake, close to the time of the 1789 publication of this collection
Introduction
Piping down the valleys wild,
Piping songs of pleasant glee,
On a cloud I saw a child,
And he laughing said to me:
‘Pipe a song about a Lamb!’
So I piped with merry cheer.
‘Piper, pipe that song again.’
So I piped: he wept to hear.
‘Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe;
Sing thy songs of happy cheer:’
So I sung the same again,
While he wept with joy to hear.
‘Piper, sit thee down and write
In a book, that all may read.’
So he vanish’d from my sight;
And I pluck’d a hollow reed,
And I made a rural pen,
And I stained the water clear,
And I wrote my happy songs
Every child may joy to hear.
The Shepherd
How sweet is the Shepherd’s sweet lot!
From the morn to the evening he strays;
He shall follow his sheep all the day,
And his tongue shall be filled with praise.
For he hears the lamb’s innocent call,
And he hears the ewe’s tender reply;
He is watchful while they are in peace,
For they know when their Shepherd is nigh.
The Echoing Green
The Sun does arise,
And make happy the skies;
The merry bells ring
To welcome the Spring;
The skylark and thrush,
The birds of the bush,
Sing louder around
To the bells’ cheerful sound,
While our sports shall be seen
On the Echoing Green.
Old John, with white hair,
Does laugh away care,
Sitting under the oak,
Among the old folk.
They laugh at our play,
And soon they all say:
‘Such, such were the joys
When we all, girls & boys,
In our youth time were seen
On the echoing green.’
Till the little ones, weary,
No more can be merry;
The sun does descend,
And our sports have an end.
Round the laps of their mothers
Many sisters and brothers,
Like birds in their nest,
Are ready for rest,
And sport no more seen
On the darkening Green.
The Lamb
Little Lamb, who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee?
Gave thee life & bid thee feed
By the stream & o’er the mead;
Gave thee clothing of delight,
Softest clothing, wooly, bright;
Gave thee such a tender voice,
Making all the vales rejoice?
Little Lamb, who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee?
Little Lamb, I’ll tell thee,
Little Lamb, I’ll tell thee:
He is callèd by thy name,
For he calls himself a Lamb.
He is meek, & he is mild;
He became a little child.
I a child, & thou a lamb,
We are callèd by his name.
Little Lamb, God bless thee!
Little Lamb, God bless thee!
The Little Black Boy
My mother bore me in the southern wild,
And I am black, but O! my soul is white
White as an angel is the English child:
But I am black as if bereav’d of light.
My mother taught me underneath a tree
And sitting down before the heat of day
She took me on her lap and kissed me,
And pointing to the east began to say:
Look on the rising sun: there God does live
And gives his light, and gives his heat away
And flowers and trees and beasts and men receive
Comfort in morning joy in the noonday.
And we are put on earth a little space
That we may learn to bear the beams of love.
And these black bodies and this sunburnt face
Is but a cloud, and like a shady grove,
For when our souls have learn’d the heat to bear
The cloud will vanish we shall hear his voice,
Saying: come out from the grove my love & care
And round my golden tent like lambs rejoice.
Thus did my mother say and kissed me.
And thus I say to little English boy.
When I from black and he from white cloud free,
And round the tent of God like lambs we joy:
I’ll shade him from the heat till he can bear
To lean in joy upon our fathers knee.
And then I’ll stand and stroke his silver hair,
And be like him and he will then love me.
The Blossom
Merry merry sparrow!
Under leaves so green
A happy blossom
Sees you swift as arrow
Seek your cradle narrow
Near my bosom.
Pretty pretty robin!
Under leaves so green
A happy blossom
Hears you sobbing sobbing
Pretty pretty robin
Near my bosom.
The Chimney Sweeper
When my mother died I was very young,
And my father sold me while yet my tongue
Could scarcely cry ‘ ‘weep! ‘weep! ‘weep! ‘weep!’
So your chimneys I sweep, and in soot I sleep.
There’s little Tom Dacre, who cried when his head,
That curl’d like a lamb’s back, was shav’d: so I said
‘Hush, Tom! never mind it, for when your head’s bare
You know that the soot cannot spoil your white hair.’
And so he was quiet, and that very night,
As Tom was a-sleeping, he had such a sight! —
That thousands of sweepers, Dick, Joe, Ned, and Jack,
Were all of them lock’d up in coffins of black.
And by came an Angel who had a bright key,
And he open’d the coffins & set them all free;
Then down a green plain leaping, laughing, they run
And wash in a river, and shine in the Sun.
Then naked & white, all their bags left behind,
They rise upon clouds, and sport in the wind;
And the Angel told Tom, if he’d be a good boy,
He’d have God for his father, & never want joy.
And so Tom awoke; and we rose in the dark,
And got with our bags & our brushes to work.
Tho’ the morning was cold, Tom was happy & warm;
So if all do their duty, they need not fear harm.
The Little Boy Lost
‘Father! father! where are you going?
O do not walk so fast.
Speak, father, speak to your little boy,
Or else I shall be lost.’
The night was dark, no father was there;
The child was wet with dew;
The mire was deep, and the child did weep,
And away the vapour flew.
The Little Boy Found
The little boy lost in the lonely fen,
Led by the wand’ring light,
Began to cry; but God, ever nigh,
Appear’d like his father, in white.
He kissed the child, and by the hand led,
And to his mother brought,
Who in sorrow pale, thro’ the lonely dale,
Her little boy weeping sought.
Laughing Song
When the green woods laugh with the voice of joy,
And the dimpling stream runs laughing by;
When the air does laugh with our merry wit,
And the green hill laughs with the noise of it;
When the meadows laugh with lively green,
And the grasshopper laughs in the merry scene,
When Mary and Susan and Emily
With their sweet round mouths sing ‘Ha, Ha, He!’
When the painted birds laugh in the shade,
Where our table with cherries and nuts is spread,
Come live, and be merry, and join with me,
To sing the sweet chorus of ‘Ha, Ha, He!’
A Cradle Song
Sweet dreams, form a shade
O’er my lovely infant’s head;
Sweet dreams of pleasant streams
By happy, silent, moony beams.
Sweet Sleep, with soft down
Weave thy brows an infant crown.
Sweet Sleep, Angel mild,
Hover o’er my happy child.
Sweet smiles, in the night
Hover over my delight;
Sweet smiles, mother’s smiles,
All the livelong night beguiles.
Sweet moans, dovelike sighs,
Chase not slumber from thy eyes.
Sweet moans, sweeter smiles,
All the dovelike moans beguiles.
Sleep, sleep, happy child,
All creation slept and smil’d;
Sleep, sleep, happy sleep,
While o’er thee thy mother weep.
Sweet babe, in thy face
Holy image I can trace.
Sweet babe, once like thee,
Thy Maker lay and wept for me,
Wept for me, for thee, for all,
When He was an infant small.
Thou His image ever see,
Heavenly face that smiles on thee
Smiles on thee, on me, on all;
Who became an infant small.
Infant smiles are His own smiles;
Heaven and earth to peace beguiles.
The Divine Image
To Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love
All pray in their distress;
And to these virtues of delight
Return their thankfulness.
For Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love
Is God our Father dear,
And Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love
Is man, His child and care.
For Mercy has a human heart,
Pity, a human face,
And Love, the human form divine,
And Peace, the human dress.
Then every man, of every clime,
That prays in his distress,
Prays to the human form divine,
Love, Mercy, Pity, Peace.
And all must love the human form,
In heathen, Turk, or Jew;
Where Mercy, Love, and Pity dwell
There God is dwelling too.
Holy Thursday
‘Twas on a Holy Thursday, their innocent faces clean,
The children walking two and two, in red and blue and green,
Grey-headed beadles walk’d before, with wands as white as snow,
Till into the high dome of Paul’s they like Thames’ waters flow.
O what a multitude they seem’d, these flowers of London town!
Seated in companies they sit with radiance all their own.
The hum of multitudes was there, but multitudes of lambs,
Thousands of little boys and girls raising their innocent hands.
Now like a mighty wind they raise to Heaven the voice of song,
Or like harmonious thunderings the seats of Heaven among.
Beneath them sit the aged men, wise guardians of the poor;
Then cherish pity, lest you drive an angel from your door.
Night
The sun descending in the west,
The evening star does shine;
The birds are silent in their nest,
And I must seek for mine.
The moon, like a flower
In heaven’s high bower,
With silent delight,
Sits and smiles on the night.
Farewell, green fields and happy groves,
Where flocks have took delight.
Where lambs have nibbled, silent moves
The feet of angels bright;
Unseen, they pour blessing,
And joy without ceasing,
On each bud and blossom,
And each sleeping bosom.
They look in every thoughtless nest
Where birds are covered warm;
They visit caves of every beast,
To keep them all from harm:
If they see any weeping
That should have been sleeping,
They pour sleep on their head,
And sit down by their bed.
When wolves and tigers howl for prey,
They pitying stand and weep;
Seeking to drive their thirst away,
And keep them from the sheep.
But if they rush dreadful,
The angels, most heedful,
Receive each mild spirit,
New worlds to inherit.
And there the lion’s ruddy eyes
Shall flow with tears of gold,
And pitying the tender cries,
And walking round the fold,
Saying: ‘Wrath, by His meekness,
And, by His health, sickness
Is driven away
From our immortal day.
‘And now beside thee, bleating lamb,
I can lie down and sleep;
Or think on Him who bore thy name,
Graze after thee and weep.
For, wash’d in life’s river
My bright mane for ever
Shall shine like the gold
As I guard o’er the fold.’
Spring
Sound the flute!
Now it’s mute.
Birds delight
Day and night;
Nightingale
In the dale,
Lark in sky,
Merrily,
Merrily, merrily, to welcome in the year.
Little boy,
Full of joy;
Little girl,
Sweet and small;
Cock does crow,
So do you;
Merry voice,
Infant noise,
Merrily, merrily, to welcome in the year.
Little lamb,
Here I am;
Come and lick
My white neck;
Let me pull
Your soft wool;
Let me kiss
Your soft face;
Merrily, merrily, we welcome in the year.
Nurse’s Song
When the voices of children are heard on the green,
And laughing is heard on the hill,
My heart is at rest within my breast,
And everything else is still.
‘Then come home, my children, the sun is gone down,
And the dews of night arise;
Come, come leave off play, and let us away
Till the morning appears in the skies.’
‘No, no, let us play, for it is yet day,
And we cannot go to sleep;
Besides, in the sky the little birds fly,
And the hills are all cover’d with sheep.’
‘Well, well, go and play till the light fades away,
And then go home to bed.’
The little ones leapèd, and shoutèd, and laugh’d
And all the hills echoèd.
Infant Joy
‘I have no name:
I am but two days old.’
What shall I call thee?
‘I happy am,
Joy is my name.’
Sweet joy befall thee!
Pretty joy!
Sweet joy, but two days old.
Sweet joy I call thee:
Thou dost smile,
I sing the while,
Sweet joy befall thee!
A Dream
Once a dream did weave a shade
O’er my Angel-guarded bed,
That an emmet lost its way
Where on grass methought I lay.
Troubled, ‘wilder’d, and forlorn,
Dark, benighted, travel-worn,
Over many a tangled spray,
All heart-broke I heard her say:
‘O, my children! do they cry?
Do they hear their father sigh?
Now they look abroad to see:
Now return and weep for me.’
Pitying, I dropp’d a tear;
But I saw a glow-worm near,
Who replied: ‘What wailing wight
Calls the watchman of the night?
‘I am set to light the ground,
While the beetle goes his round:
Follow now the beetle’s hum;
Little wanderer, hie thee home.’
On Another’s Sorrow
Can I see another’s woe,
And not be in sorrow too?
Can I see another’s grief,
And not seek for kind relief?
Can I see a falling tear,
And not feel my sorrow’s share?
Can a father see his child
Weep, nor be with sorrow fill’d?
Can a mother sit and hear
An infant groan, an infant fear?
No, no! never can it be!
Never, never can it be!
And can He who smiles on all
Hear the wren with sorrows small,
Hear the small bird’s grief and care,
Hear the woes that infants bear,
And not sit beside the nest,
Pouring pity in their breast;
And not sit the cradle near,
Weeping tear on infant’s tear;
And not sit both night and day,
Wiping all our tears away?
O, no! never can it be!
Never, never can it be!
He doth give His joy to all;
He becomes an infant small;
He becomes a man of woe;
He doth feel the sorrow too.
Think not thou canst sigh a sigh,
And thy Maker is not by:
Think not thou canst weep a tear,
And thy Maker is not near.
O! He gives to us His joy
That our grief he may destroy;
Till our grief is fled & gone
He doth sit by us and moan.
THE BOOK OF THEL
Written in 1789, this poem was illustrated by Blake’s own plates and is one of the poet’s most accessible prophetic books. It consists of eight plates executed in illuminated printing. Sixteen copies of the original print of 1789-1793 are known to exist now. The poem is an allegory of the unborn spirit that has gathered experience from her own discoveries and has decided to remain forever innocent.
The Book of Thel concerns the daughters of Mne Seraphim, who are shepherdesses in the Vales of Har, apart from the youngest, Thel. She spends her time wandering on her own, trying to find the answer to the question that torments her: why does the springtime of life inevitably fade and all things must end? She meets the Lily of the Valley who tries to comfort her. When Thel remains uncomforted, the Lily sends her on to ask the Cloud, who explains that he is part of a natural process and, although he sometimes disappears, he is never gone forever.
The original frontispiece
CONTENTS
THEL’S MOTTO
Does the Eagle know what is in the pit?
Or wilt thou go ask the Mole:
Can Wisdom be put in a silver rod?
Or Love in a golden bowl?
THEL. I
The daughters of Mne Seraphim led round their sunny flocks,
All but the youngest: she in paleness sought the secret air.
To fade away like morning beauty from her mortal day:
Down by the river of Adona her soft voice is heard;
And thus her gentle lamentation falls like morning dew.
O life of this our spring! why fades the lotus of the water?
Why fade these children of the spring? born but to smile & fall.
Ah! Thel is like a watry bow, and like a parting cloud,
Like a reflection in a glass: like shadows in the water
Like dreams of infants, like a smile upon an infants face.
Like the doves voice, like transient day, like music in the air:
Ah! gentle may I lay me down and gentle rest my head.
And gentle sleep the sleep of death, and gently hear the voice
Of him that walketh in the garden in the evening time.
The Lilly of the valley breathing in the humble grass
Answerd the lovely maid and said: I am a watry weed,
And I am very small and love to dwell in lowly vales:
So weak the gilded butterfly scarce perches on my head
Yet I am visited from heaven and he that smiles on all
Walks in the valley, and each morn over me spreads his hand
Saying, rejoice thou humble grass, thou new-born lily flower.
Thou gentle maid of silent valleys and of modest brooks:
For thou shall be clothed in light, and fed with morning manna:
Till summers heat melts thee beside the fountains and the springs
To flourish in eternal vales: they why should Thel complain.
Why should the mistress of the vales of Har, utter a sigh.
She ceasd & smild in tears, then sat down in her silver shrine.
Thel answerd, O thou little virgin of the peaceful valley.
Giving to those that cannot crave, the voiceless, the o’er tired
The breath doth nourish the innocent lamb, he smells the milky garments
He crops thy flowers while thou sittest smiling in his face,
Wiping his mild and meekin mouth from all contagious taints.
Thy wine doth purify the golden honey; thy perfume.
Which thou dost scatter on every little blade of grass that springs
Revives the milked cow, & tames the fire-breathing steed.
But Thel is like a faint cloud kindled at the rising sun:
I vanish from my pearly throne, and who shall find my place.
Queen of the vales the Lily answered, ask the tender cloud,
And it shall tell thee why it glitters in the morning sky.
And why it scatters its bright beauty thro the humid air.
Descend O little cloud & hover before the eyes of Thel.
The Cloud descended and the Lily bowd her modest head:
And went to mind her numerous charge among the verdant grass.
THEL. II.
O little Cloud the virgin said, I charge thee to tell me
Why thou complainest now when in one hour thou fade away:
Then we shall seek thee but not find: ah Thel is like to thee.
I pass away, yet I complain, and no one hears my voice.
The Cloud then shewd his golden head & his bright form emerg’d.
Hovering and glittering on the air before the face of Thel.
O virgin know’st thou not our steeds drink of the golden springs
Where Luvah doth renew his horses: lookst thou on my youth.
And fearest thou because I vanish and am seen no more.
Nothing remains; O maid I tell thee, when I pass away.
It is to tenfold life, to love, to peace, and raptures holy:
Unseen descending, weigh my light wings upon balmy flowers:
And court the fair eyed dew, to take me to her shining tent
The weeping virgin, trembling kneels before the risen sun.
Till we arise link’d in a golden band and never part:
But walk united bearing food to all our tender flowers.
Dost thou O little cloud? I fear that I am not like thee:
For I walk through the vales of Har, and smell the sweetest flowers:
But I feed not the little flowers: I hear the warbling birds,
But I feed not the warbling birds, they fly and seek their food:
But Thel delights in these no more because I fade away
And all shall say, without a use this shining women liv’d,
Or did she only live to be at death the food of worms.
The Cloud reclind upon his airy throne and answerd thus.
Then if thou art the food of worms, O virgin of the skies,
How great thy use, how great thy blessing, every thing that lives.
Lives not alone nor or itself: fear not and I will call,
The weak worm from its lowly bed, and thou shalt hear its voice.
Come forth worm and the silent valley, to thy pensive queen.
The helpless worm arose and sat upon the Lillys leaf,
And the bright Cloud saild on, to find his partner in the vale.
THEL. III.
Then Thel astonish’d view’d the Worm upon its dewy bed.
Art thou a Worm? image of weakness. art thou but a Worm?
I see thee like an infant wrapped in the Lillys leaf;
Ah weep not little voice, thou can’st not speak, but thou can’st weep:
Is this a Worm? I see they lay helpless & naked: weeping
And none to answer, none to cherish thee with mothers smiles.
The Clod of Clay heard the Worms voice & rais’d her pitying head:
She bowd over the weeping infant, and her life exhald
In milky fondness, then on Thel she fix’d her humble eyes
O beauty of the vales of Har, we live not for ourselves,
Thou seest me the meanest thing, and so I am indeed:
My bosom of itself is cold, and of itself is dark,
But he that loves the lowly, pours his oil upon my head
And kisses me, and binds his nuptial bands around my breast.
And says; Thou mother of my children, I have loved thee
And I have given thee a crown that none can take away.
But how this is sweet maid, I know not, and I cannot know
I ponder, and I cannot ponder; yet I live and love.
The daughter of beauty wip’d her pitying tears with her white veil,
And said, Alas! I knew not this, and therefore did I weep:
That God would love a Worm I knew, and punish the evil foot
That wilful bruis’d its helpless form: but that he cherish’d it
With milk and oil I never knew, and therefore did I weep,
And I complaind in the mild air, because I fade away.
And lay me down in thy cold bed, and leave my shining lot.
Queen of the vales, the matron Clay answered: I heard thy sighs.
And all thy moans flew o’er my roof, but I have call’d them down:
Wilt thou O Queen enter my house, tis given thee to enter,
And to return: fear nothing, enter with thy virgin feet.
THEL. IV.
The eternal gates terrific porter lifted the northern bar:
Thel enter’d in & saw the secrets of the land unknown;
She saw the couches of the dead, & where the fibrous roots
Of every heart on earth infixes deep its restless twists:
A land of sorrows & of tears where never smile was seen.
She wandered in the land of clouds thro’ valleys dark, listning
Dolors & lamentations: waiting oft beside the dewy grave
She stood in silence, listning to the voices of the ground,
Till to her own grave plot she came, & there she sat down.
And heard this voice of sorrow breathed from the hollow pit.
Why cannot the Ear be closed to its own destruction?
Or the glistening Eye to the poison of a smile!
Why are Eyelids stord with arrows ready drawn,
Where a thousand fighting men in ambush lie!
Or an Eye of gifts & graces showring fruits & coined gold!
Why a Tongue impress’d with honey from every wind?
Why an Ear, a whirlpool fierce to draw creations in?
Why a Nostril wide inhaling terror trembling & affright
Why a tender curb upon the youthful burning boy?
Why a little curtain of flesh on the bed of our desire?
The Virgin started from her seat, & with a shriek,
Fled back unhinderd till she came into the vales of Har
THE MARRIAGE OF HEAVEN AND HELL
Composed between 1790 and 1793, The Marriage of Heaven and Hell is a series of texts written in imitation of biblical prophecy, expressing Blake’s own revolutionary beliefs. Like his other prophetic books, it was published on printed sheets from etched plates, containing prose, poetry and illustrations. The plates were then coloured by Blake and his wife Catherine. The title is an ironic reference to Emanuel Swedenborg’s theological work Heaven and Hell, which was published in Latin 33 years before. Swedenborg is criticised by Blake in several places of the work due to his conventional moral structures, as well as his Manichean view of good and evil, leading Blake to express a unified vision of the cosmos in which the material world and physical desire are equally part of the divine order - a marriage of heaven and hell. The book is written in prose, except for the opening Argument and the Song of Liberty, which are formed in verse.
The Marriage of Heaven and Hell is one of the most influential of Blake’s works. Its vision of a dynamic relationship between a stable Heaven and an energised Hell has fascinated theologians, aestheticians and psychologists for over a hundred years.
The title page
CONTENTS
THE MARRIAGE OF HEAVEN AND HELL. THE ARGUMENT.
TO THE ACCUSER WHO IS THE GOD OF THIS WORLD
Emanuel Swedenborg (1688-1772), a Swedish scientist, philosopher, theologian and Christian mystic
THE MARRIAGE OF HEAVEN AND HELL. THE ARGUMENT.
Rintrah roars & shakes his fires in the burdend air;
Hungry clouds swag on the deep
Once meek, and in a perilous path,
The just man kept his course along
The vale of death.
Roses are planted where thorns grow,
And on the barren heath
Sing the honey bees.
Then the perilous path was planted,
And a river and a spring
On every cliff and tomb;
And on the bleached bones
Red clay brought forth.
Till the villain left the paths of ease,
To walk in perilous paths, and drive
The just man into barren climes.
Now the sneaking serpent walks
In mild humility,
And the just man rages in the wilds
Where lions roam.
Rintrah roars & shakes his fires in the burdend air;
Hungry clouds swag on the deep.
As a new heaven is begun, and it is now thirty-three years since its advent: the Eternal Hell revives. And lo! Swedenborg is the Angel sitting at the tomb: his writings are the linen clothes folded up. Now is the dominion of Edom, & the return of Adam into Paradise. See Isaiah XXXIV and XXXV Chap:
Without Contraries is no progression. Attraction and Repulsion, Reason and Energy, Love and Hate, are necessary to Human existence.
From these contraries spring what the religious call Good & Evil. Good is the passive that obeys Reason
Evil is the active springing from Energy.
Good is Heaven. Evil is Hell.
The voice of the
Devil
All Bibles or sacred codes. have been the causes of the following Errors.
1 . That Man has two real existing principles Viz: a Body & a Soul.
2 . That Energy. called Evil. is alone from the Body. & that Reason. called Good. is alone from the Soul.
3 . That God will torment Man in Eternity for following his Energies.
But the following Contraries to these are True
1 . Man has no Body distinct from his Soul for that called Body is a portion of Soul discernd by the five Senses, the chief inlets of Soul in this age.
2 , Energy is the only life and is from the Body and Reason is the bound or outward circumference of Energy.
3 . Energy is Eternal Delight
Those who restrain Desire, do so because theirs is weak enough to be restrained; and the restrainer or Reason Usurps its place & governs the unwilling.
And being restrained, it by degrees becomes passive, till it is only the shadow of Desire.
The history of this is written in Paradise Lost. & the Governor or Reason is call’d Messiah.
And the original Archangel, or possessor of the command of the Heavenly Host, is calld the Devil or Satan, and his children are called Sin & Death.
But in the Book of Job, Milton’s Messiah is called Satan.
For this history has been adopted by both parties
It indeed appear’d to Reason as if Desire was cast out; but the Devils account is, that the Messiah fell. & formed a heaven of what he stole from the Abyss
This is shown in the Gospel, where he prays to the Father to send the Comforter or Desire that Reason may have Ideas to build on, the Jehovah of the Bible being no other than he who dwells in flaming fire
Know that after Christs death, he became Jehovah.
But in Milton; the Father is Destiny, the Son, a Ratio of the five senses. & the Holy-ghost, Vacuum!
Note. The reason Milton wrote in fetters when he wrote of Angels & God, and at liberty when of Devils & Hell, is because he was a true Poet and of the Devil’s party without knowing it
A Memorable Fancy.
As I was walking among the fires of hell, delighted with the enjoyments of Genius; which to Angels look like torment and insanity. I collected some of their Proverbs: thinking that as sayings used in a nation, mark its character, so the Proverbs of Hell, shew the nature of Infernal wisdom better than any desription of buildings or garments
When I came home; on the abyss of the five senses. where a flat sided steep frowns over the present world. I saw a mighty Devil folded in black clouds, hovering on the sides of the rock, with corroding fires he wrote the following sentence now perceived by the minds of men, & read by them on earth.
How do you know but ev’ry Bird that cuts the airy way, Is an immense world of delight, clos’d by your senses five?
PROVERBS OF HELL
In seed time learn, in harvest teach, in winter enjoy.
Drive your cart and your plow over the bones of the dead.
The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom.
Prudence is a rich ugly old maid courted by Incapacity.
He who desires but acts not, breeds pestilence.
The cut worm forgives the plow.
Dip him in the river who loves water.
A fool sees not the same tree that a wise man sees.
He whose face gives no light, shall never become a star.
Eternity is in love with the productions of time.
The busy bee has no time for sorrow.
The hours of folly are measur’d by the clock, but of wisdom: no clock can measure.
All wholsom food is caught without a net or a trap.
Bring out number weight & measure in a year of dearth.
No bird soars too high. if he soars with his own wings.
A dead body, revenges not injuries.
The most sublime act is to set another before you.
If the fool would persist in his folly he would become wise
Folly is the cloke of knavery.
Shame is Prides cloke.
Prisons are built with stones of Law, Brothels with bricks of Religion.
The pride of the peacock is the glory of God.
The lust of the goat is the bounty of God.
The wrath of the lion is the wisdom of God.
The nakedness of woman is the work of God.
Excess of sorrow laughs. Excess of joy weeps.
The roaring of lions, the howling of wolves, the raging of the stormy sea, and the destructive sword, are portions of eternity too great for the eye of man.
The fox condemns the trap, not himself.
Joys impregnate. Sorrows bring forth.
Let man wear the fell of the lion. woman the fleece of the sheep.
The bird a nest, the spider a web, man friendship.
The selfish smiling fool. & the sullen frowning fool, shall be both thought wise. that they may be a rod.
What is now proved was once, only imagind.
The rat, the mouse, the fox, the rabbet; watch the roots, the lion, the tyger, the horse, the elephant, watch the fruits.
The cistern contains: the fountain overflows
One thought. fills immensity.
Always be ready to speak your mind, and a base man will avoid you.
Every thing possible to be believd is an image of truth.
The eagle never lost so much time. as when he submitted to learn of the crow.
The fox provides for himself, but God provides for the lion.
Think in the morning, Act in the noon, Eat in the evening, Sleep in the night.
He who has suffered you to impose on him knows you.
As the plow follows words, so God rewards prayers.
The tygers of wrath are wiser than the horses of instruction
Expect poison from the standing water.
You never know what is enough unless you know what is more than enough.
Listen to the fools reproach! it is a kingly title!
The eyes of fire, the nostrils of air, the mouth of water, the beard of earth.
The weak in courage is strong in cunning.
The apple tree never asks the beech how he shall grow, nor the lion, the horse; how he shall take his prey.
The thankful reciever bears a plentiful harvest.
If others had not been foolish, we should be so.
The soul of sweet delight. can never be defil’d,
When thou seest an Eagle, thou seest a portion of Genius. lift up thy head!
As the catterpiller chooses the fairest leaves to layer her eggs on, so the priest lays his curse on the fairest joys.
To create a little flower is the labour of ages.
Damn, braces: Bless relaxes.
The best wine is the oldest. the best water the newest.
Prayers plow not! Praises reap not!
Joys laugh not! Sorrows weep not!
The head Sublime, the heart Pathos, the genitals Beauty, the hands & feet Proportion.
As the air to a bird or the sea to a fish, so is contempt to the contemptible.
The crow wish’d every thing was black, the owl, that every thing was white.
Exuberance is Beauty.
If the lion was advised by the fox. he would be cunning.
Improvement makes strait roads, but the crooked roads without Improvement, are roads of Genius.
Sooner murder an infant in its cradle than nurse unacted desires
Where man is not nature is barren.
Truth can never be told so as to be understood, and not be believ’d.
Enough! or Too much
The ancient Poets animated all sensible objects with Gods or Geniuses, calling them by the names and adorning them with the properties of woods, rivers, mountains, lakes, cities, nations, and whatever their enlarged & numerous senses could perceive.
And particularly they studied the genius of each city & country, placing it under its mental deity.
Till a system was formed, which some took advantage of & enslav’d the vulgar by attempting to realize or abstract the mental deities from their objects; thus began Priesthood.
Choosing forms of worship from poetic tales.
And at length they pronounced that the gods had orderd such things.
Thus men forgot that All deities reside in the human breast.
A Memorable Fancy
The Prophets Isaiah and Ezekiel dined with me, and I asked them how they dared so roundly to assert. that God spoke to them; and whether they did not think at the time, that they would be misunderstood, & so be the cause of imposition,
Isaiah answer’d. I saw no God, nor heard any, in any finite organical perception; but my senses discover’d the infinite in every thing, and as I was then persuaded, & remain confirm’d; that the voice of honest indignation is the voice of God, I cared not for consequences but wrote.
Then I asked: does a firm persuasion that a thing is, make it so?
He replied, All poets believe that it does, & in ages of imagination this firm persuasion removed mountains; but many are not capable of a firm persuasion of any thing.
Then Ezekiel said. The philosophy of the east taught the first principles of human perception some nations held one principle for the origin & some another, we of Israel taught that the Poetic Genius (as you now call it) was the first principle and the others merely derivative, which was the cause of our despising the Priests & Philosophers of other countries, and prophecying that all Gods would at last be proved to originate in ours & to be the tributaries of the Poetic Genius, it was this. that our great poet King David desired so fervently & invokes so patheticly, saying by this he conquers enemies & governs kingdoms; and so we loved our God. that we cursed in his name all the deities of surrounding nations, and asserted that they had rebelled; from these opinions the vulgar came to think that all nations would at last be subject to the jews.
This said he, like all firm persuasions, is come to pass, for all nations believe the jews code and worship the jews god, and what greater subjection can be
I heard this with some wonder, & must confess my own conviction. After dinner I ask’d Isaiah to favour the world with his lost works, he said none of equal value was lost. Ezekiel said the same of his.
I also asked Isaiah what made him go naked and barefoot three years? he answerd, the same that made our friend Diogenes the Grecian.
I then asked Ezekiel. why he eat dung, & lay so long on his right & left side? he answerd, the desire of raising other men into a perception of the infinite[;] this is the North American tribes practise. & is be honest who resists his genius or conscience. only for the sake of present ease or gratification?
The ancient tradition that the world will be consumed in fire at the end of six thousand years is true, as I have heard from Hell,
For the cherub with his flaming sword is hereby commanded to leave his guard at tree of life, and when he does,the whole creation will be consumed, and appear infinite. and holy whereas now it appears finite & corrupt.
This will come to pass by an improvement of sensual enjoyment.
But first the notion that man has a body distinct from his soul, is to be expunged; this I shall do, by printing in the infernal method, by corrosives, which in Hell are salutary and medicinal, melting apparent surfaces away, and displaying the infinite which was hid.
If the doors of perception were cleansed every thing would appear to man as it is, infinite.
For man has closed himself up, til he sees all things thro’ narrow chinks of his cavern.
A Memorable Fancy
I was in a Printing house in Hell & saw the method in which knowledge is transmitted from generation to generation.
In the first chamber was a Dragon-Man, clearing away the rubbish from a caves mouth; within, a number of dragons were hollowing the cave,
In the second chamber was a Viper folding round the rock & the cave, and others adorning it with gold silver and precious stones.
In the third chamber was an Eagle with wings and feathers of air, he caused the inside of the cave to be infinite, around were numbers of Eagle like men, who built palaces in the immense cliffs.
In the fourth chamber were Lions of flaming fire raging around & melting the metals into living fluids.
In the fifth chamber were Unnam’d forms, which cast the metals into the expanse,
There they were reciev’d by Men who occupied the sixth chamber, and took the forms of books & were arranged in libraries.
The Giants who formed this world into its sensual existence and now seem to live in it in chains, are in truth, the causes of its life & the sources of all activity, but the chains are, the cunning of weak and tame minds, which have power to resist energy. according to the proverb, the weak in courage is strong in cunning.
Thus one portion of being, is the Prolific, the other, the Devouring: to the devourer it seems as if the producer was in his chains, but it is not so, he only takes portions of existence and fancies that the whole.
But the Prolific would cease to be the Prolific unless the Devourer as a sea recieved the excess of his delights.
Some will say, Is not God alone the Prolific? I answer, God only Acts & Is. in existing beings or Men.
These two classes of men are always upon earth. & they should be enemies; whoever tries to reconcile them seeks to destroy existence.
Religion is an endeavour to reconcile the two.
Note. Jesus Christ did not wish to unite but to seperate the two, as in the Parable of sheep and goats! & he says I came not to send Peace but a Sword.
Messiah or Satan or Tempter was formerly thought to be one of the Antediluvians who are our Energies.
A Memorable Fancy
An Angel came to me and said O pitiable foolish young man! O horrible! O dreadful state! consider the hot burning dungeon thou art preparing for thyself to all eternity, to which thou art going in such a career.
I said. perhaps you will be willing to shew me my eternal lot & we will contemplate together upon it and see whether your lot or mine is most desirable
So he took me thro’ a stable & thro’ a church & down into the church vault at the end of which was a mill; thro’ the mill we went, and came to a cave. down the winding cavern we groped our tedious way till a void boundless as a nether sky appeared us, & we held by the roots of trees and hung over this immensity, but I said, if you please we will commit ourselves to this void, and see whether this providence is here also, if you will not I will? but he answerd, do not presume O young man but as we here remain behold thy lot which will soon appear when the darkness passes away.
So I remained with him sitting in the twisted root of an oak, he was suspended in a fungus which hung with the head downward into the deep:
By degrees we beheld the infinite Abyss, fiery as the smoke of a burning city; beneath us at an immense distance was the sun, black but shining round it were fiery tracks on which revolv’d vast spiders, crawling after their prey; which flew or rather swum in infinite deep, in the most terrific shapes of animals sprung from corruption. & the air was full of them, & seemd composed of them; these are Devils. and are called Powers of the air, I now asked my companion which was my eternal lot? he said, between the black & white spiders
But now, from between the black & white spiders a cloud and fire burst and rolled thro the deep blackning all beneath, so that the nether deep grew black as a sea & rolled with a terrible noise: beneath us was nothing now to be seen but a black tempest, till looking east between the clouds & the waves. we saw a cataract of blood mixed with fire and not many stones throw from us appeard and sunk again the scaly fold of a monstrous serpent. at last to the east, distant about three degrees appeard a fiery crest above the waves slowly it reared like a ridge of golden rocks till we discoverd two globes of crimson fire. from which the sea fled away in clouds of smoke, and now we saw, it was the head of Leviathan, his forehead was divided into streaks of green & purple like those on a tygers forehead: soon we saw his mouth & red gills hang just above the raging foam tinging the black deep with beams of blood, advancing toward us with all the fury of a spiritual existence.
My friend the Angel climb’d up from his station into the mill; I remain’d alone, & then this appearance was no more, but I found myself sitting on a pleasant bank beside a river by moon light hearing a harper who sung to the harp. & his theme was, The man who never alters his opinion is like standing water, & breeds reptiles of the mind.
But I arose, and sought for the mill & there I found my Angel, who surprised asked me, how I escaped?
I answerd. All that we saw was owing to your metaphysics; for when you ran away, I found myself on a bank by moonlight hearing a harper, But now we have seen my eternal lot, shall I shew you yours? he laughd at my proposal; but I by force suddenly caught him in my arms & flew westerly thro’ the night, till we were elevated above the earths shadow: then I flung myself with him directly into the body of the sun, here I clothed myself in white, & taking in my hand Swedenborgs volumes sunk from the glorious clime and passed all the planets till we came to saturn, here I staid to rest & then leap’d into the void, between saturn & the fixed stars.
Here said I! is your lot, in this space if space it may be calld, Soon we saw the stable and the church, & I took him to the altar and open’d the Bible, and lo! it was a deep pit, into which I descended driving the Angel before me, soon we saw seven houses of brick, one we enterd; in it were a number of monkeys. baboons, & all of that species chaind by the middle, grinning and snatching at one another, but witheld by the shortness of their chains: however I saw that they sometimes grew numerous, and then the weak were caught by the strong and with a grinning aspect, first coupled with & then devoured, by plucking off first one limb and then another till the body was left a helpless trunk. this after grinning & kissing it with seeming fondness they devourd too; and here & there I saw one savourily picking the flesh off his own tail; as the stench terribly annoyd us both we went into the mill, & I in my hand brought the skeleton of a body, which in the mill was Aristotles Analytics.
So the Angel said: thy phantasy has imposed on me & thou oughtest to be ashamed.
I answerd: we impose on one another, & it is but lost time to converse with you whose works are only Analytics.
I have always found that Angels have the vanity to speak of themselves as the only wise; this they do with a confident insolence sprouting form systematic reasoning;
Thus Swedenborg boasts that what he writes is new; tho’ it is only the Contents or Index of already publish’d books
A man carried a monkey about for a shew, & because he was a little wiser than the monkey, grew vain, and conceiv’d himself as much wiser than seven men. It is so with Swedenborg: he shows the folly of churches and exposes hypocrites, till he imagines that all are religious. & himself the single one on earth that ever broke a net.
Now hear a plain fact: Swedenborg has not written one new truth: Now hear another: he has written all the old falsehoods.
And now hear the reason. He conversed with Angels who are all religious, & conversed not with Devils who all hate religion, for he was incapable thro’ his conceited notions.
Thus Swedenborgs writings are a recapitulation of all superficial opinions, and an analysis of the more sublime, but no further.
Have now another plain fact: Any man of mechanical talents may from the writings of Paracelsus or Jacob Behmen, produce ten thousand volumes of equal value with Swedenborg’s. and from those of Dante or Shakespeare, an infinite number.
But when he has done this, let him not say that he knows better than his master, for he only holds a candle in sunshine.
A Memorable Fancy
Once I saw a Devil in a flame of fire, who arose before an Angel that sat on a cloud. and the Devil utterd these words.
The worship of God is. Honouring his gifts in other men each according to his genius. and loving the greatest men best, those who envy or calumniate great men hate God, for there is no other God.
The Angel hearing this became almost blue but mastering himself he grew yellow, & at last white pink & smiling, and then replied,
Thou Idolater, is not God One? & is not he visible in Jesus Christ? and has not Jesus Christ given his sanction to the law of ten commandments and are not all other men fools, sinners, & nothings?
The Devil answer’d; bray a fool in a morter with wheat. yet shall his folly not be beaten out of him: if Jesus Christ is the greatest man, you ought to love him in the greatest degree; now hear how he has given sanction to the law of ten commandments: did he not mock at the sabbath, and so mock the sabbaths God? murder those who were murderd because of him? turn away the law from the woman taken in adultery? steal the labor of others to support him? bear false witness when he omitted making a defence before Pilate? covet when he pray’d for his disciples, and when he bid hem shake the dust off their feet against such as refused to lodge them? I tell you, no virtue can exist without breaking these ten commandments; Jesus was all virtue, and acted from impulse, not from rules.
When he had so spoken: I beheld the Angel who stretched out his arms embracing the flame of fire & he was consumed and arose as Elijah.
Note. This Angel, who is now become a Devil. is my particular friend: we often read the Bible together in its infernal or diabolical sense which the world shall have if they behave well.
I have also; The Bible of Hell: which the world shall have whether they will or no.
One Law for the Lion & Ox is Oppression
Proverbs of Hell
In seed time learn, in harvest teach, in winter enjoy.
Drive your cart and your plow over the bones of the dead.
The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom.
Prudence is a rich ugly old maid courted by Incapacity.
He who desires but acts not, breeds pestilence.
The cut worm forgives the plow.
Dip him in the river who loves water.
A fool sees not the same tree that a wise man sees.
He whose face gives no light, shall never become a star.
Eternity is in love with the productions of time.
The busy bee has no time for sorrow.
The hours of folly are measur’d by the clock, but of wisdom: no clock can measure.
All wholsom food is caught without a net or a trap.
Bring out number weight & measure in a year of dearth.
No bird soars too high. if he soars with his own wings.
A dead body, revenges not injuries.
The most sublime act is to set another before you.
If the fool would persist in his folly he would become wise
Folly is the cloke of knavery.
Shame is Prides cloke.
Prisons are built with stones of Law, Brothels with bricks of Religion.
The pride of the peacock is the glory of God.
The lust of the goat is the bounty of God.
The wrath of the lion is the wisdom of God.
The nakedness of woman is the work of God.
Excess of sorrow laughs. Excess of joy weeps.
The roaring of lions, the howling of wolves, the raging of the stormy sea, and the destructive sword, are portions of eternity too great for the eye of man.
The fox condemns the trap, not himself.
Joys impregnate. Sorrows bring forth.
Let man wear the fell of the lion. woman the fleece of the sheep.
The bird a nest, the spider a web, man friendship.
The selfish smiling fool. & the sullen frowning fool, shall be both thought wise. that they may be a rod.
What is now proved was once, only imagind.
The rat, the mouse, the fox, the rabbet; watch the roots, the lion, the tyger, the horse, the elephant, watch the fruits.
The cistern contains: the fountain overflows
One thought. fills immensity.
Always be ready to speak your mind, and a base man will avoid you.
Every thing possible to be believd is an image of truth.
The eagle never lost so much time. as when he submitted to learn of the crow.
The fox provides for himself, but God provides for the lion.
Think in the morning, Act in the noon, Eat in the evening, Sleep in the night.
He who has suffered you to impose on him knows you.
As the plow follows words, so God rewards prayers.
The tygers of wrath are wiser than the horses of instruction
Expect poison from the standing water.
You never know what is enough unless you know what is more than enough.
Listen to the fools reproach! it is a kingly title!
The eyes of fire, the nostrils of air, the mouth of water, the beard of earth.
The weak in courage is strong in cunning.
The apple tree never asks the beech how he shall grow, nor the lion, the horse; how he shall take his prey.
The thankful reciever bears a plentiful harvest.
If others had not been foolish, we should be so.
The soul of sweet delight. can never be defil’d,
When thou seest an Eagle, thou seest a portion of Genius. lift up thy head!
As the catterpiller chooses the fairest leaves to layer her eggs on, so the priest lays his curse on the fairest joys.
To create a little flower is the labour of ages.
Damn, braces: Bless relaxes.
The best wine is the oldest. the best water the newest.
Prayers plow not! Praises reap not!
Joys laugh not! Sorrows weep not!
The head Sublime, the heart Pathos, the genitals Beauty, the hands & feet Proportion.
As the air to a bird or the sea to a fish, so is contempt to the contemptible.
The crow wish’d every thing was black, the owl, that every thing was white.
Exuberance is Beauty.
If the lion was advised by the fox. he would be cunning.
Improvement makes strait roads, but the crooked roads without Improvement, are roads of Genius.
Sooner murder an infant in its cradle than nurse unacted desires
Where man is not nature is barren.
Truth can never be told so as to be understood, and not be believ’d.
Enough! or Too much
The ancient Poets animated all sensible objects with Gods or Geniuses, calling them by the names and adorning them with the properties of woods, rivers, mountains, lakes, cities, nations, and whatever their enlarged & numerous senses could perceive.
And particularly they studied the genius of each city & country, placing it under its mental deity.
Till a system was formed, which some took advantage of & enslav’d the vulgar by attempting to realize or abstract the mental deities from their objects; thus began Priesthood.
Choosing forms of worship from poetic tales.
And at length they pronounced that the gods had orderd such things.
Thus men forgot that All deities reside in the human breast.
OF THE GATES
My Eternal Man set in Repose
The Female from his darkness rose
And She found me beneath a Tree
A Mandrake & in her Veil hid me
Serpent Reasonings us entice
Of Good & Evil: Virtue and Vice
Doubt Self Jealous Watry folly
Struggling thro Earth’s Melancholy
Naked in Air in Shame & Fear
Blind in Fire with shield & spear
Two Horn’d Reasoning Cloven Fiction
In Doubt which is Self contradiction
A dark Hermaphrodite We stood
Rational Truth Root of Evil & Good
Round me flew the Flaming Sword
Round her snowy Whirlwinds roard
Freezing her Veil the Mundane Shell
I rent the Veil where the Dead dwell
When weary Man enters his Cave
He meets his Saviour in the Grave
Some find a Female Garment there
And some a Male, woven with care
Lest the Sexual Garments sweet
Should grow a devouring Winding sheet
One Dies! Alas! The Living & Dead
One is slain & One is fled
In Vain-glory hatcht & nurst
By double Spectres Self Accurst
My Son! my Son! thou treatest me
But as I have instructed thee
On the shadows of the Moon
Climbing thro Nights highest noon
In Times Ocean falling drownd
In Aged Ignorance profound
Holy & cold I clipd the Wings
Of all Sublunary Things
And in depths of my Dungeons
Closed the Father & the Sons
But when once I did descry
The Immortal Man that cannot Die
Thro evening shades I haste away
To close the Labours of my Day
The Door of Death I open found
And the Worm Weaving in the Ground
Thou’rt my Mother from the Womb
Wife, Sister, Daughter to the Tomb
Weaving to Dreams the Sexual strife
And weeping over the Web of Life
TO THE ACCUSER WHO IS THE GOD OF THIS WORLD
Truly, My Satan, thou art but a Dunce,
And dost not know the Garment from the Man.
Every Harlot was a Virgin once,
Nor canst thou ever change Kate into Nan.
Tho’ thou art Worship’d by the Names Divine
Of Jesus & Jehovah, thou art still
The Son of Morn in weary Night’s decline,
The lost Traveller’s Dream under the Hill.
A SONG OF LIBERTY
1. The Eternal Female groan’d! it was heard over all the Earth:
2 . Albions coast is sick silent; the American meadows faint!
3 . Shadows of Prophecy shiver along by the lakes and the rivers and mutter across the ocean. France, rend down thy dungeon,
4 . Golden Spain burst the barriers of old Rome;
5 . Cast thy keys O Rome into the deep down falling, even to eternity down falling,
6 . And weep
7 . In her trembling hands she took the new born terror howling;
8 . On those infinite mountains of light now barr’d out by the atlantic sea, the new born fire stood before the starry king!
9 . Flag’d with grey brow’d snows and thunderous visages the jealous wings wav’d over the deep.
10 . The speary hand burned aloft, unbuckled was the shield, forth went the hand of jealousy among the flaming hair. and hurl’d the new born wonder thro’ the starry night.
11 . The fire, the fire, is falling!
12 . Look up! look up! O citizen of London. enlarge thy countenance: O Jew, leave counting gold! return to thy oil and wine: O African! black African! (go. winged thought widen his forehead.)
13 . The fiery limbs, the flaming hair, shot like the sinking sun into the western sea.
14 . Wak’d from his eternal sleep, the hoary element roaring fled away;
15 . Down rushd beating his wings in vain the jealous king; his grey brow’d councellors, thunderous warriors, curl’d veterans, among helms, and shields, and chariots horses, elephants: banners, castles. slings and rocks,
16 . Falling, rushing, ruining! buried in the ruins, on Urthona’s dens.
17 . All night beneath the ruins, then their sullen flames faded emerge round the gloomy king,
18 . With thunder and fire: leading his starry hosts thro’ the waste wilderness, he promulgates his ten commands, glancing his beamy eyelids over the deep in dark dismay,
19 . Where the son of fire in his eastern cloud, while the morning plumes her golden breast.
20 . Spurning the clouds written with curses, stamps the stony law to dust, loosing the eternal horses from the dens of night. crying Empire is no more! and now the lion & wolf shall cease.
Chorus
Let the Priests of the Raven of dawn, no longer in deadly black, with hoarse note curse the sons of joy. Nor his accepted brethren, whom. tyrant. he calls free: lay the bound or build the roof. Nor pale religious letchery call that virginity. that wishes but acts not!
For every thing that lives is Holy.
THE FRENCH REVOLUTION
This poem was composed in 1791 and was intended to be seven books in length, but only one book survives. In the extant text, Blake describes the problems of the French monarchy and urges the destruction of the Bastille in the name of Freedom. The poet believed there was a strong connection between the American and French revolutions and that these revolutions had a universal and historical impact. This poem was intended as a poetic history of current events, suggesting Blake’s fervent belief in the revolutionary ideology of the time.
The poem employs an anapestic iambic septenary metre, which is unique in Blake’s poetry until this time. The narrative concerns events from May 1789 to July 1789. Although Blake relies on history, he includes his own characters and uses symbolism to depict the image of the Bastille, with each of its seven towers representing a character type that was repressed by an oppressive government.
‘Storming the Bastille’ by Jean-Pierre-Louis-Laurent Houel
ADVERTISEMENT.
The remaining Books of this Poem are finished, and will be published in their Order.
THE FRENCH REVOLUTION: BOOK THE FIRST.
The dead brood over Europe, the cloud and vision descends over chearful France;
O cloud well appointed! Sick, sick: the Prince on his couch, wreath’d in dim
And appalling mist; his strong hand outstretch’d, from his shoulder down the bone
Runs aching cold into the scepter too heavy for mortal grasp. No more
To be swayed by visible hand, nor in cruelty bruise the mild flourishing mountains.
Sick the mountains, and all their vineyards weep, in the eyes of the kingly mourner;
Pale is the morning cloud in his visage. Rise, Necker: the ancient dawn calls us
To awake from slumbers of five thousands years. I awake, but my soul is in dreams;
From my window I see the old mountains of France, like aged men, fading away.
Troubled, leaning on Necker, descends the King, to his chamber of council; shady mountains
In fear utter voices of thunder; the woods of France embosom the sound;
Clouds of wisdom prophetic reply, and roll over the palace roof heavy,
Forty men: each conversing with woes in the infinite shadows of his soul,
Like our ancient fathers in regions of twilight, walk, gathering round the King;
Again the loud voice of France cries to the morning, the morning prophecies to its clouds.
For the Commons convene in the Hall of the Nation. France shakes! And the heavens of France
Perplex’d vibrate round each careful countenance! Darkness of old times around them
Utters loud despair, shadowing Paris; her grey towers groan, and the Bastile trembles.
In its terrible towers the Governor stood, in dark fogs list’ning the horror;
A thousand his soldiers, old veterans of France, breathing red clouds of power and dominion,
Sudden seiz’d with howlings, despair, and black night, he stalk’d like a lion from tower
To tower, his howlings were heard in the Louvre; from court to court restless he dragg’d
His strong limbs; from court to court curs’d the fierce torment unquell’d,
Howling and giving the dark command; in his soul stood the purple plague,
Tugging his iron manacles, and piercing through the seven towers dark and sickly,
Panting over the prisoners like a wolf gorg’d; and the den nam’d Horror held a man
Chain’d hand and foot, round his neck an iron band, bound to the impregnable wall.
In his soul was the serpent coil’d round in his heart, hid from the light, as in a cleft rock;
And the man was confin’d for a writing prophetic: in the tower nam’d Darkness, was a man
Pinion’d down to the stone floor, his strong bones scarce cover’d with sinews; the iron rings <30>
Were forg’d smaller as the flesh decay’d, a mask of iron on his face hid the lineaments
Of ancient Kings, and the frown of the eternal lion was hid from the oppressed earth.
In the tower named Bloody, a skeleton yellow remained in its chains on its couch
Of stone, once a man who refus’d to sign papers of abhorrence; the eternal worm
Crept in the skeleton. In the den nam’d Religion, a loathsome sick woman, bound down
To a bed of straw; the seven diseases of earth, like birds of prey, stood on the couch,
And fed on the body. She refus’d to be whore to the Minister, and with a knife smote him.
In the tower nam’d Order, an old man, whose white beard cover’d the stone floor like weeds
On margin of the sea, shrivel’d up by heat of day and cold of night; his den was short
And narrow as a grave dug for a child, with spiders webs wove, and with slime
Of ancient horrors cover’d, for snakes and scorpions are his companions; harmless they breathe
His sorrowful breath: he, by conscience urg’d, in the city of Paris rais’d a pulpit,
And taught wonders to darken’d souls. In the den nam’d Destiny a strong man sat,
His feet and hands cut off, and his eyes blinded; round his middle a chain and a band
Fasten’d into the wall; fancy gave him to see an image of despair in his den,
Eternally rushing round, like a man on his hands and knees, day and night without rest.
He was friend to the favourite. In the seventh tower, nam’d the tower of God, was a man
Mad, with chains loose, which he dragg’d up and down; fed with hopes year by year, he pined
For liberty; vain hopes: his reason decay’d, and the world of attraction in his bosom
Center’d, and the rushing of chaos overwhelm’d his dark soul. He was confin’d
For a letter of advice to a King, and his ravings in winds are heard over Versailles.
But the dens shook and trembled, the prisoners look up and assay to shout; they listen,
Then laugh in the dismal den, then are silent, and a light walks round the dark towers.
For the Commons convene in the Hall of the Nation; like spirits of fire in the beautiful
Porches of the Sun, to plant beauty in the desart craving abyss, they gleam
On the anxious city; all children new-born first behold them; tears are fled,
And they nestle in earth-breathing bosoms. So the city of Paris, their wives and children,
Look up to the morning Senate, and visions of sorrow leave pensive streets.
But heavy brow’d jealousies lower o’er the Louvre, and terrors of ancient Kings
Descend from the gloom and wander thro’ the palace, and weep round the King and his Nobles.
While loud thunders roll, troubling the dead, Kings are sick throughout all the earth,
The voice ceas’d: the Nation sat: And the triple forg’d fetters of times were unloos’d.
The voice ceas’d: the Nation sat: but ancient darkness and trembling wander thro’ the palace.
As in day of havock and routed battle, among thick shades of discontent,
On the soul-skirting mountains of sorrow cold waving: the Nobles fold round the King,
Each stern visage lock’d up as with strong bands of iron, each strong limb bound down as with marble,
In flames of red wrath burning, bound in astonishment a quarter of an hour.
Then the King glow’d: his Nobles fold round, like the sun of old time quench’d in clouds;
In their darkness the King stood, his heart flam’d, and utter’d a with’ring heat, and these words burst forth:
The nerves of five thousand years ancestry tremble, shaking the heavens of France;
Throbs of anguish beat on brazen war foreheads, they descend and look into their graves.
I see thro’ darkness, thro’ clouds rolling round me, the spirits of ancient Kings
Shivering over their bleached bones; round them their counsellors look up from the dust,
Crying: Hide from the living! Our b[a]nds and our prisoners shout in the open field,
Hide in the nether earth! Hide in the bones! Sit obscured in the hollow scull.
Our flesh is corrupted, and we [wear] away. We are not numbered among the living. Let us hide
In stones, among roots of trees. The prisoners have burst their dens,
Let us hide; let us hide in the dust; and plague and wrath and tempest shall cease.
He ceas’d, silent pond’ring, his brows folded heavy, his forehead was in affliction,
Like the central fire: from the window he saw his vast armies spread over the hills,
Breathing red fires from man to man, and from horse to horse; then his bosom
Expanded like starry heaven, he sat down: his Nobles took their ancient seats.
Then the ancientest Peer, Duke of Burgundy, rose from the Monarch’s right hand, red as wines
From his mountains, an odor of war, like a ripe vineyard, rose from his garments,
And the chamber became as a clouded sky; o’er the council he stretch’d his red limbs,
Cloth’d in flames of crimson, as a ripe vineyard stretches over sheaves of corn,
The fierce Duke hung over the council; around him croud, weeping in his burning robe,
A bright cloud of infant souls; his words fall like purple autumn on the sheaves.
Shall this marble built heaven become a clay cottage, this earth an oak stool, and these mowers
From the Atlantic mountains, mow down all this great starry harvest of six thousand years?
And shall Necker, the hind of Geneva, stretch out his crook’d sickle o’er fertile France,
Till our purple and crimson is faded to russet, and the kingdoms of earth bound in sheaves,
And the ancient forests of chivalry hewn, and the joys of the combat burnt for fuel;
Till the power and dominion is rent from the pole, sword and scepter from sun and moon,
The law and gospel from fire and air, and eternal reason and science
From the deep and the solid, and man lay his faded head down on the rock
Of eternity, where the eternal lion and eagle remain to devour?
This to prevent, urg’d by cries in day, and prophetic dreams hovering in night,
To enrich the lean earth that craves, furrow’d with plows; whose seed is departing from her;
Thy Nobles have gather’d thy starry hosts round this rebellious city,
To rouze up the ancient forests of Europe, with clarions of cloud breathing war;
To hear the horse neigh to the drum and trumpet, and the trumpet and war shout reply;
Stretch the hand that beckons the eagles of heaven; they cry over Paris, and wait
Till Fayette point his finger to Versailles; the eagles of heaven must have their prey.
The King lean’d on his mountains, then lifted his head and look’d on his armies, that shone
Through heaven, tinging morning with beams of blood, then turning to Burgundy troubled:
Burgundy, thou wast born a lion! My soul is o’ergrown with distress
For the Nobles of France, and dark mists roll round me and blot the writing of God
Written in my bosom. Necker rise, leave the kingdom, thy life is surrounded with snares;
We have call’d an Assembly, but not to destroy; we have given gifts, not to the weak;
I hear rushing of muskets, and bright’ning of swords, and visages redd’ning with war,
Frowning and looking up from brooding villages and every dark’ning city;
Ancient wonders frown over the kingdom, and cries of women and babes are heard,
And tempests of doubt roll around me, and fierce sorrows, because of the Nobles of France;
Depart, answer not, for the tempest must fall, as in years that are passed away.
He ceas’d, and burn’d silent, red clouds roll round Necker, a weeping is heard o’er the palace;
Like a dark cloud Necker paus’d, and like thunder on the just man’s burial day he paus’d;
Silent sit the winds, silent the meadows, while the husbandman and woman of weakness
And bright children look after him into the grave, and water his clay with love,
Then turn towards pensive fields; so Necker paus’d, and his visage was cover’d with clouds.
Dropping a tear the old man his place left, and when he was gone out
He set his face toward Geneva to flee, and the women and children of the city
Kneel’d round him and kissed his garments and wept; he stood a short space in the street,
Then fled; and the whole city knew he was fled to Geneva, and the Senate heard it.
But the Nobles burn’d wrathful at Necker’s departure, and wreath’d their clouds and waters
In dismal volumes; as risen from beneath the Archbishop of Paris arose,
In the rushing of scales and hissing of flames and rolling of sulphurous smoke.
Hearken, Monarch of France, to the terrors of heaven, and let thy soul drink of my counsel;
Sleeping at midnight in my golden tower, the repose of the labours of men
Wav’d its solemn cloud over my head. I awoke; a cold hand passed over my limbs, and behold
An aged form, white as snow, hov’ring in mist, weeping in the uncertain light,
Dim the form almost faded, tears fell down the shady cheeks; at his feet many cloth’d
In white robes, strewn in air sensers and harps, silent they lay prostrated;
Beneath, in the awful void, myriads descending and weeping thro’ dismal winds,
Endless the shady train shiv’ring descended, from the gloom where the aged form wept.
At length, trembling, the vision sighing, in a low voice, like the voice of the grasshopper whisper’d:
My groaning is heard in the abbeys, and God, so long worshipp’d, departs as a lamp
Without oil; for a curse is heard hoarse thro’ the land, from a godless race
Descending to beasts; they look downward and labour and forget my holy law;
The sound of prayer fails from lips of flesh, and the holy hymn from thicken’d tongues;
For the bars of Chaos are burst; her millions prepare their fiery way
Thro’ the orbed abode of the holy dead, to root up and pull down and remove,
And Nobles and Clergy shall fail from before me, and my cloud and vision be no more;
The mitre become black, the crown vanish, and the scepter and ivory staff
Of the ruler wither among bones of death; thy shall consume from the thistly field,
And the sound of the bell, and voice of the sabbath, and singing of the holy choir,
Is turn’d into songs of the harlot in day, and cries of the virgin in night.
They shall drop at the plow and faint at the harrow, unredeem’d, unconfess’d, unpardon’d;
The priest rot in his surplice by the lawless lover, the holy beside the accursed,
The King, frowning in purple, beside the grey plowman, and their worms embrace together.
The voice ceas’d, a groan shook my chamber; I slept, for the cloud of repose returned,
But morning dawn’d heavy upon me. I rose to bring my Prince heaven utter’d counsel.
Hear my counsel, O King, and send forth thy Generals, the command of heaven is upon thee;
Then do thou command, O King, to shut up this Assembly in their final home;
Let thy soldiers possess this city of rebels, that threaten to bathe their feet
In the blood of Nobility; trampling the heart and the head; let the Bastile devour
These rebellious seditious; seal them up, O Anointed, in everlasting chains.
He sat down, a damp cold pervaded the Nobles, and monsters of worlds unknown
Swam round them, watching to be delivered; When Aumont, whose chaos-born soul
Eternally wand’ring a Comet and swift-failing fire, pale enter’d the chamber;
Before the red Council he stood, like a man that returns from hollow graves.
Awe surrounded, alone thro’ the army a fear ad a with’ring blight blown by the north;
The Abbe de Seyes from the Nation’s Assembly. O Princes and Generals of France
Unquestioned, unhindered, awe-struck are the soldiers; a dark shadowy man in the form
Of King Henry the Fourth walks before him in fires, the captains like men bound in chains
Stood still as he pass’d, he is come to the Louvre, O King, with a message to thee;
The strong soldiers tremble, the horses their manes bow, and the guards of thy palace are fled.
Up rose awful in his majestic beams Bourbon’s strong Duke; his proud sword from his thigh
Drawn, he threw on the Earth! the Duke of Bretagne and the Earl of Borgogne
Rose inflam’d, to and fro in the chamber, like thunder-clouds ready to burst.
What damp all our fires, O spectre of Henry, said Bourbon; and rend the flames
From the head of our King! Rise, Monarch of France; command me, and I will lead
This army of superstition at large, that the ardor of noble souls quenchless,
May yet burn in France, nor our shoulders be plow’d with the furrows of poverty.
Then Orleans generous as mountains arose, and unfolded his robe, and put forth
His benevolent hand, looking on the Archbishop, who changed as pale as lead;
Would have risen but could not, his voice issued harsh grating; instead of words harsh hissings
Shook the chamber; he ceas’d abash’d. Then Orleans spoke, all was silent,
He breath’d on them, and said, O princes of fire, whose flames are for growth not consuming,
Fear not dreams, fear not visions, nor be you dismay’d with sorrows which flee at the morning;
Can the fires of Nobility ever be quench’d, or the stars by a stormy night?
Is the body diseas’d when the members are healthful? can the man be bound in sorrow
Whose ev’ry function is fill’d with its fiery desire? can the soul whose brain and heart
Cast their rivers in equal tides thro’ the great Paradise, languish because the feet
Hands, head, bosom, and parts of love, follow their high breathing joy?
And can Nobles be bound when the people are free, or God weep when his children are happy?
Have you never seen Fayette’s forehead, or Mirabeau’s eyes, or the shoulders of Target,
Or Bailly he strong foot of France, or Clermont the terrible voice, and your robes
Still retain their own crimson? mine never yet faded, for fire delights in its form.
But go, merciless man! enter into the infinite labyrinth of another’s brain
Ere thou measure the circle that he shall run. Go, thou cold recluse, into the fires
Of another’s high flaming rich bosom, and return unconsum’d, and write laws.
If thou canst not do this, doubt thy theories, learn to consider all men as thy equals,
Thy brethren, and not as thy foot or thy hand, unless thou first fearest to hurt them.
The Monarch stood up, the strong Duke his sword to its golden scabbard return’d,
The Nobles sat round like clouds on the mountains, when the storm is passing away.
Let the Nation’s Ambassador come among Nobles, like incense of the valley.
Aumont went out and stood in the hollow porch, his ivory wand in his hand;
A cold orb of disdain revolv’d round him, and covered his soul with snows eternal.
Great Henry’s soul shuddered, a whirlwind and fire tore furious from his angry bosom;
He indignant departed on horses of heav’n. Then the Abbe de Seyes rais’d his feet
On the steps of the Louvre, like a voice of God following a storm, the Abbe follow’d
The pale fires of Aumont into the chamber, as a father that bows to his son;
Whose rich fields inheriting spread their old glory, so the voice of the people bowed
Before the ancient seat of the kingdom and mountains to be renewed.
Hear, O Heavens of France, the voice of the people, arising from valley and hill,
O’erclouded with power. Hear the voice of vallies, the voice of meek cities,
Mourning oppressed on village and field, till the village and field is a waste.
For the husbandman weeps at blights of the fife, and blasting of trumpets consume
The souls of mild France; the pale mother nourishes her child to the deadly slaughter.
When the heavens were seal’d with a stone, and the terrible sun clos’d in an orb, and the moon
Rent from the nations, and each star appointed for watchers of night,
The millions of spirits immortal were bound in the ruins of sulphur heaven
To wander inslav’d; black, deprest in dark ignorance, kept in awe with the whip,
To worship terrors, bred from the blood of revenge and breath of desire,
In beastial forms; or more terrible men, till the dawn of our peaceful morning,
Till dawn, till morning, till the breaking of clouds, and swelling of winds, and the universal voice,
Till man raise his darken’d limbs out of the caves of night, his eyes and his heart
Expand: where is space! where O Sun is thy dwelling! where thy tent, O faint slumb’rous Moon,
Then the valleys of France shall cry to the soldier, throw down thy sword and musket,
And run and embrace the meek peasant. Her nobles shall hear and shall weep, and put off
The red robe of terror, the crown of oppression, the shoes of contempt, and unbuckle
The girdle of war from the desolate earth; then the Priest in his thund’rous cloud
Shall weep, bending to earth embracing the valleys, and putting his hand to the plow,
Shall say, no more I curse thee; but now I will bless thee: No more in deadly black
Devour thy labour; nor lift up a cloud in thy heavens, O laborious plow,
That the wild raging millions, that wander in forests, and howl in law blasted wastes,
Strength madden’d with slavery, honesty, bound in the dens of superstition,
May sing in the village, and shout in the harvest, and woo in pleasant gardens,
Their once savage loves, now beaming with knowledge, with gentle awe adorned;
And the saw, and the hammer, the chisel, the pencil, the pen, and the instruments
Of heavenly song sound in the wilds once forbidden, to teach the laborious plowman
And shepherd deliver’d from clouds of war, from pestilence, from night-fear, from murder,
From falling, from stifling, from hunger, from cold, from slander, discontent and sloth;
That walk in beasts and birds of night, driven back by the sandy desart
Like pestilent fogs round cities of men: and the happy earth sing in its course,
The mild peaceable nations be opened to heav’n, and men walk with their fathers in bliss.
Then hear the first voice of the morning: Depart, O clouds of night, and no more
Return; be withdrawn cloudy war, troops of warriors depart, nor around our peaceable city
Breathe fires, but ten miles from Paris, let all be peace, nor a soldier be seen.
He ended; the wind of contention arose and the clouds cast their shadows, the Princes
Like the mountains of France, whose aged trees utter an awful voice, and their branches
Are shatter’d, till gradual a murmur is heard descending into the valley,
Like a voice in the vineyards of Burgundy, when grapes are shaken on grass;
Like the low voice of the labouring man, instead of the shout of joy;
And the palace appear’d like a cloud driven abroad; blood ran down, the ancient pillars,
Thro’ the cloud a deep thunder, the Duke of Burgundy, delivers the King’s command.
Seest thou yonder dark castle, that moated around, keeps this city of Paris in awe.
Go command yonder tower, saying, Bastile depart, and take thy shadowy course.
Overstep the dark river, thou terrible tower, and get thee up into the country ten miles.
And thou black southern prison, move along the dusky road to Versailles; there
Frown on the gardens, and if it obey and depart, then the King will disband
This war-breathing army; but if it refuse, let the Nation’s Assembly thence learn,
That this army of terrors, that prison of horrors, are the bands of the murmuring kingdom.
Like the morning star arising above the black waves, when a shipwreck’d soul sighs for morning,
Thro’ the ranks, silent, walk’d the Ambassador back to the Nation’s Assembly, and told
The unwelcome message; silent they heard; then a thunder roll’d round loud and louder,
Like pillars of ancient halls, and ruins of times remote they sat.
Like a voice from the dim pillars Mirabeau rose; the thunders subsided away;
A rushing of wings around him was heard as he brighten’d, and cried out aloud,
Where is the General of the Nation? the walls reecho’d: Where is the General of the Nation?
Sudden as the bullet wrapp’d in his fire, when brazen cannons rage in the field,
Fayette sprung from his seat saying, Ready! then bowing like clouds, man toward man, the Assembly
Like a council of ardors seated in clouds, bending over the cities of men,
And over the armies of strife, where their children are marshall’d together to battle;
They murmuring divide, while the wind sleeps beneath, and the numbers are counted in silence,
While they vote the removal of War, and the pestilence weighs his red wings in the sky.
So Fayette stood silent among the Assembly, and the votes were given and the numbers numb’red;
And the vote was, that Fayette should order the army to remove ten miles from Paris.
The aged sun rises appall’d from dark mountains, and gleams a dusky beam
On Fayette, but on the whole army a shadow, for a cloud on the eastern hills
Hover’d, and stretch’d across the city and across the army, and across the Louvre,
Like a flame of fire he stood before dark ranks, and before expecting captains
On pestilent vapours around him flow frequent spectres of religious men weeping
In winds driven out of the abbeys, their naked souls shiver in keen open air,
Driven out by the fiery cloud of Voltaire, and thund’rous rocks of Rousseau,
They dash like foam against the ridges of the army, uttering a faint feeble cry.
Gleams of fire streak the heavens, and of sulpur the earth, from Fayette as he lifted his hand;
But silent he stood, till all the officers rush round him like waves
Round the shore of France, in day of the British flag, when heavy cannons
Affright the coasts, and the peasant looks over the sea and wipes a tear;
Over his head the soul of Voltaire shone fiery, and over the army Rousseau his white cloud
Unfolded, on souls of war-living terrors silent list’ning toward Fayette,
His voice loud inspir’d by liberty, and by spirits of the dead, thus thunder’d.
The Nation’s Assembly command, that the Army remove ten miles from Paris;
Nor a soldier be seen in road or in field, till the Nation command return.
Rushing along iron ranks glittering the officers each to his station
Depart, and the stern captain strokes his proud steed, and in front of his solid ranks
Waits the sound of trumpet; captains of foot stand each by his cloudy drum;
Then the drum beats, and the steely ranks move, and trumpets rejoice in the sky.
Dark cavalry like clouds fraught with thunder ascend on the hills, and bright infantry, rank
Behind rank, to the soul shaking drum and shrill fife along the roads glitter like fire.
The noise of trampling, the wind of trumpets, smote the palace walls with a blast.
Pale and cold sat the king in midst of his peers, and his noble heart stink, and his pulses
Suspended their motion, a darkness crept over his eye-lids, and chill cold sweat
Sat round his brows faded in faint death, his peers pale like mountains of the dead,
Cover’d with dews of night, groaning, shaking forests and floods. The cold newt
and snake, and damp toad, on the kingly foot crawl, or croak on the awful knee,
Shedding their slime, in folds of the robe the crown’d adder builds and hisses
From stony brows; shaken the forests of France, sick the kings of the nations,
And the bottoms of the world were open’d, and the graves of arch-angels unseal’d;
The enormous dead, lift up their pale fires and look over the rocky cliffs.
A faint heat from their fires reviv’d the cold Louvre; the frozen blood reflow’d.
Awful up rose the king, him the peers follow’d, they saw the courts of the Palace
Forsaken, and Paris without a soldier, silent, for the noise was gone up
And follow’d the army, and the Senate in peace, sat beneath morning’s beam.
END OF THE FIRST BOOK.
Blake completed no other books
VISIONS OF THE DAUGHTERS OF ALBION
This 1793 poem was produced with illustrations by the poet himself. Being a short prophetic book, Visions of the Daughters of Albion is partly a sequel to The Book of Thel. The narrative concerns the female character Oothoon, called the “soft soul of America”, and her sexual experience. She is in love with Theotormon, who represents the chaste man, filled with a false sense of righteousness. Though Oothoon desires Theotormon, she is suddenly raped by Bromion; and from then on neither man wants anything to do with her. As is usual in Blake, the names of the characters represent their symbolic roles. Theotormon’s name is derived from the Greek “theos”, which means god, and the Latin “tormentum”, which means twist or torment. The name of his rival Bromion is Greek meaning “roarer”.
The 1793 frontispiece
CONTENTS
VISIONS OF THE DAUGHTERS OF ALBION: THE ARGUMENT
VISIONS OF THE DAUGHTERS OF ALBION
: THE ARGUMEN
T
I loved Theotormon
And I was not ashamed
I trembled in my virgin fears
And I hid in Leutha’s Vale!
I plucked Leutha’s flower,
And I rose up from the vale;
But the terrible thunders tore
My virgin mantle in twain.
VISIONS
Enslav’d, the Daughters of Albion weep; a trembling lamentation
Upon their mountains; in their valleys, sighs towards America.
For the soft soul of America, Oothoon wanderd in woe,
Along the vales of Leutha seeking flowers to comfort her;
And thus she spoke to the bright Marygold of Leutha’s vale
Art thou a flower! art though a nymph! I see thee now a flower;
Now a nymph! I dare not pluck thee from thy dewy bed!
The Golden nymph replied; pluck thou my flower Oothoon the mild
Another flower shall spring. because the soul of sweet delight
Can never pass away, she ceas’d & closed her golden shrine.
Then Oothoon pluck’d the flower saying, I pluck thee from thy bed
Sweet flower. and put thee here to glow between my breasts
And thus I turn to where my whole soul seeks.
Over the waves she went in wing’d exulting swift delight;
And over Theotormon’s reign, took her impetuous course.
Bromion rent her with his thunders. on his stormy bed
Lay the faint maid, and soon her woes apalld his thunders hoarse
Bromion spoke. behold this harlot here on Bromions bed.
And let the jealous dolphins sport around the lovely maid:
Thy soft American plains are mine, and mine thy north & south:
Stampt with my signet are the swarthy children of the sun;
They are obedient, they resist not, they obey the scourge:
Their daughters worship terrors and obey the violent:
Now thou maist marry Bromions harlot, and protect the child
Of Bromions rage, that Oothoon shall put forth in nine moons time
Then storms rent Theotormons limbs; he rolld his waves around.
And folded his black jealous waters round the adulterate pair
Bound back to back in Bromions caves terror & meekness dwell
At entrance Theotormon sits wearing the threshold hard
With secret tears; beneath him sound like waves on a desart shore
The voice of slaves beneath the sun, and children bought with money,
That shiver in religious caves beneath the burning fores
Of lust, that belch incessant from the summits of the earth
Oothoon weeps not. she cannot weep! her tears are locked up;
But she can howl incessant writhing her soft snowy limbs.
And calling Theotormons Eagles to prey upon her flesh.
I call with holy voice! kings of the sounding air,
Rend away this defiled bosom that I may reflect,
The image of Theotormon on my pure transparent breast.
The Eagles at her call descend & rend their bleeding prey;
Theotormon severely smiles. Her soul reflects the smile;
As the clear spring muddled with feet of beasts grows pure & smiles
The Daughters of Albion hear her woes, & eccho back her sighs.
Why does Theotormon sit weeping upon the threshold:
And Oothoon hovers by his side, perswading him in vain:
I cry arise O Theotormon for the village dog
Barks at the breaking day. the nightingale has done lamenting
The lark does rustle in the ripe corn, and the Eagle returns
From nightly prey, and lifts his golden beak to the pure east;
Shaking the dust from his immortal points to awake
The sun that sleeps too long. Arise my Theotormon I am pure.
Because the night is gone that closed me in its deadly black.
They told me that the night & day were all that I could see;
They told me that I had five senses to inclose me up.
And they inclos’d my infinite brain into a narrow circle,
And sunk my heart into the Abyss, a red round globe hot burning
Till all from life I was obliterated and erased.
Instead of morn arises a bright shadow, like an eye
In the eastern cloud: instead of night a sickly charnel house;
That Theotormon hears me not! to him the night and morn
Are both alike: A night of sighs, a morning of fresh tears;
And none but Bromion can hear my lamentations.
With what sense is it that the chicken shuns the ravenous hawk?
With what sense does the tame pigeon measure out the expanse?
With what sense does the bee form cells? have not the mouse & frog
Eyes and ears and sense of touch? yet are their habitations.
And their pursuits, as different as their forms and as their joys:
Ask the wild ass why he refuses burdens: and the meek camel
Why he loves man: is it because of eye ear mouth or skin
Or breathing nostrils? No, for these the wolf and tyger have.
Ask the blind worm the secrets of the grave, and why her spires
Love to curl round the bones of death! and ask the rav’nous snake
Where she gets poison: & the wing’d eagle why he loves the sun
And then tell me the thoughts of man, which have been hid of old.
Silent I hover all the night, and all day could be silent,
If Theotormon once would turn his loved eyes upon me;
How can I be defild when I reflect my image pure?
Sweetest the fruit that the worms feeds on. & the soul prey’d on by woe,
The new wash’d lamb ting’d with the village smoke & the bright swan
By the red earth of our immortal river: I bathe my wings,
And I am white and pure to hover round Theotormons breast.
Then Theotormon broke his silence, and he answered.
Tell me what is the night or day to one o’erflowd with woe?
Tell me what is a thought? & of what substance is it made?
Tell me what is a joy? & in what gardens do joys grow?
And in what rivers swim the sorrows? and upon what mountains
Wave shadows of discontent? and in what houses dwell the wretched
Drunken with a woe forgotten. and shut up from cold despair,
Tell me where dwell the thoughts forgotten till thou call them forth
Tell me where dwell the joys of old! & where the ancient loves?
And when will they renew again & the night of oblivion past?
That I might traverse times and spaces far remote and bring
Comforts into a pre[s]ent sorrow and a night of pain
Where goest thou O thought! to what remote land is thy flight?
If thou returnest to the present moment of affliction
Wilt thou bring comforts on thy wings, and dews and honey and balm;
Or poison from the desart wilds, from the eyes of the envier.
Then Bromion said: and shook the cavern with his lamentation
Thou knowest that the ancient trees seen by thy eyes have fruit;
But knowest thou that trees and fruit flourish upon the earth
To gratify senses unknown? trees beasts and birds unknown:
Unknown, not unperceived, spread in the infinite microscope,
In places yet unvisited by the voyager. and in worlds
Over another kind of seas, and in atmospheres unknown.
Ah! are there other wars, beside the wars of sword and fire!
And are there other sorrows, beside the sorrows of poverty?
And are there other joys, beside the joys of riches and ease?
And is there not one law for both the lion and the ox?
And is there not eternal fire, and eternal chains?
To bind the phantoms of existence from eternal life?
Then Oothoon waited silent all the day, and all the night,
But when the morn arose, her lamentation renewd,
The Daughters of Albion hear her woes, & eccho back her sighs.
O Urizen! Creator of men! mistaken Demon of heaven;
Thy joys are tears! thy labour vain, to form men to thine image.
How can one absorb another? are not different joys
Holy, eternal, infinite! and each joy is a Love.
Does not the great mouth laugh at a gift? & the narrow eyelids mock
At the labour that is above payment, and wilt thou take the ape
For thy councellor? or the dog. for a schoolmaster to thy children?
Does he who contemns poverty, and he who turns with abhorrence
From usury: feel the same passion or are they moved alike?
How can the giver of gifts experience the delights of the merchant?
How the industrious citizen the pains of the husbandman.
How different far the fat fed hireling with hollow drum;
Who buys whole corn fields into wastes, and sings upon the heath:
How different their eye and ear! how different the world to them!
With what sense does the parson claim the labour of the farmer?
What are his nets & gins & traps, & how does he surround him
With cold floods of abstraction, and with forests of solitude,
To build him castles and high spires, where kings & priests may dwell.
Till she who burns with youth, and knows no fixed lot; is bound
In spells of law to one she loaths: and must she drag the chain
Of life, in weary lust! must chilling murderous thoughts, obscure
The clear heaven of her eternal spring! to bear the wintry rage
Of a harsh terror driv’n to madness, bound to hold a rod
Over her shrinking shoulders all the day; and all the night
To turn the wheel of false desire: and longings that wake her womb
To the abhorred birth of cherubs in the human form
That live a pestilence & die a meteor & are no more.
Till the child dwell with one he hates, and do all the deeds he loaths
And the impure scourge force his seed into its unripe birth
E’er yet his eyelids can behold the arrows of the day.
Does the whale worship at thy footsteps as the hungry dog?
Or does he scent the mountain prey, because his nostrils wide
Draw in the ocean? does his eye discern the flying cloud
As the ravens eye? or does he measure the expanse like the vulture?
Does the still spider view the cliffs where eagles hide their young?
Or does the fly rejoice, because the harvest is brought in?
Does not the eagle scorn the earth & despise the treasures beneath?
But the mole knoweth what is there, & the worm shall tell it thee.
Does not the worm erect a pillar in the mouldering church yard?
And a palace of eternity in the jaws of the hungry grave
Over his porch these words are written. Take thy bliss O Man!
And sweet shall be thy taste & sweet thy infant joys renew!
Infancy, fearless, lustful, happy! nestling for delight
In laps of pleasure; Innocence! honest, open, seeking
The vigorous joys of morning light; open to virgin bliss.
Who taught thee modesty, subtil modesty! child of night & sleep
When thou awakest. wilt thou dissemble all thy secret joys
Or wert thou not awake when all this mystery was disclos’d!
Then com’st thou forth a modest virgin knowing to dissemble
With nets found under thy night pillow, to catch virgin joy,
And brand it with the name of whore: & sell it in the night,
In silence, ev’n without a whisper, and in seeming sleep,
Religious dream and holy vespers, light thy smoky fires:
Once were thy fires lighted by the eyes of honest morn
And does my Theotormon seek this hypocrite modesty!
This knowing, artful, secret. fearful, cautious, trembling hypocrite.
Then is Oothoon a whore indeed! and all the virgin joys
Of life are harlots: and Theotormon is a sick mans dream
And Oothoon is the crafty slave of selfish holiness.
But Oothoon is not so, a virgin fill’d with virgin fancies
Open to joy and to delight where ever beauty appears
If in the morning sun I find it; there my eyes are fix’d
In happy copulation; if in evening mild, wearied with work;
Sit on a bank and draw the pleasures of this free born joy.
The moment of desire! the moment of desire! The virgin
That pines for man; shall awaken her womb to enormous joys
In the secret shadows of her chamber; the youth shut up from
The lustful joy, shall forget to generate, & create an amorous image
In the shadows of his curtains and in the folds of his silent pillow.
Are not these the places of religion? the rewards of continence!
The self enjoyings of self denial? Why dost thou seek religion?
Is it because acts are not lovely, that thou seekest solitude,
Where the horrible darkness is impressed with reflections of desire.
Father of Jealousy, be thou accursed from the earth!
Why hast thou taught my Theotormon this accursed thing?
Till beauty fades from off my shoulders darken’d and cast out,
A solitary shadow wailing on the margin of non-entity.
I cry, Love! Love! Love! happy happy Love! free as the mountain wind!
Can that be Love, that drinks another as a sponge drinks water?
That clouds with jealousy his nights, with weepings all the day:
To spin a web of age around him, grey and hoary! dark!
Till his eyes sicken at the fruit that hangs before his sight.
Such is self-love that envies all! a creeping skeleton
With lamplike eyes watching around the frozen marriage bed.
But silken nets and traps of adamant will Oothoon spread,
And catch for the girls of mild silver, or of furious gold;
I’ll lie beside thee on a bank & view their wanton play
In lovely copulation bliss on bliss with Theotormon;
Red as the rosy morning, lustful as the first born beam,
Oothoon shall view his dear delight, nor e’er with jealous cloud
Come in the heavens of generous love; nor selfish blightings bring.
Does the sun walk in glorious raiment, on the secret floor
Where the cold miser spreads his gold? or does the bright cloud drop
On his stone threshold? does his eye behold the beam that brings
Expansion to the eye of pity? or will he bind himself
Beside the ox to thy hard furrow? does not that mild beam blot
The bat, the owl, the glowing tyger, and the king of night.
The sea fowl takes the wintry blast. for a cov’ring to her limbs:
And the wild snake, the pestilence to adorn him with gems & gold.
And trees. & birds. & beasts, & men. behold their eternal joy.
Arise you little glancing wings, and sing your infant joy!
Arise and drink your bliss. For everything that lives is holy!
Thus every morning wails Oothoon. but Theotormon sits
Upon the margind ocean conversing with shadows dire,
The Daughters of Albion hear her woes, & eccho back her sighs.
THE END
AMERICA A PROPHECY
Published in 1793, this prophetic book was engraved on eighteen plates, on which only fourteen copies are known to have survived. America a Prophecy is the first of Blake’s Continental Prophecies, a group of illuminated books now widely studied for their unorthodox use of political, literary and sexual metaphors. All aspects of the production of these works, including the composition of the designs, the printing, colouring and the selling of them, happened at Blake’s Lambeth home. During autumn 1790, Blake had worked there in a studio at the new house. America a Prophecy was the first book printed by Blake to list the place of origin and his full name on the title page, demonstrating that the poet chose to continue promoting his visions of revolution, even though parliament had passed acts against seditious writings earlier that year.
Only a few of Blake’s works were fully coloured and America a Prophecy was one of the few works that Blake describes as “illuminated printing”, which were either hand coloured or colour printed with the ink being placed on the copperplate before being printed. Like many of Blake’s other works, the book offers a mythological narrative and is considered a prophecy text, though only America a Prophecy and Europe a Prophecy were ever given that title by the poet.
The original title page
CONTENTS
Hercules Road, Lambeth, London — the former site of Blake’s home and studio in 1790
AMERICA A PROPHECY: PRELUDIUM
The shadowy daughter of Urthona stood before red Orc.
When fourteen suns had faintly journey’d o’er his dark abode;
His food she brought in iron baskets, his drink in cups of iron;
Crown’d with a helmet & dark hair the nameless female stood;
A quiver with its burning stores, a bow like that of night,
When pestilence is shot from heaven; no other arms she need:
Invulnerable tho’ naked, save where clouds roll round her loins,
Their awful folds in the dark air; silent she stood as night;
For never from her iron tongue could voice or sound arise;
But dumb till that dread day when Orc assay’d his fierce embrace.
Dark virgin; said the hairy youth, thy father stern abhorr’d;
Rivets my tenfold chains while still on high my spirit soars;
Sometimes an eagle screaming in the sky, sometimes a lion,
Stalking upon the mountains, & sometimes a whale I lash
The raging fathomless abyss, anon a serpent folding
Around the pillars of Urthona, and round thy dark limbs,
On the Canadian wilds I fold, feeble my spirit folds.
For chaind beneath I rend these caverns; when thou bringest food
I howl my joy! and my red eyes seek to behold thy face
In vain! these clouds roll to & fro, & hide thee from my sight.
Silent as despairing love, and strong as jealousy,
The hairy shoulders rend the links, free are the wrists of fire;
Round the terrific loins he siez’d the panting struggling womb;
It joy’d: she put asider her clouds & smiled her first-born smile;
As when a black cloud shews its light’nings to the silent deep.
Soon as she saw the terrible boy then burst the virgin cry.
I know thee, I have found thee, & I will not let thee go;
Thou art the image of God who dwells in darkness of Africa;
And thou art fall’n to give me life in regions of dark death.
On my American plains I feel the struggling afflictions
Edur’d by roots that writhe their arms into the nether deep:
I see a serpent in Canada, who courts me to his love;
In Mexico an Eagle, and a Lion in Peru;
I see a Whale in the South-sea, drinking my soul away.
O what limb rendering pains I feel. thy fire & my frost
Mingle in howling pains, in furrows by the ligtnings rent;
This is eternal death; and this the torment long foretold.
AMERICA A PROPHECY
The Guardian Prince of Albion burns in his nightly tent,
Sullen fires across the Atlantic glow to America’s shore:
Piercing the souls of warlike men, who rise in silent night,
Washington, Franklin, Paine & Warren, Gates, Hancock & Green;
Meet on the coast glowing with blood from Albions fiery Prince.
Washington spoke; Friends of America look over the Atlantic sea;
A bended bow is lifted in heaven, & a heavy iron chain t158
Descends link by link from Albions cliffs across the sea to bind
Brothers & sons of America, till our faces pale and yellow;
Heads deprest, voices weak, eyes downcast, hands work-bruis’d,
Feet bleeding on the sultry sands, and the furrows of the whip
Descend to generations that in future times forget.––
The strong voice ceas’d; for a terrible blast swept over the heaving sea;
The eastern cloud rent; on his cliffs stood Albions wrathful Prince
A dragon form clashing his scales at midnight he arose,
And flam’d red meteors round the land of Albion beneath[.]
His voice, his locks, his awful shoulders, and his glowing eyes,
Appear to the Americans upon the cloudy night.
Solemn heave the Atlantic waves between the gloomy nations,
Swelling, belching from its deeps red clouds & raging Fires!
Albion is sick. America faints! enrag’d the Zenith grew.
As human blood shooting its veins all round the orbed heaven
Red rose the clouds from the Atlantic in vast wheels of blood
And in the red clouds rose a Wonder o’er the Atlantic sea;
Intense! naked! a Human fire fierce glowing, as the wedge
Of iron heated in the furnace; his terrible limbs were fire
With myriads of cloudy terrors banners dark & towers
Surrounded; heat but not light went thro’ the murky atmosphere
The King of England looking westward trembles at the vision
Albions Angel stood beside the Stone of night, and saw
The terror like a comet, or more like the planet red
That once inclos’d the terrible wandering comets in its sphere.
Then Mars thou wast our center, & the planets three flew round
Thy crimson disk; so e’er the Sun was rent from thy red sphere;
The Spectre glowd his horrid length staining the temple long
With beams of blood; & thus a voice came forth, and shook the temple
The morning comes, the night decays, the watchmen leave their stations;
The grave is burst, the spices shed, the linen wrapped up;
The bones of death, the cov’ring clay, the sinews shrunk & dry’d.
Reviving shake, inspiring move, breathing! awakening!
Spring like redeemed captives when their bonds & bars are burst;
Let the slave grinding at the mill, run out into the field:
Let him look up into the heavens & laugh in the bright air;
Let the inchained soul shut up in darkness and in sighing,
Whose face has never seen a smile in thirty weary years;
Rise and look out, his chains are loose, his dungeon doors are open.
And let his wife and children return from the opressors scourge;
They look behind at every step & believe it is a dream.
Singing. The Sun has left his blackness, & has found a fresher morning
And the fair Moon rejoices in the clear & cloudless night;
For Empire is no more, and now the Lion & Wolf shall cease.
In thunders ends the voice. Then Albions Angel wrathful burnt
Beside the Stone of Night; and like the Eternal Lions howl
In famine & war, reply’d. Art thou not Orc, who serpent-form’d
Stands at the gate of Enitharmon to devour her children;
Blasphemous Demon, Antichrist, hater of Dignities;
Lover of wild rebellion, and transgresser of Gods Law;
Why dost thou come to Angels eyes in this terrific form?
The terror answerd: I am Orc, wreath’d round the accursed tree:
The times are ended; shadows pass the morning gins to break;
The fiery joy, that Urizen perverted to ten commands,
What night he led the starry hosts thro’ the wide wilderness:
That stony law I stamp to dust: and scatter religion abroad
To the four winds as a torn book, & none shall gather the leaves;
But they shall rot on desart sands, & consume in bottomless deeps;
To make the desarts blossom, & the deeps shrink to their fountains,
And to renew the fiery joy, and burst the stony roof.
That pale religious letchery, seeking Virginity,
May find it in a harlot, and in coarse-clad honesty
The undefil’d tho’ ravish’d in her cradle night and morn:
For every thing that lives is holy, life delights in life;
Because the soul of sweet delight can never be defil’d.
Fires inwrap the earthly globe, yet man is not consumd;
Amidst the lustful fires he walks: his feet become like brass,
His knees and thighs like silver, & his breast and head like gold.
Sound! sound! my loud war-trumpets & alarm my Thirteen Angels!
Loud howls the eternal Wolf! the eternal Lion lashes his tail!
America is darkned; and my punishing Demons terrified
Crouch howling before their caverns deep like skins dry’d in the wind.
They cannot smite the wheat, nor quench the fatness of the earth.
They cannot smite with sorrows, nor subdue the plow and spade.
They cannot wall the city, nor moat round the castle of princes.
They cannot bring the stubbed oak to overgrow the hills.
For terrible men stand on the shores, & in their robes I see
Children take shelter from the lightnings, there stands Washington
And Paine and Warren with their foreheads reard toward the east
But clouds obscure my aged sight. A vision from afar!
Sound! sound! my loud war-trumpets & alarm my thirteen Angels:
Ah vision from afar! Ah rebel form that rent the ancient
Heavens; Eternal Viper self-renew’d, rolling in clouds
I see thee in thick clouds and darkness on America’s shore.
Writhing in pangs of abhorred birth; red flames the crest rebellious
And eyes of death; the harlot womb oft opened in vain
Heaves in enormous circles, now the times are return’d upon thee,
Devourer of thy parent, now thy unutterable torment renews.
Sound! sound! my loud war trumpets & alarm my thirteen Angels!
Ah terrible birth! a young one bursting! where is the weeping mouth?
And where the mothers milk? instead those ever-hissing jaws
And parched lips drop with fresh gore; now roll thou in the clouds
Thy mother lays her length outstretch’d upon the shore beneath.
Sound! sound! my loud war-trumpets & alarm my thirteen Angels!
Loud howls the eternal Wolf: the eternal Lion lashes his tail!
Thus wept the Angel voice & as he wept the terrible blasts
Of trumpets, blew a loud alarm across the Atlantic deep.
No trumpets answer; no reply of clarions or of fifes,
Silent the Colonies remain and refuse the loud alarm.
On those vast shady hills between America & Albions shore;
Now barr’d out by the Atlantic sea: call’d Atlantean hills:
Because from their bright summits you may pass to the Golden world
An ancient palace, archetype of mighty Emperies,
Rears its immortal pinnacles, built in the forest of God
By Ariston the king of beauty for his stolen bride,
Here on their magic seats the thirteen Angels sat perturb’d
For clouds from the Atlantic hover o’er the solemn roof.
Fiery the Angels rose, & as they rose deep thunder roll’d
Around their shores: indignant burning with the fires of Orc
And Bostons Angel cried aloud as they flew thro’ the dark night.
He cried: Why trembles honesty and like a murderer,
Why seeks he refuge from the frowns of his immortal station!
Must the generous tremble & leave his joy, to the idle: to the pestilence!
That mock him? who commanded this? what God? what Angel!
To keep the gen’rous from experience till the ungenerous
Are unrestraind performers of the energies of nature;
Till pity is become a trade, and generosity a science,
That men get rich by, & the sandy desart is giv’n to the strong
What God is he, writes laws of peace, & clothes him in a tempest
What pitying Angel lusts for tears, and fans himself with sighs
What crawling villain preaches abstinence & wraps himself
In fat of lambs? no more I follow, no more obedience pay.
So cried he, rending off his robe & throwing down his scepter.
In sight of Albions Guardian, and all the thirteen Angels
Rent off their robes to the hungry wind, & threw their golden scepters
Down on the land of America. indignant they descended
Headlong from out their heav’nly heights, descending swift as fires
Over the land; naked & flaming are their lineaments seen
In the deep gloom, by Washington & Paine & Warren they stood
And the flame folded roaring fierce within the pitchy night
Before the Demon red, who burnt towards America,
In black smoke thunders and loud winds rejoicing in its terror
Breaking in smoky wreaths from the wild deep, & gath’ring thick
In flames as of a furnace on the land from North to South
What time the thirteen Governors that England sent convene
In Bernards house; the flames coverd the land, they rouze they cry
Shaking their mental chains they rush in fury to the sea
To quench their anguish; at the feet of Washington down fall’n
They grovel on the sand and writhing lie, while all
The British soldiers thro’ the thirteen states sent up a howl
Of anguish: threw their swords & muskets to the earth & ran
From their encampments and dark castles seeking where to hide
From the grim flames; and from the visions of Orc; in sight
Of Albions Angel; who enrag’d his secret clouds open’d
From north to south, and burnt outstretchd on wings of wrath cov’ring
The eastern sky, spreading his awful wings across the heavens;
Beneath him roll’d his num’rous hosts, all Albions Angels camp’d
Darkend the Atlantic mountains & their trumpets shook the valleys
Arm’d with diseases of the earth to cast upon the Abyss,
Their numbers forty millions, must’ring in the eastern sky.
In the flames stood & view’d the armies drawn out in the sky
Washington Franklin Paine & Warren Allen Gates & Lee:
And heard the voice of Albions Angel give the thunderous command:
His plagues obedient to his voice flew forth out of their clouds
Falling upon America, as a storm to cut them off
As a blight cuts the tender corn when it begins to appear.
Dark is the heaven above, & cold & hard the earth beneath;
And as a plague wind fill’d with insects cuts off man & beast;
And as a sea o’erwhelms a land in the day of an earthquake;
Fury! rage! madness! in a wind swept through America
And the red flames of Orc that folded roaring fierce around
The angry shores, and the fierce rushing of th’inhabitants together:
The citizens of New-York close their books & lock their chests;
The mariners of Boston drop their anchors and unlade;
The scribe of Pensylvania casts his pen upon the earth;
The builder of Virginia throws his hammer down in fear.
Then had America been lost, o’erwhelm’d by the Atlantic,
And Earth had lost another portion of the infinite,
But all rush together in the night in wrath and raging fire
The red fires rag’d! the plagues recoil’d! then rolld they back with fury
On Albions Angels; then the Pestilence began in streaks of red
Across the limbs of Albions Guardian, the spotted plague smote Bristols
And the Leprosy Londons Spirit, sickening all their bands:
The millions sent up a howl of anguish and threw off their hammerd mail,
And cast their swords & spears to earth, & stood a naked multitude.
Albions Guardian writhed in torment on the eastern sky
Pale quivring toward the brain his glimmering eyes, teeth chattering
Howling & shuddering his legs quivering; convuls’d each muscle & sinew
Sick’ning lay Londons Guardian, and the ancient miter’d York
Their heads on snowy hills, their ensigns sick’ning in the sky
The plagues creep on the burning winds driven by flames of Orc,
And by the fierce Americans rushing together in the night
Driven o’er the Guardians of Ireland and Scotland and Wales
They spotted with plagues forsook the frontiers & their banners seard
With fires of hell, deform their ancient heavens with shame & woe.
Hid in his caves the Bard of Albion felt the enormous plagues.
And a cowl of flesh grew o’er his head & scales on his back & ribs;
And rough with black scales all his Angels fright their ancient heavens
The doors of marriage are open, and the Priests in rustling scales
Rush into reptile coverts, hiding from the fires of Orc,
That play around the golden roofsin wreaths of fierce desire,
Leaving the females naked and glowing with the lusts of youth
For the female spirits of the dead pining in bonds of religion;
Run from their fetters reddening, & in long drawn arches sitting:
They feel the nerves of youth renew, and desires of ancient times,
Over their pale limbs as a vine when the tender grape appears
Over the hills, the vales, the cities, rage the red flames fierce;
The Heavens melted from north to south; and Urizen who sat
Above all heavens in thunders wrap’d, emerg’d his leprous head
From out his holy shrine, his tears in deluge piteous
Falling into the deep sublime! flag’d with grey-brow’d snows
And thunderous visages, his jealous wings wav’d over the deep;
Weeping in dismal howling woe he dark descended howling
Around the smitten bands, clothed in tears & trembling shudd’ring cold.
His stored snows he poured forth, and his icy magazines
He open’d on the deep, and on the Atlantic sea white shiv’ring.
Leprous his limbs, all over white, and hoary was his visage.
Weeping in dismal howlings before the stern Americans
Hiding the Demon red with clouds & cold mists from the earth;
Till Angels & weak men twelve years should govern o’er the strong:
And then their end should come, when France reciev’d the Demons light.
Stiff shudderings shook the heav’nly thrones! France Spain & Italy,
In terror view’d the bands of Albion, and the ancient Guardians
Fainting upon the elements, smitten with their own plagues
They slow advance to shut the five gates of their law-built heaven
Filled with blasting fancies and with mildews of despair
With fierce disease and lust, unable to stem the fires of Orc;
But the five gates were consum’d, & their bolts and hinges melted
And the fierce flames burnt round the heavens, & round the abodes of men
AMERICA A PROPHECY: FINIS
Reveal the dragon thro’ the human; coursing swift as fire
To the close hall of counsel, where his Angel form renews.
In a sweet vale shelter’d with cedars, that eternal stretch
Their unmov’d branches, stood the hall; built when the moon shot forth,
In that dread night when Urizen call’d the stars round his feet;
Then burst the center from its orb, and found a place beneath;
And Earth conglob’d, in narrow room, roll’d round its sulphur Sun.
To this deep valley situated by the flowing Thames;
Where George the third holds council. & his Lords & Commons meet:
Shut out from mortal sight the Angel came; the vale was dark
With clouds of smoke from the Atlantic, that in volumes roll’d
Between the mountains, dismal visions mope around the house.
On chairs of iron, canopied with mystic ornaments,
Of life by magic power condens’d; infernal forms art-bound
The council sat; all rose before the aged apparition;
His snowy beard that streams like lambent flames down his wide breast
Wetting with tears, & his white garments cast a wintry light.
Then as arm’d clouds arise terrific round the northern drum;
The world is silent at the flapping of the folding banners;
So still terrors rent the house: as when the solemn globe
Launch’d to the unknown shore, while Sotha held the northern helm,
Till to that void it came & fell; so the dark house was rent,
The valley mov’d beneath; its shining pillars split in twain,
And its roofs crack across down falling on th’Angelic seats.
[Then Albions Angel rose] resolv’d to the cove of armoury:
His shield that bound twelve demons & their cities in its orb,
He took down from its trembling pillar; from its cavern deep,
His helm was brought by Londons Guardian, & his thirsty spear
By the wise spirit of Londons river: silent stood the King breathing damp mists:
And on his aged limbs they clasp’d the armour of terrible gold.
Infinite Londons awful spires cast a dreadful cold
Even on rational things beneath, and from the palace walls
Around Saint James’s chill & heavy, even to the city gate.
On the vast stone whose name is Truth he stood, his cloudy shield
Smote with his scepter, the scale bound orb loud howld; th’ ancie[nt] pillar
Trembling sunk, an earthquake roll’d along the massy pile.
In glittring armour, swift as winds; intelligent as clouds;
Four winged heralds mount the furious blasts & blow their trumps
Gold, silver, brass & iron clangors clamoring rend the shores.
Like white clouds rising from the deeps, his fifty-two armies
From the four cliffs of Albion rise, mustering around their Prince;
Angels of cities and of parishes and villages and families,
In armour as the nerves of wisdom, each his station holds.
In opposition dire, a warlike cloud the myriads stood
In the red air before the Demon; [seen even by mortal men:
Who call it Fancy, & shut the gates of sense, & in their chambers,
Sleep like the dead.] But like a constellation ris’n and blazing
Over the rugged ocean; so the Angels of Albion hung,
a frowning shadow, like an aged King in arms of gold,
Who wept over a den, in which his only son outstretch’d
By rebels hands was slain; his white beard wav’d in the wild wind.
On mountains & cliffs of snow the awful apparition hover’d;
And like the voices of religious dead, heard in the mountains:
When holy zeal scents the sweet valleys of ripe virgin bliss;
Such was the hollow voice that o’er America lamented.
[Fragment]
As when a dream of Thiralatha flies the midnight hour:
In vain the dreamer grasps the joyful images, they fly
Seen in obscured traces in the Vale of Leutha, So
The British Colonies beneath the woful Princes fade.
And so the Princes fade from earth, scarce seen by souls of men
But tho’ obscur’d, this is the form of the Angelic land.
EUROPE A PROPHECY
This 1794 prophetic book was engraved on 18 plates, surviving in just nine known copies, and is the second in the trilogy Continental Prophecies. When it was printed, this illuminated book was in the same format as Blake’s America a Prophecy and sold for the same price. The book is prefaced by an image known as “The Ancient of Days”, a depiction of God separating light and darkness, which has since become one of Blake’s most celebrated visual works.
Like many of the poet’s other books, Europe a Prophecy is a mythological narrative and it is considered a prophecy book, which term Blake used as a meaning of viewing the honest and the wise. The vision in this poem, along with the other prophecies, is of a world filled with suffering in a manner that is connected to the politics of contemporary Britain.
The famous frontispiece of this illuminated book
CONTENTS
’
Five windows light the cavern’d Man: thro’ one he breathes the air;
Thro’ one hears music of the spheres; thro’ on the eternal vine
Flourished, that he may receive the grapes; thro’ one can look
And see small portions of the eternal world that ever growth; 5
Thro’ one himself pass out what time he please, but he will not;
For stolen joys are sweet, & bread eaten in secret pleasant.’
So sang a Fairy mocking as he sat on a streak’d Tulip,
Thinking none saw him; when he ceas’d I started from the trees,
And caught him in my hat as boys knock down a butterfly.10
‘How know you this,’ said I, ‘small Sir? where did you learn this song?’
seeing himself in my possession, thus he answer’d me:
‘My Master, I am yours; command me, for I must obey.’
‘Then tell me what is the material world, and is it dead?’
He laughing answer’d: ‘I will write a book on leaves of flowers,15
If you will feed me on love-thoughts, & give me now and then
A cup of sparkling poetic fancies. So, when I am tipsie,
I’ll sing to you to this soft lute, and shew you all alive
The world, where every particle of dust breathes forth its joy.’
I took him home in my warm bosom. As we went along 20
Wild flowers I gather’d, & he shew’d me each eternal flower.
He laugh’d aloud to see them whimper because they were pluck’d.
They hover’d round me like a cloud of incense. When I came
Into my parlour and sat down, and took my pen to write,
My Fairy sat upon the table, and dictated
EUROPE. PRELUDIUM.
The nameless shadowy female rose form out the breast of Orc,
Her snaky hair brandishing in the winds of Enitharmon;
And thus her voice arose:
‘O mother Enitharmon, wilt thou bring forth other sons,
To cause my name to vanish, that my place may not be found?
For I am faint with travel!
Like the dark cloud disburden’d in the day of dismal thunder.
‘My roots are brandish’d in the heavens, my fruits in earth beneath
Surge, foam and labour into life, first born & first consum’d!
Consumed and consuming!
Then why shouldst thou, accused mother, bring me into life?
‘I warp my turban of thick clouds around my lab’ring head,
And fold the sheety waters as a mantle round my limbs.
Yet the red sun and moon
And all the overflowing stars rain down prolific pains.
‘Unwilling I look up to heaven! unwilling count the stars!
Sitting in fathomless abyss of my immortal shrine,
I seize their burning power
And bring forth howling terrors, all devouring fiery kings,
‘Devouring & devoured, roaming in dark and desolate mountains
in forests of eternal death, shrieking in hollow trees.
Ah mother Enitharmon!
Stamp not with solid form the vig’rous progeny of fires.
‘I bring forth form my teeming bosom myriads of flames,
And thou dost stamp them with a signet; then they roam abroad
And leave me void as death.
Ah! I am drown’d in shady woe, and visionary joy.
‘And who shall bind the infinite with an eternal band?
To compass it with swaddling bands? And who shall cherish it
With milk and honey?
I see it smile & I roll inward & my voice is past.’
She ceast, & roll’d her shady clouds
Into the secret palce.
A PROPHECY.
The deep of winter came,
What time the secret child
Descended thro’ the orient gates of the eternal day.
War ceas’d, & all the troops like shadows fled to their abodes.
Then Enitharmon saw her sons & daughters rise around;
Like pearly clouds they meet together in the crystal house;
And Los, possessor of the moon, joy’d in the peaceful night,
Thus speaking, while his num’rous sons shook their bright fiery wings:
‘Again the night is come
That strong Urthona takes his rest,
And Urizen unloos’d from chains
Glows ike a meteor in the distant north.
Stretch forth your hands and strike the elemental strings!
Awake the thunders of the deep,
‘The shrill winds wake!
Till all the sons of Urizen look out and envy Los:
Seize all the spirits of life and bind
Their warbling joys to our loud strings;
Bind all the nourishing sweets of earth
To give us bliss, that we may drink the sparkling wine of Los;
And let us laugh at war,
Despising toil and care,
Because the days and nights of joy in lucky hours renew.’
‘Arise, O Orc, from thy deep den,
First born of Enitharmon, rise!
And we will crown thy head with garlands of the ruddy vine;
For now thou art bound,
And I may see thee in the hour of bliss, my eldest born.’
The horrent Demon rose, surrounded with red stars of fire,
Whirling about in furious circles round the immortal fiend.
Then Enitharmon down descended into his red light,
And thus her voice rose to her children; the distant heavens reply:
‘Now comes the night of Enitharmon’s joy!
Who shall I call? Who shall I send?
That Woman, lovely Woman! may have dominion?
Arise, O Rintrah, thee I call! & Palamabron, thee!
Go! tell the human race that Woman’s love is Sin;
That an Eternal life awaits the worms of sixty winters
In an allegorical abode where existence hath never come.
Forbid all Joy, & from her childhood shall the little female
Spread nets in every secret path.
‘My weary eyelids draw towards the evening, my bliss is yet but new!
‘Arise, O Rintrah, eldest born, second to none but Orc.
O lion Rintrah, raise thy fury form thy forests black;
Bring Palamabron, horned priest, skipping upon the mountains,
And silent Elynittria, the silver bowed queen.
Rintrah, where has thou hid thy bride?
Weeps she in desart shades?
Alas, my Rintrah! bring all thy brethren, O thou king of fire.
Prince of the sun, I see thee with thy innumberable race,
Thick as the summer stars;
But each ramping his golden mane shakes,
And thine eyes rejoice because of strength, O Rintrah, furious king.’
Enitharmon slept,
Eighteen hundred years. Man was a Dream!
The night of Nature and their harps unstrung.
She slept in middle of her nightly song,
Eighteen hundred years, a female dream.
Shadows of men in fleeting bands upon the winds
Divide the heavens of Europe,
Till Albion’s Angel, smitten with his own plagues, fled with his bands.
The cloud bears hard on Albion’s shore,
Fill’d with immortal demons of futurity.
In council gather the smitten Angels of Albion.
The cloud bears hard upon the council house, down rushing
On the heads of Albion’s Angels.
One hour they lay buried beneath the ruins of that hall;
But as the stars rise from the salt lake they arise in pain,
In troubled mists o’erclouded by the terrors of struggling times.
In thoughts perturb’d they rose from the bright ruins, silent following
The fiery King, who sought his ancient temple serpertform’d
That stretches out its shady length along the Island white.
Round him roll’d his clouds of war; silent the Angel went,
Along the infininte shores of Thames to golden Verulam.
There stand the venerable porches that high-towering rear
Their oak-surrounded pillars, form’d of massy stones, uncut
Will tool, stones precious – such eternal in the heavens,
Of colours twelve, few known on earth, give light in the opake,
Plac’d in the order of the stars. When the five senses whelm’d
In deluge o’er the earth-born man, then turn’d the fluxile eyes
Into two stationary orbs, concentrating all things;
The ever-varying spiral ascents to the heavens of heavens
Were bended downward, and the nostrils’ golden gate shut,
Turn’d outward, barr’d and petrify’d against the infinite.
Thought chang’d the infinite to a serpent, that which pitieth
To a devouring flame; and man fled from its face and hid
In forests of night. Then all the eternal forests were divided
Into earths rolling in circles of space, that like an ocean rush’d
And overwhelmed all except this finite wall of flesh.
Then was the serpent temple form’d, image of infinite
Shut up in finite revolutions, and man became an Angel,
Heaven a mighty circle turning, god a tyrant crown’d.
Now arriv’d the ancient Guardian at the southern porch
That, planted thick with trees of blackest leaf, & in a vale
Obscure, inclos’d the stone of Night. Oblique it stood, o’erhung
With purple flowers and berries red, image of that sweet south
Once open to the heavens and elevated on the human neck,
Now overgrown with hair and cover’d with a stony roof.
Downward ‘tis sunk beneath th’ attractive north, that round the feet
A raging whirlpool draws the dizzy enquirer to his grave.
Albion’s Angel rose upon the Stone of Night.
He saw Urizen on the Atlantic;
And his brazen Book
That Kings & Priests had copied on earth
Expanded from North to South.
And the clouds & fires pale roll’d round in the night of Enitharmon,
Round Albion’s cliffs & London’s walls (still Enitharmon slept);
Rolling volumes of grey mist involve Churches, Palaces, Towers;
For Urizen unclasp’d his Book, feeding his soul with pity.
Thy youth of England, hid in gloom, curse the pain’d heavens, compell’d
Into the deadly night to see the form of Albion’s Angel.
Their parents brought them forth, & aged ignorance preaches, canting,
On a vast rock, perceived by those senses that are clos’d from thought –
Bleak, dark, abrupt it stands & overshadows London city.
They saw his boney feet on the rock, the flesh consum’d in flames;
They saw the Serpent temple lifted above, shadowing the Island white;
They heard the voice of Albion’s Angel howling in flames of Orc,
Seeking the trump of the last doom.
Above the rest the howl was heard from Westminster louder and louder.
The Guardian of the secret codes forsook his ancient mansion,
Driven out by the flames of Orc; his furr’d robes & false locks
Adhered and grew one with his flesh, and nerves & veins shot thro’ them.
With dismal torment sick, hanging upon the wind, he fled
Groveling along Great George Street thro’ the Park gate; all the soldiers
Fled from his sight; he drag’d his torments to the wilderness.
Thus was the howl thro’ Europe!
For Orc rejoic’d to hear the howling shadows;
But Palamabron shot his lightnings trenching down his wide back,
And Rintrah hung with all his legions in the nether deep.
Enitharmon laugh’d in her sleep to see (O woman’s triumph)
Every house a den, every man bound; the shadows are fill’d
With specters, and the windows wove over with curses of iron;
Over the doors ‘Thou shalt not,’ & over the chimneys “Fear’ is written;
With bands of iron round their necks fasten’d into the walls
The citizens; in leaden gives the inhabitants of suburbs
Walk heavy; soft and bent are the bones of villagers.
Between the clouds of Urizen the flames of Orc roll heavy
Around the limbs of Albion’s Guardian, his flesh consuming.
Howlings & hissings, shrieks & groans & voices of despair
Arise around him in the cloudy Heavens of Albion. Furious,
The red limb’d Angel seiz’d, in horror and torment,
The Trump of the last doom; but he could not blow the iron tube!
Thrice he assay’d presumptuous to awake the dead to Judgment.
A mighty Spirit leap’d from the land of Albion,
Nam’d Newton; he seiz’d the Trump & blow’d the enormous blast!
Yellow as leaves of Autumn the myriads fo Angelic hosts
Fell thro’ the wintry skies seeking their graves,
Rattling their hollow bones in howling and lamentation.
Then Enitharmon woke, nor knew that she had slept;
And eighteen hundred years were fled
As if they had not been.
She call’d her sons & daughters
To the sports of night,
Within her crystal house;
And thus her song proceeds:
‘Arise, Ethinthus! tho’ the earth-worm call,
Let him call in vain;
Till the night of holy shadows
And human solitude is past!
‘Ethinthus,, queen of waters, how thou shinest in the sky!
My daughter, how do I rejoice! for thy children flock around
Like the gay fishes on the wave when the cold moon drinks the dew.
Ethinthus! thou art sweet as comforts to my fainting soul,
For now thy waters warble round the feet of Enitharmon.
‘Manathu-Vorcyon! I behold thee flaming in my halls,
light of thy mother’s soul! I see thy lovely eagles round;
thy golden wings are my delight, & thy flames of soft delusion.
‘where is my lureing bird of Edin? Leutha, silent love!
Leutha, the many colur’d bow delights upon thy wings,
Soft soul of flowers, Leutha!
Sweet smiling pestilence! I see thy blushing light;
Thy daughters many changing
Revolve like sweet perfumes ascending, O Leutha, silken queen!
‘Where is the youthful Antamon, prince of the pearly dew?
O Antamon, why wilt thou leave thy mother enitharmon?
Alone I see thee, crystal form,
Floating upon the bosom’d air
With lineaments of gratified desire.
My Antamon, the seven churches of Leutha seek thy love.
‘I hear the soft Oothoon in Enitharmon’s tents.
Why wilt thou give up woman’s secrecy, my melancholy child?
Between two moments bliss is ripe.
O Theotormon robb’d of joy, I see thy salt tears flow
Down the steps of my crystal house.
‘Sotha & Thiralatha, secret dwellers of dreamful caves,
arise and please the horrent fiend with your melodious songs.
Still all your thunders golden hoof’d, & bind your horses black.
Orc! smile upon my children!
Smile, son of my afflictions.
Arise, O Orc, and give our mountains joy of thy red light.’
She ceas’d; for All were forth at soport beneath the solemn moon,
Waking the stars of Urizen with their immortal songs,
That nature felt thro’ all the pores the enormous revelry,
Till morning oped the eastern gate.
Then every on fled to his station, & Enitharmon wept.
But terrible Orc, when he beheld the morning in the east,
Shot from the heights of Enitharmon,
And in the vineyards of red France appear’d the light of his fury.
The sun glow’d fiery red!
The furious terrors flew around
On golden chariots raging, with red wheels dropping with blood;
The Lions lash their wrathful tails;
The Tigers couch upon the prey & suck the ruddy tide;
And Enitharmon groans & cries in anguish and dismay.
Then Los arose; his head he rear’d in snaky thunders clad,
And with a cry that shook all nature to the utmost pole
Call’d all his sons to the strife of blood.
THE FIRST BOOK OF URIZEN
This prophetic book was originally published in 1794. The character Urizen represents in Blake’s mythology the concept of alienated reason as the source of oppression. Only eight copies of the work survive, with many variations between them of the plate orders and the number of plates. The illuminated book describes Urizen as the “primeaval priest” and narrates how he became separated from the other Eternals to create his own alienated and enslaving realm of religious dogma. Los and Enitharmon create a space within Urizen’s fallen universe to give birth to their son Orc, the spirit of revolution and freedom. The book is depicted as a parody of the Book of Genesis, with Blake’s Urizen being more similar to the demiurge of the Gnostics than a benevolent creator.
The title page
CONTENTS
PRELUDIUM TO THE FIRST BOOK OF URIZEN
THE FIRST BOOK OF URIZEN. CHAPTER I
THE FIRST BOOK OF URIZEN. CHAPTER II
THE FIRST BOOK OF URIZEN. CHAPTER III
THE FIRST BOOK OF URIZEN. CHAPTER IV (A)
THE FIRST BOOK OF URIZEN. CHAPTER IV (B)
THE FIRST BOOK OF URIZEN. CHAPTER V
THE FIRST BOOK OF URIZEN. CHAPTER VI
THE FIRST BOOK OF URIZEN. CHAPTER VII
THE FIRST BOOK OF URIZEN. CHAPTER VIII
THE FIRST BOOK OF URIZEN. CHAPTER IX
PRELUDIUM TO THE FIRST BOOK OF URIZEN
Of the primeval Priests assum’d power,
When Eternals spurn’d back his religion;
And gave him a place in the north,
Obscure, shadowy, void, solitary.
Eternals I hear your call gladly,
Dictate swift winged words, & fear not
To unfold your dark visions of torment.
THE FIRST BOOK OF URIZEN. CHAPTER I
1. Lo, a shadow of horror is risen
In Eternity! Unknown, unprolific!
Self-closd, all-repelling: what Demon
Hath form’d this abominable void
This soul-shudd’ring vacuum? — Some said
“It is Urizen”, But unknown, abstracted
Brooding secret, the dark power hid.
2 . Times on times he divided, & measur’d
Space by space in his ninefold darkness
Unseen, unknown! changes appeard
In his desolate mountains rifted furious
By the black winds of perturbation
3 . For he strove in battles dire
In unseen conflictions with shapes
Bred from his forsaken wilderness,
Of beast, bird, fish, serpent & element
Combustion, blast, vapour and cloud.
4 . Dark revolving in silent activity:
Unseen in tormenting passions;
An activity unknown and horrible;
A self-contemplating shadow,
In enormous labours occupied
5 . But Eternals beheld his vast forests
Age on ages he lay, clos’d, unknown
Brooding shut in the deep; all avoid
The petrific abominable chaos
6 . His cold horrors silent, dark Urizen
Prepar’d: his ten thousands of thunders
Rang’d in gloom’d array stretch out across
The dread world, & the rolling of wheels
As of swelling seas, sound in his clouds
In his hills of stor’d snows, in his mountains
Of hail & ice; voices of terror,
Are heard, like thunders of autumn,
When the cloud blazes over the harvests
THE FIRST BOOK OF URIZEN. CHAPTER II
1. Earth was not: nor globes of attraction
The will of the Immortal expanded
Or contracted his all flexible senses.
Death was not, but eternal life sprung
2 . The sound of a trumpet the heavens
Awoke & vast clouds of blood roll’d
Round the dim rocks of Urizen, so nam’d
That solitary one in Immensity
3. Shrill the trumpet: & myriads of Eternity,
Muster around the bleak desarts
Now fill’d with clouds, darkness & waters
That roll’d perplex’d labring & utter’d
Words articulate, bursting in thunders
That roll’d on the tops of his mountains
4 : From the depths of dark solitude. From
The eternal abode in my holiness,
Hidden set apart in my stern counsels
Reserv’d for the days of futurity,
I have sought for a joy without pain,
For a solid without fluctuation
Why will you die O Eternals?
Why live in unquenchable burnings?
5 First I fought with the fire; consum’d
Inwards, into a deep world within:
A void immense, wild dark & deep,
Where nothing was: Natures wide womb
And self balanc’d stretch’d o’er the void
I alone, even I! the winds merciless
Bound; but condensing, in torrents
They fall & fall; strong I repell’d
The vast waves, & arose on the waters
A wide world of solid obstruction
6 . Here alone I in books formd of metals
Have written the secrets of wisdom
The secrets of dark contemplation
By fightings and conflicts dire,
With terrible monsters Sin-bred:
Which the bosoms of all inhabit;
Seven deadly Sins of the soul.
7 . Lo! I unfold my darkness: and on
This rock, place with strong hand the Book
Of eternal brass, written in my solitude.
8 . Laws of peace, of love, of unity:
Of pity, compassion, forgiveness.
Let each chuse one habitation:
His ancient infinite mansion:
One command, one joy one desire,
One curse, one weight, one measure
One King, one God, one Law.
THE FIRST BOOK OF URIZEN. CHAPTER III
1. The voice ended, they saw his pale visage
Emerge from the darkness; his hand
On the rock of eternity unclasping
The Book of brass. Rage siez’d the strong
2 . Rage, fury, intense indignation
In cataracts of fire blood & gall
In whirlwinds of sulphurous smoke:
And enormous forms of energy;
All the seven deadly sins of the soul
In living creations appear’d
In the flames of eternal fury.
3 . Sund’ring, dark’ning, thund’ring!
Rent away with a terrible crash
Eternity roll’d wide apart
Wide asunder rolling
Mountainous all around
Departing; departing; departing:
Leaving ruinous fragments of life
Hanging frowning cliffs & all between
An ocean of voidness unfathomable.
4 . The roaring fires ran o’er the heav’ns
In whirlwinds & cataracts of blood
And o’er the dark desarts of Urizen
Fires pour thro’ the void on all sides
On Urizens self-begotten armies.
5 . But no light from the fires. all was darkness
In the flames of Eternal fury
6 . In fierce anguish & quenchless flames
To the desarts and rocks He ran raging
To hide, but He could not: combining
He dug mountains & hills in vast strength,
He piled them in incessant labour,
In howlings & pangs & fierce madness
Long periods in burning fires labouring
Till hoary, and age-broke, and aged,
In despair and the shadows of death.
7 . And a roof, vast petrific around,
On all sides He fram’d: like a womb;
Where thousands of rivers in veins
Of blood pour down the mountains to cool
The eternal fires beating without
From Eternals; & like a black globe
View’d by sons of Eternity, standing
On the shore of the infinite ocean
Like a human heart strugling & beating
The vast world of Urizen appear’d.
8 . And Los round the dark globe of Urizen,
Kept watch for Eternals to confine,
The obscure separation alone;
For Eternity stood wide apart,
As the stars are apart from the earth
9. Los wept howling around the dark Demon:
And cursing his lot; for in anguish,
Urizen was rent from his side;
And a fathomless void for his feet;
And intense fires for his dwelling.
10 . But Urizen laid in a stony sleep
Unorganiz’d, rent from Eternity
11 . The Eternals said: What is this? Death
Urizen is a clod of clay.
12: Los howld in a dismal stupor,
Groaning! gnashing! groaning!
Till the wrenching apart was healed
12: Los howld in a dismal stupor,
Groaning! gnashing! groaning!
Till the wrenching apart was healed
13 : But the wrenching of Urizen heal’d not
Cold, featureless, flesh or clay,
Rifted with direful changes
He lay in a dreamless night
14 : Till Los rouz’d his fires, affrighted
At the formless unmeasurable death.
THE FIRST BOOK OF URIZEN. CHAPTER IV (A)
1: Los smitten with astonishment
Frightend at the hurtling bones
2 : And at the surging sulphureous
Perturbed Immortal mad raging
3 : In whirlwinds & pitch & nitre
Round the furious limbs of Los
4 : And Los formed nets & gins
And threw the nets round about
5 : He watch’d in shuddring fear
The dark changes & bound every change
With rivets of iron & brass;
6. And these were the changes of Urizen.
THE FIRST BOOK OF URIZEN. CHAPTER IV (B)
1. Ages on ages roll’d over him!
In stony sleep ages roll’d over him!
Like a dark waste stretching chang’able
By earthquakes riv’n, belching sullen fires
On ages roll’d ages in ghastly
Sick torment; around him in whirlwinds
Of darkness the eternal Prophet howl’d
Beating still on his rivets of iron
Pouring sodor of iron; dividing
The horrible night into watches.
2 . And Urizen (so his eternal name)
His prolific delight obscurd more & more
In dark secresy hiding in surgeing
Sulphureous fluid his phantasies.
The Eternal Prophet heavd the dark bellows,
And turn’d restless the tongs; and the hammer
Incessant beat; forging chains new & new
Numb’ring with links. hours, days & years
3 . The eternal mind bounded began to roll
Eddies of wrath ceaseless round & round,
And the sulphureous foam surgeing thick
Settled, a lake, bright, & shining clear:
White as the snow on the mountains cold.
4 . Forgetfulness, dumbness, necessity!
In chains of the mind locked up,
Like fetters of ice shrinking together
Disorganiz’d, rent from Eternity,
Los beat on his fetters of iron;
And heated his furnaces & pour’d
Iron sodor and sodor of brass
5 . Restless turnd the immortal inchain’d
Heaving dolorous! anguish’d! unbearable
Till a roof shaggy wild inclos’d
In an orb, his fountain of thought.
6 . In a horrible dreamful slumber;
Like the linked infernal chain;
A vast Spine writh’d in torment
Upon the winds; shooting pain’d
Ribs, like a bending cavern
And bones of solidness, froze
Over all his nerves of joy.
And a first Age passed over,
And a state of dismal woe.
7 . From the caverns of his jointed Spine,
Down sunk with fright a red
Round globe hot burning deep
Deep down into the Abyss:
Panting: Conglobing, Trembling
Shooting out ten thousand branches
Around his solid bones.
And a second Age passed over,
And a state of dismal woe.
8 . In harrowing fear rolling round;
His nervous brain shot branches
Round the branches of his heart.
On high into two little orbs
And fixed in two little caves
Hiding carefully from the wind,
His Eyes beheld the deep,
And a third Age passed over:
And a state of dismal woe.
9 . The pangs of hope began,
In heavy pain striving, struggling.
Two Ears in close volutions.
From beneath his orbs of vision
Shot spiring out and petrified
As they grew. And a fourth Age passed
And a state of dismal woe.
10 . In ghastly torment sick;
Hanging upon the wind;
Two Nostrils bent down to the deep.
And a fifth Age passed over;
And a state of dismal woe.
11 . In ghastly torment sick;
Within his ribs bloated round,
A craving Hungry Cavern;
Thence arose his channeld Throat,
And like a red flame a Tongue
Of thirst & of hunger appeard.
And a sixth Age passed over:
And a state of dismal woe.
12 . Enraged & stifled with torment
He threw his right Arm to the north
His left Arm to the south
Shooting out in anguish deep,
And his Feet stampd the nether Abyss
In trembling & howling & dismay.
And a seventh Age passed over:
And a state of dismal woe.
THE FIRST BOOK OF URIZEN. CHAPTER V
I. In terrors Los shrunk from his task:
His great hammer fell from his hand:
His fires beheld, and sickening,
Hid their strong limbs in smoke.
For with noises ruinous loud;
With hurtlings & clashings & groans
The Immortal endur’d his chains,
Tho’ bound in a deadly sleep.
2. All the myriads of Eternity:
All the wisdom & joy of life:
Roll like a sea around him,
Except what his little orbs
Of sight by degrees unfold.
3 . And now his eternal life
Like a dream was obliterated
4 . Shudd’ring, the Eternal Prophet smote
With a stroke, from his north to south region
The bellows & hammer are silent now
A nerveless silence, his prophetic voice
Siez’d; a cold solitude & dark void
The Eternal Prophet & Urizen clos’d
5 . Ages on ages rolld over them
Cut off from life & light frozen
Into horrible forms of deformity
Los suffer’d his fires to decay
Then he look’d back with anxious desire
But the space undivided by existence
Struck horror into his soul.
6 . Los wept obscur’d with mourning:
His bosom earthquak’d with sighs;
He saw Urizen deadly black,
In his chains bound, & Pity began,
7 . In anguish dividing & dividing
For pity divides the soul
In pangs eternity on eternity
Life in cataracts pourd down his cliffs
The void shrunk the lymph into Nerves
Wand’ring wide on the bosom of night
And left a round globe of blood
Trembling upon the Void
6. Los wept obscur’d with mourning...
The Book of Urizen, copy G, c. 1818: Plate 14
Thus the Eternal Prophet was divided
Before the death-image of Urizen
For in changeable clouds and darkness
In a winterly night beneath,
The Abyss of Los stretch’d immense:
And now seen, now obscur’d, to the eyes
Of Eternals, the visions remote
Of the dark seperation appear’d.
As glasses discover Worlds
In the endless Abyss of space,
So the expanding eyes of Immortals
Beheld the dark visions of Los,
And the globe of life blood trembling.
8. The globe of life blood trembled
Branching out into roots...
8 . The globe of life blood trembled
Branching out into roots;
Fib’rous, writhing upon the winds;
Fibres of blood, milk and tears;
In pangs, eternity on eternity.
At length in tears & cries imbodied
A female form trembling and pale
Waves before his deathy face
9 . All Eternity shudderd at sight
Of the first female now separate
Pale as a cloud of snow
Waving before the face of Los
10 . Wonder, awe, fear, astonishment,
Petrify the eternal myriads;
At the first female form now separate
They call’d her Pity, and fled
11 . “Spread a Tent, with strong curtains around them
“Let cords & stakes bind in the Void
That Eternals may no more behold them”
12 . They began to weave curtains of darkness
They erected large pillars round the Void
With golden hooks fastend in the pillars
With infinite labour the Eternals
A woof wove, and called it Science
THE FIRST BOOK OF URIZEN. CHAPTER VI
1. But Los saw the Female & pitied
He embrac’d her, she wept, she refus’d
In perverse and cruel delight
She fled from his arms, yet he followd
2 . Eternity shudder’d when they saw,
Man begetting his likeness,
On his own divided image.
3 . A time passed over, the Eternals
Began to erect the tent;
When Enitharmon sick,
Felt a Worm within her womb.
4 . Yet helpless it lay like a Worm
In the trembling womb
To be moulded into existence
5 . All day the worm lay on her bosom
All night within her womb
The worm lay till it grew to a serpent
With dolorous hissings & poisons
Round Enitharmons loins folding,
6 . Coild within Enitharmons womb
The serpent grew casting its scales,
With sharp pangs the hissings began
To change to a grating cry,
Many sorrows and dismal throes,
Many forms of fish, bird & beast,
Brought forth an Infant form
Where was a worm before.
7 . The Eternals their tent finished
Alarm’d with these gloomy visions
When Enitharmon groaning
Produc’d a man Child to the light.
8 . A shriek ran thro’ Eternity:
And a paralytic stroke;
At the birth of the Human shadow.
9 . Delving earth in his resistless way;
Howling, the Child with fierce flames
Issu’d from Enitharmon.
10 . The Eternals, closed the tent
They beat down the stakes the cords
Stretch’d for a work of eternity;
No more Los beheld Eternity.
11 . In his hands he siez’d the infant
He bathed him in springs of sorrow
He gave him to Enitharmon.
THE FIRST BOOK OF URIZEN. CHAPTER VII
1. They named the child Orc, he grew
Fed with milk of Enitharmon
2 . Los awoke her; O sorrow & pain!
A tight’ning girdle grew,
Around his bosom. In sobbings
He burst the girdle in twain,
But still another girdle
Opressd his bosom, In sobbings
Again he burst it. Again
Another girdle succeeds
The girdle was form’d by day;
By night was burst in twain.
3 . These falling down on the rock
Into an iron Chain
In each other link by link lock’d
4 . They took Orc to the top of a mountain.
O how Enitharmon wept!
They chain’d his young limbs to the rock
With the Chain of Jealousy
Beneath Urizens deathful shadow
5 . The dead heard the voice of the child
And began to awake from sleep
All things. heard the voice of the child
And began to awake to life.
6 . And Urizen craving with hunger
Stung with the odours of Nature
Explor’d his dens around
7 . He form’d a line & a plummet
To divide the Abyss beneath.
He form’d a dividing rule:
8 . He formed scales to weigh;
He formed massy weights;
He formed a brazen quadrant;
He formed golden compasses
And began to explore the Abyss
And he planted a garden of fruits
9. But Los encircled Enitharmon
With fires of Prophecy
From the sight of Urizen & Orc.
10 . And she bore an enormous race
THE FIRST BOOK OF URIZEN. CHAPTER VIII
1. Urizen explor’d his dens
Mountain, moor, & wilderness,
With a globe of fire lighting his journey
A fearful journey, annoy’d
By cruel enormities: forms
Of life on his forsaken mountains
2. And his world teemd vast enormities
Frightning; faithless; fawning
Portions of life; similitudes
Of a foot, or a hand, or a head
Or a heart, or an eye, they swam mischevous
Dread terrors! delighting in blood
3 . Most Urizen sicken’d to see
His eternal creations appear
Sons & daughters of sorrow on mountains
Weeping! wailing! first Thiriel appear’d
Astonish’d at his own existence
Like a man from a cloud born, & Utha
From the waters emerging, laments!
Grodna rent the deep earth howling
Amaz’d! his heavens immense cracks
Like the ground parch’d with heat; then Fuzon
Flam’d out! first begotten, last born.
All his eternal sons in like manner
His daughters from green herbs & cattle
From monsters, & worms of the pit.
4 . He in darkness clos’d, view’d all his race,
And his soul sicken’d! he curs’d
Both sons & daughters; for he saw
That no flesh nor spirit could keep
His iron laws one moment.
5. For he saw that life liv’d upon death
The Ox in the slaughter house moans
The Dog at the wintry door
And he wept, & he called it Pity
And his tears flowed down on the winds
6 . Cold he wander’d on high, over their cities
In weeping & pain & woe!
And where-ever he wanderd in sorrows
Upon the aged heavens
A cold shadow follow’d behind him
Like a spiders web, moist, cold, & dim
Drawing out from his sorrowing soul
The dungeon-like heaven dividing.
Where ever the footsteps of Urizen
Walk’d over the cities in sorrow.
7 . Till a Web dark & cold, throughout all
The tormented element stretch’d
From the sorrows of Urizens soul
And the Web is a Female in embrio
None could break the Web, no wings of fire.
8 . So twisted the cords, & so knotted
The meshes: twisted like to the human brain
9 . And all calld it, The Net of Religion
THE FIRST BOOK OF URIZEN. CHAPTER IX
1. Then the Inhabitants of those Cities:
Felt their Nerves change into Marrow
And hardening Bones began
In swift diseases and torments,
In throbbings & shootings & grindings
Thro’ all the coasts; till weaken’d
The Senses inward rush’d shrinking,
Beneath the dark net of infection.
2 . Till the shrunken eyes clouded over
BDiscernd not the woven hipocrisy
But the streaky slime in their heavens
Brought together by narrowing perceptions
Appeard transparent air; for their eyes
Grew small like the eyes of a man
And in reptile forms shrinking together
Of seven feet stature they remaind
3 . Six days they shrunk up from existence
And on the seventh day they rested
And they bless’d the seventh day, in sick hope:
And forgot their eternal life
4 . And their thirty cities divided
In form of a human heart
No more could they rise at will
In the infinite void, but bound down
To earth by their narrowing perceptions
They lived a period of years
Then left a noisom body
To the jaws of devouring darkness
5 . And their children wept, & built
Tombs in the desolate places,
And form’d laws of prudence, and call’d them
The eternal laws of God
6 . And the thirty cities remaind
Surrounded by salt floods, now call’d
Africa: its name was then Egypt.
7 . The remaining sons of Urizen
Beheld their brethren shrink together
Beneath the Net of Urizen;
Perswasion was in vain;
For the ears of the inhabitants,
Were wither’d, & deafen’d, & cold:
And their eyes could not discern,
Their brethren of other cities.
8 . So Fuzon call’d all together
The remaining children of Urizen:
And they left the pendulous earth:
They called it Egypt, & left it.
9. And the salt ocean rolled englob’d
The End of the [first] book of Urizen
SONGS OF EXPERIENCE
As the second part of Blake’s famous Songs of Innocence and of Experience, this poetry collection is formed of 26 poems, which were initially published in 1794. These poems contrast with the Songs of Innocence, which depict how the human spirit may blossom when allowed free movement, while the Songs of Experience demonstrate how the human spirit withers after it has been suppressed and forced to conform to rules. As a Dissenter, who escaped the rigours of a strict and formal education, Blake actively opposed the doctrines of the Anglican Church, which enjoined its members to suppress their feelings. Blake’s poetry seeks to intruct his readers that the world of experience is one tainted from the ideal vision of the world of innocence.
The original titlepage
CONTENTS
Introduction
Hear the voice of the Bard,
Who present, past, and future, sees;
Whose ears have heard
The Holy Word
That walked among the ancient trees;
Calling the lapsed soul,
And weeping in the evening dew;
That might control
The starry pole,
And fallen, fallen light renew!
‘O Earth, O Earth, return!
Arise from out the dewy grass!
Night is worn,
And the morn
Rises from the slumbrous mass.
‘Turn away no more;
Why wilt thou turn away?
The starry floor,
The watery shore,
Is given thee till the break of day.’
Earth’s Answer
Earth raised up her head
From the darkness dread and drear,
Her light fled,
Stony, dread,
And her locks covered with grey despair.
‘Prisoned on watery shore,
Starry jealousy does keep my den
Cold and hoar;
Weeping o’er,
I hear the father of the ancient men.
‘Selfish father of men!
Cruel, jealous, selfish fear!
Can delight,
Chained in night,
The virgins of youth and morning bear.
‘Does spring hide its joy,
When buds and blossoms grow?
Does the sower
Sow by night,
Or the ploughman in darkness plough?
‘Break this heavy chain,
That does freeze my bones around!
Selfish, vain,
Eternal bane,
That free love with bondage bound.’
The Clod and the Pebble
‘Love seeketh not itself to please,
Nor for itself hath any care,
But for another gives its ease,
And builds a heaven in hell’s despair.’
So sung a little clod of clay,
Trodden with the cattle’s feet,
But a pebble of the brook
Warbled out these metres meet:
‘Love seeketh only Self to please,
To bind another to its delight,
Joys in another’s loss of ease,
And builds a hell in heaven’s despite.
Holy Thursday
Is this a holy thing to see
In a rich and fruitful land,
Babes reduced to misery
Fed with cold and usurous hand?
Is that trembling cry a song?
Can it be a song of joy?
And so many children poor?
It is a land of poverty!
And their sun does never shine.
And their fields are bleak & bare.
And their ways are fill’d with thorns.
It is eternal winter there.
For where’er the sun does shine,
And where’er the rain does fall:
Babe can never hunger there,
Nor poverty the mind appall.
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 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.
The Little Girl Found
All the night in woe
Lyca’s parents go
Over valleys deep,
While the deserts weep.
Tired and woe-begone,
Hoarse with making moan,
Arm in arm, seven days
They traced the desert ways.
Seven nights they sleep
Among shadows deep,
And dream they see their child
Starved in desert wild.
Pale through pathless ways
The fancied image strays,
Famished, weeping, weak,
With hollow piteous shriek.
Rising from unrest,
The trembling woman pressed
With feet of weary woe;
She could no further go.
In his arms he bore
Her, armed with sorrow sore;
Till before their way
A couching lion lay.
Turning back was vain:
Soon his heavy mane
Bore them to the ground,
Then he stalked around,
Smelling to his prey;
But their fears allay
When he licks their hands,
And silent by them stands.
They look upon his eyes,
Filled with deep surprise;
And wondering behold
A spirit armed in gold.
On his head a crown,
On his shoulders down
Flowed his golden hair.
Gone was all their care.
‘Follow me,’ he said;
‘Weep not for the maid;
In my palace deep,
Lyca lies asleep.’
Then they followed
Where the vision led,
And saw their sleeping child
Among tigers wild.
To this day they dwell
In a lonely dell,
Nor fear the wolvish howl
Nor the lion’s growl.
The Chimney Sweeper
A little black thing among the snow:
Crying weep, weep, in notes of woe!
Where are thy father & mother? say?
They are both gone up to the church to pray.
Because I was happy upon the heath,
And smil’d among the winters snow:
They clothed me in the clothes of death,
And taught me to sing the notes of woe.
And because I am happy & dance & sing,
They think they have done me no injury:
And are gone to praise God & his Priest & King,
Who make up a heaven of our misery.
Nurse’s Song
When the voices of children are heard on the green,
And whisperings are in the dale,
The days of my youth rise fresh in my mind,
My face turns green and pale.
Then come home, my children, the sun is gone down,
And the dews of night arise;
Your spring and your day are wasted in play,
And your winter and night in disguise.
The Sick Rose
O rose thou art sick,
The invisible worm,
That flies in the night
In the howling storm
Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy :
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy.
The Fly
Little Fly,
Thy summer’s play
My thoughtless hand
Has brushed away.
Am not I
A fly like thee?
Or art not thou
A man like me?
For I dance,
And drink, and sing,
Till some blind hand
Shall brush my wing.
If thought is life
And strength and breath,
And the want
Of thought is death;
Then am I
A happy fly.
If I live,
Or if I die.
The Angel
I dreamt a dream! What can it mean?
And that I was a maiden Queen
Guarded by an Angel mild:
Witless woe was ne’er beguiled!
And I wept both night and day,
And he wiped my tears away;
And I wept both day and night,
And hid from him my heart’s delight.
So he took his wings, and fled;
Then the morn blushed rosy red.
I dried my tears, and armed my fears
With ten thousand shields and spears.
Soon my Angel came again;
I was armed, he came in vain;
For the time of youth was fled,
And grey hairs were on my head.
The Tyger
Tyger Tyger. burning bright,
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye.
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies.
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand, dare sieze the fire?
And what shoulder, & what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat.
What dread hand? & what dread feet?
What the hammer? what the chain,
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp.
Dare its deadly terrors clasp!
When the stars threw down their spears
And water’d heaven with their tears:
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?
Tyger Tyger burning bright.
In the forests of the night:
What immortal hand or eye.
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
My Pretty Rose Tree
A flower was offered to me,
Such a flower as May never bore;
But I said, ‘I’ve a pretty rose tree,’
And I passed the sweet flower o’er.
Then I went to my pretty rose tree,
To tend her by day and by night;
But my rose turned away with jealousy,
And her thorns were my only delight.
Ah! Sun-flower
Ah, sunflower, weary of time,
Who countest the steps of the sun;
Seeking after that sweet golden clime
Where the traveller’s journey is done;
Where the Youth pined away with desire,
And the pale virgin shrouded in snow,
Arise from their graves, and aspire
Where my Sunflower wishes to go!
The Lily
The modest Rose puts forth a thorn,
The humble sheep a threat’ning horn:
While the Lily white shall in love delight,
Nor a thorn nor a threat stain her beauty bright.
The Garden of Love
I went to the Garden of Love,
And saw what I never had seen;
A Chapel was built in the midst,
Where I used to play on the green.
And the gates of this Chapel were shut,
And ‘Thou shalt not’ writ over the door;
So I turned to the Garden of Love
That so many sweet flowers bore.
And I saw it was filled with graves,
And tombstones where flowers should be;
And priests in black gowns were walking their rounds,
And binding with briars my joys and desires.
The Little Vagabond
Dear mother, dear mother, the Church is cold;
But the Alehouse is healthy, and pleasant, and warm.
Besides, I can tell where I am used well;
Such usage in heaven will never do well.
But, if at the Church they would give us some ale,
And a pleasant fire our souls to regale,
We’d sing and we’d pray all the livelong day,
Nor ever once wish from the Church to stray.
Then the Parson might preach, and drink, and sing,
And we’d be as happy as birds in the spring;
And modest Dame Lurch, who is always at church,
Would not have bandy children, nor fasting, nor birch.
And God, like a father, rejoicing to see
His children as pleasant and happy as He,
Would have no more quarrel with the Devil or the barrel,
But kiss him, and give him both drink and apparel.
London
I wander thro’ each charter’d street,
Near where the charter’d Thames does flow,
And mark in every face I meet,
Marks of weakness, marks of woe.
In every cry of every Man,
In every Infant’s cry of fear,
In every voice, in every ban,
The mind-forg’d manacles I hear.
How the Chimney-sweeper’s cry
Every black’ning Church appalls;
And the hapless Soldier’s sigh
Runs in blood down Palace walls.
But most, thro’ midnight streets I hear
How the youthful Harlot’s curse
Blasts the new born Infant’s tear,
And blights with plagues the Marriage hearse.
The Human Abstract
Pity would be no more
If we did not make somebody Poor;
And Mercy no more could be
If all were as happy as we.
And mutual fear brings peace,
Till the selfish loves increase:
Then Cruelty knits a snare,
And spreads his baits with care.
He sits down with holy fears,
And waters the ground with tears;
Then Humility takes its root
Underneath his foot.
Soon spreads the dismal shade
Of Mystery over his head;
And the Catterpillar and Fly
Feed on the Mystery.
And it bears the fruit of Deceit,
Ruddy and sweet to eat;
And the Raven his nest has made
In its thickest shade.
The Gods of the earth and sea
Sought thro’ Nature to find this Tree;
But their search was all in vain:
There grows one in the Human Brain.
Infant Sorrow
My mother groan’d! my father wept.
Into the dangerous world I leapt:
Helpless, naked, piping loud:
Like a fiend hid in a cloud.
Struggling in my father’s hands,
Striving against my swadling bands,
Bound and weary I thought best
To sulk upon my mother’s breast.
A Poison Tree
I was angry with my friend:
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.
And I watered it in fears,
Night and morning with my tears;
And I sunned it with smiles,
And with soft deceitful wiles.
And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore an apple bright;
And my foe beheld it shine,
And he knew that it was mine,
And into my garden stole
When the night had veil’d the pole:
In the morning glad I see
My foe outstretch’d beneath the tree.
A Little Boy Lost
‘Nought loves another as itself,
Nor venerates another so,
Nor is it possible to thought
A greater than itself to know.
‘And, father, how can I love you
Or any of my brothers more?
I love you like the little bird
That picks up crumbs around the door.’
The Priest sat by and heard the child;
In trembling zeal he seized his hair,
He led him by his little coat,
And all admired his priestly care.
And standing on the altar high,
‘Lo, what a fiend is here!’ said he:
‘One who sets reason up for judge
Of our most holy mystery.’
The weeping child could not be heard,
The weeping parents wept in vain:
They stripped him to his little shirt,
And bound him in an iron chain,
And burned him in a holy place
Where many had been burned before;
The weeping parents wept in vain.
Are such things done on Albion’s shore?
A Little Girl Lost
Children of the future age,
Reading this indignant page,
Know that in a former time
Love, sweet love, was thought a crime.
In the age of gold,
Free from winter’s cold,
Youth and maiden bright,
To the holy light,
Naked in the sunny beams delight.
Once a youthful pair,
Filled with softest care,
Met in garden bright
Where the holy light
Had just removed the curtains of the night.
There, in rising day,
On the grass they play;
Parents were afar,
Strangers came not near,
And the maiden soon forgot her fear.
Tired with kisses sweet,
They agree to meet
When the silent sleep
Waves o’er heaven’s deep,
And the weary tired wanderers weep.
To her father white
Came the maiden bright;
But his loving look,
Like the holy book,
All her tender limbs with terror shook.
‘Ona, pale and weak,
To thy father speak!
O the trembling fear!
O the dismal care
That shakes the blossoms of my hoary hair!’
To Tirzah
Whate’er is Born of Mortal birth
Must be consumèd with the Earth,
To rise from Generation free:
Then what have I to do with thee?
The Sexes sprung from Shame and Pride,
Blow’d in the morn; in evening died;
But Mercy changed Death into Sleep;
The Sexes rose to work & weep.
Thou, Mother of my Mortal part,
With cruelty didst mould my Heart,
And with false self-deceiving tears
Didst bind my Nostrils, Eyes, & Ears,
Didst close my Tongue in senseless clay,
And me to Mortal Life betray.
The Death of Jesus set me free:
Then what have I to do with thee?
The Schoolboy
I love to rise in a summer morn,
When the birds sing on every tree;
The distant huntsman winds his horn,
And the skylark sings with me:
O what sweet company!
But to go to school in a summer morn, —
O it drives all joy away!
Under a cruel eye outworn,
The little ones spend the day
In sighing and dismay.
Ah then at times I drooping sit,
And spend many an anxious hour;
Nor in my book can I take delight,
Nor sit in learning’s bower,
Worn through with the dreary shower.
How can the bird that is born for joy
Sit in a cage and sing?
How can a child, when fears annoy,
But droop his tender wing,
And forget his youthful spring?
O father and mother, if buds are nipped,
And blossoms blown away;
And if the tender plants are stripped
Of their joy in the springing day,
By sorrow and care’s dismay, —
How shall the summer arise in joy,
Or the summer fruits appear?
Or how shall we gather what griefs destroy,
Or bless the mellowing year,
When the blasts of winter appear?
The Voice of the Ancient Bard
Youth of delight! come hither
And see the opening morn,
Image of Truth new-born.
Doubt is fled, and clouds of reason,
Dark disputes and artful teazing.
Folly is an endless maze;
Tangled roots perplex her ways;
How many have fallen there!
They stumble all night over bones of the dead;
And feel — they know not what but care;
And wish to lead others, when they should be led.
A Divine Image
Cruelty has a human heart,
And Jealousy a human face;
Terror the human form divine,
And Secrecy the human dress.
The human dress is forged iron,
The human form a fiery forge,
The human face a furnace sealed,
The human heart its hungry gorge.
A Cradle Song
Sleep, Sleep, beauty bright,
Dreaming o’er the joys of night;
Sleep, Sleep; in thy sleep
Little sorrows sit & weep.
Sweet Babe, in thy face
Soft desires I can trace,
Secret joys and secret smiles,
Little pretty infant wiles.
As thy softest limbs I feel,
Smiles as of the morning steal
O’er thy cheek & o’er thy breast
Where thy little heart doth rest.
O, the cunning wiles that creep
In thy little heart asleep.
When thy little heart doth wake,
Then the dreadful lightnings break.
From thy cheek & from thy eye
O’er the youthful harvests nigh
Infant wiles & infant smiles
Heaven & Earth of peace beguiles.
THE BOOK OF LOS
This 1795 prophetic book now exists in only one copy, held by The British Museum. The Book of Los is related to the Book of Urizen and the Continental Prophecies trilogy. It is essentially a retelling of Urizen from the point of view of Los and offers a rewriting of the ancient myth of creation that equates the Fall with the loss of spiritual vision brought about by selfhood. The Book of Los was one of the few works that Blake described as “illuminated printing”. The narrative describes how Los fell and how he was given a human form. After the events of The Book of Ahania, Los grants Urizen a human form.
The original title page
CONTENTS
THE BOOK OF LOS. CHAPTER I
1: Eno aged Mother,
Who the chariot of Leutha guides,
Since the day of thunders in old time
2 : Sitting beneath the eternal Oak
Trembled and shook the stedfast Earth
And thus her speech broke forth.
3 : O Times remote!
When Love & joy were adoration:
And none impure were deem’d.
Not Eyeless Covet
Nor Thin-lip’d Envy
Nor Bristled Wrath
Nor Curled Wantonness
4 : But Covet was poured full:
Envy fed with fat of lambs:
Wrath with lions gore:
Wantonness lulld to sleep
With the virgins lute,
Or sated with her love.
5 : Till Covet broke his locks & bars,
And slept with open doors:
Envy sung at the rich mans feast:
Wrath was follow’d up and down
By a little ewe lamb
And Wantoness on his own true love
Begot a giant race:
6 : Raging furious the flames of desire
Ran thro’ heaven & earth, living flames
Intelligent, organiz’d: arm’d
With destruction & plagues. In the midst
The Eternal Prophet bound in a chain
Compell’d to watch Urizens shadow
7 : Rag’d with curses & sparkles of fury
Round the flames roll as Los hurls his chains
Mounting up from his fury, condens’d
Rolling round & round, mounting on high
Into vacuum: into non-entity.
Where nothing was! dash’d wide apart
His feet stamp the eternal fierce-raging
Rivers of wide flame; they roll round
And round on all sides making their way
Into darkness and shadowy obscurity
8 : Wide apart stood the fires: Los remain’d
In the void between fire and fire.
In trembling and horror they beheld him
They stood wide apart, driv’n by his hands
And his feet which the nether abyss
Stamp’d in fury and hot indignation
9 : But no light from the fires all was
Darkness round Los: heat was not; for bound up
Into fiery spheres from his fury
The gigantic flames trembled and hid
10 : Coldness, darkness, obstruction, a Solid
Without fluctuation, hard as adamant
Black as marble of Egypt; impenetrable
Bound in the fierce raging Immortal.
And the seperated fires froze in
A vast solid without fluctuation,
Bound in his expanding clear senses
THE BOOK OF LOS. CHAPTER II
1: The Immortal stood frozen amidst
The vast rock of eternity; times
And times; a night of vast durance:
Impatient, stifled, stiffend, hardned.
2 : Till impatience no longer could bear
The hard bondage, rent: rent, the vast solid
With a crash from immense to immense
3 : Crack’d across into numberless fragments
The Prophetic wrath, strug’ling for vent
Hurls apart, stamping furious to dust
And crumbling with bursting sobs; heaves
The black marble on high into fragments
4 : Hurl’d apart on all sides, as a falling
Rock: the innumerable fragments away
Fell asunder; and horrible vacuum
Beneath him & on all sides round.
5 : Falling, falling! Los fell & fell
Sunk precipitant heavy down down
Times on times, night on night, day on day
Truth has bounds. Error none: falling, falling:
Years on years, and ages on ages
Still he fell thro’ the void, still a void
Found for falling day & night without end.
For tho’ day or night was not; their spaces
Were measur’d by his incessant whirls
In the horrid vacuity bottomless.
6 : The Immortal revolving; indignant
First in wrath threw his limbs, like the babe
New born into our world: wrath subsided
And contemplative thoughts first arose
Then aloft his head rear’d in the Abyss
And his downward-borne fall. Chang’d oblique
7 : Many ages of groans: till there grew
Branchy forms. organizing the Human
Into finite inflexible organs.
8 : Till in process from falling he bore
Sidelong on the purple air, wafting
The weak breeze in efforts o’erwearied
9 : Incessant the falling Mind labour’d
Organizing itself: till the Vacuum
Became element, pliant to rise,
Or to fall, or to swim, or to fly:
With ease searching the dire vacuity
THE BOOK OF LOS. CHAPTER III
1: The Lungs heave incessant, dull and heavy
For as yet were all other parts formless
Shiv’ring: clinging around like a cloud
Dim & glutinous as the white Polypus
Driv’n by waves & englob’d on the tide.
2 : And the unformed part crav’d repose
Sleep began: the Lungs heave on the wave
Weary overweigh’d, sinking beneath
In a stifling black fluid he woke
3 : He arose on the waters, but soon
Heavy falling his organs like roots
Shooting out from the seed, shot beneath,
And a vast world of waters around him
In furious torrents began.
4 : Then he sunk, & around his spent Lungs
Began intricate pipes that drew in
The spawn of the waters. Outbranching
An immense Fibrous form, stretching out
Thro’ the bottoms of immensity raging.
5 : He rose on the floods: then he smote
The wild deep with his terrible wrath,
Seperating the heavy and thin.
6 : Down the heavy sunk; cleaving around
To the fragments of solid: up rose
The thin, flowing round the fierce fires
That glow’d furious in the expanse.
THE BOOK OF LOS. CHAPTER IV
1: Then Light first began; from the fires
Beams, conducted by fluid so pure.
Flow’d around the Immense: Los beheld
Forthwith writhing upon the dark void
The Back bone of Urizen appear
Hurtling upon the wind
Like a serpent! like an iron chain
Whirling about in the Deep.
2 : Upfolding his Fibres together
To a Form of impregnable strength
Los astonish’d and terrified, built
Furnaces; he formed an Anvil
A Hammer of adamant then began
The binding of Urizen day and night
3 : Circling round the dark Demon, with howlings
Dismay & sharp blightings; the Prophet
Of Eternity beat on his iron links
4 : And first from those infinite fires
The light that flow’d down on the winds
He siez’d; beating incessant, condensing
The subtil particles in an Orb.
5 : Roaring indignant the bright sparks
Endur’d the vast Hammer; but unwearied
Los beat on the Anvil; till glorious
An immense Orb of fire he fram’d
6 : Oft he quench’d it beneath in the Deeps
Then survey’d the all bright mass. Again
Siezing fires from the terrific Orbs
He heated the round Globe, then beat,
While roaring his Furnaces endur’d
The chain’d Orb in their infinite wombs
7 : Nine ages completed their circles
When Los heated the glowing mass, casting
It down into the Deeps: the Deeps fled
Away in redounding smoke; the Sun
Stood self-balanc’d. And Los smild with joy.
He the vast Spine of Urizen siez’d
And bound down to the glowing illusion
8 : But no light, for the Deep fled away
On all sides, and left an unform’d
Dark vacuity: here Urizen lay
In fierce torments on his glowing bed
9 : Till his Brain in a rock, & his Heart
In a fleshy slough formed four rivers
Obscuring the immense Orb of fire
Flowing down into night: till a Form
Was completed, a Human Illusion
In darkness and deep clouds involvd.
The End of The Book of Los
THE SONG OF LOS
The Song of Los forms the third and final part of the Continental Prophecies trilogy and consists of the two sections Africa and Asia. In Africa Blake catalogues the decline of morality in Europe, which he blames on both the African slave trade and enlightenment philosophers, whilst the second section concentrates on Los’ urging of a revolution. The pages of the illuminated book are of the same size as America a Prophecy and Europe a Prophecy, and only six copies of the work are now known to have survived.
The book begins with a title page image of an empty, dead world with an old man looking at the title of the work. The narrative opens in Africa with Los singing of Adam, Noah, and Moses and how they were granted laws by Urizen. This involves abstractions being granted to Pythagoras, Socrates, and Plato, gospel being given to Jesus, a bible for Mahomet, and a book on war given to Odin.
The title page
CONTENTS
I will sing you a song of Los, the Eternal Prophet:
He sung it to four harps at the tables of Eternity.
In heart-formed Africa.
Urizen faded! Ariston shudder’d!
And thus the Song began:
ADAM stood in the garden of Eden
And Noah on the mountains of Ararat;
They saw Urizen give his Laws to the Nations
By the hands of the children of Los.
Adam shudder’d! Noah faded! Black grew the sunny African
When Rintrah gave Abstract Philosophy to Brama in the East.
(Night spoke to the Cloud:
‘Lo, these Human form’d spirits, in smiling hypocrisy Way
Against one another; so let them War on, slaves to the eternal Elements.’)
Noah shrunk beneath the wathers;
Abram fled in fires from Chaldea;
Moses beheld upon Mount Sinai forms of dark delusion.
To Trismegistur Palamabroon gave an abstract Law,
To Pythagoras, Socrates & Plato.
Time rolled on o’er all the sons of Har; time after time
Orc on Mount Atlas howl’d, chain’d down with the Chain of Jealousy.
Then Oothoon hover’d over Judah & Jerusalem,
And Jesus heard her voice (a man of sorrows); he reciev’d
A Gospel form wretched Theotormon.
The human race began to wither, for the healthy built
Secluded places, fearing the joys of Love,
And the diseased only propagated.
So Antamon call’d up Leutha from her valleys of delight
And to Mahomet a loose Bible gave.
But in the North to Odin Sotha gave a Code of War,
Because of Diralada, thinking to reclaim his joy.
These were the churches, Hospitals, Castles, Palace,
Like nets & gins & traps to catch the joys of Eternity,
And all the rest a desart;
Till like a dream Eternity was obliterated & erased,
Since that dread day when Har and Heva fled,
Because their brethren & sisters liv’d in War & Lust;
And as they fled, they shrunk
Into two narrow doleful forms,
Creeping in reptile flesh upon
The bosom of the ground,
And all the vast of Nature shrunk
Before their shrunken eyes.
Thus the terrible race of Los & Enitharmon gave
Laws & Religions to the sons of Har, binding them more
And more to Earth, closing and restraining,
Till a Philosophy of Five Senses was complete.
Urizen wept &gave it into the hands of Newton & Locke.
Clouds roll heavy upon the Alps round Rousseau & Voltaire,
And on the mountains of Lebanon round the deceased Gods
Of Asia, & on the desarts of Africa round the Fallen Angels.
The Guardian Prince of Albion burns in his nightly tent.
ASIA
THE Kings of Asia heard
The howl rise up from Europe!
And each ran out from his Web,
From his ancient woven Den;
For the darkness of Asia was startled
At the thick-flaming, thought-creating fires or Orc.
And the Kings of Asia stood
And cried in bitterness of soul:
‘Shall not the King call for Famine from the heath,
Nor the Priest for Pestilence from the fen?
To restrain! To dismay! To thin!
The inhabitants of mountain and plain,
In the day of full-feeding prosperity
And the night of delicious songs.
‘Shall not the Councellor throw his curb
Of Poverty on the laborious?
To fix the price of labour,
To invent allegoric riches;
‘And the privy admonishers of men
Call for fires in the City,
For heaps of smoking ruins,
In the night of prosperity & wantonness?
‘To turn man form his path,
To restrain the child from the womb,
‘To cut off the bread from the city,
That the remnant may learn to obey;
‘That the pride of the heart may fail,
That the lust of the eyes may be quench’d,
That the delicate ear in its infancy
May be dull’d, and the nostrils clos’d up,
To teach mortal worms the path
That leads form the gates of the Grave.’
Urizen heard them cry,
And his shudd’ring waving wings
Went enormous above the red flames,
Drawing clouds of despair thro’ the havens
Of Europe as he went.
And his Books of brass, iron & gold
Melted over the land as he flew,
Heavy-waving, howling, weeping.
And he stood over Judea,
And stay’d in his ancient place,
And stretch’d his clouds over Jerusalem.
For Adam, a mouldering skeleton,
Lay bleach’d on the garden of Eden;
And Noah as whit as snow
On the mountains of Ararat.
Then the thunders of Urizen bellow’d aloud
From his woven darkness above.
Orc, raging in European darkness,
Arose like a pillar of fire above the Alps,
Like a serpent of fiery flame!
The sullen Earth
Shrunk!
Forth from the dead dust rattling bones to bones
Join; shaking convuls’d, the shiv’ring clay breathes,
And all flesh naked stands: Fathers and Friends,
Mothers & Infants, Kings & Warriors.
The Grave shrieks with delight, & shakes
Her hollow womb, & clasps the solid stem.
Her bosom swells with wild desire,
And milk & blood & glandous wine
In rivers rush & shout & dance
On mountain, dale and plain.
The SONG of LOS is Ended
Urizen Wept.
THE BOOK OF AHANIA
This prophetic book was first published in 1795 and consists of six chapters, concerning the character Fuzon, a son of Urizen, and Ahania, who is Urizen’s female counterpart. Although separate copies of individual plates exist, only one complete version of The Book of Ahania exists, which is now housed in the Library of Congress.
The book provides an experimental revision of The Book of Urizen and takes its name from the Emanation of Urizen that he discarded. The end of The Book of Urizen concerns the end of the African civilisation, which is the third of seven cycles and describes the Garden of Eden story. The book closes with Orc being cursed as the serpent, and The Book of Ahania discusses the next cycle happening within Asia. The work parallels Exodus and describes how the Orc figure and the Urizen figure struggle for dominance over the Israelites.
The 1795 title page
CONTENTS
THE BOOK OF AHANIA. CHAPTER I.
THE BOOK OF AHANIA. CHAPTER II.
THE BOOK OF AHANIA . CHAPTER III.
THE BOOK OF AHANIA. CHAPTER IV.
THE BOOK OF AHANIA. CHAPTER V.
THE BOOK OF AHANIA. CHAPTER I.
1. Fuzon, on a chariot iron-wing’d,
On spiked flames rose; his hot visage
Flam’d furious; sparkles his hair & beard
Shot down his wide bosom and shoulders.
On clouds of smoke rages his chariot,
And his right hand burns red in its cloud,
Moulding into a vast globe his wrath
As the thunder-stone is moulded,
Son of Urizen’s silent burnings.
2 . ‘Shall we worship this Demon of smoke,’
Said Fuzon, ‘this abstract non-entity,
This cloudy God seated on waters,
Now seen, now obscur’d, King of Sorrow?’
3 . So he spoke, in a fiery flame,
On Urizen frowning indignant,
The Globe of wrath shaking on high.
Roaring with fury, he threw
The howling Globe; burning it flew,
Length’ning into a hungry beam. Swiftly
4 . Oppos’d to the exulting flam’d beam
the broad Disk of Urizen uphav’d
Across the Void many a mile.
5 . It was forg’d in mills where the winter
Beats incessant; ten winters the disk
Unremitting endur’d the cold hammer.
6 . But the strong arm that sent it remember’d
The sounding beam; laughing it tore through
That beaten mass, keeping its direction,
The cold loins of Urizen dividing.
7 . Dire shriek’d his invisible Lust.
Deep groan’d Urizen! Stretching his awful hand,
Ahania (so name his parted soul)
He seiz’d on his mountains of Jealousy.
He groan’d, anguish’d, & called her Sin,
Kissing her and weeping over her;
Then hid her in darkness, in silence,
Jealous tho’ she was invisible.
8 . She fell down, a faint shadow wand’ring
In chaos and circling dark Urizen,
As the moon, anguish’d, circles the earth:
Hopeless! Abhorr’d! a death-shadow,
Unseen, unbodied, unknown,
The mother of Pestilence.
9 . But the fiery beam of Fuzon
Was a pillar of fire to Egypt,
Five hundred years wand’ring on earth,
Till Los seiz’d it and beat in a mass
With the body of the sun.
THE BOOK OF AHANIA. CHAPTER II.
1. But the forehead of Urizen gathering,
And his eyes pale with anguish, his lips
Blue & changing, in tears and bitter
Contrition he prepar’d his Bow,
2 . Form’d of Ribs, that in his dark solitude
When obscur’d in his forests fell monsters
Arose. For his dire Contemplations
Rush’d down like floods from his mountains,
In torrents of mud settling thick,
With Eggs of unnatural production
Forthwith hatching; some howl’d on his hills,
Some in vales, some aloft flew in air.
3 . Of these, an enormous dread Serpent,
Scaled and poisonous horned,
Approach’d Urizen even to his knees
As he sat on his dark rooted Oak.
4 . With his horns he push’d furious.
Great the conflict & Great the jealousy
In cold poisons; but Urizen smote him.
5 . First he poison’d the rocks with his blood;
Then polish’d his ribs, and his sinews
Dried; laid them apart till winter;
Then a Bow black prepar’d; on this Bow
A poisoned rock plac’d in silence.
He utter’d these words to the Bow:
6 . ‘O Bow of the clouds of secrecy,
O nerve of that lust form’d monster!
Send this rock swift, invisible thro’
The black clouds, on the bosom of Fuzon.’
7 . So saying, in torment of his wounds,
He bent the enormous ribs slowly:
A circle of darkness! Then fixed
The sinew in its rest; then the Rock,
Poisonous source, plac’d with art, lifting difficult
Its weighty bulk; silent the rock lay,
8 . While Fuzon, his tigers unloosing,
Thought Urizen slain by his wrath.
‘I am God,’ said he, ‘eldest of things!’
9 . Sudden sings the rock; swift & invisible
On Fuzon flew; enter’d his bosom.
His beautiful visage, his tresses
That gave light to the mornings of heaven
Were smitten with darkenss, deform’d
And outstretch’d on the edge of the forest.
10 . But the rock fell upon the Earth,
Mount Sinai in Arabia.
THE BOOK OF AHANIA . CHAPTER III.
1. The Globe shook; and Urizen, seated
On black clouds, his sore wound anointed.
The ointment flow’d down on the void
Miz’d with blood – here the snake gets her poison.
2 . With difficulty & great pain Urizen
Lifted on high the dead corse;
On his shoulders he bore it to where
A Tree hung over the Immensity.
3 . For when Urizen shrunk away
From Eternals, he sat on a rock
Barren, a rock which himself
From redounding fancies had petrified.
Many tears fell on the rock,
Many sparks of vegetation.
Soon shot the pained root
Of Mystery under his heel.
It grew a thick tree; he wrote
In silence his book of iron;
Till the horrid plant, bending its boughs,
Grew to roots when it felt the earth
And again sprung to many a tree.
4 . Amaz’d started Urizen! When
He beheld himself compassed round
And high roofed over with trees.
He arose, but the stems stood so thick
He with difficulty and great pain
Brought his Books, all but the Book
Of iron, form the dismal shade.
5 . The Tree still grows over the Void,
Enrooting itself all around,
An endless labyrinth of woe!
6 . The corse of his first begotten
on the accursed Tree of Mystery
On the topmost stem of this Tree
Urizen nail’d Fuzon’s corse.
THE BOOK OF AHANIA. CHAPTER IV.
1. Forth flew the arrows of pestilence
Round the pale living Corse on the tree;
2 . For in Urizen’s slumbers of abstraction
In the infinite ages of Eternity,
When his Nerves of joy melted and flow’d
A white Lake on the dark blue air,
In perturb’d pain and dismal torment
Now stretching out, now swift conglobing,
3 . Effluvia vapor’d above
In noxious clouds; these hover’d thick
Over the disorganiz’d Immortal,
Till petrific pain scruf’d o’er the Lakes
As the bones of man, solid & dark.
4 . The clouds of disease hover’d wide
Around the Immortal in torment,
Perching around the hurtling bones,
Disease on disease, shape on shape,
Winged, screaming in blood & torment.
5 . The Eternal Prophet beat on his anvils,
Enrag’d in the desolate darkness;
he forg’d nets of iron around
And Los threw them around the bones.
6 . The shapes, screaming, flutter’d vain;
Some combin’d into muscles & glands,
Some organs for craving and lust;
Most remain’d on the tormented void,
Urizen’s army of horrors.
7 . Round the pale living Corse on the Tree
Forty years flew the arrows of pestilence.
8 . Wailing and terror and woe
Ran thro’ all his dismal world;
Forty yyears all his sons & daughters
Felt their skulls harden; then Asia
Arose in the pendulous deep.
9. They reptilize upon the Earth.
10. Fuzon groan’d on the Tree.
THE BOOK OF AHANIA. CHAPTER V.
1. The lamenting voice of Ahania,
Weeping upon the void
And round the Tree of Fuzon:
Distant in solitary night
Her voice was heard , but no form
Had she; but her tears from clouds
Eternal fell round the Tree;
2 . And the voice cried: ‘Ah, Urizen! Love!
Flower of morning! I weep on the verge
Of Non-entity; how wide the Abyss
Between Ahania and thee!
3 . ‘I lie on the verge of the deep,
I see thy dark clouds ascend,
I see thy black forests and floods,
A horrible waste to my eyes!
4 . ‘Weeping I walk over rocks,
Over dens & thro’ valleys of death.
Why didst thou despise Ahania,
To cast me from thy bright presence
Into the World of Loneness?
5 . ‘I cannot touch his hand,
Nor weep on his knees, nor hear
his voice & bow, nor see his eyes
And joy, nor hear his footsteps and
My heart leap at the lovely sound!
I cannot kiss the place
Whereon his bright feet have trod,
But I wander on the rocks
With hard necessity.
6 . ‘Where is my golden palace?
Where my ivory bed?
Where the joy of my morning hour?
Where the sons of eternity singing
7 . ‘To awake bright Urizen, my king,
To arise to the mountain sport,
To the bliss of eternal valleys;
8 . ‘To awake my king in the morn
To embrace Ahania’s joy
On the bredth of his open bosom,
From my soft cloud of dew to fall
In showers of life on his harvests?
9 . ‘When he gave my happy soul
To the sons of eternal joy;
When he took the daughters of life
into my chambers of love;
10 . When I found babes of bless on my beds,
And bosoms of mild in my chambers
Fill’d with eternal seed,
O! eternal births sung round Ahania
In interchange sweet of their joys.
11 . “Swell’d with ripeness & fat with fatness,
Bursting on winds my odors,
My ripe figs and rich pomegranates
In infant joy at thy feet,
O Urizen, sported and sang.
12 . ‘Then thou with thy lap full of seed,
With thy hand full of generous fire,
Walked forth form the clouds of morning,
On the virgins of springing joy,
On the human soul to cast
The seed of eternal science.
13 . ‘The sweat poured down thy temples;
To Ahania return’d in evening
The moisture awoke to birth
My mother’s-joys, sleeping in bliss.
14 . ‘But now, alone, over rocks, mountains,
Cast out form thy lovely bosom.
Cruel jealousy, selfish fear,
self-destroying: how can delight
Renew in these chains of darkness,
Where bones of beasts are strown
On the bleak and snowy mountains,
Where bones form the birth are buried
Before they see the light?’
THE FOUR ZOAS
This is an uncompleted prophetic book, which Blake had started work on in 1797. The main characters are Urthona, Urizen, Luvah and Tharmas, who were created by the fall of Albion in Blake’s mythology. The work consists of nine books, referred to as “nights”, outlining the interactions of the Zoas, their fallen forms and their corresponding Emanations. Blake intended The Four Zoas to be a summation of his mythic universe, but he abandoned the effort in 1807, leaving it unfinished and unengraved.
CONTENTS
THE FOUR ZOAS. NIGHT THE FIRST.
THE FOUR.ZOAS. NIGHT THE SECOND.
THE FOUR ZOAS. NIGHT THE THIRD.
THE FOUR ZOAS. NIGHT THE FOURTH.
THE FOUR ZOAS. NIGHT THE FIFTH.
THE FOUR ZOAS. NIGHT THE SIXTH.
THE FOUR ZOAS. NIGHT THE SEVENTH.
THE FOUR ZOAS. NIGHT THE FIRST.
The Song of the Aged Mother which shook the heavens with wrath
Hearing the march of long resounding strong heroic Verse
Marshalld in order for the day of Intellectual Battle
Four Mighty Ones are in every Man; a Perfect Unity
5 Cannot Exist. but from the Universal Brotherhood of Eden
The Universal Man. To Whom be Glory Evermore Amen
John XVII c. 21 & 22 & 23 v
John I c. 14. v
[What] are the Natures of those Living Creatures the Heavenly Father only
[Knoweth] no Individual [Knoweth nor] Can know in all Eternity
Los was the fourth immortal starry one, & in the Earth
10 Of a bright Universe Empery attended day & night
Days & nights of revolving joy, Urthona was his name
In Eden; in the Auricular Nerves of Human life
Which is the Earth of Eden, he his Emanations propagated
Fairies of Albion afterwards Gods of the Heathen, Daughter of Beulah Sing
His fall into Division & his Resurrection to Unity
5 His fall into the Generation of Decay & Death & his Regeneration by the Resurrection from the dead
Begin with Tharmas Parent power. darkning in the West
Lost! Lost! Lost! are my Emanations Enion O Enion
We are become a Victim to the Living We hide in secret
I have hidden Jerusalem in Silent Contrition O Pity Me
10 I will build thee a Labyrinth also O pity me O Enion
Why hast thou taken sweet Jerusalem from my inmost Soul
Let her Lay secret in the Soft recess of darkness & silence
It is not Love I bear to [Jerusalem] It is Pity
She hath taken refuge in my bosom & I cannot cast her out.
15 The Men have recieved their death wounds & their Emanations are fled
To me for refuge & I cannot turn them out for Pitys sake
Enion said — Thy fear has made me tremble thy terrors have surrounded me
All Love is lost Terror succeeds & Hatred instead of Love
And stern demands of Right & Duty instead of Liberty.
20 Once thou wast to Me the loveliest son of heaven — But now
Why art thou Terrible and yet I love thee in thy terror till
I am almost Extinct & soon shall be a Shadow in Oblivion
Unless some way can be found that I may look upon thee & live
Hide me some Shadowy semblance. secret whispring in my Ear
25 In secret of soft wings. in mazes of delusive beauty
I have lookd into the secret soul of him I lovd
And in the Dark recesses found Sin & cannot return
Trembling & pale sat Tharmas weeping in his clouds
Why wilt thou Examine every little fibre of my soul
30 Spreading them out before the Sun like Stalks of flax to dry
The infant joy is beautiful but its anatomy
Horrible Ghast & Deadly nought shalt thou find in it
But Death Despair & Everlasting brooding Melancholy
Thou wilt go mad with horror if thou dost Examine thus
35 Every moment of my secret hours Yea I know
That I have sinnd & that my Emanations are become harlots
I am already distracted at their deeds & if I look
Upon them more Despair will bring self murder on my soul
O Enion thou art thyself a root growing in hell
40 Tho thus heavenly beautiful to draw me to destruction
Sometimes I think thou art a flower expanding
Sometimes I think thou art fruit breaking from its bud
In dreadful dolor & pain & I am like an atom
A Nothing left in darkness yet I am an identity
45 I wish & feel & weep & groan Ah terrible terrible
In Eden, Females sleep the winter in soft silken veils
Woven by their own hands to hide them in the darksom grave
But Males immortal live renewd by female deaths. in soft
Delight they die & they revive in spring with music & songs
5 Enion said Farewell I die I hide. from thy searching eyes
So saying — From her bosom weaving soft in Sinewy threads
A tabernacle for Jerusalem she sat among the Rocks
Singing her lamentation. Tharmas groand among his Clouds
Weeping, then bending from his Clouds he stoopd his innocent head
10 And stretching out his holy hand in the vast Deep sublime
Turnd round the circle of Destiny with tears & bitter sighs
And said. Return O Wanderer when the Day of Clouds is oer
So saying he sunk down into the sea a pale white corse
In torment he sunk down & flowd among her filmy Woof
15 His Spectre issuing from his feet in flames of fire
In gnawing pain drawn out by her lovd fingers every nerve
She counted. every vein & lacteal threading them among
Her woof of terror. Terrified & drinking tears of woe
Shuddring she wove — nine days & nights Sleepless her food was tears
20 Wondring she saw her woof begin to animate. & not
As Garments woven subservient to her hands but having a will
Of its own perverse & wayward Enion lovd & wept
Nine days she labourd at her work. & nine dark sleepless nights
But on the tenth trembling morn the Circle of Destiny Complete
25 Round rolld the Sea Englobing in a watry Globe self balancd
A Frowning Continent appeard Where Enion in the Desart
Terrified in her own Creation viewing her woven shadow
Sat in a dread intoxication of Repentance & Contritiont
There is from Great Eternity a mild & pleasant rest
30 Namd Beulah a Soft Moony Universe feminine lovely
Pure mild & Gentle given in Mercy to those who sleep
Eternally. Created by the Lamb of God around
On all sides within & without the Universal Man
The Daughters of Beulah follow sleepers in all their Dreams
35 Creating Spaces lest they fall into Eternal Death
The Circle of Destiny complete they gave to it a Space
And namd the Space Ulro & brooded over it in care & love
They said The Spectre is in every man insane & most
Deformd Thro the three heavens descending in fury & fire
40 We meet it with our Songs & loving blandishments & give
To it a form of vegetation But this Spectre of Tharmas
Is Eternal Death What shall we do O God pity & help
So spoke they & closd the Gate of the Tongue in trembling fear
What have I done! said Enion accursed wretch! What deed.
45 Is this a deed of Love I know what I have done. I know
Too late now to repent. Love is changd to deadly Hate
A [ll] life is blotted out & I alone remain possessd with Fears
I see the Shadow of the dead within my Soul wandering
In darkness & solitude forming Seas of Doubt & rocks of Repentance
50 Already are my Eyes reverted. all that I behold
Within my Soul has lost its splendor & a brooding Fear
Shadows me oer & drives me outward to a world of woe
So waild she trembling before her own Created Phantasm
She drew the Spectre forth from Tharmas in her shining loom
Of Vegetation weeping in wayward infancy & sullen youth
Listning to her soft lamentations soon his tongue began
To Lisp out words & soon in masculine strength augmenting he
5 Reard up a form of gold & stood upon the glittering rock
A shadowy human form winged & in his depths
The dazzlings as of gems shone clear, rapturous in fury
Glorying in his own eyes Exalted in terrific Pride
The Spectre thus spoke. Who art thou Diminutive husk & shell
10 If thou hast sinnd & art polluted know that I am pure
And unpolluted & will bring to rigid strict account
All thy past deeds [So] hear what I tell thee! mark it well! remember!
This world is Thine in which thou dwellest that within thy soul
That dark & dismal infinite where Thought roams up & down
15 Is Mine & there thou goest when with one Sting of my tongue
Envenomd thou rolist inwards to the place whence I emergd
She trembling answerd Wherefore was I born & what am It
I thought to weave a Covering for my Sins from wrath of Tharmas
I thought Tharmas a Sinner & I murderd his Emanationst
His secret loves & Graces Ah me wretched What have I done
For now I find that all those Emanations were my Childrens Souls
And I have murderd them with Cruelty above atonementt
5 Those that remain have fled from my cruelty into the desarts
And thou the delusive tempter to these deeds sittest before me
In this thy world not mine tho dark I feel my world withint
Mingling his horrible brightness with her tender limbs then high she soardt
Above the ocean; a bright wonder that Nature shudder’d at
10 Half Woman & half Spectre, all his lovely changing colours mixt
With her fair crystal clearness; in her lips & cheeks his poisons roset
In blushes like the morning, and his scaly armour softening
A monster lovely in the heavens or wandering on the earth,
Till with fierce pain she brought forth on the rocks her sorrow & woe
Behold two little Infants wept upon the desolate wind.
The first state weeping they began & helpless as a wave
Beaten along its sightless way growing enormous in its motion to
5 Its utmost goal, till strength from Enion like richest summer shining
Raisd the bright boy & girl with glories from their heads out beaming
Drawing forth drooping mothers pity drooping mothers sorrow
They sulk upon her breast her hair became like snow on mountains
Weaker & weaker, weeping woful, wearier and wearier
10 Faded & her bright Eyes decayd melted with pity & love
And then they wanderd far away she sought for them in vain
In weeping blindness stumbling she followd them oer rocks & mountains
Rehumanizing from the Spectre in pangs of maternal love
Ingrate they wanderd scorning her drawing her Spectrous Life
5 Repelling her away & away by a dread repulsive power
Into Non Entity revolving round in dark despair.
And drawing in the Spectrous life in pride and haughty joy
Thus Enion gave them all her spectrous life
Then Eno a daughter of Beulah took a Moment of Time
10 And drew it out to Seven thousand years with much care & afflictiont
And many tears & in Every year made windows into Eden
She also took an atom of space & opend its center
Into Infinitude & ornamented it with wondrous art
Astonishd sat her Sisters of Beulah to see her soft affections
15 To Enion & her children & they ponderd these things wondring
And they Alternate kept watch over the Youthful terrors
They saw not yet the Hand Divine for it was not yet reveald
But they went on in Silent Hope & Feminine repose
But Los & Enitharmon delighted in the Moony spaces of Eno
20 Nine Times they livd among the forests, feeding on sweet fruits
And nine bright Spaces wanderd weaving mazes of delight
Snaring the wild Goats for their milk they eat the flesh of Lambs
A male & female naked & ruddy as the pride of summer
Alternate Love & Hate his breast; hers Scorn & Jealousy
25 In embryon passions. they kiss’d not nor embrac’d for shame & fear
His head beamd light & in his vigorous voice was prophecy
He could controll the times & seasons, & the days & years
She could controll the spaces, regions, desart, flood & forest
But had no power to weave a Veil of covering for her Sins
30 She drave the Females all away from Los
And Los drave all the Males from her away
They wanderd long, till they sat down upon the margind sea.
Conversing with the visions of Beulah in dark slumberous bliss
But the two youthful wonders wanderd in the world of Tharmas
35 Thy name is Enitharmon; said the fierce prophetic boy
While thy mild voice fills all these Caverns with sweet harmony
O how our Parents sit & mourn in their silent secret bowers
But Enitharmon answerd with a dropping tear & frowningt
Dark as a dewy morning when the crimson light appears
To make us happy let them weary their immortal powers
While we draw in their sweet delights while we return them scornt
5 On scorn to feed our discontent; for if we grateful prove
They will withhold sweet love, whose food is thorns & bitter roots.
We hear the warlike clarions we view the turning spheres
Yet Thou in indolence reposest holding me in bonds
Hear! I will sing a Song of Death! it is a Song of Vala!
10 The Fallen Man takes his repose: Urizen sleeps in the porcht
Luvah and Vala woke & flew up from the Human Heart
Into the Brain; from thence upon the pillow Vala slumber’d.
And Luvah siez’d the Horses of Light, & rose into the Chariot of Day
Sweet laughter siezd me in my sleep! silent & close I laughd
15 For in the visions of Vala I walkd with the mighty Fallen One
I heard his voice among the branches, & among sweet flowers.
Why is the light of Enitharmon darken’d in dewy mornt
Why is the silence of Enitharmon a terror & her smile a whirlwind
Uttering this darkness in my halls, in the pillars of my Holy-ones
20 Why dost thou weep as Vala? & wet thy veil with dewy tears,
In slumbers of my night-repose, infusing a false morning?
Driving the Female Emanations all away from Los
I have refusd to look upon the Universal Vision
And wilt thou slay with death him who devotes himself to thee
25 Once born for the sport & amusement of Man now born to drink up all his Powers
I heard the sounding sea; I heard the voice weaker and weaker;
The voice came & went like a dream, I awoke in my sweet bliss.
Then Los smote her upon the Earth twas long eer she revivd
He answer’d, darkning more with indignation hid in smiles
5 I die not Enitharmon tho thou singst thy Song of Death
Nor shalt thou me torment For I behold the Fallen Man
Seeking to comfort Vala, she will not be comfortedt
She rises from his throne and seeks the shadows of her garden
Weeping for Luvah lost, in the bloody beams of your false morning
10 Sickning lies the Fallen Man his head sick his heart faint
Mighty atchievement of your power! Beware the punishment
I see, invisible descend into the Gardens of Vala
Luvah walking on the winds, I see the invisible knife
I see the shower of blood: I see the swords & spears of futurity
15 Tho in the Brain of Man we live, & in his circling Nerves.
Tho’ this bright world of all our joy is in the Human Brain.
Where Urizen & all his Hosts hang their immortal lamps
Thou neer shalt leave this cold expanse where watry Tharmas mourns
20 So spoke Los. Scorn & Indignation rose upon Enitharmon
Then Enitharmon reddning fierce stretchd her immortal hands
Descend O Urizen descend with horse & chariots
Threaten not me O visionary thine the punishment
The Human Nature shall no more remain nor Human acts
Form the rebellious Spirits of Heaven. but War & Princedom & Victory & Blood
Night darkend as she spoke! a shuddring ran from East to Westt
A Groan was heard on high. The warlike clarions ceast. the Spirits
Of Luvah & Vala shudderd in their Orb: an orb of blood!
Eternity groand & was troubled at the Image of Eternal Death
5 The Wandering Man bow’d his faint head and Urizen descended
And the one must have murderd the other if he had not descended
Indignant muttering low thunders; Urizen descended
Gloomy sounding, Now I am God from Eternity to Eternity
Sullen sat Los plotting Revenge. Silent he eye’d the Prince
10 Of Light. Silent the prince of Light viewd Los. at length a broodedt
Smile broke from Urizen for Enitharmon brightend more & more
Sullen he lowerd on Enitharmon but he smild on Los
Saying Thou art the Lord of Luvah into thine hands I give
The prince of Love the murderer his soul is in thine hands
15 Pity not Vala for she pitied not the Eternal Man
Nor pity thou the cries of Luvah. Lo these starry hosts
They are thy servants if thou wilt obey my awful Law
Los answerd furious art thou one of those who when most complacent
Mean mischief most. If you are such Lo! I am also such
20 One must be master. try thy Arts I also will try mine
For I percieve Thou hast Abundance which I claim as mine
Urizen startled stood but not Long soon he cried
Obey my voice young Demon I am God from Eternity to Eternity
Thus Urizen spoke collected in himself in awful pride
25 Art thou a visionary of Jesus the soft delusion of Eternity
Lo I am God the terrible destroyer & not the Saviour
Why should the Divine Vision compell the sons of Eden
to forego each his own delight to war against his Spectre
The Spectre is the Man the rest is only delusion & fancy
30 So spoke the Prince of Light & sat beside the Seat of Los
Upon the sandy shore rested his chariot of fire
Ten thousand thousand were his hosts of spirits on the wind:
Ten thousand thousand glittering Chariots shining in the sky:
They pour upon the golden shore beside the silent ocean.
35 Rejoicing in the Victory & the heavens were filld with blood
The Earth spread forth her table wide. the Night a silver cup
Fill’d with the wine of anguish waited at the golden feast
But the bright Sun was not as yet; he filling all the expanse
Slept as a bird in the blue shell that soon shall burst away
40 Los saw the wound of his blow he saw he pitied he weptt
Los now repented that he had smitten Enitharmon he felt love
Arise in all his Veins he threw his arms around her loins
To heal the wound of his smiting
They eat the fleshly bread, they drank the nervous wine
They listend to the Elemental Harps & Sphery Song
They view’d the dancing Hours, quick sporting thro’ the sky
With winged radiance scattering joys thro the ever changing light
But Luvah & Vala standing in the bloody sky
5 On high remaind alone forsaken in fierce jealousy
They stood above the heavens forsaken desolate suspended in blood
Descend they could not. nor from Each other avert their eyes
Eternity appeard above them as One Man infolded
In Luvah[s] robes of blood & bearing all his afflictions
10 As the sun shines down on the misty earth Such was the Vision
But purple night and crimson morning & golden day descending
Thro’ the clear changing atmosphere display’d green fields among
The varying clouds, like paradises stretch’d in the expanse
With towns & villages and temples, tents sheep-folds and pastures
15 Where dwell the children of the elemental worlds in harmony,
Not long in harmony they dwell, their life is drawn away
And wintry woes succeed; successive driven into the Void
Where Enion craves: successive drawn into the golden feast
And Los & Enitharmon sat in discontent & scornt
20 The Nuptial Song arose from all the thousand thousand spiritst
Over the joyful Earth & Sea, and ascended into the Heavens
For Elemental Gods their thunderous Organs blew; creating
Delicious Viands. Demons of Waves their watry Eccho’s woke!
Bright Souls of vegetative life, budding and blossoming
Stretch their immortal hands to smite the gold & silver Wires
And with immortal Voice soft warbling fill all Earth & Heaven.
With doubling Voices & loud Horns wound round sounding
Cavernous dwellers fill’d the enormous Revelry, Responsing!
5 And Spirits of Flaming fire on high, govern’d the mighty Song.
And This the Song! sung at The Feast of Los & Enitharmon
Ephraim calld out to Zion: Awake O Brother Mountain
Let us refuse the Plow & Spade, the heavy Roller & spiked
Harrow. burn all these Corn fields. throw down all these fences
10 Fattend on Human blood & drunk with wine of life is better far
Than all these labours of the harvest & the vintage. See the river
Red with the blood of Men. swells lustful round my rocky knees
My clouds are not the clouds of verdant fields & groves of fruit
But Clouds of Human Souls. my nostrils drink the lives of Men
15 The Villages Lament. they faint outstretchd upon the plain
Wailing runs round the Valleys from the Mill & from the Barn
But most the polishd Palaces dark silent bow with dread
Hiding their books & pictures. underneath the dens of Earth
The Cities send to one another saying My sons are Mad
20 With wine of cruelty. Let us plat a Scourge O Sister City
Children are nourishd for the Slaughter; once the Child was fed
With Milk; but wherefore now are Children fed with bloodt
The Horse is of more value than the Man. The Tyger fierce
Laughs at the Human form. the Lion mocks & thirsts for blood
They cry O Spider spread thy web! Enlarge thy bones & fill’d
With marrow. sinews & flesh Exalt thyself attain a voice
5 Call to thy dark armd hosts, for all the sons of Men muster together
To desolate their cities! Man shall be no more! Awake O Hosts
The bow string sang upon the hills! Luvah & Vala ride
Triumphant in the bloody sky. & the Human form is no more
The listning Stars heard, & the first beam of the morning started back
10 He cried out to his Father, depart! depart! but sudden Siez’d
And clad in steel. & his Horse proudly neighd; he smelt the battle
Afar off, Rushing back, reddning with rage the Mighty Father
Siezd his bright Sheephook studded with gems & gold, he Swung it round
His head shrill sounding in the sky, down rushd the Sun with noise
15 Of war, The Mountains fled away they sought a place beneath
Vala remaind in desarts of dark solitude. nor Sun nor Moon
By night nor day to comfort her, she labourd in thick smoke
Tharmas endurd not, he fled howling. then a barren waste sunk>
Conglobing in the dark confusion, Mean time Los was born
20 And Thou O Enitharmon! Hark I hear the hammers of Los
They melt the bones of Vala, & the bones of Luvah into wedges
The innumerable sons & daughters of Luvah closd in furnaces
Melt into furrows. winter blows his bellows: ice & Snow
Tend the dire anvils. Mountains mourn & Rivers faint & fail
5 There is no City nor Corn-field nor Orchard! all is Rock & Sand
There is no Sun nor Moon nor Star. but rugged wintry rocks
Justling together in the void suspended by inward fires
Impatience now no longer can endure. Distracted Luvah
Bursting forth from the loins of Enitharmon, Thou fierce Terror
10 Go howl in vain, Smite Smite his fetters Smite O wintry hammers
Smite Spectre of Urthona, mock the fiend who drew us down
From heavens of joy into this Deep. Now rage but rage in vain
Thus Sang the Demons of the Deep. the Clarions of War blew loud
The Feast redounds & Crownd with roses & the circling vine
15 The Enormous Bride & Bridegroom sat, beside them Urizen
With faded radiance sighd, forgetful of the flowing wine
And of Ahania his Pure Bride but She was distant far
But Los & Enitharmon sat in discontent & scorn
Craving the more the more enjoying, drawing out sweet bliss
20 From all the turning wheels of heaven & the chariots of the Slain
At distance Far in Night repelld. in direful hunger craving
Summers & Winters round revolving in the frightful deep.
Enion blind & age-bent wept upon the desolate wind
Why does the Raven cry aloud and no eye pities her?
Why fall the Sparrow & the Robin in the foodless winter?
Faint! shivering they sit on leafless bush, or frozen stone
5 Wearied with seeking food across the snowy waste; the little
Heart, cold; and the little tongue consum’d, that once in thoughtless joy
Gave songs of gratitude to waving corn fields round their nest.
Why howl the Lion & the Wolf? why do they roam abroad?
Deluded by summers heat they sport in enormous love
10 And cast their young out to the hungry wilds & sandy desarts
Why is the Sheep given to the knife? the Lamb plays in the Sun
He starts! he hears the foot of Man! he says, Take thou my wool
But spare my life, but he knows not that winter cometh fast.
The Spider sits in his labourd Web, eager watching for the Fly
5 Presently comes a famishd Bird & takes away the Spider
His Web is left all desolate, that his little anxious heart
So careful wove; & spread it out with sighs and weariness.
This was the Lamentation of Enion round the golden Feast
Eternity groand and was troubled at the image of Eternal Death
10 Without the body of Man an Exudation from his sickning limbs
Now Man was come to the Palm tree & to the Oak of Weeping
Which stand upon the Edge of Beulah & he sunk down
From the Supporting arms of the Eternal Saviour; who disposd
The pale limbs of his Eternal Individuality
15 Upon The Rock of Ages. Watching over him with Love & Care
Then those in Great Eternity met in the Council of God
As one Man for contracting their Exalted Senses
They behold Multitude or Expanding they behold as one
As One Man all the Universal family & that one Mant
5 They call Jesus the Christ & they in him & he in them
Live in Perfect harmony in Eden the land of life
Consulting as One Man above the Mountain of Snowdon Sublime
For messengers from Beulah come in tears & darkning clouds
Saying Shiloh is in ruins our brother is sick Albion Het
10 Whom thou lovest is sick he wanders from his house of Eternity
The daughters of Beulah terrified have closd the Gate of the Tongue
Luvah & Urizen contend in war around the holy tent
So spoke the Ambassadors from Beulah & with solemn mourningt
They were introducd to the divine presence & they kneeled down
15 In Conways Vale thus recounting the Wars of Death Eternal
The Eternal Man wept in the holy tent Our Brother in Eternity
Even Albion whom thou lovest wept in pain his family
Slept round on hills & valleys in the regions of his love
But Urizen awoke & Luvah woke & thus conferrd
20 Thou Luvah said the Prince of Light behold our sons & daughters
Reposd on beds. let them sleep on. do thou alone depar
Into thy wished Kingdom where in Majesty & Power
We may erect a throne. deep in the North I place my lot
Thou in the South listen attentive. In silent of this night
25 I will infold the Eternal tent in clouds opake while thou
Siezing the chariots of the morning. Go outfleeting ride
Afar into the Zenith high bending thy furious course
Southward with half the tents of men inclosd in clouds>
Will lay my scepter on Jerusalem the Emanation
30 On all her sons & on thy sons O Luvah & on mine
Till dawn was wont to wake them then my trumpet sounding loud
Ravishd away in night my strong command shall be obeyd
For I have placd my centinels in stations each tenth man
Is bought & sold & in dim night my Word shall be their law
Luvah replied Dictate to thy Equals. am not I
The Prince of all the hosts of Men nor Equal know in Heaven
If I arise into the Zenith leaving thee to watch
The Emanation & her Sons the Satan & the Anak
5 Sihon and Og. wilt thou not rebel to my laws remain
In darkness building thy strong throne & in my ancient night
Daring my power wilt arm my sons against me in the Atlantict
My deep My night which thou assuming hast assumed my Crown
10 I will remain as well as thou & here with hands of blood
Smite this dark sleeper in his tent then try my strength with thee
While thus he spoke his fires reddend oer the holy tent
Urizen cast deep darkness round him silent brooding death
Eternal death to Luvah. raging Luvah pourd
The Lances of Urizen from chariots. round the holy tent
15 Discord began & yells & cries shook the wide firmament
Beside his anvil stood Urthona dark. a mass of iron
Glowd furious on the anvil prepard for spades & coulters All
His sons fled from his side to join the conflict pale he heard
The Eternal voice he stood the sweat chilld on his mighty limbs
20 He dropd his hammer. dividing from his aking bosom fled
A portion of his life shrieking upon the wind she fled
And Tharmas took her in pitying Then Enion in jealous fear
Murderd her & hid her in her bosom embalming her for fear
She should arise again to life Embalmd in Enions bosom
25 Enitharmon remains a corse such thing was never known
In Eden that one died a death never to be revivd
Urthona stood in terror but not long his spectre fled
To Enion & his body fell. Tharmas beheld him fall
Endlong a raging serpent rolling round the holy tent
30 The sons of war astonishd at the Glittring monster drove
Him far into the world of Tharmas into a cavernd rock
But Urizen with darkness overspreading all the armies
Sent round his heralds secretly commanding to depart
Into the north Sudden with thunders sound his multitudes
35 Retreat from the fierce conflict all the sons of Urizen at once
Mustring together in thick clouds leaving the rage of Luvah
To pour its fury on himself & on the Eternal Man
Sudden down fell they all together into an unknown Space
Deep horrible without End. Separated from Beulah far beneath
40 The Mans exteriors are become indefinite opend to pain
In a fierce hungring void & none can visit his regions
Jerusalem his Emanation is become a ruint
Her little ones are slain on the top of every streett
And she herself le[d] captive & scatterd into the indefinite
Gird on thy sword O thou most mighty in glory & majesty
5 Destroy these opressors of Jerusalem & those who ruin Shiloh
So spoke the Messengers of Beulah. Silently removing
The Family Divine drew up the Universal tent
Above High Snowdon & closd the Messengers in clouds aroundt
Till the time of the End. Then they Elected Seven. called the Seven
10 Eyes of God & the Seven lamps of the Almighty
The Seven are one within the other the Seventh is named Jesus
The Lamb of God blessed for ever & he followd the Man
Who wanderd in mount Ephraim seeking a Sepulcher
His inward eyes closing from the Divine vision & all
15 His children wandering outside from his bosom fleeing away
The Daughters of Beulah beheld the Emanation they pitiedt
They wept before the Inner gates of Enitharmons bosom
And of her fine wrought brain & of her bowels within her loins
Three gates within Glorious & bright open into Beulah
5 From Enitharmons inward parts but the bright female terror
Refusd to open the bright gates she closd and barrd them fast
Lest Los should enter into Beulah thro her beautiful gates
The Emanation stood before the Gates of Enitharmont
Weeping. the Daughters of Beulah silent in the Porches
10 Spread her a couch unknown to Enitharmon here reposd
Jerusalem in slumbers soft lulld into silent rest
Terrific ragd the Eternal Wheels of intellect terrific ragd
The living creatures of the wheels in the Wars of Eternal life
But perverse rolld the wheels of Urizen & Luvah back reversd
15 Downwards & outwards consuming in the wars of Eternal Death
End of The First Night
THE FOUR.ZOAS. NIGHT THE SECOND.
Rising upon his Couch of Death Albion beheld his Sons
Turning his Eyes outward to Self. losing the Divine Vision
Albion calld Urizen & said. Behold these sickning Spheres
Whence is this Voice of Enion that soundeth in my Porches
5 Take thou possession! take this Scepter! go forth in my might
For I am weary, & must sleep in the dark sleep of Deatht
Thy brother Luvah hath smitten me but pity thou his youth
Tho thou hast not pitid my Age O Urizen Prince of Light
Urizen rose from the bright Feast like a star thro’ the evening sky
10 Exulting at the voice that calld him from the Feast of envy
First he beheld the body of Man pale, cold, the horrors of death
Beneath his feet shot thro’ him as he stood in the Human Brain
And all its golden porches grew pale with his sickening light
No more Exulting for he saw Eternal Death beneath
15 Pale he beheld futurity; pale he beheld the Abyss
Where Enion blind & age bent wept in direful hunger craving
All rav’ning like the hungry worm, & like the silent grave
Mighty was the draught of Voidness to draw Existence in
Terrific Urizen strode above, in fear & pale dismay
He saw the indefinite space beneath & his soul shrunk with horror
His feet upon the verge of Non Existence; his voice went forth
5 Luvah & Vala trembling & shrinking, beheld the great Work master
And heard his Word! Divide ye bands influence by influence
Build we a Bower for heavens darling in the grizly deep
Build we the Mundane Shell around the Rock of Albion
The Bands of Heaven flew thro the air singing & shouting to Urizen
10 Some fix’d the anvil, some the loom erected, some the plow
And harrow formd & framd the harness of silver & ivory
The golden compasses, the quadrant & the rule & balance
They erected the furnaces, they formd the anvils of gold beaten in mills
Where winter beats incessant, fixing them firm on their base
15 The bellows began to blow & the Lions of Urizen stood round the anvil
And the leopards coverd with skins of beasts tended the roaring fires
Sublime distinct their lineaments divine of human beautyt
The tygers of wrath called the horses of instruction from their mangers
They unloos’d them & put on the harness of gold & silver & ivory
5 In human forms distinct they stood round Urizen prince of Light
Petrifying all the Human Imagination into rock & sand
Groans ran along Tyburns brook and along the River of Oxford
Among the Druid Temples. Albion groand on Tyburns brook
Albion gave his loud death groan The Atlantic Mountains trembled
10 Aloft the Moon fled with a cry the Sun with streams of blood
From Albions Loins fled all Peoples and Nations of the Earth
Fled with the noise of Slaughter & the stars of heaven Fled
Jerusalem came down in a dire ruin over all the Earth
She fell cold from Lambeths Vales in groans & Dewy death
15 The dew of anxious souls the death-sweat of the dying
In every pillard hall & arched roof of Albions skies
The brother & the brother bathe in blood upon the Severn
The Maiden weeping by. The father & the mother with
The Maidens father & her mother fainting over the body
20 And the Young Man the Murderer fleeing over the mountains
Reuben slept on Penmaenmawr & Levi slept on Snowdon
Their eyes their ears nostrils & tongues roll outward they behold
What is within now seen without they are raw to the hungry wind
They become Nations far remote in a little & dark Land
25 The Daughters of Albion girded around their garments of Needlework
Stripping Jerusalems curtains from mild demons of the hills
Across Europe & Asia to China & Japan like lightenings
They go forth & return to Albion on his rocky couch
Gwendolen Ragan Sabrina Gonorill Mehetabel Cordella
Boadicea Conwenna Estrild Gwinefrid Ignoge Cambel 30
Binding Jerusalems Children in the dungeons of Babylon
They play before the Armies before the hounds of Nimrod
While The Prince of Light on Salisbury plain among the druid stone
Rattling the adamantine chains & hooks heave up the ore
35 In mountainous masses, plung’d in furnaces, & they shut & seald
The furnaces a time & times; all the while blew the North
His cloudy bellows & the South & East & dismal West
And all the while the plow of iron cut the dreadful furrows
In Ulro beneath Beulah where the Dead wail Night & Day
40 Luvah was cast into the Furnaces of affliction & sealed
And Vala fed in cruel delight, the furnaces with fire
Stern Urizen beheld urg’d by necessity to keep
The evil day afar, & if perchance with iron power
He might avert his own despair; in woe & fear he saw
Vala incircle round the furnaces where Luvah was clos’d
In joy she heard his howlings, & forgot he was her Luvah
With whom she walkd in bliss, in times of innocence & youth
Hear ye the voice of Luvah from the furnaces of Urizen
5 If I indeed am Valas King & ye O sons of Ment 5
The workmanship of Luvahs hands; in times of Everlasting
When I calld forth the Earth-worm from the cold & dark obscure
I nurturd her I fed her with my rains & dews, she grew
A scaled Serpent, yet I fed her tho’ she hated me
10 Day after day she fed upon the mountains in Luvahs sight
I brought her thro’ the Wilderness, a dry & thirsty land
And I commanded springs to rise for her in the black desart
Till she became a Dragon winged bright & poisonoust
I opend all the floodgates of the heavens to quench her thirst
And I commanded the Great deep to hide her in his hand
Till she became a little weeping Infant a span long
I carried her in my bosom as a man carries a lamb
I loved her I gave her all my soul & my delight
5 I hid her in soft gardens & in secret bowers of Summer
Weaving mazes of delight along the sunny Paradise
Inextricable labyrinths, She bore me sons & daughters
And they have taken her away & hid her from my sight
They have surrounded me with walls of iron & brass, O Lambt
10 Of God clothed in Luvahs garments little knowest thout
Of death Eternal that we all go to Eternal Death
To our Primeval Chaos in fortuitous concourse of incoherent
Discordant principles of Love & Hate I suffer affliction
Because I love. for I was love but hatred awakes in met
15 And Urizen who was Faith & Certainty is changd to Doubt
The hand of Urizen is upon me because I blotted out
That Human delusion to deliver all the sons of Godt
From bondage of the Human form, O first born Son of Light
O Urizen my enemy I weep for thy stern ambition
20 But weep in vain O when will you return Vala the Wanderer
These were the words of Luvah patient in afflictions
Reasoning from the loins in the unreal forms of Ulros night
And when Luvah age after age was quite melted with woe
The fires of Vala faded like a shadow cold & pale
5 An evanescent shadow. last she fell a heap of Ashes
Beneath the furnaces a woful heap in living death
Then were the furnaces unscald with spades & pickaxes
Roaring let out the fluid, the molten metal ran in channels
Cut by the plow of ages held in Urizens strong hand
10 In many a valley, for the Bulls of Luvah dragd the Plow
With trembling horror pale aghast the Children of Mant
Stood on the infinite Earth & saw these visions in the air
In waters & in Earth beneath they cried to one another
What are we terrors to one another. Come O brethren wherefore
15 Was this wide Earth spread all abroad. not for wild beasts to roam
But many stood silent & busied in their families
And many said We see no Visions in the darksom air
Measure the course of that sulphur orb that lights the darksom day
Set stations on this breeding Earth & let us buy & sell
20 Others arose & schools Erected forming Instruments
To measure out the course of heaven. Stern Urizen beheld
In woe his brethren & his Sons in darkning woe lamenting
Upon the winds in clouds involvd Uttering his voice in thunders
Commanding all the work with care & power & severity
25 Then siezd the Lions of Urizen their work, & heated in the forge
Roar the bright masses, thund’ring beat the hammers, many a pyramid
Is form’d & thrown down thund’ring into the deeps of Non Entity
Heated red hot they hizzing rend their way down many a league
Till resting. each his [center] finds; suspended there they stand
30 Casting their sparkles dire abroad into the dismal deep
For measurd out in orderd spaces the Sons of Urizen
With compasses divide the deep; they the strong scales erect
That Luvah rent from the faint Heart of the Fallen Man
And weigh the massy Cubes, then fix them in their awful stationst
And all the time in Caverns shut, the golden Looms erected
First spun, then wove the Atmospheres, there the Spider & Worm
5 Plied the wingd shuttle piping shrill thro’ all the list’ning threads
Beneath the Caverns roll the weights of lead & spindles of iron
The enormous warp & woof rage direful in the affrighted deep
While far into the vast unknown, the strong wing’d Eagles bend
Their venturous flight, in Human forms distinct; thro darkness deep
10 They bear the woven draperies; on golden hooks they hang abroad 10
The universal curtains & spread out from Sun to Sun
The vehicles of light, they separate the furious particles
Into mild currents as the water mingles with the wine.
While thus the Spirits of strongest wing enlighten the dark deep
15 The threads are spun & the cords twisted & drawn out; then the weak
Begin their work; & many a net is netted; many a net
Spread & many a Spirit caught, innumerable the nets
Innumerable the gins & traps; & many a soothing flute
Is form’d & many a corded lyre, outspread over the immense
In cruel delight they trap the listeners, & in cruel delight
5 Bind them, condensing the strong energies into little compass
Some became seed of every plant that shall be planted; some
The bulbous roots, thrown up together into barns & garners
Then rose the Builders; First the Architect divine his plan
Unfolds, The wondrous scaffold reard all round the infinite
10 Quadrangular the building rose the heavens squared by a line.
Trigon & cubes divide the elements in finite bonds
Multitudes without number work incessant: the hewn stone
Is placd in beds of mortar mingled with the ashes of Vala
Severe the labour, female slaves the mortar trod oppressed
15 Twelve halls after the names of his twelve sons composd
The wondrous building & three Central Domes after the Names
Of his three daughters were encompassd by the twelve bright halls
Every hall surrounded by bright Paradises of Delight
In which are towns & Cities Nations Seas Mountains & Riverst
20 Each Dome opend toward four halls & the Three Domes Encompassd
The Golden Hall of Urizen whose western side glowd bright
With ever streaming fires beaming from his awful limbs
His Shadowy Feminine Semblance here reposd on a White Couch
Or hoverd oer his Starry head & when he smild she brightend
25 Like a bright Cloud in harvest. but when Urizen frownd She wept
In mists over his carved throne & when he turnd his back
Upon his Golden hall & sought the Labyrinthine porches
Of his wide heaven Trembling, cold in paling fears she sat
A Shadow of Despair therefore toward the West Urizen formd
30 A recess in the wall for fires to glow upon the pale
Females limbs in his absence & her Daughters oft upon
A Golden Altar burnt perfumes with Art Celestial formd
Foursquare sculpturd & sweetly Engravd to please their shadowy mothert
As[c]ending into her misty garments the blue smoke rolld to revive
35 Her cold limbs in the absence of her Lord. Also her sons
With lives of Victims sacrificed upon an altar of brass
On the East side. Revivd her Soul with lives of beasts & birds
Slain on the Altar up ascending into her cloudy bosom
Of terrible workmanship the Altar labour of ten thousand Slaves
40 One thousand Men of wondrous power spent their lives in its formation
It stood on twelve steps namd after the names of her twelve sons
And was Erected at the chief entrance of Urizens hall
When Urizen returnd from his immense labours & travels
Descending She reposd beside him folding him around
45 In her bright skirts. Astonishd & Confounded he beheld
Her shadowy form now Separate he shudderd & was silent
Till her caresses & her tears revivd him to life & joy
Two wills they had two intellects & not as in times of old
This Urizen percievd & silent brooded in darkning Clouds
50 To him his Labour was but Sorrow & his Kingdom was Repentance
He drave the Male Spirits all away from Ahania
And she drave all the Females from him away
Los joyd & Enitharmon laughd, saying Let us go down
And see this labour & sorrow; They went down to see the woes
55 Of Vala & the woes of Luvah, to draw in their delights
And Vala like a shadow oft appeard to Urizen
The King of Light beheld her mourning among the Brick kilns compelld
To labour night & day among the fires, her lamenting voice
Is heard when silent night returns & the labourers take their rest
O Lord wilt thou not look upon our sore afflictions
5 Among these flames incessant labouring, our hard masters laugh
At all our sorrow. We are made to turn the wheel for water
To carry the heavy basket on our scorched shoulders, to sift
The sand & ashes, & to mix the clay with tears & repentance
I see not Luvah as of old I only see his feet
10 Like pillars of fire travelling thro darkness & non entity
The times are now returnd upon us, we have given ourselves
To scorn and now are scorned by the slaves of our enemies
Our beauty is coverd over with clay & ashes, & our backs
Furrowd with whips, & our flesh bruised with the heavy basket
15 Forgive us O thou piteous one whom we have offended, forgive
The weak remaining shadow of Vala that returns in sorrow to thee.
Thus she lamented day & night, compelld to labour & sorrow
Luvah in vain her lamentations heard; in vain his love
Brought him in various forms before her still she knew him not
Still she despisd him, calling on his name & knowing him not
Still hating still professing love, still labouring in the smoke
And Los & Enitharmon joyd, they drank in tenfold joy
From all the sorrow of Luvah & the labour of Urizen
5 And Enitharmon joyd Plotting to rend the secret cloud
To plant divisions in the Soul of Urizen & Ahania
But infinitely beautiful the wondrous work arose
In sorrow & care. a Golden World whose porches round the heavens
And pillard halls & rooms recievd the eternal wandering stars
10 A wondrous golden Building; many a window many a door
And many a division let in & out into the vast unknown
[Cubed] in [window square] immoveable, within its walls & cielings
The heavens were closd and spirits mournd their bondage night and day
And the Divine Vision appeard in Luvahs robes of blood
15 Thus was the Mundane shell builded by Urizens strong power
Sorrowing went the Planters forth to plant, the Sowers to sow
They dug the channels for the rivers & they pourd abroad
The seas & lakes, they reard the mountains & the rocks & hills
On broad pavilions, on pillard roofs & porches & high towers
In beauteous order, thence arose soft clouds & exhalations
Wandering even to the sunny Cubes of light & heat
5 For many a window ornamented with sweet ornaments
Lookd out into the World of Tharmas, where in ceaseless torrents
His billows roll where monsters wander in the foamy paths
On clouds the Sons of Urizen beheld Heaven walled round
They weighd & orderd all & Urizen comforted saw
10 The wondrous work flow forth like visible out of the invisible
For the Divine Lamb Even Jesus who is the Divine Vision
Permitted all lest Man should fall into Eternal Death
For when Luvah sunk down himself put on the robes of blood
Lest the state calld Luvah should cease. & the Divine Vision
15 Walked in robes of blood till he who slept should awake
Thus were the stars of heaven created like a golden chain
To bind the Body of Man to heaven from failing into the Abyss
Each took his station, & his course began with sorrow & caret
In sevens & tens & fifties, hundreds, thousands, numberd all
20 According to their various powers. Subordinate to Urizen
And to his sons in their degrees & to his beauteous daughters
Travelling in silent majesty along their orderd ways
In right lined paths outmeasurd by proportions of number weight
And measure. mathematic motion wondrous. along the deep
25 In fiery pyramid. or Cube. or unornamented pillar
Of fire far shining. travelling along even to its destind end
Then falling down. a terrible space recovring in winter dire
Its wasted strength. it back returns upon a nether course
Till fired with ardour fresh recruited in its humble season
30 It rises up on high all summer till its wearied course
Turns into autumn. such the period of many worlds
Others triangular right angled course maintain. others obtuse
Acute Scalene, in simple paths. but others move
In intricate ways biquadrate. Trapeziums Rhombs Rhomboids
35 Paralellograms. triple & quadruple. polygonic
In their amazing hard subdued course in the vast deep
And Los & Enitharmon were drawn down by their desires
Descending sweet upon the wind among soft harps & voicest
To plant divisions in the Soul of Urizen & Ahania
To conduct the Voice of Enion to Ahanias midnight pillow
5 Urizen saw & envied & his imagination was filled
Repining he contemplated the past in his bright sphere
Terrified with his heart & spirit at the visions of futurity
That his dread fancy formd before him in the unformd void
For Los & Enitharmon walkd forth on the dewy Earth
10 Contracting or expanding their all flexible senses
At will to murmur in the flowers small as the honey bee
At will to stretch across the heavens & step from star to star
Or standing on the Earth erect, or on the stormy waves
Driving the storms before them or delighting in sunny beams
15 While round their heads the Elemental Gods kept harmony
And Los said. Lo the Lilly pale & the rose reddning fierce
Reproach thee & the beamy gardens sicken at thy beauty
I grasp thy vest in my strong hand in vain. like water springs
In the bright sands of Los. evading my embrace. then I alone
20 Wander among the virgins of the summer Look they cry
The poor forsaken Los mockd by the worm the shelly snail
The Emmet & the beetle hark they laugh & mock at Los
Enitharmon answerd Secure now from the smitings of thy Power
Demon of fury If the God enrapturd me infolds
25 In clouds of sweet obscurity my beauteous form dissolving
Howl thou over the body of death tis thine But if among the virginst
Of summer I have seen thee sleep & turn thy cheek delighted
Upon the rose or lilly pale. or on a bank where sleep
The beamy daughters of the light starting they rise they flee
30 From thy fierce love for tho I am dissolvd in the bright God
My spirit still pursues thy false love over rocks & valleys
Los answerd Therefore fade I thus dissolvd in rapturd trance
Thou canst repose on clouds of secrecy while oer my limbs
Cold dews & hoary frost creeps thro I lie on banks of summer
35 Among the beauties of the World Cold & repining Los 35
Still dies for Enitharmon nor a spirit springs from my dead corse
Then I am dead till thou revivest me with thy sweet song
Now taking on Ahanias form & now the form of Enion
I know thee not as once I knew thee in those blessed fields
40 Where memory wishes to repose among the flocks of Tharmas
Enitharmon answerd Wherefore didst thou throw thine arms around
Ahanias Image I decievd thee & will still decieve
Urizen saw thy sin & hid his beams in darkning Clouds
I still keep watch altho I tremble & wither across the heavens
45 In strong vibrations of fierce jealousy for thou art mine
Created for my will my slave tho strong tho I am weak
Farewell the God calls me away I depart in my sweet bliss
She fled vanishing on the wind And left a dead cold corse
In Los’s arms howlings began over the body of death
50 Los spoke. Thy God in vain shall call thee if by my strong power
I can infuse my dear revenge into his glowing breast
Then jealousy shall shadow all his mountains & Ahania
Curse thee thou plague of woful Los & seek revenge on thee
So saying in deep sobs he languishd till dead he also fell
55 Night passd & Enitharmon eer the dawn returnd in bliss
She sang Oer Los reviving him to Life his groans were terrible
But thus she sang. I sieze the sphery harp I strike the strings
At the first Sound the Golden sun arises from the Deep
And shakes his awful hair
60 The Eccho wakes the moon to unbind her silver locks
The golden sun bears on my song
And nine bright spheres of harmony rise round the fiery King
The joy of woman is the Death of her most best beloved
Who dies for Love of her
65 In torments of fierce jealousy & pangs of adoration.
The Lovers night bears on my song
And the nine Spheres rejoice beneath my powerful controll
They sing unceasing to the notes of my immortal hand
The solemn silent moon
70 Reverberates the living harmony upon my limbs
The birds & beasts rejoice & play
And every one seeks for his mate to prove his inmost joy
Furious & terrible they sport & rend the nether deeps
The deep lifts up his rugged head
75 And lost in infinite hum[m]ing wings vanishes with a cry
The fading cry is ever dying
The living voice is ever living in its inmost joy
Arise you little glancing wings & sing your infant joy
Arise & drink your bliss
80 For every thing that lives is holy for the source of life
Descends to be a weeping babe
For the Earthworm renews the moisture of the sandy plain
Now my left hand I stretch to earth beneath
And strike the terrible string
85 I wake sweet joy in dens of sorrow & I plant a smile
In forests of affliction
And wake the bubbling springs of life in regions of dark death
O I am weary lay thine hand upon me or I faint
I faint beneath these beams of thine
90 For thou hast touchd my five senses & they answerd thee
Now I am nothing & I sink
And on the bed of silence sleep till thou awakest me
Thus sang the Lovely one in Rapturous delusive trance
Los heard reviving he siezd her in his arms delusive hopes
95 Kindling She led him into Shadows & thence fled outstretchd
Upon the immense like a bright rainbow weeping & smiling & fading
Thus livd Los driving Enion far into the deathful infinite
That he may also draw Ahania’s spirit into her Vortex
Ah happy blindness Enion sees not the terrors of the uncertaint
100 Thus Enion wails from the dark deep, the golden heavens tremble
I am made to sow the thistle for wheat; the nettle for a nourishing dainty
I have planted a false oath in the earth, it has brought forth a poison tree
I have chosen the serpent for a councellor & the dog
For a schoolmaster to my children
5 I have blotted out from light & living the dove & nightingale
And I have caused the earth worm to beg from door to door
I have taught the thief a secret path into the house of the just
I have taught pale artifice to spread his nets upon the morning
My heavens are brass my earth is iron my moon a clod of clay
10 My sun a pestilence burning at noon & a vapour of death in night
What is the price of Experience do men buy it for a song
Or wisdom for a dance in the street? No it is bought with the price
Of all that a man hath his house his wife his children
Wisdom is sold in the desolate market where none come to buy
15 And in the witherd field where the farmer plows for bread in vain
It is an easy thing to triumph in the summers sun
And in the vintage & to sing on the waggon loaded with corn
It is an easy thing to talk of patience to the afflicted
To speak the laws of prudence to the houseless wanderer
To listen to the hungry ravens cry in wintry season
When the red blood is filld with wine & with the marrow of lambs
It is an easy thing to laugh at wrathful elements
To hear the dog howl at the wintry door, the ox in the slaughter house moan
5 To see a god on every wind & a blessing on every blast
To hear sounds of love in the thunder storm that destroys our enemies house
To rejoice in the blight that covers his field, & the sickness that cuts off his children
While our olive & vine sing & laugh round our door & our children bring fruits & flowers
Then the groan & the dolor are quite forgotten & the slave grinding at the mill
10 And the captive in chains & the poor in the prison, & the soldier in the field
When the shatterd bone hath laid him groaning among the happier dead
It is an easy thing to rejoice in the tents of prosperity
Thus could I sing & thus rejoice, but it is not so with me!
Ahania heard the Lamentation & a swift Vibration
15 Spread thro her Golden frame. She rose up eer the dawn of day
When Urizen slept on his couch. drawn thro unbounded space
Onto the margin of Non Entity the bright Female came
There she beheld the Spectrous form of Enion in the Void
And never from that moment could she rest upon her pillow
End of the Second Night
THE FOUR ZOAS. NIGHT THE THIRD.
Now sat the King of Light on high upon his starry throne
And bright Ahania bow’d herself before his splendid feet
O Urizen look on Me. like a mournful stream
I Embrace round thy knees & wet My bright hair with my tears:
5 Why sighs my Lord! are not the morning stars thy obedient Sons
Do they not bow their bright heads at thy voice? at thy command
Do they not fly into their stations & return their light to thee
The immortal Atmospheres are thine, there thou art seen in glory
Surrounded by the ever changing Daughters of the Light
10 Why wilt thou look upon futurity darkning present joy
She ceas’d the Prince his light obscurd & the splendors of his crown
Infolded in thick clouds, from whence his mighty voice burst forth
O bright [Ahania] a Boy is born of the dark Ocean
Whom Urizen doth serve, with Light replenishing his darkness
I am set here a King of trouble commanded here to serve
5 And do my ministry to those who eat of my wide table
All this is mine yet I must serve & that Prophetic boy
Must grow up to command his Prince but hear my determind Decree
Vala shall become a Worm in Enitharmons Wombt
Laying her seed upon the fibres soon to issue forth
10 And Luvah in the loins of Los a dark & furious death
Alas for me! what will become of me at that dread time?
Ahania bow’d her head & wept seven days before the King
And on the eighth day when his clouds unfolded from his throne
She rais’d her bright head sweet perfumd & thus with heavenly voice
25 O Prince the Eternal One hath set thee leader of his hosts
Leave all futurity to him Resume thy fields of Lightt
Why didst thou listen to the voice of Luvah that dread morn
To give the immortal steeds of light to his deceitful hands
No longer now obedient to thy will thou art compell’d
5 To forge the curbs of iron & brass to build the iron mangers 5
To feed them with intoxication from the wine presses of Luvah
Till the Divine Vision & Fruition is quite obliterated
They call thy lions to the fields of blood, they rowze thy tygers
Out of the halls of justice, till these dens thy wisdom framd
10 Golden & beautiful but O how unlike those sweet fields of bliss
Where liberty was justice & eternal science was mercy
Then O my dear lord listen to Ahania, listen to the vision
The vision of Ahania in the slumbers of Urizen
When Urizen slept in the porch & the Ancient Man was smittent
15 The Darkning Man walkd on the steps of fire before his halls
And Vala walkd with him in dreams of soft deluding slumber
He looked up & saw thee Prince of Light thy splendor faded
But saw not Los nor Enitharmon for Luvah hid them in shadow
In a soft cloud Outstretch’d across, & Luvah dwelt in the cloud
Then Man ascended mourning into the splendors of his palace
Above him rose a Shadow from his wearied intellect
Of living gold, pure, perfect, holy; in white linen pure he hover’d
5 A sweet entrancing self delusion, a watry vision of Man
Soft exulting in existence all the Man absorbing
Man fell upon his face prostrate before the watry shadow
Saying O Lord whence is this change thou knowest I am nothing
And Vala trembled & coverd her face, & her locks. were spread on the pavement
10 I heard astonishd at the Vision & my heart trembled within me
I heard the voice of the Slumberous Man & thus he spoke
Idolatrous to his own Shadow words of Eternity uttering
O I am nothing when I enter into judgment with thee
If thou withdraw thy breath I die & vanish into Hades
15 If thou dost lay thine hand upon me behold I am silent
If thou withhold thine hand I perish like a fallen leaf
O I am nothing & to nothing must return again
If thou withdraw thy breath, behold I am oblivion
He ceasd: the shadowy voice was silent; but the cloud hoverd over their heads
In golden wreathes, the sorrow of Man & the balmy drops fell down
And Lo that Son of Man, that shadowy Spirit of the Fallen One
Luvah, descended from the cloud; In terror Albion rose-
Indignant rose the Awful Man & turnd his back on Vala
5 Why roll thy clouds in sick’ning mists. I can no longer hide 5
The dismal vision of mine Eyes, O love & life & light!
Prophetic dreads urge me to speak. futurity is before me
Like a dark lamp. Eternal death haunts all my expectation
Rent from Eternal Brotherhood we die & are no more
10 I heard the Voice of Albion starting from his sleep
“Whence is this voice crying Enion that soundeth in my ears
O cruel pity! O dark deceit! can Love seek for dominion
And Luvah strove to gain dominion over the mighty Albion
They strove together above the Body where Vala was inclos’d
15 And the dark Body of Albion left prostrate upon the crystal pavement
Coverd with boils from head to foot. the terrible smitings of Luvah
Then frownd the Fallen Man & put forth Luvah from his presence
(I heard him: frown not Urizen: but listen to my Vision)
Saying, Go & die the Death of Man for Vala the sweet wanderer
I will turn the volutions of your Ears outward; & bend your Nostrils
Downward; & your fluxile Eyes englob’d, roll round in fear
Your withring Lips & Tongue shrink up into a narrow circle
5 Till into narrow forms you creep. Go take your fiery way
And learn what ‘tis to absorb the Man you Spirits of Pity & Love
O Urizen why art thou pale at the visions of Ahania
Listen to her who loves thee lest we also are driven away.
They heard the Voice & fled swift as the winters setting sun
10 And now the Human Blood foamd high, I saw that Luvah & Vala
Went down the Human Heart where Paradise & its joys abounded
In jealous fears in fury & rage, & flames roll’d round their fervid feet
And the vast form of Nature like a Serpent play’d before them
And as they went in folding fires & thunders of the deep
15 Vala shrunk in like the dark sea that leaves its slimy banks
And from her bosom Luvah fell far as the east & west
And the vast form of Nature like a Serpent roll’d between.
She ended. for [from] his wrathful throne burst forth the black hail storm
Am I not God said Urizen. Who is Equal to me
Do I not stretch the heavens abroad or fold them up like a garment 20
He spoke mustering his heavy clouds around him black opake
Then thunders rolld around & lightnings darted to & fro
His visage changd to darkness & his strong right hand came forth
To cast Ahania to the Earth be siezd her by the hair
And threw her from the steps of ice that froze around his throne
5 Saying Art thou also become like Vala. thus I cast thee out
Shall the feminine indolent bliss. the indulgent self of weariness
The passive idle sleep the enormous night & darkness of Death
Set herself up to give her laws to the active masculine virtue
Thou little diminutive portion that darst be a counterpart
10 Thy passivity thy laws of obedience & insincerity
Are my abhorrence. Wherefore hast thou taken that fair form
Whence is this power given to thee! once thou wast in my breast
A sluggish current of dim waters. on whose verdant margin
A cavern shaggd with horrid shades. dark cool & deadly. where
15 I laid my head in the hot noon after the broken clods
Had wearied me. there I laid my plow & there my horses fed
And thou hast risen with thy moist locks into a watry image
Reflecting all my indolence my weakness & my death
To weigh me down beneath the grave into non Entity
20 Where Luvah strives scorned by Vala age after age wandering
Shrinking & shrinking from her Lord & calling him the Tempter
And art thou also become like Vala thus I cast thee out.
So loud in thunders spoke the King folded in dark despair
And threw Ahania from his bosom obdurate She fell like lightning
25 Then fled the sons of Urizen from his thunderous throne petrific
They fled to East & West & left the North & South of Heaven
A crash ran thro the immense The bounds of Destiny were broken
The bounds of Destiny crashd direful & the swelling Sea
Burst from its bonds in whirlpools fierce roaring with Human voice
30 Triumphing even to the Stars at bright Ahanias fall
Down from the dismal North the Prince in thunders & thick clouds
As when the thunderbolt down falleth on the appointed place
Fell down down rushing ruining thundering shuddering
Into the Caverns of the Grave & places of Human Seed
Where the impressions of Despair & Hope enroot forever
5 A world of Darkness. Ahania fell far into Non Entity 5
She Continued falling. Loud the Crash continud loud & Hoarse
From the Crash roared a flame of blue sulphureous fire from the flame
A dolorous groan that struck with dumbness all confusion
Swallowing up the horrible din in agony on agony
10 Thro the Confusion like a crack across from immense to immense
Loud strong a universal groan of death louder
Than all the wracking elements deafend & rended worse
Than Urizen & all his hosts in curst despair down rushing
But from the Dolorous Groan one like a shadow of smoke appeard
15 And human bones rattling together in the smoke & stamping
The nether Abyss & gnasshing in fierce despair. panting in sobs
Thick short incessant bursting sobbing. deep despairing stamping struggling
Struggling to utter the voice of Man struggling to take the features of Man. Struggling
To take the limbs of Man at length emerging from the smoke
20 Of Urizen dashed in pieces from his precipitant fall
Tharms reard up his hands & stood on the affrighted Ocean
The dead reard up his Voice & stood on the resounding shore
Crying. Fury in my limbs. destruction in my bones & marrow
My skull riven into filaments. my eyes into sea jellies
25 Floating upon the tide wander bubbling & bubbling
Uttering my lamentations & begetting little monsters
Who sit mocking upon the little pebbles of the tide
In all my rivers & on dried shells that the fish
Have quite forsaken. O fool fool to lose my sweetest bliss
Where art thou Enion ah too near to cunning too far off
And yet too near. Dashd down I send thee into distant darkness
Far as my strength can hurl thee wander there & laugh & play
5 Among the frozen arrows they will tear thy tender flesh
Fall off afar from Tharmas come not too near my strong fury
Scream & fall off & laugh at Tharmas lovely summer beauty
Till winter rends thee into Shivers as thou hast rended me
So Tharmas bellowd oer the ocean thundring sobbing bursting
10 The bounds of Destiny were broken & hatred now began
Instead of love to Enion. Enion blind & age bent
Plungd into the cold billows living a life in midst of waters
In terrors she witherd away to Entuthon Benithon
A world of deep darkness where all things in horrors are rooted
15 These are the words of Enion heard from the cold waves of despair
O Tharmas I had lost thee. & when I hoped I had found thee
O Tharmas do not thou destroy me quite but let
A little shadow. but a little showery form of Enion
Be near thee loved Terror. let me still remain & then do thou
20 Thy righteous doom upon me. only let me hear thy voice
Driven by thy rage I wander like a cloud into the deep
Where never yet Existence came, there losing all my life
I back return weaker & weaker, consume me not away
In thy great wrath. tho I have sinned. tho I have rebelld
25 Make me not like the things forgotten as they had not been
Make not the thing that loveth thee. a tear wiped away
Tharmas replied riding on storms his voice of Thunder rolld
Image of grief thy fading lineaments make my eyelids fail
What have I done! both rage & mercy are alike to me
30 Looking upon thee Image of faint waters. I recoil
From my fierce rage into thy semblance. Enion return
Why does thy piteous face Evanish like a rainy cloud
Melting. a shower of falling tears. nothing but tears! Enion:
Substanceless. voiceless, weeping. vanishd. nothing but tears! Enion
Art thou for ever vanishd from the watry eyes of Tharmas
Rage Rage shall never from my bosom. winds & waters of woe
5 Consuming all to the end consuming Love and Hope are ended
For now no more remaind of Enion in the dismal air
Only a voice eternal wailing in the Elements
Where Enion, blind & age bent wanderd Ahania wanders now
She wanders in Eternal fear of falling into the indefinite
10 For her bright eyes behold the Abyss. sometimes a little sleep
Weighs down her eyelids then she falls then starting wakes in fears
Sleepless to wander round repelld on the margin of Non Entity
End of the Third Night
THE FOUR ZOAS. NIGHT THE FOURTH.
But Tharmas rode on the dark Abyss. the voice of Tharmas rolld
Over the heaving deluge. he saw Los & Enitharmon Emerge
In strength & brightness from the Abyss his bowels yearnd over them
They rose in strength above the heaving deluge. in mighty scorn
5 Red as the Sun in the hot morning of the bloody day
Tharmas beheld them his bowels yearnd over them
And he said Wherefore do I feel such love & pity
Ah Enion Ah Enion Ah lovely lovely Enion
How is this All my hope is gone for ever fled
10 Like a famishd Eagle Eyeless raging in the vast expanse
Incessant tears are now my food. incessant rage & tears
Deathless for ever now I wander seeking oblivion
In torrents of despair in vain. for if I plunge beneath
Stifling I live. If dashd in pieces from a rocky height
15 I reunite in endless torment. would I had never risen
From deaths cold sleep beneath the bottom of the raging Ocean
And cannot those who once have lovd. ever forget their Love?
Are love & rage the same passion? they are the same in me
Are those who love. like those who died. risen again from death
20 Immortal. in immortal torment. never to be deliverd
Is it not possible that one risen again from Death
Can die! When dark despair comes over [me] can I not
Flow down into the sea & slumber in oblivion. Ah Enion
Deformd I see these lineaments of ungratified Desire
The all powerful curse of an honest man be upon Urizen & Luvah
But thou My Son Glorious in brightness comforter of Tharmas
Go forth Rebuild this Universe beneath my indignant power
5 A Universe of Death & Decay. Let Enitharmons hands
Weave soft delusive forms of Man above my watry world
Renew these ruind souls of Men thro Earth Sea Air & Fire
To waste in endless corruption. renew thou I will destroy
Perhaps Enion may resume some little semblance
10 To ease my pangs of heart & to restore some peace to Tharmas
Los answerd in his furious pride sparks issuing from his hair
Hitherto shalt thou come. no further. here thy proud waves cease
We have drunk up the Eternal Man by our unbounded power
Beware lest we also drink up thee rough demon of the waters
15 Our God is Urizen the King. King of the Heavenly hosts
We have no other God but he thou father of worms & clay
And he is falln into the Deep rough Demon of the waters
And Los remains God over all, weak father of worms & clay
I know I was Urthona keeper of the gates of heaven
20 But now I am all powerful Los & Urthona is but my shadow
Doubting stood Tharmas in the solemn darkness. his dim Eyest
Swam in red tears. he reard his waves above the head of Los
In wrath. but pitying back withdrew with many a sigh
Now he resolvd to destroy Los & now his tears flowd down
25 In scorn stood Los red sparks of blighting from his furious head
Flew over the waves of Tharmas. pitying Tharmas stayd his Waves
For Enitharmon shriekd amain crying O my sweet world
Built by the Architect divine whose love to Los & Enitharmon
Thou rash abhorred Demon in thy fury hast oerthrown
What Sovereign Architect said Tharmas dare my will controll
For if I will I urge these waters. If I will they sleep
In peace beneath my awful frown my will shall be my Law
So Saying in a Wave he rap’d bright Enitharmon far
5 Apart from Los. but coverd her with softest brooding care
On a broad wave in the warm west. balming her bleeding wound
O how Los howld at the rending asunder all the fibres rent
Where Enitharmon joind to his left side in griding pain
He falling on the rocks bellowd his Dolor. till the blood
10 Stanch’d, then in ululation waild his woes upon the wind
And Tharmas calld to the Dark Spectre who upon the Shores
With dislocated Limbs had falln. The Spectre rose in pain
A Shadow blue obscure & dismal. like a statue of lead
Bent by its fall from a high tower the dolorous shadow rose
15 Go forth said Tharmas works of joy are thine obey & live
So shall the spungy marrow issuing from thy splinterd bones
Bonify. & thou shalt have rest when this thy labour is done
Go forth bear Enitharmon back to the Eternal Prophet
Build her a bower in the midst of all my dashing waves
20 Make first a resting place for Los & Enitharmon. then
Thou shalt have rest. If thou refusest dashd abroad on all
My waves. thy limbs shall separate in stench & rotting & thou
Become a prey to all my demons of despair & hope
The Spectre of Urthona seeing Enitharmon writhdt
25 His cloudy form in jealous fear & muttering thunders hoarse
And casting round thick glooms. thus utterd his fierce pangs of heart
Tharmas I know thee. how are we alterd our beauty decayd
But still I know thee tho in this horrible ruin whelmd
Thou once the mildest son of heaven art now become a Rage
30 A terror to all living things. think not that I am ignorant
That thou art risen from the dead or that my power forgot
I slumber here in weak repose. I well remember the Day
The day of terror & abhorrencet
When fleeing from the battle thou fleeting like the raven
Of dawn outstretching an expanse where neer expanse had been
5 Drewst all the Sons of Beulah into thy dread vortex following
Thy Eddying spirit down the hills of Beulah. All my sons
Stood round me at the anvil where new heated the wedge
Of iron glowd furious prepard for spades & mattocks
Hearing the symphonies of war loud sounding All my sons
10 Fled from my side then pangs smote me unknown before. I saw
My loins begin to break forth into veiny pipes & writhe
Before me in the wind englobing trembling with strong vibrations
The bloody mass began to animate. I bending over
Wept bitter tears incessant. Still beholding how the piteous form
15 Dividing & dividing from my loins a weak & piteous
Soft cloud of snow a female pale & weak I soft embracd
My counter part & calld it Love I named her Enitharmon
But found myself & her together issuing down the tide
Which now our rivers were become delving thro caverns huge
20 Of goary blood strugg[l]ing to be deliverd from our bonds
She strove in vain not so Urthona strove for breaking forth,
A shadow blue obscure & dismal from the breathing Nostrils
Of Enion I issued into the air divided from Enitharmon
I howld in sorrow I beheld thee rotting upon the Rocks
25 I pitying hoverd over thee I protected thy ghastly corse
From Vultures of the deep then wherefore shouldst thou rage
Against me who thee guarded in the night of death from harm
Tharmas replied. Art thou Urthona My friend my old companion,
With whom I livd in happiness before that deadly night
30 When Urizen gave the horses of Light into the hands of Luvah
Thou knowest not what Tharmas knows. O I could tell thee tales
That would enrage thee as it has Enraged me even
From Death in wrath & fury. But now come bear back
Thy loved Enitharmon. For thou hast her here before thine Eyes
But my sweet Enion is vanishd & I never more
Shall see her unless thou O Shadow. wilt protect this Son
Of Enion & him assist. to bind the fallen King
Lest he should rise again from death in all his dreary power
5 Bind him, take Enitharmon for thy sweet reward while I
In vain am driven on false hope. hope sister of despair
Groaning the terror rose & drave his solid rocks before
Upon the tide till underneath the feet of Los a World
Dark dreadful rose & Enitharmon lay at Los’s feet
10 The dolorous shadow joyd. weak hope appeard around his head
Tharmas before Los stood & thus the Voice of Tharmas rolld
Now all comes into the power of Tharmas. Urizen is falln
And Luvah hidden in the Elemental forms of Life & Death
Urthona is My Son O Los thou art Urthona & Tharmas
15 Is God. The Eternal Man is seald never to be deliverd
I roll my floods over his body my billows & waves pass over him
The Sea encompasses him & monsters of the deep are his companions
Dreamer of furious oceans cold sleeper of weeds & shells
Thy Eternal form shall never renew my uncertain prevails against thee
20 Yet tho I rage God over all. A portion of my Life
That in Eternal fields in comfort wanderd with my flocks
At noon & laid her head upon my wearied bosom at night
She is divided She is vanishd even like Luvah & Valat
O why did foul ambition sieze thee Urizen Prince of Light
25 And thee O Luvah prince of Love till Tharmas was divided
And I what can I now behold but an Eternal Death
Before my Eyes & an Eternal weary work to strive
Against the monstrous forms that breed among my silent waves
Is this to be A God far rather would I be a Man
30 To know sweet Science & to do with simple companions
Sitting beneath a tent & viewing sheepfolds & soft pastures
Take thou the hammer of Urthona rebuild these furnaces
Dost thou refuse mind I the sparks that issue from thy hair
I will compell thee to rebuild by these my furious waves
Death choose or life thou strugglest in my waters, now choose life
And all the Elements shall serve thee to their soothing flutes
Their sweet inspiriting lyres thy labours shall administer
5 And they to thee only remit not faint not thou my son
Now thou dost know what tis to strive against the God of waters
So saying Tharmas on his furious chariots of the Deep
Departed far into the Unknown & left a wondrous void
Round Los. afar his waters bore on all sides round. with noise
10 Of wheels & horses hoofs & Trumpets Horns & Clarions
Terrified Los beheld the ruins of Urizen beneath
A horrible Chaos to his eyes. a formless unmeasurable Death
Whirling up broken rocks on high into the dismal air
And fluctuating all beneath in Eddies of molten fluid
15 Then Los with terrible hands siezd on the Ruind Furnaces
Of Urizen. Enormous work: he builded them anew
Labour of Ages in the Darkness & the war of Tharmas
And Los formd Anvils of Iron petrific. for his blows
Petrify with incessant beating many a rock. many a planet
20 But Urizen slept in a stoned stupor in the nether Abyss
A dreamful horrible State in tossings on his icy bed
Freezing to solid all beneath, his grey oblivious form
Stretchd over the immense heaves in strong shudders. silent his voice
In brooding contemplation stretching out from North to South
25 In mighty power. Round him Los rolld furious
His thunderous wheels from furnace to furnace. tending diligent
The contemplative terror. frightend in his scornful sphere
Frightend with cold infectious madness. in his hand the thundering
Hammer of Urthona. forming under his heavy hand the hours
The days & years. in chains of iron round the limbs of Urizen
Linkd hour to hour & day to night & night to day & year to year
In periods of pulsative furor. mills he formd & works
Of many wheels resistless in the power of dark Urthona
5 But Enitharmon wrapd in clouds waild loud. for as Los beat
The anvils of Urthona link by link the chains of sorrow
Warping upon the winds & whirling round in the dark deep
Lashd on the limbs of Enitharmon & the sulphur fires
Belchd from the furnaces wreathd round her. chaind in ceaseless fire
10 The lovely female howld & Urizen beneath deep groand
Deadly between the hammers beating grateful to the Ears
Of Los. absorbd in dire revenge he drank with joy the cries
Of Enitharmon & the groans of Urizen fuel for his wrath
And for his pity secret feeding on thoughts of cruelty
15 The Spectre wept at his dire labours when from Ladles huge
He pourd the molten iron round the limbs of Enitharmon
But when he pourd it round the bones of Urizen he laughd
Hollow upon the hollow wind. his shadowy form obeying
The voice of Los compelld he labourd round the Furnaces
20 And thus began the binding of Urizen day & night in fear
Circling round the dark Demon with howlings dismay & sharp blightings
The Prophet of Eternity beat on his iron links & links of brass
And as he beat round the hurtling Demon. terrified at the Shapes
Enslavd humanity put on he became what he beheld
25 Raging against Tharmas his God & uttering
Ambiguous words blasphemous filld with envy firm resolvd
On hate Eternal in his vast disdain he labourd beating
The Links of fate link after link an endless chain of sorrows
The Eternal Mind bounded began to roll eddies of wrath ceaseless
Round & round & the sulphureous foam surgeing thick
Settled a Lake bright & shining clear. White as the snow
Forgetfulness dumbness necessity in chains of the mind lockd up
5 In fetters of ice shrinking. disorganizd rent from Eternity
Los beat on his fetters & heated his furnaces
And pourd iron sodor & sodor of brass
Restless the immortal inchaind heaving dolorous
Anguished unbearable till a roof shaggy wild inclosd
10 In an orb his fountain of thought
In a horrible dreamful slumber like the linked chain
A vast spine writhd in torment upon the wind
Shooting paind. ribbs like a bending Cavern
And bones of solidness froze over all his nerves of joy
15 A first age passed. a state of dismal woe
From the Caverns of his jointed spine down sunk with fright
A red round globe. hot burning. deep deep down into the Abyss
Panting Conglobing trembling Shooting out ten thousand branches
Around his solid bones & a Second Age passed over
20 In harrowing fear rolling his nervous brain shot branches
On high into two little orbs hiding in two little caves
Hiding carefully from the wind his eyes beheld the deep
And a third age passed a State of dismal woe
The pangs of hope began in heavy pain striving struggling
25 Two Ears in close volutions from beneath his orbs of vision
Shot spiring out & petrified as they grew. And a Fourtht
Age passed over & a State of dismal woe
In ghastly torment sick hanging upon the wind
Two nostrils bent down to the deeps —
And a fifth age passed & a state of dismal woe
In ghastly torment sick. within his ribs bloated round
A craving hungry cavern. Thence arose his channeld
Throat. then like a red flame a tongue of hunger
5 And thirst appeard and a sixth age passed of dismal woe
Enraged,& stifled with torment he threw his right arm to the north
His left arm to the south shooting out in anguish deep
And his feet stampd the nether abyss in trembling howling & dismay
And a seventh age passed over & a state of dismal woe
10 The Council of God on high watching over the Body
Of Man clothd in Luvahs robes of blood saw & wept
Descending over Beulahs mild moon coverd regions
The daughters of Beulah saw the Divine Vision they were comforted
And as a Double female form loveliness & perfection of beauty
15 They bowd the head & worshippd & with mild voice spoke these words
Lord. Saviour if thou hadst been here our brother had not died
And now we know that whatsoever thou wilt ask of God
He will give it thee for we are weak women & dare not lift
Our eyes to the Divine pavilions. therefore in mercy thou
5 Appearest clothd in Luvahs garments that we may behold thee
And live. Behold Eternal Death is in Beulah Behold
We perish & shall not be found unless thou grant a place
In which we may be hidden under the Shadow of wings
For if we who are but for a time & who pass away in winter
10 Behold these wonders of Eternity we shall consume
Such were the words of Beulah of the Feminine Emanation
The Empyrean groand throughout All Eden was darkend
The Corse of Albion lay on the Rock the sea of Time & Spacet
Beat round the Rock in mighty waves & as a Polypus
15 That vegetates beneath the Sea the limbs of Man vegetated
In monstrous forms of Death a Human polypus of Death
The Saviour mild & gentle bent over the corse of Death
Saying If ye will Believe your Brother shall rise again
And first he found the Limit of Opacity & namd it Satan
20 In Albions bosom for in every human bosom these limits stand
And next he found the Limit of Contraction & namd it Adam
While yet those beings were not born nor knew of good or Evil
Then wondrously the Starry Wheels felt the divine hand. Limit
Was put to Eternal Death Los felt the Limit & saw
25 The Finger of God touch the Seventh furnace in terror
And Los beheld the hand of God over his furnaces
Beneath the Deeps in dismal Darkness beneath immensity
In terrors Los shrunk from his task. his great hammer
Fell from his hand his fires hid their strong limbs in smoke
For with noises ruinous hurtlings & clashings & groans
The immortal endur’d. tho bound in a deadly sleep
20 Pale terror siezd the Eyes of Los as he beat round
The hurtling Demon. terrifid at the shapes
Enslavd humanity put on he became what he beheld
He became what he was doing he was himself transformd
[The globe of life blood trembled Branching out into roots;
25 Fibrous, writhing upon the winds; Fibres of blood, milk and tears;
In pangs, eternity on eternity. At length in tears & cries imbodied
A female form trembling and pale Waves before his deathy face]
Spasms siezd his muscular fibres writhing to & fro his pallid lips
Unwilling movd as Urizen howld his loins wavd like the sea
30 At Enitharmons shriek his knees each other smote & then he lookd
With stony Eyes on Urizen & then swift writhd his neckt
Involuntary to the Couch where Enitharmon lay
The bones of Urizen hurtle on the wind the bones of Los
Twinge & his iron sinews bend like lead & fold
35 Into unusual forms dancing & howling stamping the Abyss 35
End of the Fourth Night
THE FOUR ZOAS. NIGHT THE FIFTH.
Infected Mad he dancd on his mountains high & dark as heaven
Now fixd into one stedfast bulk his features stonify
From his mouth curses & from his eyes sparks of blighting
Beside the anvil cold he dancd with the hammer of Urthona
5 Terrific pale. Enitharmon stretchd on the dreary Earth
Felt her immortal limbs freeze stiffning pale inflexible
His feet shrink withring from the deep shrinking & withering
And Enitharmon shrunk up all their fibres withring beneath
As plants witherd by winter leaves & stems & roots decaying
10 Melt into thin air while the seed drivn by the furious wind
Rests on the distant Mountains top. So Los & Enitharmon
Shrunk into fixed space stood trembling on a Rocky cliff
Yet mighty bulk & majesty & beauty remaind but unexpansive
As far as highest Zenith from the lowest Nadir. so far shrunk
15 Los from the furnaces a Space immense & left the cold 15
Prince of Light bound in chains of intellect among the furnaces
But all the furnaces were out & the bellows had ceast to blow
He stood trembling & Enitharmon clung around his knees
Their senses unexpansive in one stedfast bulk remain
20 The night blew cold & Enitharmon shriekd on the dismal wind 20
Her pale hands cling around her husband & over her weak head
Shadows of Eternal death sit in the leaden air
But the soft pipe the flute the viol organ harp & cymbal
And the sweet sound of silver voices calm the weary couch
5 Of Enitharmon but her groans drown the immortal harps
Loud & more loud the living music floats upon the air
Faint & more faint the daylight wanes. The wheels of turning darkness
Began in solemn revolutions. Earth convulsd with rending pangs
Rockd to & fro & cried sore at the groans of Enitharmon
10 Still the faint harps & silver voices calm the weary couch
But from the caves of deepest night ascending in clouds of mist
The winter spread his wide black wings across from pole to pole
Grim frost beneath & terrible snow linkd in a marriage chain
Began a dismal dance. The winds around on pointed rocks
15 Settled like bats innumerable ready to fly abroad
The groans of Enitharmon shake the skies the labring Earth
Till from her heart rending his way a terrible Child sprang forth
In thunder smoke & sullen flames & howlings & fury & blood
Soon as his burning Eyes were opend on the Abyss
20 The horrid trumpets of the deep bellowd with bitter blasts
The Enormous Demons woke & howld around the new born king
Crying Luvah King of Love thou art the King of rage & death
Urizen cast deep darkness round him raging Luvah pourdt
The spears of Urizen from Chariots round the Eternal tent
25 Discord began then yells & cries shook the wide firma[m]ent
Where is Sweet Vala gloomy prophet where the lovely form
That drew the body of Man from heaven into this dark Abysselds
Shew thy soul Vala shew thy bow & quiver of secret fires
Draw thy bow Vala from the depths of hell thy black bow drawt
5 And twang the bow string to our howlings let thine arrows black
Sing in the Sky as once they sang upon the hills of Light
When dark Urthona wept in torment of the secret pain
He wept & he divided & he laid his gloomy head
Down on the Rock of Eternity on darkness of the deep
10 Torn by black storms & ceaseless torrents of consuming fire
Within his breast his fiery sons chaind down & filld with cursings
And breathing terrible blood & vengeance gnashing his teeth with pain
Let loose the Enormous Spirit in the darkness of the deep
And his dark wife that once fair crystal form divinely clear
15 Within his ribs producing serpents whose souls are flames of fire
But now the times return upon thee Enitharmons womb
Now holds thee soon to issue forth. Sound Clarions of war
Call Vala from her close recess in all her dark deceit
Then rage on rage shall fierce redound out of her crystal quiver
20 So sung the Demons round red Orc & round faint Enitharmon
Sweat & blood stood on the limbs of Los in globes. his fiery Eyelids
Faded. he rouzd he siezd the wonder in his hands & went
Shuddring & weeping thro the Gloom & down into the deeps
Enitharmon nursd her fiery child in the dark deeps
25 Sitting in darkness. over her Los mournd in anguish fierce
Coverd with gloom. the fiery boy grew fed by the milk
Of Enitharmon. Los around her builded pillars of iron
And brass & silver & gold fourfold in dark prophetic fear
For now he feard Eternal Death & uttermost Extinction
He builded Golgonooza on the Lake of Udan Adan
Upon the Limit of Translucence then he builded Luban
5 Tharmas laid the Foundations & Los finishd it in howling woe
But when fourteen summers & winters had revolved over
Their solemn habitation Los beheld the ruddy boy
Embracing his bright mother & beheld malignant fires
In his young eyes discerning plain that Orc plotted his death
10 Grief rose upon his ruddy brows. a tightening girdle grew
Around his bosom like a bloody cord. in secret sobs
He burst it, but next morn another girdle succeeds
Around his bosom. Every day he viewd the fiery youth
With silent fear & his immortal cheeks grew deadly pale
15 Till many a morn & many a night passd over in dire woe
Forming a girdle in the day & bursting it at night
The girdle was formd by day by night was burst in twain
Falling down on the rock an iron chain link by link lockd
Enitharmon beheld the bloody chain of nights & days
20 Depending from the bosom of Los & how with griding pain
He went each morning to his labours. with the spectre dark
Calld it the chain of jealousy. Now Los began to speak
His woes aloud to Enitharmon. since he could not hide
His uncouth plague. He siezd the boy in his immortal hands
25 While Enitharmon followd him weeping in dismal woe
Up to the iron mountains top & there the Jealous chain
Fell from his bosom on the mountain. The Spectre dark
Held the fierce boy Los naild him down binding around his limbs
The accursed chain O how bright Enitharmon howld & cried
30 Over her son. Obdurate Los bound down her loved joy
The hammer of Urthona smote the rivets in terror. of brass
Tenfold. the Demons rage flamd tenfold forth rending
Roaring redounding. Loud Loud Louder & Louder & fird
The darkness warring With the waves of Tharmas & Snows of Urizen
5 Crackling the flames went up with fury from the immortal demon
Surrounded with flames the Demon grew loud howling in his fires
Los folded Enitharmon in a cold white cloud in fear
Then led her down into the deeps & into his labyrinth
Giving the Spectre sternest charge over the howling fiend
10 Concenterd into Love of Parent Storgous Appetite Craving
His limbs bound down mock at his chains for over them a flame
Of circling fire unceasing plays to feed them with life & bring
The virtues of the Eternal worlds ten thousand thousand spirits
Of life lament around the Demon going forth & returningt
15 At his enormous call they flee into the heavens of heavens
And back return with wine & food. Or dive into the deeps
To bring the thrilling joys of sense to quell his ceaseless rage
His eyes the lights of his large soul contract or else expand
Contracted they behold the secrets of the infinite mountains
20 The veins of gold & silver & the hidden things of Vala
Whatever grows from its pure bud or breathes a fragrant soul
Expanded they behold the terrors of the Sun & Moon
The Elemental Planets & the orbs of eccentric fire
His nostrils breathe a fiery flame. his locks are like the forestst
25 Of wild beasts there the lion glares the tyger & wolf howl there
And there the Eagle hides her young in cliffs & precipices
His bosom is like starry heaven expanded all the stars rings
Flow into rivers of delight. there the spontaneous flowers
Drink laugh & sing. the grasshopper the Emmet & the Fly
30 The golden Moth builds there a house & spreads her silken bed
His loins inwove with silken fires are like a furnace fierce
As the strong Bull in summer time when bees sing round the heath
Where the herds low after the shadow & after the water spring
The numrous flocks cover the mountain & shine along the valley
5 His knees are rocks of adamant & rubie & emerald
Spirits of strength in Palaces rejoice in golden armour
Armed with spear & shield they drink & rejoice over the slain
Such is the Demon such his terror in the nether deep
But when returnd to Golgonooza Los & Enitharmon
10 Felt all the sorrow Parents feel. they wept toward one another
And Los repented that he bad chaind Orc upon the mountain
And Enitharmons tears prevaild parental love returnd
Tho terrible his dread of that infernal chain They rose
At midnight hasting to their much beloved care
15 Nine days they traveld thro the Gloom of Entuthon Benithon
Los taking Enitharmon by the hand led her along
The dismal vales & up to the iron mountains top where Orc
Howld in the furious wind he thought to give to Enitharmon
Her son in tenfold joy & to compensate for her tears
20 Even if his own death resulted so much pity him paind
But when they came to the dark rock & to the spectrous cave
Lo the young limbs had strucken root into the rock & strong
Fibres had from the Chain of Jealousy inwove themselves
In a swift vegetation round the rock & round the Cave
25 And over the immortal limbs of the terrible fiery boy
In vain they strove now to unchain. In vain with bitter tears
To melt the chain of Jealousy. not Enitharmons death
Nor the Consummation of Los could ever melt the chain
Nor unroot the infernal fibres from their rocky bed
30 Nor all Urthonas strength nor all the power of Luvahs Bulls
Tho they each morning drag the unwilling Sun out of the deep
Could uproot the infernal chain. for it had taken root
Into the iron rock & grew a chain beneath the Earth
Even to the Center wrapping round the Center & the limbs
Of Orc entering with fibres. became one with him a living Chain
Sustained by the Demons life. Despair & Terror & Woe & Rage
5 Inwrap the Parents in cold clouds as they bend howling over
The terrible boy till fainting by his side the Parents fell
Not long they lay Urthonas spectre found herbs of the pit
Rubbing their temples he reviv’d them. all their lamentations
I write not here but all their after life was lamentation
10 When satiated with grief they returnd back to Golgonooza
Enitharmon on the road of Dranthon felt the inmost gate
Of her bright heart burst open & again close with a deadly paint
Within her heart Vala began to reanimate in bursting sobs
And when the Gate was open she beheld that dreary Deept
15 Where bright Ahania wept. She also saw the infernal roots
Of the chain of Jealousy & felt the rendings of fierce howling Orc
Rending the Caverns like a mighty wind pent in the Earth
Tho wide apart as furthest north is from the furthest south
Urizen trembled where he lay to hear the howling terror
20 The rocks shook the Eternal bars tuggd to & fro were rifted
Outstretchd upon the stones of ice the ruins of his throne
Urizen shuddring heard his trembling limbs shook the strong caves
The Woes of Urizen shut up in the deep dens of Urthona
Ah how shall Urizen the King submit to this dark mansion
25 Ah how is this! Once on the heights I stretchd my throne sublime
The mountains of Urizen once of silver where the sons of wisdom dwelt
And on whose tops the Virgins sang are rocks of Desolation
My fountains once the haunt of Swans now breed the scaly tortoise
The houses of my harpers are become a haunt of crows
30 The gardens of wisdom are become a field of horrid graves
And on the bones I drop my tears & water them in vain
Once how I walked from my palace in gardens of delight
The sons of wisdom stood around the harpers followd with harps
Nine virgins clothd in light composd the song to their immortal voices
And at my banquets of new wine my head was crownd with joy
5 Then in my ivory pavilions I slumberd in the noon
And walked in the silent night among sweet smelling flowers
Till on my silver bed I slept & sweet dreams round me hoverd
But now my land is darkend & my wise men are departed
My songs are turned to cries of Lamentationt
10 Heard on my Mountains & deep sighs under my palace roofs
Because the Steeds of Urizen once swifter than the light
Were kept back from my Lord & from his chariot of mercies
O did I keep the horses of the day in silver pastures
O I refusd the Lord of day the horses of his prince
15 O did I close my treasuries with roofs of solid stone
And darken all my Palace walls with envyings & hate
O Fool to think that I could hide from his all piercing eyes
The gold & silver & costly stones his holy workmanship
O Fool could I forget the light that filled my bright spheres
20 Was a reflection of his face who calld me from the deep
I well remember for I heard the mild & holy voice
Saying O light spring up & shine & I sprang up from the deept
He gave to me a silver scepter & crownd me with a golden crown
& said Go forth & guide my Son who wanders on the ocean
25 I went not forth. I hid myself in black clouds of my wrath
I calld the stars around my feet in the night of councils dark
The stars threw down their spears & fled naked away
We fell. I siezd thee dark Urthona In my left hand falling
I siezd thee beauteous Luvah thou art faded like a flower
30 And like a lilly is thy wife Vala witherd by winds
When thou didst bear the golden cup at the immortal tables
Thy children smote their fiery wings crownd with the gold of heaven
Thy pure feet stepd on the steps divine. too pure for other feet
And thy fair locks shadowd thine eyes from the divine effulgence
Then thou didst keep with Strong Urthona the living gates of heaven
But now thou art bound down with him even to the gates of hell
5 Because thou gavest Urizen the wine of the Almighty
For steeds of Light that they might run in thy golden chariot of pride
I gave to thee the Steeds I pourd the stolen wine
And drunken with the immortal draught fell from my throne sublime
I will arise Explore these dens & find that deep pulsation
10 That shakes my caverns with strong shudders. perhaps this is the night
Of Prophecy & Luvah hath burst his way from Enitharmon
When Thought is closd in Caves. Then love shall shew its root in deepest Hell
End of the Fifth Night
THE FOUR ZOAS. NIGHT THE SIXTH.
So Urizen arose & leaning on his Spear explord his dens
He threw his flight thro the dark air to where a river flowd
And taking off his silver helmet filled it & drank
But when Unsatiated his thirst he assayd to gather more
5 Lo three terrific women at the verge of the bright flood
Who would not suffer him to approach. but drove him back with storms
Urizen knew them not & thus addressd the spirits of darkness
Who art thou Eldest Woman sitting in thy clouds
What is that name written on thy forehead? what art thou?
10 And wherefore dost thou pour this water forth in sighs & care
She answerd not but filld her urn & pourd it forth abroad
Answerest thou not said Urizen. then thou maist answer me
Thou terrible woman clad in blue, whose strong attractive power
Draws all into a fountain at the rock of thy attraction
15 With frowning brow thou sittest mistress of these mighty waters
She answerd not but stretchd her arms & threw her limbs abroad
Or wilt thou answer youngest Woman clad in shining greent
With labour & care thou dost divide the current into fourt
Queen of these dreadful rivers speak & let me hear thy voice
They reard up a wall of rocks and Urizen raisd his spear.
They gave a scream, they knew their father Urizen knew his daughters
They shrunk into their channels. dry the rocky strand beneath his feet
Hiding themselves in rocky forms from the Eyes of Urizen
5 Then Urizen wept & thus his lamentation poured forth
O horrible O dreadful state! those whom I loved best
On whom I pourd the beauties of my light adorning them
With jewels & precious ornament labourd with art divine
Vests of the radiant colours of heaven & crowns of golden fire
10 I gave sweet lillies to their breasts & roses to their hair
I taught them songs of sweet delight, I gave their tender voices
Into the blue expanse & I invented with laborious art
Sweet instruments of sound. in pride encompassing my Knees
They pourd their radiance above all. the daughters of Luvah Envied
15 At their exceeding brightness & the sons of eternity sent them gifts
Now will I pour my fury on them & I will reverse
The precious benediction. for their colours of loveliness
I will give blackness for jewels hoary frost for ornament deformity
For crowns wreathd Serpents for sweet odors stinking corruptibility
20 For voices of delight hoarse croakings inarticulate thro frost
For labourd fatherly care & sweet instruction. I will give
Chains of dark ignorance & cords of twisted self conceit
And whips of stern repentance & food of stubborn obstinacy
That they may curse Tharmas their God & Los his adopted son
25 That they may curse & worship the obscure Demon of destruction
That they may worship terrors & obey the violent
Go forth sons of my curse Go forth daughters of my abhorrence
Tharmas heard the deadly scream across his watry world
And Urizens loud sounding voice lamenting on the wind
30 And he came riding in his fury. froze to solid were his waves
Silent in ridges he beheld them stand round Urizen
A dreary waste of solid waters for the King of Light
Darkend his brows with his cold helmet & his gloomy spear
Darkend before him. Silent on the ridgy waves he took
5 His gloomy way before him Tharmas fled & flying fought
Crying. What & who art thou Cold Demon. art thou Urizen
Art thou like me risen again from death or art thou deathless
If thou art he my desperate purpose hear & give me death
For death to me is better far than life. death my desire
10 That I in vain in various paths have sought but still I live
The Body of Man is given to me I seek in vain to destroy
For still it surges forth in fish & monsters of the deeps
And in these monstrous forms I Live in an Eternal woet
And thou O Urizen art falln never to be deliverd
15 Withhold thy light from me for ever & I will withhold
From thee thy food so shall we cease to be & all our sorrows
End & the Eternal Man no more renew beneath our power
If thou refusest in eternal flight thy beams in vain
Shall pursue Tharmas & in vain shalt crave for food I will
20 Pour down my flight thro dark immensity Eternal falling
Thou shalt pursue me but in vain till starvd upon the void
Thou hangst a dried skin shrunk up weak wailing in the wind
So Tharmas spoke but Urizen replied not. On his way
He took. high bounding over hills & desarts floods & horrible chasms
25 Infinite was his labour without end his travel he strove
In vain for hideous monsters of the deeps annoyd him sore
Scaled & finnd with iron & brass they devourd the path before him
Incessant was the conflict. On he bent his weary steps
Making a path toward the dark world of Urthona. he rose
30 With pain upon the dreary mountains & with pain descended
And saw their grizly fears & his eyes sickend at the sight
The howlings gnashings groanings shriekings shudderings sobbings burstings
Mingle together to create a world for Los. In cruel delight
Los brooded on the darkness. nor saw Urizen with a Globe of fire
Lighting his dismal journey thro the pathless world of death
Writing in bitter tears & groans in books of iron & brass
The enormous wonders of the Abysses once his brightest joy
5 For Urizen beheld the terrors of the Abyss wandring among
The ruind spirits once his children & the children of Luvah
Scard at the sound of their own sigh that seems to shake the immense
They wander Moping in their heart a Sun a Dreary moon
A Universe of fiery constellations in their brain
10 An Earth of wintry woe beneath their feet & round their loinst
Waters or winds or clouds or brooding lightnings & pestilential plagues
Beyond the bounds of their own self their senses cannot penetrate
As the tree knows not what is outside of its leaves & bark
And yet it drinks the summer joy & fears the winter sorrow
15 So in the regions of the grave none knows his dark compeer
Tho he partakes of his dire woes & mutual returns the pang
The throb the dolor the convulsion in soul sickening woes
The horrid shapes & sights of torment in burning dungeons & in
Fetters of red hot iron some with crowns of serpents & some
20 With monsters girding round their bosoms, Some lying on beds of sulphur
On racks & wheels he beheld women marching oer burning wastes
Of Sand in bands of hundreds & of fifties & of thousands strucken with
Lightnings which blazed after them upon their shoulders in their march
In successive vollies with loud thunders swift flew the King of Light
25 Over the burning desarts Then the desarts passd. involvd in clouds
Of smoke with myriads moping in the stifling vapours. Swift
Flew the King tho flagd his powers labring. till over rocks
And Mountains faint weary he wanderd. where multitudes were shut
Up in the solid mountains & in rocks which heaved with their torments
30 Then came he among fiery cities & castles built of burning steel
Then he beheld the forms of tygers & of Lions dishumanizd men
Many in serpents & in worms stretchd out enormous length
Over the sullen mould & slimy tracks obstruct his way
Drawn out from deep to deep woven by ribbd
35 And scaled monsters or armd in iron shell or shell of brass
Or gold a glittering torment shining & hissing in eternal pain
Some [as] columns of fire or of water sometimes stretchd out in heighth
Sometimes in length sometimes englobing wandering in vain seeking for easet
His voice to them was but an inarticulate thunder for their Ears
40 Were heavy & dull & their eyes & nostrils closed up
Oft he stood by a howling victim Questioning in words
Soothing or Furious no one answerd every one wrapd up
In his own sorrow howld regardless of his words, nor voice
Of sweet response could he obtain tho oft assayd with tears
45 He knew they were his Children ruind in his ruind world
Oft would he stand & question a fierce scorpion glowing with gold
In vain the terror heard not. then a lion he would Sieze
By the fierce mane staying his howling course in vain the voicet
Of Urizen vain the Eloquent tongue. A Rock a Cloud a Mountain
5 Were now not Vocal as in Climes of happy Eternity
Where the lamb replies to the infant voice & the lion to the man of years
Giving them sweet instructions Where the Cloud the River & the Field
Talk with the husbandman & shepherd. But these attackd him sore
Siezing upon his feet & rending the Sinews that in Caves
10 He hid to recure his obstructed powers with rest & oblivion
Here he had time enough to repent of his rashly threatend curse
He saw them cursd beyond his Curse his soul melted with fear
He could not take their fetters off for they grew from the soul
Nor could he quench the fires for they flamd out from the heart
Nor could he calm the Elements because himself was Subject
So he threw his flight in terror & pain & in repentant tears
15 When he had passd these southern terrors he approachd the East
Void pathless beaten With iron sleet & eternal hail & raint
No form was there no living thing & yet his way lay thro
This dismal world. he stood a while & lookd back oer his former
Terrific voyage. Hills & Vales of torment & despair
20 Sighing & Wiping a fresh tear. then turning round he threw
Himself into the dismal void. falling he fell & fell
Whirling in unresistible revolutions down & down
In the horrid bottomless vacuity falling failing falling
Into the Eastern vacuity the empty world of Luvah
25 The ever pitying one who seeth all things saw his fall
And in the dark vacuity created a bosom of clayt
When wearied dead he fell his limbs reposd in the bosom of slime
As the seed falls from the sowers hand so Urizen fell & death
Shut up his powers in oblivion. then as the seed shoots forth
30 In pain & sorrow. So the slimy bed his limbs renewd
At first an infant weakness. periods passd he gatherd strength
But still in solitude he sat then rising threw his flight
Onward tho falling thro the waste of night & ending in death
And in another resurrection to sorrow & weary travel
35 But still his books he bore in his strong hands & his iron pen
For when he died they lay beside his grave & when he rose
He siezd them with a gloomy smile for wrapd in his death clothes
He hid them when he slept in death when he revivd the clothes
Were rotted by the winds the books remaind still unconsumd
40 Still to be written & interleavd with brass & iron & gold
Time after time for such a journey none but iron pens
Can write And adamantine leaves recieve nor can the man who goes
The journey obstinate refuse to write time after time
Endless had been his travel but the Divine hand him led
For infinite the distance & obscurd by Combustions dire
By rocky masses frowning in the abysses revolving erratic
5 Round Lakes of fire in the dark deep the ruins of Urizens world 5
Oft would he sit in a dark rift & regulate his books
Or sleep such sleep as spirits eternal wearied in his dark
Tearful & sorrowful state. then rise look out & ponder
His dismal voyage eyeing the next sphere tho far remote
10 Then darting into the Abyss of night his venturous limbs
Thro lightnings thunders earthquakes & concussions fires & floods
Stemming his downward fall labouring up against futurity
Creating many a Vortex fixing many a Science in the deep
And thence throwing his venturous limbs into the Vast unknown
15 Swift Swift from Chaos to chaos from void to void a road immense
For when he came to where a Vortex ceasd to operate
Nor down nor up remaind then if he turnd & lookd back
From whence he came twas upward all. & if he turnd and viewd
The unpassd void upward was still his mighty wandring
20 The midst between an Equilibrium grey of air serene
Where he might live in peace & where his life might meet repose
But Urizen said Can I not leave this world of Cumbrous wheels
Circle oer Circle nor on high attain a void
Where self sustaining I may view all things beneath my feet
25 Or sinking thro these Elemental wonders swift to fall
I thought perhaps to find an End a world beneath of voidness
Whence I might travel round the outside of this Dark confusion
When I bend downward bending my bead downward into the deep
Tis upward all which way soever I my course begin
30 But when A Vortex formd on high by labour & sorrow & care
And weariness begins on all my limbs then sleep revives
My wearied spirits waking then tis downward all which way
So ever I my spirits turn no end I find of all
O what a world is here unlike those climes of bliss
35 Where my sons gatherd round my knees O thou poor ruind world
Thou horrible ruin once like me thou wast all glorious
And now like me partaking desolate thy masters lot
Art thou O ruin the once glorious heaven are these thy rocks
Where joy sang in the trees & pleasure sported on the rivers
And laughter sat beneath the Oaks & innocence sported round
Upon the green plains & sweet friendship met in palaces
And books & instruments of song & pictures of delight
Where are they whelmd beneath these ruins in horrible destruction
5 And if Eternal falling I repose on the dark bosom
Of winds & waters or thence fall into a Void where air
Is not down falling thro immensity ever & ever
I lose my powers weakend every revolution till a death
Shuts up my powers then a seed in the vast womb of darkness
10 I dwell in dim oblivion. brooding over me the Enormous worlds
Reorganize me shooting forth in bones & flesh & blood
I am regenerated to fall or rise at will or to remain
A labourer of ages a dire discontent a living woe
Wandring in vain. Here will I fix my foot & here rebuild
15 Here Mountains of Brass promise much riches in their dreadful bosoms
So he began to dig form[ing] of gold silver & iron
And brass vast instruments to measure out the immense & fix
The whole into another world better suited to obey
His will where none should dare oppose his will himself being King
20 Of All & all futurity be bound in his vast chain
And the Sciences were fixd & the Vortexes began to operate
On all the sons of men & every human soul terrified
At the turning wheels of heaven shrunk away inward withring away
Gaining a New Dominion over all his sons & Daughters
25 & over the Sons & daughters of Luvah in the horrible Abyss
For Urizen lamented over them in a selfish lamentation
Till a white woof coverd his cold limbs from head to feet
Hair white as snow coverd him in flaky locks terrific
Overspreading his limbs. in pride he wanderd weeping
30 Clothed in aged venerableness obstinately resolvd
Travelling thro darkness & whereever he traveld a dire Web
Followd behind him as the Web of a Spider dusky & cold
Shivering across from Vortex to Vortex drawn out from his mantle of years
A living Mantle adjoind to his life & growing from his Soul
35 And the Web of Urizen stre[t]chd direful shivring in clouds
And uttering such woes such bursts such thunderings
The eyelids expansive as morning & the Ears
As a golden ascent winding round to the heavens of heavens
Within the dark horrors of the Abysses lion or tyger or scorpion
For every one opend within into Eternity at will
But they refusd because their outward forms were in the Abyss
And the wing like tent of the Universe beautiful surrounding all
Or drawn up or let down at the will of the immortal man
5 Vibrated in such anguish the eyelids quiverd
Weak & Weaker their expansive orbs began shrinking
Pangs smote thro the brain & a universal shriek
Ran thro the Abysses rending the web torment on torment
Thus Urizen in sorrows wanderd many a dreary way
10 Warring with monsters of the Deeps in his most hideous pilgrimage
Till his bright hair scatterd in snows his skin barkd oer with wrinkles
Four Caverns rooting downwards their foundations thrusting forth
The metal rock & stone in ever painful throes of vegetation
The Cave of Orc stood to the South a furnace of dire flames
15 Quenchless unceasing. In the west the Cave of Urizen
For Urizen fell as the Midday sun falls down into the West
North stood Urthonas stedfast throne a World of Solid darkness
Shut up in stifling obstruction rooted in dumb despair
The East was Void. But Tharmas rolld his billows in ceaseless eddies
20 Void pathless beat with Snows eternal & iron hail & raint
All thro the caverns of fire & air & Earth, Seeking
For Enions limbs nought finding but the black sea weed & sickning slime
Flying away from Urizen that he might not give him food
Above beneath on all sides round in the vast deep of immensity
25 That he might starve the sons & daughters of Urizen on the winds
Making between horrible chasms into the vast unknown
All these around the world of Los cast forth their monstrous births
But in Eternal times the Seat of Urizen is in the South
Urthona in the North Luvah in East Tharmas in West
30 And now he came into the Abhorred world of Dark Urthona
By Providence divine conducted not bent from his own will
Lest death Eternal should be the result for the Will cannot be violated
Into the doleful vales where no tree grew nor river flowd
Nor man nor beast nor creeping thing nor sun nor cloud nor star
35 Still he with his globe of fire immense in his venturous hand
Bore on thro the Affrighted vales ascending & descending
Oerwearied or in cumbrous flight he venturd oer dark rifts
Or down dark precipices or climbd with pain and labour huge
Till he beheld the world of Los from the Peaked rock of Urthona
40 And heard the howling of red Orc distincter & distincter 40
Redoubling his immortal efforts thro the narrow vales
With difficulty down descending guided by his Ear
And by his globe of fire he went down the Vale of Urthona
Between the enormous iron walls built by the Spectre dark
5 Dark grew his globe reddning with mists & full before his path 5
Striding across the narrow vale the Shadow of Urthona
A spectre Vast appeard whose feet & legs with iron scaled
Stampd the hard rocks expectant of the unknown wanderer
Whom he had seen wandring his nether world when distant far
10 And watchd his swift approach collected dark the Spectre stood
Beside hi[m] Tharmas stayd his flight & stood in stern defiance
Communing with the Spectre who rejoicd along the vale
Round his loins a girdle glowd with many colourd fires
In his hand a knotted Club whose knots like mountains frownd
15 Desart among the Stars them withering with its ridges cold
Black scales of iron arm the dread visage iron spikes instead
Of hair shoot from his orbed scull. his glowing eyes
Burn like two furnaces. he calld with Voice of Thunder
Four winged heralds mount the furious blasts & blow their trumps
20 Gold Silver Brass & iron clangors clamoring rend the shores
Like white clouds rising from the Vales his fifty two armies
From the four Cliffs of Urthona rise glowing around the Spectre
Four sons of Urizen the Squadrons of Urthona led in arms
Of gold & silver brass & iron he knew his mighty sons
25 Then Urizen arose upon the wind back many a mile
Retiring into his dire Web scattering fleecy snows
As he ascended howling loud the Web vibrated strong
From heaven to heaven from globe to globe. In vast excentric paths
Compulsive rolld the Comets at his dread command the dreary way
30 Falling with wheel impetuous down among Urthonas vales
And round red Orc returning back to Urizen gorgd with bloodt
Slow roll the massy Globes at his command & slow oerwheel
The dismal squadrons of Urthona. weaving the dire Web
In their progressions & preparing Urizens path before him
End of the Sixth Night
THE FOUR ZOAS. NIGHT THE SEVENTH.
Then Urizen arose The Spectre fled & Tharmas fled
The darkning Spectre of Urthona hid beneath a rock
Tharmas threw his impetuous flight thro the deeps of immensity
Revolving round in whirlpools fierce all round the cavernd worlds
5 But Urizen silent descended to the Caves of Orc & saw
A Cavernd Universe of flaming fire the horses of Urizen
Here bound to fiery mangers furious dash their golden hoofs
Striking fierce sparkles from their brazen fetters. fierce his lions
Howl in the burning dens his tygers roam ill the redounding smoke
10 In forests of affliction. the adamantine scales of justice
Consuming in the raging lamps of mercy pourd in rivers
The holy oil rages thro all the cavernd rocks fierce flames
Dance on the rivers & the rocks howling & drunk with fury
The plow of ages & the golden harrow wade thro fields
15 Of goary blood the immortal seed is nourishd for the slaughter
The bulls of Luvah breathing fire bellow on burning pastures
Round howling Orc whose awful limbs cast forth red smoke & fire
That Urizen approachd not near but took his seat on a rock
And rangd his books around him brooding Envious over Orc
20 Howling & rending his dark caves the awful Demon lay
Pulse after pulse beat on his fetters pulse after pulse his spirit
Darted & darted higher & higher to the shrine of Enitharmon
As when the thunder folds himself in thickest clouds
The watry nations couch & hide in the profoundest deeps
25 Then bursting from his troubled head with terrible visages & flaming hair
His swift wingd daughters sweep across the vast black ocean
Los felt the Envy in his limbs like to a blighted tree
For Urizen fixd in Envy sat brooding & coverd with snow
His book of iron on his knees he tracd the dreadful letters
While his snows fell & his storms beat to cool the flames of Orc
Age after Age till underneath his heel a deadly root
5 Struck thro the rock the root of Mystery accursed shooting up
Branches into the heaven of Los they pipe formd bending down
Take root again whereever they touch again branching forth
In intricate labyrinths oerspreading many a grizly deep
Amazd started Urizen when he found himself compassd round
10 And high roofed over with trees. he arose but the stems
Stood so thick he with difficulty & great pain brought
His books out of the dismal shade. all but the book of iron
Again he took his seat & rangd his Books aroundt
On a rock of iron frowning over the foaming fires of Orc
15 And Urizen hung over Ore & viewd his terrible wrath
Sitting upon an iron Crag at length his words broke forth
Image of dread whence art thou whence is this most woful place
Whence these fierce fires but from thyself No other living thing
In all this Chasm I behold. No other living thing
20 Dare thy most terrible wrath abide Bound here to waste in pain
Thy vital substance in these fires that issue new & new
Around thee sometimes like a flood & sometimes like a rock
Of living pangs thy horrible bed glowing with ceaseless fires
Beneath thee & around Above a Shower of fire now beats
25 Moulded to globes & arrowy wedges rending thy bleeding limbs
And now a whirling pillar of burning sands to overwhelm thee
Steeping thy wounds in salts infernal & in bitter anguish
And now a rock moves on the surface of this lake of fire
To bear thee down beneath the waves in stifling despair
30 Pity for thee movd me to break my dark & long repose
And to reveal myself before thee in a form of wisdom
Yet thou dost laugh at all these tortures & this horrible place
Yet throw thy limbs these fires abroad that back return upon thee
While thou reposest throwing rage on rage feeding thyself
35 With visions of sweet bliss far other than this burning clime
Sure thou art bathd in rivers of delight on verdant fields
Walking in joy in bright Expanses sleeping on bright clouds
With visions of delight so lovely that they urge thy rage
Tenfold with fierce desire to rend thy chain & howl in fury
40 And dim oblivion of all woe & desperate repose
Or is thy joy founded on torment which others bear for thee
Orc answer’d Curse thy hoary brows. What dost thou in this deep
Thy Pity I contemn scatter thy snows elsewhere
I rage in the deep for Lo my feet & hands are naild to the burning rock
Yet my fierce fires are better than thy snows Shuddring thou sittest
Thou art not chaind Why shouldst thou sit cold grovelling demon of woe
In tortures of dire coldness now a Lake of waters deep
5 Sweeps over thee freezing to solid still thou sitst closd up
In that transparent rock as if in joy of thy bright prison
Till overburdend with its own weight drawn out thro immensity
With a crash breaking across the horrible mass comes down
Thundring & hail & frozen iron haild from the Element
10 Rends thy white hair yet thou dost fixd obdurate brooding sit
Writing thy books. Anon a cloud filld with a waste of snows
Covers thee still obdurate still resolvd & writing still
Tho rocks roll oer thee tho floods pour tho winds black as the Seat
Cut thee in gashes tho the blood pours down around thy ankles
15 Freezing thy feet to the hard rock still thy pen obdurate
Traces the wonders of Futurity in horrible fear of the future
I rage furious in the deep for lo my feet & hands are naild
To the hard rock or thou shouldst feel my enmity & hate
In all the diseases of man falling upon thy grey accursed front
20 Urizen answerd Read my books explore my Constellations
Enquire of my Sons & they shall teach thee how to War
Enquire of my Daughters who accursd in the dark depths
Knead bread of Sorrow by my stern command for I am God
Of all this dreadful ruin Rise O daughters at my Stern command
25 Rending the Rocks Eleth & Uveth rose & Ona rose
Terrific with their iron vessels driving them across
In the dim air they took the book of iron & placd above
On clouds of death & sang their songs Kneading the bread of Orc
Orc listend to the song compelld hungring on the cold wind
30 That swaggd heavy with the accursed dough. the hoar frost ragd
Thro Onas sieve the torrent rain pourd from the iron pail
Of Eleth & the icy hands of Uveth kneaded the bread
The heavens bow with terror underneath their iron hands
Singing at their dire work the words of Urizens book of iron
35 While the enormous scrolls rolld dreadful in the heavens above
And still the burden of their song in tears was poured forth
The bread is Kneaded let us rest O cruel father of children
But Urizen remitted not their labours upon his rock
And Urizen Read in his book of brass in sounding tonest
Listen O Daughters to my voice Listen to the Words of Wisdom
So shall [ye] govern over all let Moral Duty tune your tongue
But be your hearts harder than the nether millstone
5 To bring the shadow of Enitharmon beneath our wondrous tree
That Los may Evaporate like smoke & be no more
Draw down Enitharmon to the Spectre of Urthona
And let him have dominion over Los the terrible shade
Compell the poor to live upon a Crust of bread by soft mild arts
10 Smile when they frown frown when they smile & when a man looks pale
With labour & abstinence say he looks healthy & happy
And when his children Sicken let them die there are enough
Born even too many & our Earth will be overrun
Without these arts If you would make the poor live with temper
15 With pomp give every crust of bread you give with gracious cunning
Magnify small gifts reduce the man to want a gift & then give with pomp
Say he smiles if you hear him sigh If pale say he is ruddy
Preach temperance say he is overgorgd & drowns his wit
In strong drink tho you know that bread & water are all
20 He can afford Flatter his wife pity his children till we can
Reduce all to our will as spaniels are taught with art
Lo how the heart & brain are formed in the breeding womb
Of Enitharmon how it buds with life & forms the bones
The little heart the liver & the red blood in its labyrinths
25 By gratified desire by strong devouring appetite she fills
Los with ambitious fury that his race shall all devour
Then Orc cried Curse thy Cold hypocrisy. already round thy Tree
In scales that shine with gold & rubies thou beginnest to weaken
My divided Spirit Like a worm I rise in peace unbound
30 From wrath Now When I rage my fetters bind me more
O torment O torment A Worm compelld. Am I a worm
Is it in strong deceit that man is born. In strong deceit
Thou dost restrain my fury that the worm may fold the tree
Avaunt Cold hypocrite I am chaind or thou couldst not use me thus
35 The Man shall rage bound with this Chain the worm in silence creep
Thou wilt not cease from rage Grey Demon silence all thy storms
Give me example of thy mildness King of furious hail storms
Art thou the cold attractive power that holds me in this chain
I well remember how I stole thy light & it became fire
40 Consuming. Thou Knowst me now O Urizen Prince of Light
And I know thee is this the triumph this the Godlike State
That lies beyond the bounds of Science in the Grey obscure
Terrified Urizen heard Orc now certain that he was Luvah
And Orc began to Organize a Serpent body
45 Despising Urizens light & turning it into flaming fire
Recieving as a poisond Cup Recieves the heavenly wine
And turning affection into fury & thought into abstractiont
A Self consuming dark devourer rising into the heavens
Urizen envious brooding sat & saw the secret terror
50 Flame high in pride & laugh to scorn the source of his deceit
Nor knew the source of his own but thought himself the Sole author
Of all his wandering Experiments in the horrible Abyss
He knew that weakness stretches out in breadth & length he knew
That wisdom reaches high & deep & therefore he made Orc
In Serpent form compelld stretch out & up the mysterious tree
5 He sufferd him to Climb that he might draw all human forms
Into submission to his will nor knew the dread result
Los sat in showers of Urizen watching cold Enitharmon
His broodings rush down to his feet producing Eggs that hatching
Burst forth upon the winds above the tree of Mystery
10 Enitharmon lay on his knees. Urizen tracd his Verses
In the dark deep the dark tree grew. her shadow was drawn down
Down to the roots it wept over Orc. the Shadow of Enitharmon
Los saw her stretchd the image of death upon his witherd valleys
Her Shadow went forth & returnd Now she was pale as Snow
15 When the mountains & hills are coverd over & the paths of Men shut up
But when her spirit returnd as ruddy as a morning when
The ripe fruit blushes into joy in heavens eternal halls
Sorrow shot thro him from his feet it shot up to his head
Like a cold night that nips the root & shatters off the leaves
20 Silent he stood oer Enitharmon watching her pale face
He spoke not he was Silent till he felt the cold disease
Then Los mournd on the dismal wind in his jealous lamentation
Why can I not Enjoy thy beauty Lovely Enitharmon
When I return from clouds of Grief in the wandring Elements
25 Where thou in thrilling joy in beaming summer loveliness
Delectable reposest ruddy in my absence flaming with beauty
Cold pale in sorrow at my approach trembling at my terrific
Forehead & eyes thy lips decay like roses in the spring
How art thou Shrunk thy grapes that burst in summers vast Excess
30 Shut up in little purple covering faintly bud & die
Thy olive trees that pourd down oil upon a thousand hills
Sickly look forth & scarcely stretch their branches to the plain
Thy roses that expanded in the face of glowing morn
Hid in a little silken veil scarce breathe & faintly shine
Thy lilies that gave light what time the morning looked forth
Hid in the Vales faintly lament & no one hears their voice
All things beside the woful Los enjoy the delights of beauty
5 Once how I sang & calld the beasts & birds to their delights
Nor knew that I alone exempted from the joys of love
Must war with secret monsters of the animating worlds
O that I had not seen the day then should I be at rest
Nor felt the stingings of desire nor longings after life
10 For life is Sweet to Los the wretched to his winged woes
Is given a craving cry that they may sit at night on barren rocks
And whet their beaks & snuff the air & watch the opening dawn
And Shriek till at the smells of blood they stretch their boney wings
And cut the winds like arrows shot by troops of Destiny
15 Thus Los lamented in the night unheard by Enitharmon
For the Shadow of Enitharmon descended down the tree of Mystery
The Spectre saw the Shade Shivering over his gloomy rocks
Beneath the tree of Mystery which in the dismal Abyss
Began to blossom in fierce pain shooting its writhing buds
20 In throes of birth & now the blossoms falling shining fruit
Appeard of many colours & of various poisonous qualities
Of Plagues hidden in shining globes that grew on the living tree
The Spectre of Urthona saw the Shadow of Enitharmon
Beneath the Tree of Mystery among the leaves & fruit
25 Reddning the Demon strong prepard the poison of sweet Love
He turnd from side to side in tears he wept & he embracd
The fleeting image & in whispers mild wood the faint shade
Loveliest delight of Men. Enitharmon shady hiding
In secret places where no eye can trace thy watry way
30 Have I found thee have I found thee tremblest thou in fear
Because of Orc because he rent his discordant way
From thy sweet loins of bliss. red flowd thy blood
Pale grew thy face lightnings playd around thee thunders hoverd
Over thee, & the terrible Orc rent his discordant wayt
35 But the next joy of thine shall be in sweet delusion
And its birth in fainting & sleep & Sweet delusions of Vala
The Shadow of Enitharmon answerd Art thou terrible Shade
Set over this sweet boy of mine to guard him lest he rend
His mother to the winds of heaven Intoxicated with
The fruit of this delightful tree. I cannot flee away
From thy embrace else be assurd so horrible a form
Should never in my arms repose. now listen I will tell
5 Thee Secrets of Eternity which neer before unlockd
My golden lips nor took the bar from Enitharmons breast
Among the Flowers of Beulah walkd the Eternal Man & Saw
Vala the lilly of the desart. melting in high noon
Upon her bosom in sweet bliss he fainted Wonder siezd
10 All heaven they saw him dark. they built a golden wall
Round Beulah There he reveld in delight among the Flowers
Vala was pregnant & brought forth Urizen Prince of Light
First born of Generation. Then behold a wonder to the Eyes
Of the now fallen Man a double form Vala appeard. A Male
15 And female shuddring pale the Fallen Man recoild
From the Enormity & calld them Luvah & Vala. turning down
The vales to find his way back into Heaven but found none
For his frail eyes were faded & his ears heavy & dull
Urizen grew up in the plains of Beulah Many Sons
20 And many daughters flourishd round the holy Tent of Man
Till he forgot Eternity delighted in his sweet joy
Among his family his flocks & herds & tents & pastures
But Luvah close conferrd with Urizen in darksom night
To bind the father & enslave the brethren Nought he knew
25 Of sweet Eternity the blood flowd round the holy tent & rivn
From its hinges uttering its final groan all Beulah fell
In dark confusion mean time Los was born & Enitharmon
But how I know not then forgetfulness quite wrapd me up
A period nor do I more remember till I stood
30 Beside Los in the Cavern dark enslavd to vegetative forms
According to the Will of Luvah who assumd the Place
Of the Eternal Man & smote him. But thou Spectre dark
Maist find a way to punish Vala in thy fiery South
To bring her down subjected to the rage of my fierce boy
The Spectre said. Thou lovely Vision this delightful Tree
Is given us for a Shelter from the tempests of Void & Solid
Till once again the morn of ages shall renew upon us
To reunite in those mild fields of happy Eternity
5 Where thou & I in undivided Essence walkd about
Imbodied. thou my garden of delight & I the spirit in the garden
Mutual there we dwelt in one anothers joy revolving
Days of Eternity with Tharmas mild & Luvah sweet melodious
Upon our waters. This thou well rememberest listen I will tell
10 What thou forgettest. They in us & we in them alternate Livd
Drinking the joys of Universal Manhood. One dread morn
Listen O vision of Delight One dread morn of goary blood
The manhood was divided for the gentle passions making way
Thro the infinite labyrinths of the heart & thro the nostrils issuing
15 In odorous stupefaction stood before the Eyes of Man
A female bright. I stood beside my anvil dark a mass
Of iron glowd bright prepard for spades & plowshares. sudden down
I sunk with cries of blood issuing downward in the veins
Which now my rivers were become rolling in tubelike formst
20 Shut up within themselves descending down I sunk along
The goary tide even to the place of seed & there dividing
I was divided in darkness & oblivion thou an infant woe
And I an infant terror in the womb of Enion
My masculine spirit scorning the frail body issud forth
25 From Enions brain In this deformed form leaving thee there
Till times passd over thee but still my spirit returning hoverd
And formd a Male to be a counterpart to thee O Love
Darkend & Lost In due time issuing forth from Enions womb
Thou & that demon Los wert born Ah jealousy & woe
30 Ah poor divided dark Urthona now a Spectre wandering
The deeps of Los the Slave of that Creation I created
I labour night & day for Los but listen thou my vision
I view futurity in thee I will bring down soft Vala
To the embraces of this terror & I will destroy
35 That body I created then shall we unite again in bliss
Thou knowest that the Spectre is in Every Man insane brutish
Deformd that I am thus a ravening devouring lust continually
Craving & devouring but my Eyes are always upon thee O lovely
Delusion & I cannot crave for any thing but thee not so
40 The spectres of the Dead for I am as the Spectre of the Living
For till these terrors planted round the Gates of Eternal life
Are driven away & annihilated we never can repass the Gates
Astonishd filld with tears the spirit of Enitharmon beheld
And heard the Spectre bitterly she wept Embracing ferventt
Her once lovd Lord now but a Shade herself also a shade
Conferring times on times among the branches of that Tree
5 Thus they conferrd among the intoxicating fumes of Mystery 5
Till Enitharmons shadow pregnant in the deeps beneath
Brought forth a wonder horrible. While Enitharmon shriekd
And trembled thro the Worlds above Los wept his fierce soul was terrifid
At the shrieks of Enitharmon at her tossings nor could his eyes percieve
10 The cause of her dire anguish for she lay the image of Death
Movd by strong shudders till her shadow was deliverd then she ran
Raving about the upper Elements in maddning fury
She burst the Gates of Enitharmons heart with direful Crash
Nor could they ever be closd again the golden hinges were broken
15 And the gates broke in sunder & their ornaments defacd
Beneath the tree of Mystery for the immortal shadow shuddering
Brought forth this wonder horrible a Cloud she grew & grew
Till many of the dead burst forth from the bottoms of their tombs
In male forms without female counterparts or Emanations
Template:Nr20 Cruel and ravening with Enmity & Hatred & War
In dreams of Ulro dark delusive drawn by the lovely shadowt
The Spectre terrified gave her Charge over the howling Orc
15 But in the deeps beneath the Roots of Mystery in darkest night
Where Urizen sat on his rock the Shadow brooded
Urizen saw & triumphd & he cried to his warriors
The time of Prophecy is now revolvd & all
This Universal Ornament is mine & in my hands
20 The ends of heaven like a Garment will I fold them round me
Consuming what must be consumd then in power & majesty
I will walk forth thro those wide fields of endless Eternity
A God & not a Man a Conqueror in triumphant glory
And all the Sons of Everlasting shall bow down at my feet
25 First Trades & Commerce ships & armed vessels he builded laborious
To swim the deep & on the Land children are sold to trades
Of dire necessity still laboring day & night till all
Their life extinct they took the spectre form in dark despair
And slaves in myriads in ship loads burden the hoarse sounding deep
30 Rattling with clanking chains the Universal Empire groans
And he commanded his Sons found a Center in the Deep
And Urizen laid the first Stone & all his myriads
Builded a temple in the image of the human heart
And in the inner part of the Temple wondrous workmanship
They formd the Secret place reversing all the order of delight
That whosoever enterd into the temple might not behold
The hidden wonders allegoric of the Generations
5 Of secret lust when hid in chambers dark the nightly harlot
Plays in Disguise in whisperd hymn & mumbling prayer The priests
He ordaind & Priestesses clothd in disguises beastial
Inspiring secrecy & lamps they bore intoxicating fumes
Roll round the Temple & they took the Sun that glowd oer Los
10 And with immense machines down rolling. the terrific orb
Compell’d. The Sun reddning like a fierce lion in his chains
Descended to the sound of instruments that drownd the noise
Of the hoarse wheels & the terrific howlings of wild beasts
That dragd the wheels of the Suns chariot & they put the Sun
15 Into the temple of Urizen to give light to the Abyss
To light the War by day to hide his secret beams by night
For he divided day & night in different orderd portions
The day for war the night for secret religion in his templet
Los reard his mighty stature on Earth stood his feet. Above
20 The moon his furious forehead circled with black bursting thunders
His naked limbs glittring upon the dark blue sky his knees
Bathed in bloody clouds. his loins in fires of war where spears
And swords rage where the Eagles cry & the Vultures laugh saying
Now comes the night of Carnage now the flesh of Kings & Princes
25 Pamperd in palaces for our food the blood of Captains nurturd
With lust & murder for our drink the drunken Raven shall wander
All night among the slain & mock the wounded that groan in the field
Tharmas laughd furious among the Banners clothd in blood
Crying As I will I rend the Nations all asunder rending
30 The People, vain their combinations I will scatter them
But thou O Son whom I have crowned and inthrond thee Strong
I will preserve tho Enemies arise around thee numberless
I will command my winds & they shall scatter them or call
My Waters like a flood around thee fear not trust in me
And I will give thee all the ends of heaven for thy possession
In war shalt thou bear rule in blood shalt thou triumph for me
Because in times of Everlasting I was rent in sunder
5 And what I loved best was divided among my Enemies
My little daughters were made captives & I saw them beaten
With whips along the sultry sands. I heard those whom I lovdt
Crying in secret tents at night & in the morn compelld
To labour & behold my heart sunk down beneath
10 In sighs & sobbings all dividing till I was divided
In twain & lo my Crystal form that lived in my bosom
Followd her daughters to the fields of blood they left me naked
Alone & they refusd to return from the fields of the mighty
Therefore I will reward them as they have rewarded me
15 I will divide them in my anger & thou O my King
Shalt gather them from out their graves & put thy fetter on them
And bind them to thee that my crystal form may come to me
So cried the Demon of the Waters in the Clouds of Los
Outstretchd upon the hills lay Enitharmon clouds & tempests
20 Beat round her head all night all day she riots in Excess
But night or day Los follows War & the dismal moon rolls over her
That when Los warrd upon the South reflected the fierce fires
Of his immortal head into the North upon faint Enitharmon
Red rage the furies of fierce Orc black thunders roll round Los
25 Flaming his head like the bright sun seen thro a mist that magnifies
His disk into a terrible vision to the Eyes of trembling mortals
And Enitharmon trembling & in fear utterd these words
I put not any trust in thee nor in thy glittering scales
Thy eyelids are a terror to me & the flaming of thy crest
30 The rushing of thy Scales confound me thy hoarse rushing scales
And if that Los had Dot built me a tower upon a rock
I must have died in the dark desart among noxious worms
How shall I flee how shall I flee into the tower of Los
My feet are turned backward & my footsteps slide in clay
35 And clouds are closd around my tower my arms labour in vain
Does not the God of waters in the wracking Elements
Love those who hate rewarding with hate the Loving Soul
And must not I obey the God thou Shadow of Jealousy
I cry the watchman heareth not I pour my voice in roarings
Watchman the night is thick & darkness cheats my rayie sight
Lift up Lift up O Los awake my watchman for he sleepeth
5 Lift up Lift up Shine forth O Light watchman thy light is out
O Los unless thou keep my tower the Watchman will be slain
So Enitharmon cried upon her terrible Earthy bed
While the broad Oak wreathd his roots round her forcing his dark way
Thro caves of death into Existence The Beech long limbd advancd
10 Terrific into the paind heavens The fruit trees humanizing
Shewd their immortal energies in warlike desperation
Rending the heavens & earths & drinking blood in the hot battle
To feed their fruit to gratify their hidden sons & daughters
That far within the close recesses of their secret palaces
15 Viewd the vast war & joyd wishing to vegetate
Into the Worlds of Enitharmon Loud the roaring winds
Burdend with clouds howl round the Couch sullen the wooly sheep
Walks thro the battle Dark & fierce the Bull his rage
Propagates thro the warring Earth The Lion raging in flames
20 The Tyger in redounding smoke The Serpent of the woods
And of the waters & the scorpion of the desart irritate
With harsh songs every living soul. The Prester Serpent runs
Along the ranks crying Listen to the Priest of God ye warriors
This Cowl upon my head he placd in times of Everlasting
25 And said Go forth & guide my battles. like the jointed spine
Of Man I made thee when I blotted Man from life & light
Take thou the seven Diseases of Man store them for times to come
In store houses in secret places that I will tell the[e] of
To be my great & awful curses at the time appointed
30 The Prester Serpent ceasd the War song sounded loud & strong
Thro all the heavens Urizens Web vibrated torment on torment
Thus in the Caverns of the Grave & Places of human seedt
The nameless shadowy Vortex stood before the face of Orc
The Shadow reard her dismal head over the flaming youth
With sighs & howling & deep sobs that he might lose his rage
5 And with it lose himself in meekness she embracd his fire
As when the Earthquake rouzes from his den his shoulders huge
Appear above the crumb[l]ing Mountain. Silence waits around him
A moment then astounding horror belches from the Center
The fiery dogs arise the shoulders huge appear
10 So Orc rolld round his clouds upon the deeps of dark Urthona 1
Knowing the arts of Urizen were Pity & Meek affection t
And that by these arts the Serpent form exuded from his limbs
Silent as despairing love & strong as Jealousy
Jealous that she was Vala now become Urizens harlot
15 And the Harlot of Los & the deluded harlot of the Kings of Earth
His soul was gnawn in sunder
The hairy shoulders rend the links free are the wrists of fire
Red rage redounds he rouzd his lions from his forests black
They howl around the flaming youth rending the nameless shadow
20 And running their immortal course thro solid darkness borne
Loud sounds the war song round red Orc in his [? triumphant] fury
And round the nameless shadowy Female in her howling terror
When all the Elemental Gods joind in the wondrous Song
Sound the War trumpet terrific Souls clad in attractive steel
25 Sound the shrill fife serpents of war. I hear the northern drum
Awake, I hear the flappings of the folding banners
The dragons of the North put on their armour
Upon the Eastern sea direct they take their course
The glittring of their horses trapping stains the vault of night
30 Stop we the rising of the glorious King. spur spur your clouds
Of death O northern drum awake O hand of iron sound
The northern drum. Now give the charge! bravely obscurd!
With darts of wintry hail. Again the black bow draw
Again the Elemental Strings to your right breasts draw
5 And let the thundring drum speed on the arrows black
The arrows flew from cloudy bow all day. till blood
From east to west flowd like the human veins in rivers
Of life upon the plains of death & valleys of despair
Now sound the clarions of Victory now strip the slain
10 clothe yourselves in golden arms brothers of war
They sound the clarions strong they chain the howling captives
they give the Oath of blood They cast the lots into the helmet,
They vote the death of Luvah & they naild him to the tree
They piercd him with a spear & laid him in a sepulcher
15 To die a death of Six thousand years bound round with desolation
The sun was black & the moon rolld a useless globe thro heaven
Then left the Sons of Urizen the plow & harrow the loom
The hammer & the Chisel & the rule & compasses
They forgd the sword the chariot of war the battle ax
20 The trumpet fitted to the battle & the flute of summer
And all the arts of life they changd into the arts of death
The hour glass contemnd because its simple workmanship
Was as the workmanship of the plowman & the water wheel
That raises water into Cisterns broken & burnd in fire
25 Because its workmanship was like the workmanship of the Shepherd
And in their stead intricate wheels invented Wheel without wheel
To perplex youth in their outgoings & to bind to labours
Of day & night the myriads of Eternity. that they might file
And polish brass & iron hour after hour laborious workmanship
30 Kept ignorant of the use that they might spend the days of wisdom
In sorrowful drudgery to obtain a scanty pittance of bread
In ignorance to view a small portion & think that All
And call it Demonstration blind to all the simple rules of life
Now now the Battle rages round thy tender limbs O Vala
35 Now smile among thy bitter tears now put on all thy beauty
Is not the wound of the sword Sweet & the broken bone delightful
Wilt thou now smile among the slain when the wounded groan in the field
Life up thy blue eyes Vala & put on thy sapphire shoes
O Melancholy Magdalen behold the morning breaks
Gird on thy flaming Zone. descend into the Sepulcher
Scatter the blood from thy golden brow the tears from thy silver locks
5 Shake off the waters from thy wings & the dust from thy white garments
Remember all thy feigned terrors on the secret Couch
When the sun rose in glowing morn with arms of mighty hosts
Marching to battle who was wont to rise with Urizens harpst
Girt as a Sower with his seed to scatter life abroad
10 Arise O Vala bring the bow of Urizen bring the swift arrows of light
How ragd the golden horses of Urizen bound to the chariot of Love
Compelld to leave the plow to the Ox to snuff up the winds of desolation
To trample the corn fields in boastful neighings. this is no gentle harp
This is no warbling brook nor Shadow of a Myrtle tree
15 But blood & wounds & dismal cries & clarions of war
And hearts laid open to the light by the broad grizly sword
And bowels hidden in hammerd steel rippd forth upon the Groundt
Call forth thy Smiles of soft deceit call forth thy cloudy tears
We hear thy sighs in trumpets shrill when Morn shall blood renew
20 So sung the demons of the deep the Clarions of war blew loud
Orc rent her & his human form consumd in his own fires
Mingled with her dolorous members strewn thro the Abyss
She joyd in all the Conflict Gratified & drinking tears of woe
No more remaind of Orc but the Serpent round the tree of Mystery
25 The form of Orc was gone he reard his serpent bulk among
The stars of Urizen in Power rending the form of lifet
Into a formless indefinite & strewing her on the Abyss
Like clouds upon the winter sky broken with winds & thunders
This was to her Supreme delight The Warriors mournd disappointed
30 They go out to war with Strong Shouts & loud Clarions O Pity
They return with lamentations mourning & weeping
Invisible or visible drawn out in length or stretchd in breadth
The Shadowy Female varied in the War in her delight
Howling in discontent black & heavy uttering brute sounds
35 Wading thro fens among the slimy weeds making Lamentations
To decieve Tharmas in his rage to soothe his furious soul
To stay him in his flight that Urizen might live tho in pain
He said Art thou bright Enion is the Shadow of hope returnd
And She said Tharmas I am Vala bless thy innocent face
40 Doth Enion avoid the sight of thy blue watry eyes
Be not perswaded that the air knows this or the falling dew
Tharmas replid O Vala once I livd in a garden of delight
I wakend Enion in the Morning & she turnd away
Among the apple trees & all the gardens of delight
Swam like a dream before my eyes I went to seek the steps
Of Enion in the gardens & the shadows compassd me
5 And closd me in a watry world of woe where Enion stood
Trembling before me like a shadow like a mist like air
And she is gone & here alone I war with darkness & death
I hear thy voice but not thy form see. thou & all delight
And life appear & vanish mocking me with shadows of false hope
10 Hast thou forgot that the air listens thro all its districts telling
The subtlest thoughts shut up from light in chambers of the Moon
Tharmas. The Moon has chambers where the babes of love lie hid
And whence they never can be brought in all Eternity
Unless exposd by their vain parents. Lo him whom I love
15 Is hidden from me & I never in all Eternity
Shall see him Enitharmon & Ahania combind with Enion
Hid him in that Outrageous form of Orc which torments me for Sin
For all my Secret faults which he brings forth upon the light
Of day in jealousy & blood my Children are led to Urizens war
20 Before my eyes & for every one of these I am condemnd
To Eternal torment in these flames for tho I have the power
To rise on high Yet love here binds me down & never never
Will I arise till him I love is loosd from this dark chain
Tharmas replied Vala thy Sins have lost us heaven & bliss
25 Thou art our Curse and till I can bring love into the light
I never will depart from my great wrath
So Tharmas waild wrathful then rode upon the Stormy Deep
Cursing the Voice that mockd him with false hope in furious mood
Then She returns swift as a blight upon the infant bud
30 Howling in all the notes of woe to stay his furious rage
Stamping the hills wading or swimming flying furious or falling
Or like an Earthquake rumbling in the bowels of the earth
Or like a cloud beneath & like a fire flaming in high
Walking in pleasure of the hills or murmuring in the dales
35 Like to a rushing torrent beneath & a falling rock above
A thunder cloud in the south & a lulling voice heard in the north
And she went forth & saw the forms of Life & of delight
Walking on Mountains or flying in the open expanse of heaven
She heard sweet voices in the winds & in the voices of birds
40 That rose from waters for the waters were as the voice of Luvah
Not seen to her like waters or like this dark world of death
Tho all those fair perfections which men know only by name
In beautiful substantial forms appeard & served her
As food or drink or ornament or in delightful works
45 To build her bowers for the Elements brought forth abundantly
The living soul in glorious forms & every one came forth
Walking before her Shadowy face & bowing at her feet
But in vain delights were poured forth on the howling melancholy
For her delight the horse his proud neck bowd & his white mane
50 And the Strong Lion deignd in his mouth to wear the golden bit
While the far beaming Peacock waited on the fragrant wind
To bring her fruits of sweet delight from trees of richest wonders
And the strong piniond Eagle bore the fire of heaven in the night season
Wood & subdud into Eternal Death the Demon Lay
55 In rage against the dark despair. the howling Melancholy
For far & wide she stretchd thro all the worlds of Urizens journey
And was Ajoind to Beulah as the Polypus to the Rock
Mo[u]rning the daughters of Beulah saw nor could they have sustaind
The horrid sight of death & torment But the Eternal Promise
5 They wrote on all their tombs & pillars & on every Urn
These words If ye will believe your B[r]other shall rise again
In golden letters ornamented with sweet labours of Love
Waiting with Patience for the fulfilment of the Promise Divinet
And all the Songs of Beulah sounded comfortable notes
10 Not suffring doubt to rise up from the Clouds of the Shadowy Female
Then myriads of the Dead burst thro the bottoms of their tombs
Descending on the shadowy females clouds in Spectrous terror
Beyond the Limit of Translucence on the Lake of Udan Adan
These they namd Satans & in the Aggregate they namd them Satan
Then took the tree of Mystery root in the World of Los
Its topmost boughs shooting a fibre beneath Enitharmons couch
25 The double rooted Labyrinth soon wavd around their heads
But then the Spectre enterd Los’s bosom Every sigh & groan
Of Enitharmon bore Urthonas Spectre on its wings
Obdurate Los felt Pity Enitharmon told the tale
Of Urthona. Los embracd the Spectre first as a brother
30 Then as another Self; astonishd humanizing & in tears
In Self abasement Giving up his Domineering lust
Thou never canst embrace sweet Enitharmon terrible Demon. Till
Thou art united with thy Spectre Consummating by pains & labours
That mortal body & by Self annihilation back returningt
35 To Life Eternal be assurd I am thy real Self
Tho thus divided from thee & the Slave of Every passion
Of thy fierce Soul Unbar the Gates of Memory look upon me
Not as another but as thy real Self I am thy Spectre
Thou didst subdue me in old times by thy Immortal Strength
40 When I was a ravning hungring & thirsting cruel lust & murder
Tho horrible & Ghastly to thine Eyes tho buried beneath
The ruins of the Universe. hear what inspird I speak & be silent
If we unite in one[,] another better world will bet
Opend within your heart & loins & wondrous brain
45 Threefold as it was in Eternity & this the fourth Universe
Will be Renewd by the three & consummated in Mental fires
But if thou dost refuse Another body will be prepared
For me & thou annihilate evaporate & be no more
For thou art but a form & organ of life & of thyself
Art nothing being Created Continually by Mercy & Love divine
Los furious answerd. Spectre horrible thy words astound my Ear
5 With irresistible conviction I feel I am not one of those
Who when convincd can still persist. tho furious.controllable
By Reasons power. Even I already feel a World within
Opening its gates & in it all the real substances
Of which these in the outward World are shadows which pass away
10 Come then into my Bosom & in thy shadowy arms bring with thee
My lovely Enitharmon. I will quell my fury & teach
Peace to the Soul of dark revenge & repentance to Cruelty
So spoke Los & Embracing Enitharmon & the Spectre
Clouds would have folded round in Extacy & Love uniting
But Enitharmon trembling fled & hid beneath Urizens tree
But mingling together with his Spectre the Spectre of Urthona
Wondering beheld the Center opend by Divine Mercy inspired
He in his turn Gave Tasks to Los Enormous to destroyt
5 That body he created but in vain for Los performd Wonders of labour
They Builded Golgonooza Los labouring builded pillars hight
And Domes terrific in the nether heavens for beneath
Was opend new heavens & a new Earth beneath & within
Threefold within the brain within the heart within the loins
10 A Threefold Atmosphere Sublime continuous from Urthonas worldt
But yet having a Limit Twofold named Satan & Adam
But Los stood on the Limit of Translucence weeping & trembling
Filled with doubts in self accusation beheld the fruitt
Of Urizens Mysterious tree For Enitharmon thus spake
15 When In the Deeps beneath I gatherd of this ruddy fruit
It was by that I knew that I had Sinnd & then I knew
That without a ransom I could not be savd from Eternal death
That Life lives upon Death & by devouring appetite
All things subsist on one another thenceforth in Despair
20 I spend my glowing time but thou art strong & mighty
To bear this Self conviction take then Eat thou also of
The fruit & give me proof of life Eternal or I die
Then Los plucked the fruit & Eat & sat down in Despair
And must have given himself to death Eternal But
25 Urthonas spectre in part mingling with him comforted him
Being a medium between him & Enitharmon But This Union
Was not to be Effected without Cares & Sorrows & Troubles
Of six thousand Years of self denial and of bitter Contrition
Urthonas Spectre terrified beheld the Spectres of the Dead
30 Each Male formd without a counterpart without a concentering vision
The Spectre of Urthona wept before Los Saying I am the cause
That this dire state commences I began the dreadful state
Of Separation & on my dark head the curse & punishment
Must fall unless a way be found to Ransom & Redeemt
35 But I have thee my [Counterpart Vegetating] miraculoust
These Spectres have no [Counter(parts)] therefore they ravin
Without the food of life Let us Create them Coun[terparts]
For without a Created body the Spectre is Eternal Death
Los trembling answerd Now I feel the weight of stern repentance
40 Tremble not so my Enitharmon at the awful gates
Of thy poor broken Heart I see thee like a shadow withering
As on the outside of Existence but look! behold! take comfort!
Turn inwardly thine Eyes & there behold the Lamb of God
Clothed in Luvahs robes of blood descending to redeem
45 O Spectre of Urthona take comfort O Enitharmon
Couldst thou but cease from terror & trembling & affright
When I appear before thee in forgiveness of ancient injuries
Why shouldst thou remember & be afraid. I surely have died in pain
Often enough to convince thy jealousy & fear & terrort
50 Come hither be patient let us converse together because
I also tremble at myself & at all my former life
Enitharmon answerd I behold the Lamb of God descending
To Meet these Spectres of the Dead I therefore fear that he
Will give us to Eternal Death fit punishment for such
55 Hideous offenders Uttermost extinction in eternal pain
An ever dying life of stifling & obstruction shut out
Of existence to be a sign & terror to all who behold
Lest any should in futurity do as we have done in heaven
Such is our state nor will the Son of God redeem us but destroy
So Enitharmon spoke trembling & in torrents of tears
Los sat in Golgonooza in the Gate of Luban wheret
He had erected many porches where branchd the Mysterious Tree
Where the Spectrous dead wail & sighing thus he spoke to Enitharmon
5 Lovely delight of Men Enitharmon shady refuge from furious war
Thy bosom translucent is a soft repose for the weeping souls
Of those piteous victims of battle there they sleep in happy obscurity
They feed upon our life we are their victims. Stern desire
I feel to fabricate embodied semblances in which the dead
10 May live before us in our palaces & in our gardens of labour
Which now opend within the Center we behold spread abroad
To form a world of Sacrifice of brothers & sons & daughters
To comfort Orc in his dire sufferings[;] look[!] my fires enlume afresh
Before my face ascending with delight as in ancient times
15 Enitharmon spread her beaming locks upon the wind & said
O Lovely terrible Los wonder of Eternity O Los my defence & guide
Thy works are all my joy. & in thy fires my soul delights
If mild they burn in just proportion & in secret night
And silence build their day in shadow of soft clouds & dews
20 Then I can sigh forth on the winds of Golgonooza piteous forms
That vanish again into my bosom but if thou my Los
Wilt in sweet moderated fury. fabricate forms sublime
Such as the piteous spectres may assimilate themselves into
They shall be ransoms for our Souls that we may live
25 So Enitharmon spoke & Los his hands divine inspired began
To modulate his fires studious the loud roaring flames
He vanquishd with the strength of Art bending their iron points
And drawing them forth delighted upon the winds of Golgonooza
From out the ranks of Urizens war & from the fiery lake
30 Of Orc bending down as the binder of the Sheaves follows
The reaper in both arms embracing the furious raging flames
Los drew them forth out of the deeps planting his right foot firm
Upon the Iron crag of Urizen thence springing up aloft
Into the heavens of Enitharmon in a mighty circle
35 And first he drew a line upon the walls of shining heaven
And Enitharmon tincturd it with beams of blushing love
It remaind permanent a lovely form inspird divinely human
Dividing into just proportions Los unwearied labourd
The immortal lines upon the heavens till with sighs of love
40 Sweet Enitharmon mild Entrancd breathd forth upon the wind
The spectrous dead Weeping the Spectres viewd the immortal works
Of Los Assimilating to those forms Embodied & Lovely
In youth & beauty in the arms of Enitharmon mild reposing
First Rintrah & then Palamabron drawn from out the ranks of war
45 In infant innocence reposd on Enitharmons bosom
Orc was comforted in the deeps his soul revivd in them
As the Eldest brother is the fathers image So Orc became
As Los a father to his brethren & he joyd in the dark lake
Tho bound with chains of Jealousy & in scales of iron & brass
50 But Los loved them & refusd to Sacrifice their infant limbs
And Enitharmons smiles & tears prevaild over self protection
They rather chose to meet Eternal death than to destroy
The offspring of their Care & Pity Urthonas spectre was comforted
But Tharmas most rejoicd in hope of Enions return
55 For he beheld new Female forms born forth upon the air
Who wove soft silken veils of covering in sweet rapturd trance
Mortal & not as Enitharmon without a covering veil
First his immortal spirit drew Urizen[s] Shadow away
From out the ranks of war separating him in sunder
60 Leaving his Spectrous form which could not be drawn away
Then he divided Thiriel the Eldest of Urizens sons
Urizen became Rintrah Thiriel became Palamabron
Thus dividing the powers of Every Warrior
Startled was Los he found his Enemy Urizen now
65 In his hands. he wonderd that he felt love & not hate
His whole soul loved him he beheld him an infant
Lovely breathd from Enitharmon he trembled within himself
End of the Seventh Night
MILTON A POEM
Written and illustrated between 1804 and 1810, this epic poem features the real-life character of John Milton, who returns from Heaven and unites with Blake to explore the relationship between living writers and their predecessors, undergoing a mystical journey to correct spiritual errors. Milton was Blake’s longest published poem at that time and was printed in his characteristic combination of etched text and illustration, enhanced with watercolour. Blake was clearly influenced by Dante’s Divine Comedy, in which work the medieval poet narrates his own adventures with the Roman poet Virgil, assisting him to interpret hell, purgatory and paradise on their spiritual journey. As Dante chose the revered Virgil as his model poet, Blake chose Milton, whose grand epic poem Paradise Lost shared the celebrated title of being the greatest English language attempt in this genre.
Milton is divided into two books and the first opens with a traditional invocation to the muses, drawing on the classical models of Homer and Virgil, and also used by Milton’s opening in Paradise Lost. However, Blake describes inspiration in bodily terms, vitalising the nerves of his arm. The poet goes on to describe the activities of Los, one of his mythological characters, who creates a complex universe from within which other characters debate the actions of Satan.
The frontispiece
CONTENTS
MILTON A POEM. BOOK THE SECOND
MILTON A POEM: PREFACE
THE Stolen and Perverted Writings of Homer & Ovid, of Plato &
Cicero, which all Men ought to contemn, are set up by artifice against
the Sublime of the Bible: but when the New Age is at leisure to Pronounce,
all will be set right & those Grand Works of the more ancient & con-
5 sciously & professedly Inspired Men will hold their proper rank & the
Daughters of Memory shall become the Daughters of Inspiration. Shak-
speare & Milton were both curb’d by the general malady & infection from
the silly Greek & Latin slaves of the Sword.
Rouze up O Young Men of the New Age! Set your foreheads against
10 the ignorant Hirelings! For we have Hirelings in the Camp, the Court, &
the University: who would if they could for ever depress Mental & prolong
Corporeal War. Painters! on you I call. Sculptors! Architects! Suffer not the
fashionable Fools to depress your powers by the prices they pretend to give
for contemptible works or the expensive advertizing boasts that they make
15 of such works; believe Christ & his Apostles that there is a Class of Men
whose whole delight is in Destroying. We do not want either Greek or
Roman Models if we are but just & true to our own Imaginations, those
Worlds of Eternity in which we shall live for ever, in Jesus Our Lord.
And did those feet in ancient time
20 Walk upon England’s mountains green,
And was the holy Lamb of God
On England’s pleasant pastures seen?
And did the Countenance Divine
Shine forth upon our clouded hills?
25 And was Jerusalem builded here
Among these dark Satanic Mills?
Bring me my Bow of burning gold:
Bring me my Arrows of desire:
Bring me my Spear: O clouds unfold!
30 Bring me my Chariot of fire:
I will not cease from Mental Fight,
Nor shall my Sword sleep in my hand,
Till we have built Jerusalem,
In England’s green & pleasant Land.
35 Would to God that all the Lord’s people were Prophets.
MILTON A POEM. BOOK THE FIRST
DAUGHTERS of Beulah! Muses who inspire the Poet’s Song,
Record the journey of immortal Milton thro’ your Realms
Of terror & mild moony lustre, in soft sexual delusions
Of varied beauty, to delight the wanderer and repose
5 His burning thirst & freezing hunger! Come into my hand
By your mild power; descending down the Nerves of my right arm
From out the Portals of my Brain, where by your ministry
The Eternal Great Humanity Divine planted his Paradise,
And in it caus’d the Spectres of the Dead to take sweet form
10 In likeness of himself. Tell also of the False Tongue! vegetated
Beneath your land of shadows: of its sacrifices, and
Its offerings: even till Jesus, the image of the Invisible God,
Became its prey; a curse, an offering, and an atonement
For Death Eternal in the heavens of Albion, & before the Gates
15 Of Jerusalem his Emanation, in the heavens beneath Beulah.
Say first! what mov’d Milton, who walk’d about in Eternity
One hundred years, pond’ring the intricate mazes of Providence,
Unhappy tho’ in heav’n, he obey’d, he murmur’d not, he was silent,
Viewing his Sixfold Emanation scatter’d thro’ the deep
20 In torment: To go into the deep her to redeem & himself perish?
That cause at length mov’d Milton to this unexampled deed,
A Bard’s prophetic Song! for sitting at eternal tables,
Terrific among the Sons of Albion, in chorus solemn & loud
A Bard broke forth: all sat attentive to the awful man.
25 Mark well my words! they are of your eternal salvation!
Three Classes are Created by the Hammer of Los, & Woven
FROM Golgonooza the spiritual Four-fold London eternal,
In immense labours & sorrows, ever building, ever falling,
Thro’ Albion’s four Forests which overspread all the Earth
From London Stone to Blackheath east: to Hounslow west:
5 To Finchley north: to Norwood south: and the weights
Of Enitharmon’s Loom play lulling cadences on the winds of Albion
From Caithness in the north, to Lizard-point & Dover in the south.
Loud sounds the hammer of Los, & loud his Bellows is heard
Before London to Hampstead’s breadths & Highgate’s heights, To
10 Stratford & old Bow, & across to the Gardens of Kensington
On Tyburn’s Brook: loud groans Thames beneath the iron Forge
Of Rintrah & Palamabron, of Theotorm & Bromion, to forge the instruments
Of Harvest: The Plow & Harrow to pass over the Nations.
The Surrey hills glow like the clinkers of the furnace: Lambeth’s Vale
15 Where Jerusalem’s foundations began; where they were laid in ruins,
Where they were laid in ruins from every Nation & Oak Groves rooted,
Dark gleams before the Furnace-mouth a heap of burning ashes.
When shall Jerusalem return & overspread all the Nations?
Return, return to Lambeth’s Vale, O building of human souls!
20 Thence stony Druid Temples overspread the Island white,
And thence from Jerusalem’s ruins, from her walls of salvation
And praise, thro’ the whole Earth were rear’d from Ireland
To Mexico & Peru west, & east to China & Japan: till Babel
The Spectre of Albion frown’d over the Nations in glory & war.
25 All things begin & end in Albion’s ancient Druid rocky shore:
But now the Starry Heavens are fled from the mighty limbs of Albion.
Loud sounds the Hammer of Los, loud turn the Wheels of Enitharmon:
Her Looms vibrate with soft affections, weaving the Web of Life
Out from the ashes of the Dead; Los lifts his iron Ladles
30 With molten ore: he heaves the iron cliffs in his rattling chains
From Hyde Park to the Alms-houses of Mile-end & old Bow.
Here the Three Classes of Mortal Men take their fix’d destinations,
And hence they overspread the Nations of the whole Earth & hence
The Web of Life is woven, & the tender sinews of life created,
35 And the three Classes of Men regulated by Los’s Hammer, and woven
BY Enitharmon’s Looms & Spun beneath the Spindle of Tirzah.
The first, The Elect from before the foundation of the World:
The second, The Redeem’d: The Third, The Reprobate & form’d
To destruction from the mothers womb:. . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . follow with me my plow.
5 Of the first class was Satan: with incomparable mildness;
His primitive tyrannical attempts on Los; with most endearing love
He soft intreated Los to give to him Palamabron’s station.
For Palamabron return’d with labour wearied every evening:
Palamabron oft refus’d: and as often Satan offer’d
10 His service, till by repeated offers and repeated intreaties
Los gave to him the Harrow of the Almighty; alas, blamable
Palamabron fear’d to be angry lest Satan should accuse him of
Ingratitude, & Los believe the accusation thro’ Satan’s extreme
Mildness. Satan labour’d all day: it was a thousand years:
15 In the evening returning terrified, overlabour’d & astonish’d,
Embrac’d soft with a brother’s tears Palamabron, who also wept.
Mark well my words! they are of your eternal salvation!
Next morning Palamabron rose: the horses of the Harrow
Were madden’d with tormenting fury, & the servants of the Harrow,
20 The Gnomes, accus’d Satan with indignation, fury and fire.
Then Palamabron, reddening like the Moon in an eclipse,
Spoke, saying: You know Satan’s mildness and his self-imposition,
Seeming a brother, being a tyrant, even thinking himself a brother
While he is murdering the just; prophetic I behold
25 His future course thro’ darkness and despair to eternal death.
But we must not be tyrants also: he hath assum’d my place
For one whole day, under pretence of pity and love to me!
My horses hath he madden’d! and my fellow servants injur’d!
How should he, he, know the duties of another? O foolish forbearance!
30 Would I had told Los all my heart! but patience, O my friends,
All may be well: silent remain, while I call Los and Satan.
Loud as the wind of Beulah that unroots the rocks & hills
Palamabron call’d: and Los & Satan came before him:
And Palamabron shew’d the horses & the servants. Satan wept,
35 And mildly cursing Palamabron, him accus’d of crimes
Himself had wrought. Los trembled: Satan’s blandishments almost
Perswaded the Prophet of Eternity that Palamabron
Was Satan’s enemy, & that the Gnomes, being Palamabron’s friends,
Were leagued together against Satan thro’ ancient enmity.
40 What could Los do? how could he judge, when Satan’s self believ’d
That he had not oppressed the horses at the Harrow, nor the servants.
So Los said: Henceforth, Palamabron, let each his own station
Keep: nor in pity false, nor in officious brotherhood, where
None needs, be active. Mean time Palamabron’s horses
45 Rag’d with thick flames redundant, & the Harrow madden’d with fury.
Trembling Palamabron stood, the strongest of Demons trembled:
Curbing his living creatures; many of the strongest Gnomes
They bit in their wild fury, who also madden’d like wildest beasts.
Mark well my words! they are of your eternal salvation!
MEAN WHILE went Satan before Los accusing Palamabron:
Himself exculpating with mildest speech, for himself believ’d
That he had not oppress’d nor injur’d the refractory servants.
But Satan returning to his Mills (for Palamabron had serv’d
5 The Mills of Satan as the easier task) found all confusion:
And back return’d to Los, not fill’d with vengeance but with tears,
Himself convinc’d of Palamabron’s turpitude. Los beheld
The servants of the Mills drunken with wine and dancing wild
With shouts and Palamabron’s songs, rending the forests green
10 With ecchoing confusion, tho’ the Sun was risen on high.
Then Los took off his left sandal, placing it on his head,
Signal of solemn mourning: when the servants of the Mills
Beheld the signal they in silence stood, tho’ drunk with wine.
Los wept! But Rintrah also came, and Enitharmon on
15 His arm lean’d tremblingly, observing all these things.
And Los said: Ye Genii of the Mills! the Sun is on high,
Your labours call you: Palamabron is also in sad dilemma:
His horses are mad: his Harrow confounded: his companions enrag’d.
Mine is the fault! I should have remember’d that pity divides the soul,
20 And man, unmans: follow with me my Plow: this mournful day
Must be a blank in Nature: follow with me, and tomorrow again
Resume your labours, & this day shall be a mournful day.
Wildly they follow’d Los and Rintrah, & the Mills were silent:
They mourn’d all day, this mournful day of Satan & Palamabron:
25 And all the Elect & all the Redeem’d mourn’d one toward another
Upon the mountains of Albion among the cliffs of the Dead.
They Plow’d in tears! incessant pour’d Jehovah’s rain & Molech’s
Thick fires, contending with the rain, thunder’d above rolling
Terrible over their heads; Satan wept over Palamabron.
30 Theotormon & Bromion contended on the side of Satan,
Pitying his youth and beauty, trembling at eternal death.
Michael contended against Satan in the rolling thunder:
Thulloh the friend of Satan also reprov’d him: faint their reproof.
But Rintrah who is of the reprobate: of those form’d to destruction:
35 In indignation for Satan’s soft dissimulation of friendship
Flam’d above all the plowed furrows, angry, red and furious:
Till Michael sat down in the furrow, weary, dissolv’d in tears.
Satan, who drave the team beside him, stood angry & red:
He smote Thulloh & slew him, & he stood terrible over Michael
40 Urging him to arise: he wept. Enitharmon saw his tears.
But Los hid Thulloh from her sight, lest she should die of grief.
She wept: she trembled: she kissed Satan: she wept over Michael:
She form’d a Space for Satan & Michael & for the poor infected.
Trembling she wept over the Space, & clos’d it with a tender Moon.
45 Los secret buried Thulloh, weeping disconsolate over the moony Space.
But Palamabron called down a Great Solemn Assembly,
That he who will not defend Truth, may be compelled to
Defend a Lie, that he may be snared & caught & taken.
AND all Eden descended into Palamabron’s tent,
Among Albion’s Druids & Bards in the caves beneath Albion’s
Death Couch, in the caverns of death, in the corner of the Atlantic.
And in the midst of the Great Assembly Palamabron pray’d:
5 O God, protect me from my friends, that they have not power over me:
Thou hast giv’n me power to protect myself from my bitterest enemies.
Mark well my words! they are of your eternal salvation!
Then rose the Two Witnesses, Rintrah & Palamabron:
And Palamabron appeal’d to all Eden, and receiv’d
10 Judgment: and Lo! it fell on Rintrah and his rage,
Which now flam’d high & furious in Satan against Palamabron,
Till it became a proverb in Eden. Satan is among the Reprobate.
Los in his wrath curs’d heaven & earth, he rent up Nations,
Standing on Albion’s rocks among high-rear’d Druid temples
15 Which reach the stars of heaven & stretch from pole to pole.
He displac’d continents, the oceans fled before his face:
He alter’d the poles of the world, east, west & north & south,
But he clos’d up Enitharmon from the sight of all these things.
For Satan flaming with Rintrah’s fury hidden beneath his own mildness
20 Accus’d Palamabron before the Assembly of ingratitude, of malice:
He created Seven deadly Sins, drawing out his infernal scroll
Of Moral laws and cruel punishments upon the clouds of Jehovah,
To pervert the Divine voice in its entrance to the earth
With thunder of war & trumpet’s sound, with armies of disease,
25 Punishments & deaths muster’d & number’d, Saying: I am God alone:
There is no other: let all obey my principles of moral individuality.
I have brought them from the uppermost, innermost recesses
Of my Eternal Mind: transgressors I will rend off for ever,
As now I rend this accursed Family from my covering.
30 Thus Satan rag’d amidst the Assembly, and his bosom grew
Opake against the Divine Vision: the paved terraces of
His bosom inwards shone with fires, but the stones, becoming opake,
Hid him from sight in an extreme blackness and darkness.
And there a World of deeper Ulro was open’d in the midst
35 Of the Assembly, in Satan’s bosom, a vast unfathomable Abyss.
Astonishment held the Assembly in an awful silence: and tears
Fell down as dews of night, & a loud solemn universal groan
Was utter’d from the east & from the west & from the south
And from the north; and Satan stood opake, immeasurable,
40 Covering the east with solid blackness, round his hidden heart,
With thunders utter’d from his hidden wheels: accusing loud
The Divine Mercy for protecting Palamabron in his tent.
Rintrah rear’d up walls of rocks and pour’d rivers & moats
Of fire round the walls: columns of fire guard around
45 Between Satan and Palamabron in the terrible darkness.
And Satan not having the Science of Wrath, but only of Pity,
Rent them asunder, and wrath was left to wrath, & pity to pity.
He sunk down a dreadful Death, unlike the slumbers of Beulah.
The Separation was terrible: the Dead was repos’d on his Couch
50 Beneath the Couch of Albion, on the seven mou[n]tains of Rome,
In the whole place of the Covering Cherub, Rome, Babylon & Tyre.
His Spectre raging furious descended into its Space.
HE set his face against Jerusalem to destroy the Eon of Albion.
But Los hid Enitharmon from the sight of all these things,
Upon the Thames whose lulling harmony repos’d her soul:
Where Beulah lovely terminates in rocky Albion:
5 Terminating in Hyde Park on Tyburn’s awful brook.
And the Mills of Satan were separated into a moony Space
Among the rocks of Albion’s Temples, and Satan’s Druid sons
Offer the Human Victims throughout all the Earth, and Albion’s
Dread Tomb, immortal on his Rock, overshadow’d the whole Earth:
10 Where Satan making to himself Laws from his own identity
Compell’d others to serve him in moral gratitude & submission,
Being call’d God: setting himself above all that is called God.
And all the Spectres of the Dead, calling themselves Sons of God,
In his Synagogues worship Satan under the Unutterable Name.
15 And it was enquir’d: Why in a Great Solemn Assembly
The Innocent should be condemn’d for the Guilty? Then an Eternal rose,
Saying: If the Guilty should be condemn’d he must be an Eternal Death,
And one must die for another throughout all Eternity.
Satan is fall’n from his station & never can be redeem’d,
20 But must be new Created continually moment by moment.
And therefore the Class of Satan shall be call’d the Elect, & those
Of Rintrah the Reprobate, & those of Palamabron the Redeem’d:
For he is redeem’d from Satan’s Law, the wrath falling on Rintrah.
And therefore Palamabron dared not to call a solemn Assembly
25 Till Satan had assum’d Rintrah’s wrath in the day of mourning,
In a feminine delusion of false pride self-deceiv’d.
So spake the Eternal, and confirm’d it with a thunderous oath.
But when Leutha (a Daughter of Beulah) beheld Satan’s condemnation,
She down descended into the midst of the Great Solemn Assembly,
30 Offering herself a Ransom for Satan, taking on her his Sin.
Mark well my words! they are of your eternal salvation!
And Leutha stood glowing with varying colours immortal, heart-piercing
And lovely: & her moth-like elegance shone over the Assembly.
At length, standing upon the golden floor of Palamabron,
35 She spake: I am the Author of this Sin! by my suggestion
My Parent power Satan has committed this transgression.
I loved Palamabron & I sought to approach his Tent,
But beautiful Elynittria with her silver arrows repell’d me.
FOR her light is terrible to me: I fade before her immortal beauty.
O wherefore doth a Dragon-form forth issue from my limbs
To seize her new born son? Ah me! the wretched Leutha!
This to prevent, entering the doors of Satan’s brain night after night,
5 Like sweet perfumes I stupified the masculine perceptions
And kept only the feminine awake: hence rose his soft
Delusory love to Palamabron; admiration join’d with envy!
Cupidity unconquerable! my fault, when at noon of day
The Horses of Palamabron call’d for rest and pleasant death:
10 I sprang out of the breast of Satan, over the Harrow beaming
In all my beauty, that I might unloose the flaming steeds
As Elynittria used to do; but too well those living creatures
Knew that I was not Elynittria, and they brake the traces.
But me the servants of the Harrow saw not, but as a bow
15 Of varying colours on the hills; terribly rag’d the horses.
Satan astonish’d, and with power above his own controll,
Compell’d the Gnomes to curb the horses, & to throw banks of sand
Around the fiery flaming Harrow in labyrinthine forms,
And brooks between to intersect the meadows in their course.
20 The Harrow cast thick flames: Jehovah thunder’d above.
Chaos & ancient night fled from beneath the fiery Harrow:
The Harrow cast thick flames & orb’d us round in concave fire,
A Hell of our own making, see, its flames still gird me round!
Jehovah thunder’d above: Satan in pride of heart
25 Drove the fierce Harrow among the constellations of Jehovah,
Drawing a third part in the fires as stubble, north & south,
To devour Albion and Jerusalem, the Emanation of Albion,
Driving the Harrow in Pity’s paths: ‘twas then, with our dark fires
Which now gird round us (O eternal torment) I form’d the Serpent
30 Of precious stones & gold, turn’d poisons on the sultry wastes.
The Gnomes in all that day spar’d not; they curs’d Satan bitterly.
To do unkind things in kindness: with power arm’d to say
The most irritating things in the midst of tears and love:
These are the stings of the Serpent! thus did we by them, till thus
35 They in return retaliated, and the Living Creatures madden’d.
The Gnomes labour’d. I weeping hid in Satan’s inmost brain.
But when the Gnomes refus’d to labour more, with blandishments
I came forth from the head of Satan: back the Gnomes recoil’d
And called me Sin, and for a sign portentous held me. Soon
40 Day sunk and Palamabron return’d, trembling I hid myself
In Satan’s inmost Palace of his nervous fine wrought Brain:
For Elynittria met Satan with all her singing women,
Terrific in their joy & pouring wine of wildest power,
They gave Satan their wine, indignant at the burning wrath.
45 Wild with prophetic fury his former life became like a dream.
Cloth’d in the Serpent’s folds, in selfish holiness demanding purity,
Being most impure, self-condemn’d to eternal tears, he drove
Me from his inmost Brain & the doors clos’d with thunder’s sound.
O Divine Vision who didst create the Female, to repose
50 The Sleepers of Beulah, pity the repentant Leutha. My
SICK Couch bears the dark shades of Eternal Death infolding
The Spectre of Satan: he furious refuses to repose in sleep:
I humbly bow in all my Sin before the Throne Divine.
Not so the Sick-one; Alas, what shall be done him to restore,
5 Who calls the Individual Law Holy, and despises the Saviour,
Glorying to involve Albion’s Body in fires of eternal War?
Now Leutha ceas’d: tears flow’d: but the Divine Pity supported her.
All is my fault! We are the Spectre of Luvah, the murderer
Of Albion! O Vala! O Luvah! O Albion! O lovely Jerusalem!
10 The Sin was begun in Eternity and will not rest to Eternity,
Till two Eternitys meet together. Ah! lost! lost! lost! for ever!
So Leutha spoke. But when she saw that Enitharmon had
Created a New Space to protect Satan from punishment:
She fled to Enitharmon’s Tent & hid herself. Loud raging
15 Thunder’d the Assembly dark & clouded, and they ratify’d
The kind decision of Enitharmon, & gave a Time to the Space,
Even Six Thousand years, and sent Lucifer for its Guard.
But Lucifer refus’d to die, & in pride he forsook his charge:
And they elected Molech, and when Molech was impatient
20 The Divine hand found the Two Limits: first of Opacity, then of Contraction.
Opacity was named Satan, Contraction was named Adam.
Triple Elohim came: Elohim wearied fainted: they elected Shaddai:
Shaddai angry, Pahad descended: Pahad terrified, they sent Jehovah,
And Jehovah was leprous; loud he call’d stretching his hand to Eternity.
25 For then the Body of Death was perfected in hypocritic holiness,
Around the Lamb, a Female Tabernacle woven in Cathedron’s Looms.
He died as a Reprobate, he was Punish’d as a Transgressor:
Glory! Glory! Glory! to the Holy Lamb of God!
I touch the heavens as an instrument to glorify the Lord!
30 The Elect shall meet the Redeem’d on Albion’s rocks they shall meet
Astonish’d at the Transgressor, in him beholding the Saviour.
And the Elect shall say to the Redeemed: We behold it is of Divine
Mercy alone, of Free Gift and Election that we live:
Our Virtues & Cruel Goodnesses have deserv’d Eternal Death,
35 Thus they weep upon the fatal Brook of Albion’s River.
But Elynittria met Leutha in the place where she was hidden,
And threw aside her arrows, and laid down her sounding Bow:
She sooth’d her with soft words & brought her to Palamabron’s bed.
In moments new created for delusion interwoven round about,
40 In dreams she bore the shadowy Spectre of Sleep & nam’d him Death:
In dreams she bore Rahab the mother of Tirzah & her sisters
In Lambeth’s vales; in Cambridge & in Oxford, places of Thought,
Intricate labyrinths of Times and Spaces unknown, that Leutha lived
In Palamabron’s Tent, and Oothoon was her charming guard.
45 The Bard Ceas’d. All consider’d and a loud resounding murmur
Continu’d round the Halls and much they question’d the immortal
Loud voic’d Bard, and many condemn’d the high toned Song,
Saying: Pity and Love are too venerable for the imputation
Of Guilt. Others said: If it is true, if the acts have been performed,
50 Let the Bard himself witness. Where hadst thou this terrible Song?
The Bard replied: I am Inspired! I know it is Truth! for I Sing
ACCORDING to the inspiration of the Poetic Genius,
Who is the eternal all protecting Divine Humanity,
To whom be Glory & Power & Dominion Evermore. Amen.
Then there was great murmuring in the Heavens of Albion
5 Concerning Generation & the Vegetative power & concerning
The Lamb the Saviour. Albion trembled to Italy, Greece & Egypt
To Tartary & Hindostan & China & to Great America,
Shaking the roots & fast foundations of the Earth in doubtfulness:
The loud voic’d Bard terrify’d took refuge in Milton’s Bosom.
10 Then Milton rose up from the heavens of Albion ardorous:
The whole Assembly wept prophetic, seeing in Milton’s face
And in his lineaments divine the shades of Death and Ulro:
He took off the robe of the promise, & ungirded himself from the oath of God.
And Milton said: I go to Eternal Death! The Nations still
15 Follow after the detestable Gods of Priam: in pomp
Of warlike selfhood contradicting and blaspheming.
When will the Resurrection come to deliver the sleeping body
From corruptibility; O when, Lord Jesus, wilt thou come.
Tarry no longer, for my soul lies at the gates of death.
20 I will arise and look forth for the morning of the grave:
I will go down to the sepulcher to see if morning breaks:
I will go down to self annihilation and eternal death:
Lest the Last Judgment come & find me unannihilate
And I be seiz’d & giv’n into the hands of my own Selfhood.
25 The Lamb of God is seen thro’ mists & shadows, hov’ring
Over the sepulchers in clouds of Jehovah & winds of Elohim,
A disk of blood distant; & heav’ns & earths roll dark between.
What do I here before the Judgment? without my Emanation?
With the daughters of memory & not with the daughters of inspiration?
30 I in my Selfhood am that Satan. I am that Evil One!
He is my Spectre! in my obedience to loose him from my Hells,
To claim the Hells, my Furnaces, I go to Eternal Death.
And Milton said: I go to Eternal Death! Eternity shudder’d
For he took the outside course, among the graves of the dead,
35 A mournful shade. Eternity shudder’d at the image of eternal death.
Then on the verge of Beulah he beheld his own Shadow:
A mournful form double, hermaphroditic, male & female
In one wonderful body, and he enter’d into it
In direful pain for the dread shadow, twenty-seven fold
40 Reach’d to the depths of direst Hell, & thence to Albion’s land:
Which is this earth of vegetation on which now I write.
The Seven Angels of the Presence wept over Milton’s Shadow:
AS when a man dreams, he reflects not that his body sleeps,
Else he would wake; so seem’d he entering his Shadow: but
With him the Spirits of the Seven Angels of the Presence
Entering, they gave him still perceptions of his Sleeping Body
5 Which now arose and walk’d with them in Eden, as an Eighth
Image Divine tho’ darken’d, and tho’ walking as one walks
In sleep: and the Seven comforted and supported him.
Like as a Polypus that vegetates beneath the deep,
They saw his Shadow vegetated underneath the Couch
10 Of death: for when he enter’d into his Shadow, Himself,
His real and immortal Self; was as appear’d to those
Who dwell in immortality, as One sleeping on a couch
Of gold: and those in immortality gave forth their Emanations
Like Females of sweet beauty, to guard round him & to feed
15 His lips with food of Eden in his cold and dim repose:
But to himself he seem’d a wanderer lost in dreary night.
Onwards his Shadow kept its course among the Spectres, call’d
Satan, but swift as lightning passing them, startled the shades
Of Hell beheld him in a trail of light as of a comet
20 That travels into Chaos: so Milton went guarded within.
The nature of infinity is this: That every thing has its
Own Vortex; and when once a traveller thro’ Eternity
Has passed that Vortex, he perceives it roll backward behind
His path, into a globe itself infolding, like a sun,
25 Or like a moon, or like a universe of starry majesty,
While he keeps onwards in his wondrous journey on the earth,
Or like a human form, a friend with whom he liv’d benevolent.
As the eye of man views both the east & west encompassing
Its vortex: and the north & south, with all their starry host:
30 Also the rising sun & setting moon he views surrounding
His corn-fields and his valleys of five hundred acres square.
Thus is the earth one infinite plane, and not as apparent
To the weak traveller confin’d beneath the moony shade.
Thus is the heaven a vortex pass’d already, and the earth
35 A vortex not yet pass’d by the traveller thro’ Eternity.
First Milton saw Albion upon the Rock of Ages,
Deadly pale outstretch’d and snowy cold, storm cover’d:
A Giant form of perfect beauty outstretch’d on the rock
In solemn death: the Sea of Time & Space thunder’d aloud
40 Against the rock, which was inwrapped with the weeds of death.
Hovering over the cold bosom, in its vortex Milton bent down
To the bosom of death: what was underneath soon seem’d above,
A cloudy heaven mingled with stormy seas in loudest ruin:
But as a wintry globe descends precipitant thro’ Beulah bursting
45 With thunders loud and terrible: so Milton’s shadow fell
Precipitant loud thund’ring into the Sea of Time & Space.
Then first I saw him in the Zenith as a falling star,
Descending perpendicular, swift as the swallow or swift:
And on my left foot falling on the tarsus, enter’d there,
50 But from my left foot a black cloud redounding spread over Europe.
Then Milton knew that the Three Heavens of Beulah were beheld
By him on earth in his bright pilgrimage of sixty years
IN the three females whom his wives, & these three whom his daughters
Had represented and contain’d, that they might be resum’d
By giving up of Selfhood: & they distant view’d his journey
In their eternal spheres now Human, tho’ their Bodies remain clos’d
5 In the dark Ulro till the Judgment: also Milton knew, they and
Himself was Human, tho’ now wandering thro’ Death’s Vale,
In conflict with those Female forms, which in blood & jealousy
Surrounded him dividing & uniting without end or number.
He saw the Cruelties of Ulro, and he wrote them down
10 In iron tablets: and his Wives’ & Daughters’ names were these:
Rahab and Tirzah, & Milcah & Malah & Noah & Hoglah.
They sat rang’d round him as the rocks of Horeb round the land
Of Canaan: and they wrote in thunder, smoke and fire
His dictate; and his body was the Rock Sinai: that body,
15 Which was on earth born to corruption: & the six Females
Are Hor & Peor & Bashan & Abarim & Lebanon & Hermon,
Seven rocky masses terrible in the Desarts of Midian.
But Milton’s Human Shadow continu’d journeying above
The rocky masses of The Mundane Shell; in the Lands
20 Of Edom & Aram & Moab & Midian & Amalek.
The Mundane Shell is a vast Concave Earth: an immense
Harden’d shadow of all things upon our Vegetated Earth,
Enlarg’d into dimension & deform’d into indefinite space,
In Twenty-seven Heavens and all their Hells; with Chaos
25 And Ancient Night; & Purgatory. It is a cavernous Earth
Of labyrinthine intricacy twenty-seven-folds of opakeness,
And finishes where the lark mounts; here Milton journeyed
In that Region call’d Midian, among the rocks of Horeb.
For travellers from Eternity, pass onward to Satan’s seat,
30 But travellers to Eternity, pass inward to Golgonooza.
Los, the Vehicular terror, beheld him, & divine Enitharmon
Call’d all her daughters, Saying: Surely to unloose my bond
Is this Man come! Satan shall be unloos’d upon Albion!
Los heard in terror Enitharmon’s words: in fibrous strength
35 His limbs shot forth like roots of trees against the forward path
Of Milton’s journey. Urizen beheld the immortal Man.
AND he also darken’d his brows: freezing dark rocks between
The footsteps, and infixing deep the feet in marble beds:
That Milton labour’d with his journey, & his feet bled sore
Upon the clay now chang’d to marble; also Urizen rose,
5 And met him on the shores of Albion, & by the streams of the brooks.
Silent they met, and silent strove among the streams of Arnon
Even to Mahanaim, when with cold hand Urizen stoop’d down
And took up water from the river Jordan: pouring on
To Milton’s brain the icy fluid from his broad cold palm.
10 But Milton took of the red clay of Succoth, moulding it with care
Between his palms: and filling up the furrows of many years,
Beginning at the feet of Urizen, and on the bones
Creating new flesh on the Demon cold, and building him,
As with new clay, a Human form in the Valley of Beth Peor.
15 Four Universes round the Mundane Egg remain Chaotic.
One to the North, named Urthona: One to the South, named Urizen:
One to the East, named Luvah: One to the West, named Tharmas:
They are the Four Zoas that stood around the Throne Divine.
But when Luvah assum’d the World of Urizen to the South,
20 And Albion was slain upon his mountains & in his tent:
All fell towards the Center in dire ruin, sinking down.
And in the South remains a burning fire: in the East, a void:
In the West, a world of raging waters: in the North, a solid,
Unfathomable, without end. But in the midst of these
25 Is built eternally the Universe of Los and Enitharmon:
Towards which Milton went, but Urizen oppos’d his path.
The Man and Demon strove many periods. Rahab beheld,
Standing on Carmel: Rahab and Tirzah trembled to behold
The enormous strife, one giving life, the other giving death
30 To his adversary, and they sent forth all their sons & daughters
In all their beauty to entice Milton across the river.
The Twofold form Hermaphroditic, and the Double-sexed,
The Female-male & the Male-female, self-dividing stood
Before him in their beauty, & in cruelties of holiness:
35 Shining in darkness, glorious upon the deeps of Entuthon.
Saying: Come thou to Ephraim! behold the Kings of Canaan!
The Beautiful Amalekites, behold the fires of youth
Bound with the Chain of Jealousy by Los & Enitharmon!
The banks of Cam, cold learning’s streams, London’s dark frowning towers,
40 Lament upon the winds of Europe in Rephaim’s Vale,
Because Ahania, rent apart into a desolate night,
Laments! & Enion wanders like a weeping inarticulate voice,
And Vala labours for her bread & water among the Furnaces.
Therefore bright Tirzah triumphs, putting on all beauty,
45 And all perfection, in her cruel sports among the Victims.
Come bring with thee Jerusalem with songs on the Grecian Lyre!
In Natural Religion: in experiments on Men.
Let her be Offer’d up to Holiness: Tirzah numbers her:
She numbers with her fingers every fibre ere it grow:
50 Where is the Lamb of God? where is the promise of his coming?
Her shadowy sisters form the bones, even the bones of Horeb,
Around the marrow: and the orbed scull around the brain:
His Images are born for War, for Sacrifice to Tirzah:
To Natural Religion! to Tirzah, the Daughter of Rahab the Holy:
55 She ties the knot of nervous fibres into a white brain!
She ties the knot of bloody veins into a red hot heart!
Within her bosom Albion lies embalm’d, never to awake.
Hand is become a rock: Sinai & Horeb is Hyle & Coban:
Scofield is bound in iron armour before Reuben’s Gate:
60 She ties the knot of milky seed into two lovely Heavens,
TWO yet but one; each in the other sweet reflected: these
Are our Three Heavens beneath the shades of Beulah, land of rest:
Come then to Ephraim & Manasseh, O beloved-one!
Come to my ivory palaces, O beloved of thy mother!
5 And let us bind thee in the bands of War & be thou King
Of Canaan and reign in Hazor where the Twelve Tribes meet.
So spoke they as in one voice: Silent Milton stood before
The darken’d Urizen; as the sculptor silent stands before
His forming image: he walks round it patient labouring.
10 Thus Milton stood forming bright Urizen, while his Mortal part
Sat frozen in the rock of Horeb: and his Redeemed portion,
Thus form’d the Clay of Urizen; but within that portion
His real Human walk’d above in power and majesty,
Tho’ darken’d; and the Seven Angels of the Presence attended him.
15 O how can I with my gross tongue that cleaveth to the dust,
Tell of the Four-fold Man in starry numbers fitly order’d,
Or how can I with my cold hand of clay! But thou, O Lord,
Do with me as thou wilt! for I am nothing, and vanity
If thou chuse to elect a worm, it shall remove the mountains.
20 For that portion nam’d the Elect: the Spectrous body of Milton:
Redounding from my left foot into Los’s Mundane space,
Brooded over his Body in Horeb against the Resurrection,
Preparing it for the Great Consummation: red the Cherub on Sinai
Glow’d: but in terrors folded round his clouds of blood.
25 Now Albion’s sleeping Humanity began to turn upon his Couch,
Feeling the electric flame of Milton’s awful precipitate descent.
Seest thou the little winged fly smaller than a grain of sand?
It has a heart like thee: a brain open to heaven & hell,
Withinside wondrous & expansive: its gates are not clos’d:
30 I hope thine are not: hence it clothes itself in rich array:
Hence thou art cloth’d with human beauty, O thou mortal man.
Seek not thy heavenly father then beyond the skies:
There Chaos dwells & ancient Night & Og & Anak old:
For every human heart has gates of brass & bars of adamant,
35 Which few dare unbar, because dread Og & Anak guard the gates
Terrific: and each mortal brain is wall’d and moated round
Within: and Og & Anak watch here: here is the Seat
Of Satan in its Webs: for in brain and heart and loins
Gates open behind Satan’s Seat to the City of Golgonooza,
40 Which is the spiritual fourfold London, in the loins of Albion.
Thus Milton fell thro’ Albion’s heart, travelling outside of Humanity
Beyond the Stars in Chaos in Caverns of the Mundane Shell.
But many of the Eternals rose up from eternal tables,
Drunk with the Spirit, burning round the Couch of death they stood,
45 Looking down into Beulah: wrathful, fill’d with rage:
They rend the heavens round the Watchers in a fiery circle,
And round the Shadowy Eighth: the Eight close up the Couch
Into a tabernacle, and flee with cries down to the Deeps:
Where Los opens his three wide gates, surrounded by raging fires:
50 They soon find their own place & join the Watchers of the Ulro.
Los saw them and a cold pale horror cover’d o’er his limbs.
Pondering he knew that Rintrah & Palamabron might depart:
Even as Reuben & as Gad: gave up himself to tears.
He sat down on his anvil-stock: and leaned upon the trough,
55 Looking into the black water, mingling it with tears.
At last when desperation almost tore his heart in twain
He recollected an old Prophecy in Eden recorded,
And often sung to the loud harp at the immortal feasts:
That Milton of the Land of Albion should up ascend
60 Forwards from Ulro from the Vale of Felpham, and set free
Orc from his Chain of Jealousy: he started at the thought,
AND down descended into Udan-Adan; it was night:
And Satan sat sleeping upon his Couch in Udan-Adan:
His Spectre slept, his Shadow woke; when one sleeps th’other wakes.
But Milton entering my Foot, I saw in the nether
5 Regions of the Imagination; also all men on Earth
And all in Heaven, saw in the nether regions of the Imagination,
In Ulro beneath Beulah, the vast breach of Milton’s descent.
But I knew not that it was Milton, for man cannot know
What passes in his members till periods of Space & Time
10 Reveal the secrets of Eternity: for more extensive
Than any other earthly things, are Man’s earthly lineaments.
And all this Vegetable World appeared on my left Foot
As a bright sandal form’d immortal of precious stones & gold:
I stooped down & bound it on to walk forward thro’ Eternity.
15 There is in Eden a sweet River of milk & liquid pearl
Nam’d Ololon: on whose mild banks dwelt those who Milton drove
Down into Ulro: and they wept in long resounding songs
For seven days of eternity, and the river’s living banks,
The mountains wail’d! & every plant that grew, in solemn sighs lamented.
20 When Luvah’s bulls each morning drag the sulphur Sun out of the Deep
Harness’d with starry harness, black & shining, kept by black slaves
That work all night at the starry harness: Strong and vigorous
They drag the unwilling Orb: at this time all the Family
Of Eden heard the lamentation and Providence began.
25 But when the clarions of day sounded they drown’d the lamentation,
And when night came all was silent in Ololon; & all refused to lament
In the still night fearing lest they should others molest.
Seven mornings Los heard them, as the poor bird within the shell
Hears its impatient parent bird; and Enitharmon heard them:
30 But saw them not, for the blue Mundane Shell inclos’d them in.
And they lamented that they had in wrath & fury & fire
Driven Milton into the Ulro; for now they knew too late
That it was Milton the Awakener: they had not heard the Bard,
Whose Song call’d Milton to the attempt; and Los heard these laments.
35 He heard them call in prayer all the Divine Family;
And he beheld the Cloud of Milton stretching over Europe.
But all the Family Divine collected as Four Suns
In the Four Points of heaven, East, West & North & South,
Enlarging and enlarging till their Disks approach’d each other:
40 And when they touch’d closed together Southward in One Sun
Over Ololon: and as One Man, who weeps over his brother
In a dark tomb, so all the Family Divine wept over Ololon.
Saying: Milton goes to Eternal Death! so saying they groan’d in spirit
And were troubled! and again the Divine Family groan’d in spirit!
45 And Ololon said: Let us descend also, and let us give
Ourselves to death in Ulro among the Transgressors.
Is Virtue a Punisher? O no! how is this wondrous thing?
This World beneath, unseen before; this refuge from the wars
Of Great Eternity! unnatural refuge! unknown by us till now.
50 Or are these the pangs of repentance? let us enter into them.
Then the Divine Family said: Six Thousand Years are now
Accomplish’d in this World of Sorrow; Milton’s Angel knew
The Universal Dictate: and you also feel this Dictate.
And now you know this World of Sorrow, and feel Pity. Obey
55 The Dictate! Watch over this World, and with your brooding wings
Renew it to Eternal Life: Lo! I am with you alway:
But you cannot renew Milton: he goes to Eternal Death.
So spake the Family Divine as One Man, even Jesus,
Uniting in One with Ololon & the appearance of One Man,
60 Jesus the Saviour, appear’d coming in the Clouds of Ololon:
THO’ driven away with the Seven Starry Ones into the Ulro,
Yet the Divine Vision remains Every-where For-ever. Amen.
And Ololon lamented for Milton with a great Lamentation.
While Los heard indistinct in fear, what time I bound my sandals
5 On, to walk forward thro’ Eternity, Los descended to me:
And Los behind me stood: a terrible flaming Sun: just close
Behind my back: I turned round in terror and behold,
Los stood in that fierce glowing fire; & he also stoop’d down
And bound my sandals on in Udan-Adan: trembling I stood
10 Exceedingly with fear & terror, standing in the Vale
Of Lambeth: but he kissed me and wish’d me health.
And I became One Man with him arising in my strength:
‘Twas too late now to recede. Los had enter’d into my soul:
His terrors now posses’d me whole! I arose in fury & strength.
15 I am that Shadowy Prophet who Six Thousand Years ago
Fell from my station in the Eternal bosom. Six Thousand Years
Are finish’d. I return! both Time & Space obey my will.
I in Six Thousand Years walk up and down: for not one Moment
Of Time is lost, nor one Event of Space unpermanent,
20 But all remain: every fabric of Six Thousand Years
Remains permanent: tho’ on the Earth where Satan
Fell, and was cut off, all things vanish & are seen no more,
They vanish not from me & mine, we guard them first & last.
The generations of men run on in the tide of Time,
25 But leave their destin’d lineaments permanent for ever & ever.
So spake Los as we went along to his supreme abode.
Rintrah and Palamabron met us at the Gate of Golgonooza,
Clouded with discontent & brooding in their minds terrible things.
They said: O Father most beloved! O merciful Parent!
30 Pitying and permitting evil, tho’ strong & mighty to destroy.
Whence is this Shadow terrible? wherefore dost thou refuse
To throw him into the Furnaces? knowest thou not that he
Will unchain Orc? & let loose Satan, Og, Sihon & Anak,
Upon the Body of Albion? for this he is come! behold it written
35 Upon his fibrous left Foot black: most dismal to our eyes.
The Shadowy Female shudders thro’ heaven in torment inexpressible:
And all the Daughters of Los prophetic wail: yet in deceit
They weave a new Religion from new Jealousy of Theotormon.
Milton’s Religion is the cause: there is no end to destruction.
40 Seeing the Churches at their Period in terror & despair,
Rahab created Voltaire; Tirzah created Rousseau:
Asserting the Self-righteousness against the Universal Saviour,
Mocking the Confessors & Martyrs, claiming Self-righteousness,
With cruel Virtue: making War upon the Lamb’s Redeemed:
45 To perpetuate War & Glory, to perpetuate the Laws of Sin.
They perverted Swedenborg’s Visions in Beulah & in Ulro,
To destroy Jerusalem as a Harlot & her Sons as Reprobates,
To raise up Mystery the Virgin Harlot, Mother of War,
Babylon the Great, the Abomination of Desolation.
50 O Swedenborg! strongest of men, the Samson shorn by the Churches:
Shewing the Transgressors in Hell, the proud Warriors in Heaven,
Heaven as a Punisher, & Hell as One under Punishment:
With Laws from Plato & his Greeks to renew the Trojan Gods
In Albion: & to deny the value of the Saviour’s blood.
55 But then I rais’d up Whitefield, Palamabron rais’d up Westley,
And these are the cries of the Churches before the two Witnesses.
Faith in God the dear Saviour who took on the likeness of men:
Becoming obedient to death, even the death of the Cross.
The Witnesses lie dead in the Street of the Great City:
60 No Faith is in all the Earth: the Book of God is trodden under Foot!
He sent his two Servants Whitefield & Westley: were they Prophets,
Or were they Idiots or Madmen? shew us Miracles!
CAN you have greater Miracles than these? Men who devote
Their life’s whole comfort to intire scorn & injury & death.
Awake, thou sleeper on the Rock of Eternity, Albion awake!
The trumpet of Judgment hath twice sounded: all Nations are awake,
5 But thou art still heavy and dull: Awake, Albion awake!
Lo, Orc arises on the Atlantic. Lo, his blood and fire
Glow on America’s shore: Albion turns upon his Couch:
He listens to the sounds of War, astonished and confounded:
He weeps into the Atlantic deep, yet still in dismal dreams
10 Unwaken’d: and the Covering Cherub advances from the East.
How long shall we lay dead in the Street of the great City:
How long beneath the Covering Cherub give our Emanations?
Milton will utterly consume us & thee our beloved Father:
He hath enter’d into the Covering Cherub, becoming one with
15 Albion’s dread Sons, Hand, Hyle & Coban surround him as
A girdle; Gwendolen & Conwenna as a garment woven
Of War & Religion; let us descend & bring him chained
To Bowlahoola, O father most beloved! O mild Parent!
Cruel in thy mildness, pitying and permitting evil,
20 Tho’ strong and mighty to destroy, O Los our beloved Father.
Like the black storm, coming out of Chaos, beyond the stars:
It issues thro’ the dark & intricate caves of the Mundane Shell,
Passing the planetary visions, & the well adorned Firmament.
The Sun rolls into Chaos & the stars into the Desarts:
25 And then the storms become visible, audible & terrible,
Covering the light of day & rolling down upon the mountains
Deluge all the country round. Such is a vision of Los,
When Rintrah & Palamabron spake: and such his stormy face
Appear’d as does the face of heaven, when cover’d with thick storms
30 Pitying and loving tho’ in frowns of terrible perturbation.
But Los dispers’d the clouds even as the strong winds of Jehovah.
And Los thus spoke: O noble Sons, be patient yet a little:
I have embrac’d the falling Death, he is become one with me:
O Sons, we live not by wrath, by mercy alone we live!
35 I recollect an old Prophecy in Eden recorded in gold; and oft
Sung to the harp: That Milton of the land of Albion
Should up ascend forward from Felpham’s Vale & break the Chain
Of Jealousy from all its roots; be patient therefore, O my Sons.
These lovely Females form sweet night and silence and secret
40 Obscurities to hide from Satan’s Watch-Fiends Human loves
And graces, lest they write them in their Books & in the Scroll
Of mortal life, to condemn the accused: who at Satan’s Bar
Tremble in Spectrous Bodies continually day and night,
While on the Earth they live in sorrowful Vegetation.
45 O when shall we tread our Wine-presses in heaven, and Reap
Our wheat with shoutings of joy, and leave the Earth in peace?
Remember how Calvin and Luther in fury premature
Sow’d War and stern division between Papists & Protestants.
Let it not be so now: O go not forth in Martyrdoms & Wars!
50 We were plac’d here by the Universal Brotherhood & Mercy,
With powers fitted to circumscribe this dark Satanic death,
And that the Seven Eyes of God may have space for Redemption.
But how this is as yet we know not, and we cannot know,
Till Albion is arisen: then patient wait a little while,
55 Six Thousand years are pass’d away, the end approaches fast:
This mighty one is come from Eden, he is of the Elect,
Who died from Earth & he is return’d before the Judgment. This thing
Was never known that one of the holy dead should willing return.
Then patient wait a little while till the Last Vintage is over:
60 Till we have quench’d the Sun of Salah in the lake of Udan-Adan.
O my dear Sons: leave not your Father, as your brethren left me:
Twelve Sons successive fled away in that thousand years of sorrow,
OF Palamabron’s Harrow, & of Rintrah’s wrath & fury:
Reuben & Manazzoth & Gad & Simeon & Levi,
And Ephraim & Judah were Generated, because
They left me wandering with Tirzah: Enitharmon wept
5 One thousand years, and all the Earth was in a wat’ry deluge.
We call’d him Menassheh because of the Generations of Tirzah,
Because of Satan: & the Seven Eyes of God continually
Guard round them, but I the Fourth Zoa am also set
The Watchman of Eternity: the Three are not: & I am preserved.
10 Still my four mighty ones are left to me in Golgonooza,
Still Rintrah fierce, and Palamabron mild & piteous,
Theotormon fill’d with care, Bromion loving Science:
You O my Sons still guard round Los: O wander not & leave me!
Rintrah, thou well rememberest when Amalek & Canaan
15 Fled with their Sister Moab into that abhorred Void,
They became Nations in our sight beneath the hands of Tirzah.
And Palamabron thou rememberest when Joseph an infant,
Stolen from his nurses cradle wrap’d in needle-work
Of emblematic texture, was sold to the Amalekite,
20 Who carried him down into Egypt where Ephraim & Menassheh
Gather’d my Sons together in the Sands of Midian.
And if you also flee away and leave your Father’s side
Following Milton into Ulro, altho’ your power is great
Surely you also shall become poor mortal vegetations
25 Beneath the Moon of Ulro: pity then your Father’s tears.
When Jesus rais’d Lazarus from the Grave I stood & saw
Lazarus, who is the Vehicular Body of Albion the Redeem’d,
Arise into the Covering Cherub, who is the Spectre of Albion,
By martyrdoms to suffer: to watch over the Sleeping Body,
30 Upon his Rock beneath his Tomb. I saw the Covering Cherub
Divide Four-fold into Four Churches when Lazarus arose,
Paul, Constantine, Charlemaine, Luther: behold they stand before us
Stretch’d over Europe & Asia: come O Sons, come, come away.
Arise O Sons give all your strength against Eternal Death,
35 Lest we are vegetated, for Cathedron’s Looms weave only Death,
A Web of Death: & were it not for Bowlahoola & Allamanda
No Human Form but only a Fibrous Vegetation,
A Polypus of soft affections without Thought or Vision,
Must tremble in the Heavens & Earths thro’ all the Ulro space.
40 Throw all the Vegetated Mortals into Bowlahoola:
But as to this Elected Form who is return’d again,
He is the Signal that the Last Vintage now approaches,
Nor Vegetation may go on till all the Earth is reap’d.
So Los spoke. Furious they descended to Bowlahoola & Allamanda:
45 Indignant, unconvinced by Los’s arguments & thun[d]ers rolling:
They saw that wrath now sway’d and now pity absorb’d him,
As it was so it remain’d & no hope of an end.
Bowlahoola is nam’d Law by mortals, Tharmas founded it:
Because of Satan before Luban in the City of Golgonooza.
50 But Golgonooza is nam’d Art & Manufacture by mortal men.
In Bowlahoola Los’s Anvils stand & his Furnaces rage:
Thundering the Hammers beat & the Bellows blow loud,
Living, self moving, mourning, lamenting & howling incessantly.
Bowlahoola thro’ all its porches feels, tho’ too fast founded
55 Its pillars & porticoes to tremble at the force
Of mortal or immortal arm: and softly lilling flutes
Accordant with the horrid labours make sweet melody.
The Bellows are the Animal Lungs: the Hammers the Animal Heart:
The Furnaces the Stomach for digestion: terrible their fury.
60 Thousands & thousands labour, thousands play on instruments
Stringed or fluted to ameliorate the sorrows of slavery.
Loud sport the dancers in the dance of death rejoicing in carnage:
The hard dentant Hammers are lull’d by the flutes lula lula,
The bellowing Furnaces blare by the long sounding clarion,
65 The double drum drowns howls & groans, the shrill fife shrieks & cries:
The crooked horn mellows the hoarse raving serpent, terrible, but harmonious.
Bowlahoola is the Stomach in every individual man.
Los is by mortals nam’d Time, Enitharmon is nam’d Space:
But they depict him bald & aged who is in eternal youth
70 All powerful and his looks flourish like the brows of morning:
He is the Spirit of Prophecy, the ever apparent Elias.
Time is the mercy of Eternity; without Time’s swiftness,
Which is the swiftest of all things, all were eternal torment.
All the Gods of the Kingdoms of Earth labour in Los’s Halls:
75 Every one is a fallen Son of the Spirit of Prophecy:
He is the Fourth Zoa that stood around the Throne Divine.
BUT the Wine-press of Los is eastward of Golgonooza before the Seat
Of Satan: Luvah laid the foundation & Urizen finish’d it in howling woe.
How red the sons & daughters of Luvah! here they tread the grapes:
Laughing & shouting, drunk with odours, many fall o’erwearied,
5 Drown’d in the wine is many a youth & maiden: those around
Lay them on skins of Tygers & of the spotted Leopard & the Wild Ass,
Till they revive, or bury them in cool grots, making lamentation.
This Wine-press is call’d War on Earth: it is the Printing-Press
Of Los: and here he lays his words in order above the mortal brain,
10 As cogs are form’d in a wheel to turn the cogs of the adverse wheel.
Timbrels & violins sport round the Wine-presses; the little Seed,
The sportive Root, the Earth-worm, the gold Beetle, the wise Emmet
Dance round the Wine-presses of Luvah: the Centipede is there:
The ground Spider with many eyes: the Mole clothed in velvet:
15 The ambitious Spider in his sullen web: the lucky golden Spinner:
The Earwig arm’d: the tender Maggot emblem of immortality:
The Flea: Louse: Bug: the Tape-worm: all the Armies of Disease:
Visible or invisible to the slothful vegetating Man.
The Slow Slug: the Grasshopper that sings & laughs & drinks:
20 Winter comes, he folds his slender bones without a murmur.
The cruel Scorpion is there: the Gnat: Wasp: Hornet & the Honey Bee:
The Toad & venomous Newt; the Serpent cloth’d in gems & gold.
They throw off their gorgeous raiment: they rejoice with loud jubilee
Around the Wine-presses of Luvah, naked & drunk with wine.
25 There is the Nettle that stings with soft down, and there
The indignant Thistle, whose bitterness is bred in his milk.
Who feeds on contempt of his neighbour: there all the idle weeds
That creep around the obscure places shew their various limbs
Naked in all their beauty dancing round the Wine-presses.
30 But in the Wine-presses the Human grapes sing not nor dance.
They howl & writhe in shoals of torment: in fierce flames consuming,
In chains of iron & in dungeons circled with ceaseless fires:
In pits & dens & shades of death: in shapes of torment & woe.
The plates & screws & wracks & saws & cords & fires & cisterns,
35 The cruel joys of Luvah’s daughters lacerating with knives
And whips their Victims, & the deadly sport of Luvah’s Sons.
They dance around the dying, & they drink the howl & groan,
They catch the shrieks in cups of gold, they hand them to one another:
These are the sports of love, & these the sweet delights of amorous play,
40 Tears of the grape, the death sweat of the cluster, the last sigh
Of the mild youth who listens to the lureing songs of Luvah.
But Allamanda, call’d on Earth Commerce, is the Cultivated land
Around the City of Golgonooza in the Forests of Entuthon:
Here the Sons of Los labour against Death Eternal; through all
45 The Twenty-seven Heavens of Beulah in Ulro, Seat of Satan,
Which is the False Tongue beneath Beulah: It is the Sense of Touch.
The Plow goes forth in tempests & lightnings & the Harrow cruel
In blights of the east, the heavy Roller follows in howlings of woe.
Urizen’s sons here labour also; & here are seen the Mills
50 Of Theotormon on the verge of the Lake of Udan-Adan.
These are the starry voids of night & the depths & caverns of earth.
These Mills are oceans, clouds & waters ungovernable in their fury:
Here are the stars created & the seeds of all things planted,
And here the Sun & Moon received their fixed destinations.
55 But in Eternity the Four Arts: Poetry, Painting, Music,
And Architecture which is Science: are the Four Faces of Man.
Not so in Time & Space: there Three are shut out, and only
Science remains thro’ Mercy: & by means of Science the Three
Become apparent in Time & Space in the Three Professions,
60 Poetry in Religion: Music, Law: Painting, in Physic & Surgery:
That Man may live upon Earth all the time of his awaking.
And from these Three Science derives every Occupation of Men:
And Science is divided into Bowlahoola & Allamanda.
LOUD shout the Sons of Luvah at the Wine-presses, as Los descended
With Rintrah & Palamabron in his fires of resistless fury.
The Wine-press on the Rhine groans loud, but all its central beams
Act more terrific in the central Cities of the Nations,
5 Where Human Thought is crush’d beneath the iron hand of Power:
There Los puts all into the Press, the Opressor & the Opressed
Together, ripe for the Harvest & Vintage & ready for the Loom.
They sang at the Vintage. This is the Last Vintage: & Seed
Shall no more be sown upon Earth till all the Vintage is over,
10 And all gather’d in, till the Plow has pass’d over the Nations,
And the Harrow & heavy thundering Roller upon the mountains.
And loud the Souls howl round the Porches of Golgonooza,
Crying: O God deliver us to the Heavens or to the Earths
That we may preach righteousness & punish the sinner with death.
15 But Los refused, till all the Vintage of Earth was gathered in.
And Los stood & cried to the Labourers of the Vintage in voice of awe:
Fellow Labourers! The Great Vintage & Harvest is now upon Earth.
The whole extent of the Globe is explored. Every scatter’d Atom
Of Human Intellect now is flocking to the sound of the Trumpet.
20 All the Wisdom which was hidden in caves & dens from ancient
Time, is now sought out from Animal & Vegetable & Mineral.
The Awakener is come outstretch’d over Europe: the Vision of God is fulfilled:
The Ancient Man upon the Rock of Albion Awakes:
He listens to the sounds of War astonish’d & ashamed,
25 He sees his Children mock at Faith and deny Providence.
Therefore you must bind the Sheaves not by Nations or Families:
You shall bind them in Three Classes, according to their Classes
So shall you bind them: Separating What has been Mixed
Since Men began to be Wove into Nations by Rahab & Tirzah,
30 Since Albion’s Death & Satan’s Cutting off from our awful Fields:
When under pretence to benevolence the Elect Subdu’d All
From the Foundation of the World. The Elect is one Class: You
Shall bind them separate: they cannot Believe in Eternal Life
Except by Miracle & a New Birth. The other two Classes:
35 The Reprobate who never cease to Believe, and the Redeem’d
Who live in doubts & fears perpetually tormented by the Elect,
These you shall bind in a twin-bundle for the Consummation:
But the Elect must be saved [from] fires of Eternal Death,
To be formed into the Churches of Beulah that they destroy not the Earth.
40 For in every Nation & every Family the Three Classes are born,
And in every Species of Earth, Metal, Tree, Fish, Bird & Beast
We form the Mundane Egg, that Spectres coming by fury or amity,
All is the same, & every one remains in his own energy.
Go forth Reapers with rejoicing, you sowed in tears,
45 But the time of your refreshing cometh: only a little moment
Still abstain from pleasure & rest, in the labours of eternity,
And you shall Reap the whole Earth from Pole to Pole: from Sea to Sea:
Beglning at Jerusalem’s Inner Court, Lambeth ruin’d and given
To the detestable Gods of Priam, to Apollo: and at the Asylum
50 Given to Hercules who labour in Tirzah’s Looms for bread,
Who set Pleasure against Duty: who Create Olympic crowns
To make Learning a burden, & the Work of the Holy Spirit, Strife:
The Thor & cruel Odin who first rear’d the Polar Caves.
Lambeth mourns, calling Jerusalem: she weeps & looks abroad
55 For the Lord’s coming, that Jerusalem may overspread all Nations.
Crave not for the mortal & perishing delights, but leave them
To the weak, and pity the weak as your infant care; Break not
Forth in your wrath lest you also are vegetated by Tirzah.
Wait till the judgement is past, till the Creation is consumed,
60 And then rush forward with me into the glorious spiritual
Vegetation: the Supper of the Lamb & his Bride: and the
Awaking of Albion our friend and ancient companion.
So Los spoke. But lightnings of discontent broke on all sides round
And murmurs of thunder rolling heavy long & loud over the mountains,
65 While Los call’d his Sons around him to the Harvest & the Vintage.
Thou seest the Constellations in the deep & wondrous Night:
They rise in order and continue their immortal courses
Upon the mountains & in vales with harp & heavenly song,
With flute & clarion: with cups & measures fill’d with foaming wine.
70 Glitt’ring the streams reflect the Vision of beatitude,
And the calm Ocean joys beneath & smooths his awful waves:
THESE are the Sons of Los, & these the Labourers of the Vintage.
Thou see’st the gorgeous clothed Flies that dance & sport in summer
Upon the sunny brooks & meadows: every one the dance
Knows in its intricate mazes of delight artful to weave:
5 Each one to sound his instruments of music in the dance,
To touch each other & recede: to cross & change & return.
These are the Children of Los. Thou seest the Trees on mountains:
The wind blows heavy, loud they thunder thro’ the darksom sky,
Uttering prophecies & speaking instructive words to the sons
10 Of men: These are the Sons of Los: These the Visions of Eternity.
But we see only as it were the hem of their garments
When with our vegetable eyes we view these wondrous Visions.
There are two Gates thro’ which all Souls descend, One Southward
From Dover Cliff to Lizard Point, the other toward the North,
15 Caithness & rocky Durness, Pentland & John Groat’s House.
The Souls descending to the Body, wail on the right hand
Of Los: & those deliver’d from the Body on the left hand.
For Los against the east his force continually bends,
Along the Valleys of Middlesex from Hounslow to Blackheath,
20 Lest those Three Heavens of Beulah should the Creation destroy,
And lest they should descend before the north & south Gates:
Groaning with pity, he among the wailing Souls laments.
And these the Labours of the Sons of Los in Allamanda
And in the City of Golgonooza: & in Luban: & around
25 The Lake of Udan-Adan, in the Forests of Entuthon Benython:
Where Souls incessant wail, being piteous Passions & Desires,
With neither lineament nor form: but like to wat’ry clouds
The Passions & Desires descend upon the hungry winds:
For such alone Sleepers remain meer passion & appetite:
30 The Sons of Los clothe them & feed & provide houses & fields.
And every Generated Body in its inward form
Is a garden of delight & a building of magnificence,
Built by the Sons of Los in Bowlahoola & Allamanda:
And the herbs & flowers & furniture & beds & chambers
35 Continually woven in the Looms of Enitharmon’s Daughters,
In bright Cathedron’s golden Dome with care & love & tears.
For the various Classes of Men are all mark’d out determinate
In Bowlahoola: & as the Spectres choose their affinities,
So they are born on Earth, & every Class is determinate:
40 But not by Natural, but by Spiritual power alone. Because
The Natural power continually seeks & tends to Destruction,
Ending in death: which would of itself be Eternal Death.
And all are Class’d by Spiritual & not by Natural power.
And every Natural Effect has a Spiritual Cause, and Not
45 A Natural: for a Natural Cause only seems: it is a Delusion
Of Ulro & a ratio of the perishing Vegetable Memory.
SOME Sons of Los surround the Passions with porches of iron & silver,
Creating form & beauty around the dark regions of sorrow,
Giving to airy nothing a name and a habitation
Delightful: with bounds to the Infinite putting off the Indefinite
5 Into most holy forms of Thought: (such is the power of inspiration).
They labour incessant, with many tears & afflictions,
Creating the beautiful House for the piteous sufferer.
Others, Cabinets richly fabricate of gold & ivory,
For Doubts & fears unform’d & wretched & melancholy.
10 The little weeping Spectre stands on the threshold of Death
Eternal: and sometimes two Spectres like lamps quivering
And often malignant they combat (heart-breaking sorrowful & piteous).
Antamon takes them into his beautiful flexible hands.
As the Sower takes the seed or as the Artist his clay
15 Or fine wax, to mould artful a model for golden ornaments,
The soft hands of Antamon draw the indelible Line:
Form immortal with golden pen; such as the Spectre admiring
Puts on the sweet form; then smiles Antamon bright thro’ his windows.
The Daughters of beauty look up from their Loom & prepare
20 The integument soft for its clothing with joy & delight.
But Theotormon & Sotha stand in the Gate of Luban anxious:
Their numbers are seven million & seven thousand & seven hundred:
They contend with the weak Spectres, they fabricate soothing forms.
The Spectre refuses, he seeks cruelty: they create the crested Cock:
25 Terrified the Spectre screams & rushes in fear into their Net
Of kindness & compassion & is born a weeping terror.
Or they create the Lion & Tyger in compassionate thunderings:
Howling the Spectres flee: they take refuge in Human lineaments.
The Sons of Ozoth within the Optic Nerve stand fiery glowing:
30 And the number of his Sons is eight millions & eight.
They give delights to the man unknown; artificial riches
They give to scorn, & their possessors to trouble & sorrow & care,
Shutting the sun & moon & stars, & trees, & clouds, & waters,
And hills out from the Optic Nerve & hardening it into a bone
35 Opake, and like the black pebble on the enraged beach,
While the poor indigent is like the diamond which tho’ cloth’d
In ragged covering in the mine, is open all within
And in his hallow’d center holds the heavens of bright eternity.
Ozoth here builds walls of rocks against the surging sea,
40 And timbers crampt with iron cramps bar in the joys of life
From fell destruction in the Spectrous cunning or rage. He Creates
The speckled Newt, the Spider & Beetle, the Rat & Mouse,
The Badger & Fox: they worship before his feet in trembling fear.
But others of the Sons of Los build Moments & Minutes & Hours
45 And Days & Months & Years & Ages & Periods: wondrous buildings
And every Moment has a Couch of Gold for soft repose,
(A Moment equals a pulsation of the artery),
And between every two Moments stands a Daughter of Beulah
To feed the Sleepers on their Couches with maternal care.
50 And every Minute has an azure Tent with silken Veils:
And every Hour has a bright golden Gate carved with skill:
And every Day & Night has Walls of brass & Gates of adamant,
Shining like precious Stones & ornamented with appropriate signs:
And every Month a silver paved Terrace builded high:
55 And every Year invulnerable Barriers with high Towers:
And every Age is Moated deep with Bridges of silver & gold:
And every Seven Ages is Incircled with a Flaming Fire.
Now Seven Ages is amounting to Two Hundred Years.
Each has its Guard, each Moment, Minute, Hour, Day, Month & Year.
60 All are the work of Fairy hands of the Four Elements:
The Guard are Angels of Providence on duty evermore.
Every Time less than a pulsation of the artery
Is equal in its period & value to Six Thousand Years.
FOR in this Period the Poet’s Work is Done; and all the Great
Events of Time start forth & are conceiv’d in such a Period,
Within a Moment, a Pulsation of the Artery.
The Sky is an immortal Tent built by the Sons of Los:
5 And every Space that a Man views around his dwelling-place,
Standing on his own roof, or in his garden on a mount
Of twenty-five cubits in height, such space is his Universe:
And on its verge the Sun rises & sets, the Clouds bow
To meet the flat Earth & the Sea in such an order’d space:
10 The Starry heavens reach no further, but here bend and set
On all sides, & the two Poles turn on their valves of gold:
And if he move his dwelling-place, his heavens also move
Wher’eer he goes & all his neighbourhood bewail his loss:
Such are the Spaces called Earth & such its dimension.
15 As to that false appearance which appears to the reasoner
As of a Globe rolling thro’ Voidness, it is a delusion of Ulro.
The Microscope knows not of this nor the Telescope: they alter
The ratio of the Spectator’s Organs but leave Objects untouch’d.
For every Space larger than a red Globule of Man’s blood,
20 Is visionary, and is created by the Hammer of Los:
And every Space smaller than a Globule of Man’s blood opens
Into Eternity of which this vegetable Earth is but a shadow:
The red Globule is the unwearied Sun by Los created
To measure Time and Space to mortal Men every morning.
25 Bowlahoola & Allamanda are placed on each side
Of that Pulsation & that Globule, terrible their power.
But Rintrah & Palamabron govern over Day & Night
In Allamanda & Entuthon Benython where Souls wail:
Where Orc incessant howls burning in fires of Eternal Youth,
30 Within the vegetated mortal Nerves; for every Man born is joined
Within into One mighty Polypus, and this Polypus is Orc.
But in the Optic vegetative Nerves Sleep was transformed
To Death in old time by Satan the father of Sin & Death:
And Satan is the Spectre of Orc, & Orc is the generate Luvah.
35 But in the Nerves of the Nostrils, Accident being Formed
Into Substance & Principle, by the cruelties of Demonstration
It became Opake & Indefinite: but the Divine Saviour
Formed it into a Solid by Los’s Mathematic power.
He named the Opake, Satan: he named the Solid, Adam.
40 And in the Nerves of the Ear (for the Nerves of the Tongue are closed)
On Albion’s Rock Los stands creating the glorious Sun each morning,
And when unwearied in the evening he creates the Moon,
Death to delude, who all in terror at their splendor leaves
His prey while Los appoints, & Rintrah & Palamabron guide,
45 The Souls clear from the Rock of Death, that Death himself may wake
In his appointed season when the ends of heaven meet.
Then Los conducts the Spirits to be Vegetated into
Great Golgonooza, free from the four iron pillars of Satan’s Throne,
Temperance, Prudence, Justice, Fortitude, the four pillars of tyranny,
50 That Satan’s Watch-Fiends touch them not before they Vegetate.
But Enitharmon and her Daughters take the pleasant charge
To give them to their lovely heavens till the Great Judgment Day:
Such is their lovely charge. But Rahab & Tirzah pervert
Their mild influences, therefore the Seven Eyes of God walk round
55 The Three Heavens of Ulro where Tirzah & her Sisters
Weave the black Woof of Death upon Entuthon Benython,
In the Vale of Surrey where Horeb terminates in Rephaim.
The stamping feet of Zelophehad’s Daughters are cover’d with Human gore
Upon the treddles of the Loom: they sing to the winged shuttle
60 The River rises above his banks to wash the Woof:
He takes it in his arms; he passes it in strength thro’ his current.
The veil of human miseries is woven over the Ocean,
From the Atlantic to the Great South Sea, the Erythrean.
Such is the World of Los, the labour of six thousand years:
65 Thus Nature is a Vision of the Science of the Elohim.
END OF THE FIRST BOOK
MILTON A POEM. BOOK THE SECOND
THERE is a place where Contraries are equally True:
This place is called Beulah. It is a pleasure lovely Shadow
Where no dispute can come, Because of those who Sleep.
Into this place the Sons & Daughters of Ololon descended
5 With solemn mourning, into Beulah’s moony shades & hills
Weeping for Milton: mute wonder held the Daughters of Beulah,
Enraptur’d with affection sweet and mild benevolence.
Beulah is evermore created around Eternity; appearing
To the Inhabitants of Eden around them on all sides.
10 But Beulah to its Inhabitants appears within each district,
As the beloved infant in his mother’s bosom round incircled
With arms of love & pity & sweet compassion. But to
The Sons of Eden the moony habitations of Beulah
Are from Great Eternity a mild & pleasant Rest.
15 And it is thus Created. Lo, the Eternal Great Humanity
To whom be Glory & Dominion Evermore, Amen,
Walks among all his awful Family seen in every face:
As the breath of the Almighty such are the words of man to man
In the great Wars of Eternity, in fury of Poetic Inspiration,
20 To build the Universe stupendous: Mental forms Creating.
But the Emanations trembled exceedingly, nor could they
Live, because the Life of Man was too exceeding unbounded.
His joy became terrible to them, they trembled & wept,
Crying with one voice: Give us a habitation & a place
25 In which we may be hidden under the shadow of wings:
For if we, who are but for a time & who pass away in winter,
Behold these wonders of Eternity we shall consume:
But you, O our Fathers & Brothers, remain in Eternity
But grant us a Temporal Habitation, do you speak
30 To us; we will obey your words as you obey Jesus
The Eternal who is blessed for ever & ever. Amen.
So spake the lovely Emanations: & there appeared a pleasant
Mild Shadow above, beneath, & on all sides round.
INTO this pleasant Shadow all the weak & weary
Like Women & Children were taken away as on wings
Of dovelike softness, & shadowy habitations prepared for them.
But every man return’d & went still going forward thro’
5 The Bosom of the Father in Eternity on Eternity,
Neither did any lack or fall into Error without
A Shadow to repose in all the Days of happy Eternity.
Into this pleasant Shadow Beulah all Ololon descended,
And when the Daughters of Beulah heard the lamentation
10 All Beulah wept, for they saw the Lord coming in the Clouds,
And the Shadows of Beulah terminate in rocky Albion.
And all Nations wept in affliction, Family by Family:
Germany wept towards France & Italy: England wept & trembled
Towards America: India rose up from his golden bed,
15 As one awaken’d in the night: they saw the Lord coming
In the Clouds of Ololon with Power & Great Glory.
And all the Living Creatures of the Four Elements wail’d
With bitter wailing: these in the aggregate are named Satan
And Rahab: they know not of Regeneration, but only of Generation,
20 The Fairies, Nymphs, Gnomes & Genii of the Four Elements,
Unforgiving & unalterable, these cannot be Regenerated
But must be Created, for they know only of Generation.
These are the Gods of the Kingdoms of the Earth: in contrarious
And cruel opposition: Element against Element, opposed in War,
25 Not Mental, as the Wars of Eternity, but a Corporeal Strife:
In Los’s Halls continual labouring in the Furnaces of Golgonooza.
Orc howls on the Atlantic: Enitharmon trembles: All Beulah weeps
Thou hearest the Nightingale begin the Song of Spring:
The Lark sitting upon his earthly bed, just as the morn
30 Appears, listens silent, then springing from the waving Cornfield! loud
He leads the Choir of Day: trill, trill, trill, trill,
Mounting upon the wings of light into the Great Expanse,
Reechoing against the lovely blue & shining heavenly Shell.
His little throat labours with inspiration; every feather
35 On throat & breast & wings vibrates with the effluence Divine:
All Nature listens silent to him, & the awful Sun
Stands still upon the Mountain looking on this little Bird
With eyes of soft humility & wonder, love & awe.
Then Loud from their green covert all the Birds begin their Song:
40 The Thrush, the Linnet & the Goldfinch, Robin & the Wren
Awake the Sun from his sweet reverie upon the Mountain:
The Nightingale again assays his song & thro’ the day
And thro’ the night warbles luxuriant: every Bird of Song
Attending his loud harmony with admiration & love.
45 This is a Vision of the Lamentation of Beulah over Ololon.
Thou perceivest the Flowers put forth their precious Odours,
And none can tell how from so small a center comes such sweet,
Forgetting that within that Center Eternity expands
Its ever during doors, that Og & Anak fiercely guard.
50 First e’er the morning breaks joy opens in the flowery bosoms,
Joy even to tears, which the Sun rising dries: first the Wild Thyme
And Meadow-sweet downy and soft, waving among the reeds,
Light springing on the air lead the sweet Dance, they wake
The Honeysuckle sleeping on the Oak: the flaunting beauty
55 Revels along upon the wind: the White-thorn, lovely May,
Opens her many lovely eyes: listening the Rose still sleeps:
None dare to wake her, soon she bursts her crimson curtained bed
And comes forth in the majesty of beauty: every Flower,
The Pink, the Jessamine, the Wall-flower, the Carnation
60 The Jonquil, the mild Lilly opes her heavens; every Tree
And Flower & Herb soon fill the air with an innumerable Dance,
Yet all in order sweet & lovely, Men are sick with Love:
Such is a Vision of the Lamentation of Beulah over Ololon.
AND the Divine Voice was heard in the Songs of Beulah, Saying:
When I first Married you, I gave you all my whole Soul:
I thought that you would love my loves & joy in my delights,
Seeking for pleasures in my pleasures, O Daughter of Babylon.
5 Then thou wast lovely, mild & gentle, now thou art terrible
In jealousy & unlovely in my sight, because thou hast cruelly
Cut off my loves in fury till I have no love left for thee.
Thy love depends on him thou lovest & on his dear loves
Depend thy pleasures, which thou hast cut off by jealousy:
10 Therefore I shew my Jealousy & set before you Death.
Behold Milton descended to Redeem the Female Shade
From Death Eternal; such your lot, to be continually Redeem’d
By Death & misery of those you love & by Annihilation.
When the Sixfold Female perceives that Milton annihilates
15 Himself: that seeing all his loves by her cut off, he leaves
Her also, intirely abstracting himself from Female loves:
She shall relent in fear of death; She shall begin to give
Her maidens to her husband, delighting in his delight.
And then & then alone begins the happy Female joy
20 As it is done in Beulah, & thou, O Virgin Babylon Mother of Whoredoms,
Shalt bring Jerusalem in thine arms in the night watches: and
No longer turning her a wandering Harlot in the streets,
Shalt give her into the arms of God your Lord & Husband.
Such are the Songs of Beulah, in the Lamentations of Ololon.
AND all the Songs of Beulah sounded comfortable notes
To comfort Ololon’s lamentation, for they said:
Are you the Fiery Circle that late drove in fury & fire
The Eight Immortal Starry-Ones down into Ulro dark,
5 Rending the Heavens of Beulah with your thunders & lightnings?
And can you thus lament & can you pity & forgive?
Is terror chang’d to pity, O wonder of Eternity?
And the Four States of Humanity in its Repose,
Were shewed them. First of Beulah, a most pleasant Sleep
10 On Couches soft, with mild music, tended by Flowers of Beulah,
Sweet Female forms, winged or floating in the air spontaneous:
The Second State is Alla, & the third State Al-Ulro:
But the Fourth State is dreadful, it is named Or-Ulro.
The First State is in the Head, the Second is in the Heart,
15 The Third in the Loins & Seminal Vessels, & the Fourth
In the Stomach & Intestines terrible, deadly, unutterable.
And he whose Gates are open’d in those Regions of his Body
Can from those Gates view all these wondrous Imaginations.
But Ololon sought the Or-Ulro & its fiery Gates,
20 And the Couches of the Martyrs: & many Daughters of Beulah
Accompany them down to the Ulro with soft melodious tears,
A long journey & dark thro’ Chaos in the track of Milton’s course,
To where the Contraries of Beulah War beneath Negations Banner.
Then View’d from Milton’s Track they see the Ulro, a vast Polypus
25 Of living fibres down into the Sea of Time & Space growing,
A self-devouring monstrous Human Death Twenty seven fold:
Within it sit Five Females & the nameless Shadowy Mother,
Spinning it from their bowels with songs of amorous delight
And melting cadences that lure the Sleepers of Beulah down
30 The River Storge (which is Arnon) into the Dead Sea:
Around this Polypus Los continual builds the Mundane Shell.
Four Universes round the Universe of Los remain Chaotic,
Four intersecting Globes, & the Egg form’d World of Los
In midst: stretching from Zenith to Nadir, in midst of Chaos.
35 One of these Ruin’d Universes is to the North, named Urthona:
One in the South, this was the glorious World of Urizen:
One to the East, of Luvah: One to the West, of Tharmas.
But when Luvah assumed the World of Urizen in the South
All fell towards the Center sinking-downward in dire Ruin.
40 Here in these Chaoses the Sons of Ololon took their abode,
In chasms of the Mundane Shell which open on all sides round,
Southward & by the East within the Breach of Milton’s descent,
To watch the time, pitying & gentle to awaken Urizen.
They stood in a dark land of death, of fiery corroding waters,
45 Where lie in evil death the Four Immortals pale and cold,
And the Eternal Man, even Albion, upon the Rock of Ages.
Seeing Milton’s Shadow, some Daughters of Beulah trembling
Return’d, but Ololon remain’d before the Gates of the Dead.
50 And Ololon looked down into the Heavens of Ulro in fear.
They said: How are the Wars of man which in Great Eternity
Appear around, in the External Spheres of Visionary Life,
Here render’d deadly within the Life & Interior Vision?
How are the Beasts & Birds & Fishes & Plants & Minerals
55 Here fix’d into a frozen bulk subject to decay & death?
Those Visions of Human Life & Shadows of Wisdom & Knowledge
ARE here frozen to unexpansive deadly destroying terrors.
And War & Hunting, the Two Fountains of the River of Life,
Are become Fountains of bitter Death & of Corroding Hell:
Till Brotherhood is chang’d into a Curse & a Flattery,
5 By Differences between Ideas, that Ideas themselves, (which are
The Divine Members) may be slain in offerings for sin.
O dreadful Loom of Death! O piteous Female Forms compell’d
To weave the Woof of Death! On Camberwell Tirzah’s Courts,
Malah’s on Blackheath, Rahab & Noah dwell on Windsor’s heights:
10 Where once the Cherubs of Jerusalem spread to Lambeth’s Vale
Milcah’s Pillars shine from Harrow to Hampstead, where Hoglah
On Highgate’s heights magnificent Weaves over trembling Thames
To Shooters’ Hill and thence to Blackheath the dark Woof; Loud,
Loud roll the Weights & Spindles over the whole Earth let down
15 On all sides round to the Four Quarters of the World, eastward on
Europe to Euphrates & Hindu to Nile & back in Clouds
Of Death across the Atlantic to America North & South.
So spake Ololon in reminiscence astonish’d, but they
Could not behold Golgonooza without passing the Polypus,
20 A wondrous journey not passable by Immortal feet, & none
But the Divine Saviour can pass it without annihilation.
For Golgonooza cannot be seen till having pass’d the Polypus
It is viewed on all sides round by a Four-fold Vision,
Or till you become Mortal & Vegetable in Sexuality
25 Then you behold its mighty Spires & Domes of ivory & gold
And Ololon examined all the Couches of the Dead,
Even of Los & Enitharmon & all the Sons of Albion
And his Four Zoas terrified & on the verge of Death:
In midst of these was Milton’s Couch, & when they saw Eight
30 Immortal Starry-Ones, guarding the Couch in flaming fires,
They thunderous utter’d all a universal groan falling down
Prostrate before the Starry Eight asking with tears forgiveness,
Confessing their crime with humiliation and sorrow.
O how the Starry Eight rejoic’d to see Ololon descended:
35 And now that a wide road was open to Eternity
By Ololon’s descent thro’ Beulah to Los & Enitharmon.
For mighty were the multitudes of Ololon, vast the extent
Of their great sway reaching from Ulro to Eternity,
Surrounding the Mundane Shell outside in its Caverns
40 And through Beulah, and all silent forbare to contend
With Ololon, for they saw the Lord in the Clouds of Ololon.
There is a Moment in each Day that Satan cannot find,
Nor can his Watch Fiends find it, but the Industrious find
This Moment & it multiply, & when it once is found
45 It renovates every Moment of the Day if rightly placed:
In this Moment Ololon descended to Los & Enitharmon
Unseen beyond the Mundane Shell, Southward in Milton’s track.
Just in this Moment when the morning odours rise abroad,
And first from the Wild Thyme, stands a Fountain in a rock
50 Of crystal flowing into two Streams, one flows thro’ Golgonooza
And thro’ Beulah to Eden beneath Los’s western Wall:
The other flows thro’ the Aerial Void & all the Churches
Meeting again in Golgonooza beyond Satans Seat.
The Wild Thyme is Los’s Messenger to Eden, a mighty Demon,
55 Terrible, deadly & poisonous his presence in Ulro dark,
Therefore he appears only a small Root creeping in grass
Covering over the Rock of Odours his bright purple mantle:
Beside the Fount above the Lark’s Nest in Golgonooza.
Luvah slept here in death & here is Luvah’s empty Tomb:
60 Ololon sat beside this Fountain on the Rock of Odours.
Just at the place to where the Lark mounts is a Crystal Gate:
It is the enterance of the First Heaven, named Luther: for
The Lark is Los’s Messenger thro’ the Twenty seven Churches,
That the Seven Eyes of God, who walk even to Satan’s Seat
65 Thro’ all the Twenty-seven Heavens, may not slumber nor sleep.
But the Lark’s Nest is at the Gate of Los, at the eastern
Gate of wide Golgonooza & the Lark is Los’s Messenger.
WHEN on the highest lift of his light pinions he arrives
At that bright Gate, another Lark meets him, & back to back
They touch their pinions, tip [to] tip: and each descend
To their respective Earths & there all night consult with Angels
5 Of Providence & with the eyes of God all night in slumbers
Inspired; & at the dawn of day send out another Lark
Into another Heaven to carry news upon his wings.
Thus are the Messengers dispatch’d till they reach the Earth again
In the East Gate of Golgonooza, & the Twenty-eighth bright
10 Lark met the Female Ololon descending into my Garden.
Thus it appears to Mortal eyes & those of the Ulro Heavens
But not thus to Immortals: the Lark is a mighty Angel.
For Ololon step’d into the Polypus within the Mundane Shell:
They could not step into Vegetable Worlds without becoming
15 The enemies of Humanity except in a Female Form:
And as One Female Ololon and all its mighty Hosts
Appear’d: a Virgin of twelve years: nor time nor space was
To the perception of the Virgin Ololon, but as the
Flash of lightning, but more quick, the Virgin in my Garden
20 Before my Cottage stood, for the Satanic Space is delusion.
For When Los join’d with me he took me in his fiery whirlwind:
My Vegetated portion was hurried from Lambeth’s shades:
He set me down in Felpham’s Vale & prepar’d a beautiful
Cottage for me, that in three years I might write all these Visions,
25 To display Nature’s cruel holiness: the deceits of Natural Religion.
Walking in my Cottage Garden, sudden I beheld
The Virgin Ololon & address’d her as a Daughter of Beulah.
Virgin of Providence, fear not to enter into my Cottage.
What is thy message to thy friend: What am I now to do?
30 Is it again to plunge into deeper affliction? behold me
Ready to obey, but pity thou my Shadow of Delight:
Enter my Cottage, comfort her, for she is sick with fatigue.
THE Virgin answer’d: Knowest thou of Milton who descended,
Driven from Eternity; him I seek, terrified at my Act
In Great Eternity which thou knowest: I come him to seek.
So Ololon utter’d in words distinct the anxious thought:
5 Mild was the voice but more distinct than any earthly.
That Milton’s Shadow heard, & condensing all his Fibres
Into a strength impregnable of majesty & beauty infinite,
I saw he was the Covering Cherub & within him Satan
And Rahab in an outside which is fallacious within,
10 Beyond the outline of Identity in the Selfhood deadly:
And he appear’d the Wicker Man of Scandinavia, in whom
Jerusalem’s children consume in flames among the Stars.
Descending down into my Garden a Human Wonder of God,
Reaching from heaven to earth, a Cloud & Human Form,
15 I beheld Milton with astonishment & in him beheld
The Monstrous Churches of Beulah, the Gods of Ulro dark,
Twelve monstrous dishumanized terrors, Synagogues of Satan,
A Double Twelve & Thrice Nine: such their divisions.
And these their Names & their Places within the Mundane Shell.
20 In Tyre & Sidon I saw Baal & Ashtaroth. In Moab Chemosh:
In Ammon Molech: loud his Furnaces rage among the Wheels
Of Og, & pealing loud the cries of the Victims of Fire:
And pale his Priestesses unfolded in Veils of Pestilence, border’d
With War: Woven in Looms of Tyre & Sidon by beautiful Ashtaroth.
25 In Palestine Dagon, Sea Monster: worship’d o’er the Sea.
Thammuz in Lebanon & Rimmon in Damascus curtain’d:
Osiris, Isis, Orus, in Egypt: dark their Tabernacles on Nile
Floating with solemn songs, & on the Lakes of Egypt nightly
With pomp even till morning break & Osiris appear in the sky.
30 But Belial of Sodom & Gomorrha, obscure Demon of Bribes
And secret Assasinations, not worship’d nor ador’d: but
With the finger on the lips & the back turn’d to the light.
And Saturn, Jove & Rhea of the Isles of the Sea remote.
These Twelve Gods, are the Twelve Spectre Sons of the Druid Albion
35 And these the names of the Twenty-seven Heavens & their Churches.
Adam, Seth, Enos, Cainan, Mahalaleel, Jared, Enoch,
Methuselah, Lamech: these are Giants, mighty, Hermaphroditic.
Noah, Shem, Arphaxad, Cainan the second, Salah, Heber,
Peleg, Reu, Serug, Nahor, Terah, these are the Female-Males,
40 A Male within a Female hid as in an Ark & Curtains.
Abraham, Moses, Solomon, Paul, Constantine, Charlemaine,
Luther, these seven are the Male-Females, the Dragon Forms,
Religion hid in War, a Dragon red & hidden Harlot.
All these are seen in Milton’s Shadow who is the Covering Cherub,
45 The Spectre of Albion, in which the Spectre of Luvah inhabits,
In the Newtonian Voids between the Substances of Creation.
For the Chaotic Voids outside of the Stars are measured by
The Stars, which are the boundaries of Kingdoms, Provinces
50 And Empires of Chaos invisible to the Vegetable Man.
The Kingdom of Og is in Orion: Sihon is in Ophiucus.
Og has Twenty-seven Districts: Sihon’s Districts Twenty-one,
From Star to Star, Mountains & Valleys, terrible dimension
Stretched out, compose the Mundane Shell, a mighty Incrustation
55 Of Forty-eight deformed Human Wonders of the Almighty
With Caverns whose remotest bottoms meet again beyond
The Mundane Shell in Golgonooza, but the Fires of Los rage
In the remotest bottoms of the Caves, that none can pass
Into Eternity that way, but all descend to Los
60 To Bowlahoola & Allamanda & to Entuthon Benython.
The Heavens are the Cherub: the Twelve Gods are Satan:
AND the Forty-eight Starry Regions are Cities of the Levites,
The Heads of the Great Polypus. Four-fold twelve enormity
In mighty & mysterious comingling, enemy with enemy,
Woven by Urizen into Sexes from his mantle of years.
5 And Milton collecting all his fibres into impregnable strength
Descended down a Paved work of all kinds of precious stones
Out from the eastern sky; descending down into my Cottage
Garden, clothed in black, severe & silent he descended.
The Spectre of Satan stood upon the roaring sea & beheld
10 Milton within his sleeping Humanity: trembling & shudd’ring
He stood upon the waves a Twenty seven fold mighty Demon
Gorgeous & beautiful: loud roll his thunders against Milton:
Loud Satan thunder’d, loud & dark upon mild Felpham shore,
Not daring to touch one fibre he howl’d round upon the Sea.
15 I also stood in Satan’s bosom & beheld its desolations:
A ruin’d Man: a ruin’d building of God, not made with hands:
Its plains of burning sand, its mountains of marble terrible:
Its pits & declivities flowing with molten ore & fountains
Of pitch & nitre: its ruin’d palaces & cities & mighty works:
20 Its furnaces of affliction, in which his Angels & Emanations
Labour with blacken’d visages among its stupendous ruins,
Arches & Pyramids & porches, colonades & domes,
In which dwells Mystery, Babylon, here is her secret place,
From hence she comes forth in the Churches in delight,
25 Here is her cup fill’d with its poisons, in these horrid vales,
And here her scarlet Veil woven in pestilence & war;
Here is Jerusalem bound in chains in the Dens of Babylon.
In the Eastern porch of Satan’s Universe Milton stood & said:
Satan! my Spectre! I know my power thee to annihilate,
30 And be a greater in thy place, & be thy Tabernacle,
A covering for thee to do thy will, till one greater comes
And smites me as I smote thee & becomes my covering.
Such are the Laws of thy false Heav’ns: but Laws of Eternity
Are not such: know thou! I come to Self Annihilation.
35 Such are the Laws of Eternity, that each shall mutually
Annihilate himself for others’ good, as I for thee.
Thy purpose & the purpose of thy Priests & of thy Churches
Is to impress on men the fear of death; to teach
Trembling & fear, terror, constriction: abject selfishness.
40 Mine is to teach Men to despise death & to go on
In fearless majesty annihilating Self, laughing to scorn
Thy Laws & terrors, shaking down thy Synagogues, as webs.
I come to discover before Heav’n & Hell the Self righteousness
In all its Hypocritic turpitude, opening to every eye
45 These wonders of Satan’s holiness, shewing to the Earth
The Idol Virtues of the Natural Heart, & Satan’s Seat
Explore in all its Selfish Natural Virtue & put off
In Self annihilation all that is not of God alone:
To put off Self & all I have, ever & ever. Amen.
50 Satan heard, Coming in a cloud, with trumpets & flaming fire,
Saying: I am God the judge of all, the living & the dead.
Fall therefore down & worship me, submit thy supreme
Dictate, to my eternal Will & to my dictate bow.
I hold the Balances of Right & Just & mine the Sword:
55 Seven Angels bear my Name & in those Seven I appear,
But I alone am God & I alone in Heav’n & Earth
Of all that live dare utter this, others tremble & bow:
TILL all Things become One Great Satan in Holiness
Oppos’d to Mercy, and the Divine Delusion Jesus be no more.
Suddenly around Milton on my Path, the Starry Seven
Burn’d terrible: my Path became a solid fire, as bright
5 As the clear Sun & Milton silent came down on my Path.
And there went forth from the Starry limbs of the Seven, Forms
Human, with Trumpets innumerable, sounding articulate
As the Seven spake: and they stood in a mighty Column of Fire
Surrounding Felpham’s Vale, reaching to the Mundane Shell, Saying:
10 Awake, Albion awake! reclaim thy Reasoning Spectre. Subdue
Him to the Divine Mercy. Cast him down into the Lake
Of Los, that ever burneth with fire, ever & ever, Amen!
Let the Four Zoas awake from Slumbers of Six thousand years.
Then loud the Furnaces of Los were heard; & seen as Seven Heavens
15 Stretching from South to North over the mountains of Albion.
Satan heard; trembling round his Body, he incircled it:
He trembled with exceeding great trembling & astonishment,
Howling in his Spectre round his Body hung’ring to devour,
But fearing for the pain, for if he touches a Vital
20 His torment is unendurable: therefore he cannot devour:
But howls round it as a lion round his prey continually.
Loud Satan thunder’d, loud & dark upon mild Felpham’s Shore,
Coming in a Cloud with Trumpets & with Fiery Flame,
An awful Form eastward from midst of a bright Paved-work
25 Of precious stones by Cherubim surrounded: so permitted
(Lest he should fall apart in his Eternal Death) to imitate
The Eternal Great Humanity Divine surrounded by
His Cherubim & Seraphim in ever happy Eternity.
Beneath sat Chaos: Sin on his right hand, Death on his left,
30 And Ancient Night spread over all the heav’n his Mantle of Laws.
He trembled with exceeding great trembling & astonishment.
Then Albion rose up in the Night of Beulah on his Couch
Of dread repose seen by the visionary eye: his face is toward
The east, toward Jerusalem’s Gates: groaning he sat above
35 His rocks, London & Bath & Legions & Edinburgh
Are the four pillars of his Throne: his left foot near London
Covers the shades of Tyburn: his instep from Windsor
To Primrose Hill stretching to Highgate & Holloway.
London is between his knees: its basements fourfold:
40 His right foot stretches to the sea on Dover cliffs, his heel
On Canterbury’s ruins; his right hand covers lofty Wales:
His left Scotland; his bosom girt with gold involves
York, Edinburgh, Durham & Carlisle, & on the front
Bath, Oxford, Cambridge, Norwich: his right elbow
45 Leans on the Rocks of Erin’s Land, Ireland, ancient nation.
His head bends over London: he sees his embodied Spectre
Trembling before him with exceeding great trembling & fear.
He views Jerusalem & Babylon, his tears flow down:
He mov’d his right foot to Cornwall, his left to the Rocks of Bognor:
50 He strove to rise to walk into the Deep, but strength failing
Forbad, & down with dreadful groans he sunk upon his Couch
In moony Beulah. Los his strong Guard Walks round beneath the Moon.
Urizen faints in terror striving among the Brooks of Arnon
With Milton’s Spirit: as the Plowman or Artificer or Shepherd
55 While in the labours of his Calling sends his Thought abroad
To labour in the ocean or in the starry heaven. So Milton
Labour’d in Chasms of the Mundane Shell tho’ here before
My Cottage midst the Starry Seven, where the Virgin Ololon
Stood trembling in the Porch: loud Satan thunder’d on the stormy Sea,
60 Circling Albion’s Chffs, in which the Four-fold World resides
Tho’ seen in fallacy outside: a fallacy of Satan’s Churches.
BEFORE Ololon Milton stood & perciev’d the Eternal Form
Of that mild Vision: wondrous were their acts by me unknown
Except remotely: and I heard Ololon say to Milton:
I see thee strive upon the Brooks of Arnon, there a dread
5 And awful Man I see, o’ercover’d with the mantle of years.
I behold Los & Urizen, I behold Orc & Tharmas,
The Four Zoas of Albion, & thy Spirit with them striving,
In Self annihilation giving thy life to thy enemies.
Are those who contemn Religion & seek to annihilate it
10 Become in their Femin[in]e portions the causes & promoters
Of these Religions, how is this thing: this Newtonian Phantasm,
This Voltaire & Rousseau: this Hume & Gibbon & Bolingbroke:
This Natural Religion; this impossible absurdity?
Is Ololon the cause of this? O where shall I hide my face?
15 These tears fall for the little ones, the Children of Jerusalem,
Lest they be annihilated in thy annihilation.
No sooner she had spoke but Rahab Babylon appear’d
Eastward upon the Paved work across Europe & Asia,
Glorious as the midday Sun in Satan’s bosom glowing:
20 A Female hidden in a Male, Religion hidden in War,
Nam’d Moral Virtue: cruel two-fold Monster shining bright,
A Dragon red & hidden Harlot which John in Patmos saw.
And all beneath the Nations innumerable of Ulro
Appear’d, the Seven Kingdoms of Canaan & Five Baalim
25 Of Philistea into Twelve divided, call’d after the Names
Of Israel: as they are in Eden. Mountain, River & Plain,
City & sandy Desart intermingled beyond mortal ken.
But turning toward Ololon in terrible majesty Milton
Replied: Obey thou the Words of the Inspired Man.
30 All that can be (can be) annihilated must be annihilated
That the Children of Jerusalem may be saved from slavery.
There is a Negation, & there is a Contrary:
The Negation must be destroy’d to redeem the Contraries.
The Negation is the Spectre: the Reasoning Power in Man:
35 This is a false Body: an Incrustation over my Immortal
Spirit; a Selfhood which must be put off & annihilated alway,
To cleanse the Face of my Spirit by Self-examination:
TO bathe in the waters of Life: to wash off the Not Human.
I come in Self-annihilation & the grandeur of Inspiration,
To cast off Rational Demonstration by Faith in the Saviour,
To cast off the rotten rags of Memory by Inspiration,
5 To cast off Bacon, Locke & Newton from Albion’s covering,
To take off his filthy garments & clothe him with Imagination,
To cast aside from Poetry, all that is not Inspiration
That it no longer shall dare to mock with the aspersion of Madness,
Cast on the Inspired by the tame high finisher of paltry Blots:
10 Indefinite or paltry Rhymes: or paltry Harmonies:
Who creeps into State Government like a catterpiller to destroy,
To cast off the idiot Questioner who is always questioning,
But never capable of answering, who sits with a sly grin
Silent plotting when to question like a thief in a cave:
15 Who publishes doubt & calls it knowledge: whose Science is Despair:
Whose pretence to knowledge is Envy: whose whole Science is
To destroy the wisdom of ages to gratify ravenous Envy,
That rages round him like a Wolf day & night without rest.
He smiles with condescension: he talks of Benevolence & Virtue:
20 And those who act with Benevolence & Virtue they murder time on time.
These are the destroyers of Jerusalem, those are the murderers
Of Jesus, who deny the Faith & mock at Eternal Life:
Who pretend to Poetry that they may destroy Imagination,
By imitation of Nature’s Images drawn from Remembrance.
25 These are the Sexual Garments, the Abomination of Desolation,
Hiding the Human Lineaments as with an Ark & Curtains
Which Jesus rent: & now shall wholly purge away with Fire
Till Generation is swallow’d up in Regeneration.
Then trembled the Virgin Ololon & reply’d in clouds of despair:
30 Is this our Femin[in]e Portion, the Six-fold Miltonic Female?
Terribly this Portion trembles before thee, O awful Man.
Altho’ our Human Power can sustain the severe contentions
Of Friendship, our Sexual cannot: but flies into the Ulro.
Hence arose all our terrors in Eternity: & now remembrance
35 Returns upon us: are we contraries, O Milton, Thou & I,
O Immortal? how were we led to War the Wars of Death?
Is this the Void Outside of Existence, which if enter’d into
BECOMES a Womb? & is this the Death Couch of Albion?
Thou goest to Eternal Death & all must go with thee.
So saying the Virgin divided Six-fold, & with a shriek
Dolorous that ran thro’ all Creation, a Double Six-fold Wonder:
5 Away from Ololon she divided & fled into the depths
Of Milton’s Shadow as a Dove upon the stormy Sea.
Then as a Moony Ark Ololon descended to Felpham’s Vales,
In clouds of blood, in streams of gore, with dreadful thunderings,
Into the Fires of Intellect that rejoic’d in Felpham’s Vale
10 Around the Starry Eight: with one accord the Starry Eight became
One Man, Jesus the Saviour, wonderful! round his limbs
The Clouds of Ololon folded as a Garment dipped in blood,
Written within & without in woven letters: & the Writing
Is the Divine Revelation in the Litteral expression:
15 A Garment of War. I heard it nam’d the Woof of Six Thousand Years.
And I beheld the Twenty-four Cities of Albion
Arise upon their Thrones to Judge the Nations of the Earth:
And the Immortal Four in whom the Twenty-four appear Four-fold
Arose around Albion’s body: Jesus wept, & walked forth
20 From Felpham’s Vale clothed in Clouds of blood, to enter into
Albion’s Bosom, the bosom of death, & the Four surrounded him
In the Column of Fire in Felpham’s Vale: then to their mouths the Four
Applied their Four Trumpets, & then sounded to the Four winds.
Terror struck in the Vale I stood at that immortal sound:
25 My bones trembled, I fell outstretch’d upon the path
A moment, & my Soul returned into its mortal state,
To Resurrection & Judgment in the Vegetable Body:
And my sweet Shadow of delight stood trembling by my side.
Immediately the Lark mounted with a loud trill from Felpham’s Vale,
30 And the Wild Thyme from Wimbleton’s green & impurpled Hills.
And Los & Enitharmon rose over the Hills of Surrey:
Their clouds roll over London with a south wind: soft Oothoon
Pants in the Vales of Lambeth, weeping o’er her Human Harvest.
Los listens to the Cry of the Poor Man: his Cloud
35 Over London in volume terrific, low bended in anger.
Rintrah & Palamabron view the Human Harvest beneath.
Their Wine-presses & Barns stand open: the Ovens are prepar’d:
The Waggons ready: terrific Lions & Tygers sport & play:
All Animals upon the Earth are prepar’d in all their strength
TO go forth to the Great Harvest & Vintage of the Nations.
Finis.
JERUSALEM: THE EMANATION OF THE GIANT ALBION
This is the last and longest of Blake’s prophetic books, which was written and illustrated between 1804 and 1820, consisting of 100 etched and illustrated plates. These plates were made using Blake’s self-devised technique of “illuminated printing”. The poem tells the story of the fall of Albion, Blake’s embodiment of man, representing a person and a place at different times in the narrative, making it a complex work to read and interpret.
The first chapter concerns Albion’s fall into Selfhood. Its overture sets the scene for Los’ journey into Albion’s interior and humanity’s transfiguration in forgiveness of sins. In the first scene Albion banishes Jerusalem and Jesus, blighting nature, culture, and his internal life.
The original title page
CONTENTS
JERUSALEM
PLATE I
[Frontispiece]
There is a Void, outside of Existence, which if enterd into
Englobes itself & becomes a Womb, such was Albions Couch
A pleasant Shadow of Repose calld Albions lovely Land
His Sublime & Pathos become Two Rocks fixd in the Earth
His Reason, his Spectrous Power, covers them above.
Jerusalem his Emanation is a Stone laying beneath.
O Albion behold Pitying behold the Vision of Albion
Half Friendship is the bitterest Enmity said Los
As he enterd the Door of Death for Albions sake Inspired
10 The long sufferings of God are not for ever there is a Judgment
Every Thing has its Vermin O Spectre of the Sleeping Dead!
PLATE 3
JERUSALEM: TO THE PUBLIC
SHEEP GOATS
After my three years slumber on the banks of the Ocean, I again display my Giant forms to the Public: My former Giants & Fairies having reciev’d the highest reward possible: the [love] and [friendship] of those with whom to be connected, is to be [blessed:] I cannot doubt that this more consolidated & extended Work, will be as kindly recieved The Enthusiasm of the following Poem, the Author hopes [no Reader will think presumptuousness or arrogance when he is reminded that the Ancients entrusted their love to their Writing, to the full as Enthusiastically as I have who Acknowledge mine for my Saviour and Lord, for they were wholly absorb’d in their Gods.] I also hope the Reader will be with me, wholly One in Jesus our Lord, who is the God [of Fire] and Lord [of Love] to whom the Ancients look’d and saw his day afar off, with trembling & amazement. The Spirit of Jesus is continual forgiveness of Sin: he who waits to be righteous before he enters into the Saviours kingdom, the Divine Body; will never enter there. I am perhaps the most sinful of men! I pretend not to holiness! yet I pretend to love, to see, to converse with daily, as man with man, & the more to have an interest in the Friend of Sinners. Therefore [Dear] Reader, [forgive] what you do not approve, & [love] me for this energetic exertion of my talent.
Reader! [lover] of books! [lover] of heaven,
And of that God from whom [all books are given,]
Who in mysterious Sinais awful cave
To Man the wond’rous art of writing gave,
30 Again he speaks in thunder and in fire!
Thunder of Thought, & flames of fierce desire:
Even from the depths of Hell his voice I hear,
Within the unfathomd caverns of my Ear.
Therefore I print; nor vain my types shall be:
Heaven, Earth & Hell, henceforth shall live in harmony
Of the Measure, in which
the following Poem is written
We who dwell on Earth can do nothing of ourselves, every thing is conducted by Spirits, no less than Digestion or Sleep
40 When this Verse was first dictated to me I consider’d a Monotonous Cadence like that used by Milton & Shakespeare & all writers of English Blank Verse, derived from the modern bondage of Rhyming; to be a necessary and indispensable part of Verse. But I soon found that in the mouth of a true Orator such monotony was not only awkward, but as much a bondage as rhyme itself. I therefore have produced a variety in every line, both of cadences & number of syllables. Every word and every
letter is studied and put into its fit place: the terrific numbers are reserved for the terrific parts – the mild & gentle, for the mild & gentle parts, and the prosaic, for inferior parts: all are necessary to each other. Poetry Fetter’d, Fetters the Human Race! Nations are Destroy’d, or Flourish, in proportion as Their Poetry Painting and Music, are Destroy’d or Flourish! The Primeval State of Man, was Wisdom, Art, and Science.
PLATE 4
JERUSALEM: CHAPTER I.
Of the Sleep of Ulro! and of the passage through
Eternal Death! and of the awaking to Eternal Life.
This theme calls me in sleep night after night, & ev’ry morn
Awakes me at sun-rise, then I see the Saviour over me
Spreading his beams of love, & dictating the words of this mild song.
Awake! awake O sleeper of the land of shadows, wake! expand!
I am in you and you in me, mutual in love divine:
Fibres of love from man to man thro Albions pleasant land.
In all the dark Atlantic vale down from the hills of Surrey
10 A black water accumulates, return Albion! return!
Thy brethren call thee, and thy fathers, and thy sons,
Thy nurses and thy mothers, thy sisters and thy daughters
Weep at thy souls disease, and the Divine Vision is darkend:
Thy Emanation that was wont to play before thy face,
Beaming forth with her daughters into the Divine bosom [Where!!]
Where hast thou hidden thy Emanation lovely Jerusalem
From the vision and fruition of the Holy-one?
I am not a God afar off, I am a brother and friend;
Within your bosoms I reside, and you reside in me:
20 Lo! we are One; forgiving all Evil; Not seeking recompense!
Ye are my members O ye sleepers of Beulah, land of shades!
But the perturbed Man away turns down the valleys dark;
[Saying. We are not One: we are Many, thou most simulative]
Phantom of the over heated brain! shadow of immortality!
Seeking to keep my soul a victim to thy Love! which binds
Man the enemy of man into deceitful friendships:
Jerusalem is not! her daughters are indefinite:
By demonstration, man alone can live, and not by faith.
My mountains are my own, and I will keep them to myself:
30 The Malvern and the Cheviot, the Wolds Plinlimmon & Snowdon
Are mine, here will I build my Laws of Moral Virtue:
Humanity shall be no more: but war & princedom & victory!
So spoke Albion in jealous fears, hiding his Emanation
Upon the Thames and Medway, rivers of Beulah: dissembling
His jealousy before the throne divine, darkening, cold!
PLATE 5
The banks of the Thames are clouded: the ancient porches of Albion are
Darken’d! they are drawn thro’ unbounded space, scatter’d upon
The Void in incoherent despair! Cambridge & Oxford & London,
Are driven among the starry Wheels, rent away and dissipated,
In Chasms & Abysses of sorrow, enlarg’d without dimension, terrible
Albions mountains run with blood, the cries of war & of tumult
Resound into the unbounded night, every Human perfection
Of mountain & river & city, are small & wither’d & darken’d
Cam is a little stream! Ely is almost swallowd up!
10 Lincoln & Norwich stand trembling on the brink of Udan-Adan!
Wales and Scotland shrink themselves to the west and to the north!
Mourning for fear of the warriors in the Vale of Entuthon-Benython
Jerusalem is scatterd abroad like a cloud of smoke thro’ non-entity:
Moab & Ammon & Amalek & Canaan & Egypt & Aram
Recieve her little-ones for sacrifices and the delights of cruelty
Trembling I sit day and night, my friends are astonish’d at me.
Yet they forgive my wanderings, I rest not from my great task!
To open the Eternal Worlds, to open the immortal Eyes
Of Man inwards into the Worlds of Thought: into Eternity
20 Ever expanding in the Bosom of God, the Human Imagination
O Saviour pour upon me thy Spirit of meekness & love:
Annihilate the Selfhood in me, be thou all my life!
Guide thou my hand which trembles exceedingly upon the rock of ages,
While I write of the building of Golgonooza, & of the terrors of Entuthon:
Of Hand & Hyle & Coban, of Kwantok, Peachey, Brereton, Slayd & Hutton:
Of the terrible sons & daughters of Albion, and their Generations.
Scofield! Kox, Kotope and Bowen, revolve most mightily upon
The Furnace of Los: before the eastern gate bending their fury.
They war, to destroy the Furnaces, to desolate Golgonooza:
30 And to devour the Sleeping Humanity of Albion in rage & hunger.
They revolve into the Furnaces Southward & are driven forth Northward
Divided into Male and Female forms time after time.
From these Twelve all the Families of England spread abroad.
The Male is a Furnace of beryll; the Female is a golden Loom;
I behold them and their rushing fires overwhelm my Soul,
In Londons darkness; and my tears fall day and night,
Upon the Emanations of Albions Sons! the Daughters of Albion
Names anciently rememberd, but now contemn’d as fictions:
Although in every bosom they controll our Vegetative powers.
40 These are united into Tirzah and her Sisters, on Mount Gilead,
Cambel & Gwendolen & Conwenna & Cordella & Ignoge.
And these united into Rahab in the Covering Cherub on Euphrates
Gwiniverra & Gwinefred, & Gonorill & Sabrina beautiful,
Estrild, Mehetabel & Ragan, lovely Daughters of Albion,
They are the beautiful Emanations of the Twelve Sons of Albion
The Starry Wheels revolv’d heavily over the Furnaces;
Drawing Jerusalem in anguish of maternal love,
Eastward a pillar of a cloud with Vala upon the mountains
Howling in pain, redounding from the arms of Beulahs Daughters,
50 Out from the Furnaces of Los above the head of Los.
A pillar of smoke writhing afar into Non-Entity, redounding
Till the cloud reaches afar outstretch’d among the Starry Wheels
Which revolve heavily in the mighty Void above the Furnaces
O what avail the loves & tears of Beulahs lovely Daughters
They hold the Immortal Form in gentle bands & tender tears
But all within is open’d into the deeps of Entuthon Benython
A dark and unknown night, indefinite, unmeasurable, without end.
Abstract Philosophy warring in enmity against Imagination
(Which is the Divine Body of the Lord Jesus. blessed for ever).
60 And there Jerusalem wanders with Vala upon the mountains,
Attracted by the revolutions of those Wheels the Cloud of smoke
Immense, and Jerusalem & Vala weeping in the Cloud
Wander away into the Chaotic Void, lamenting with her Shadow
Among the Daughters of Albion, among the Starry Wheels;
Lamenting for her children, for the sons & daughters of Albion
Los heard her lamentations in the deeps afar! his tears fall
Incessant before the Furnaces, and his Emanation divided in pain,
Eastward towards the Starry Wheels. But Westward, a black Horror,
PLATE 6
His spectre driv’n by the Starry Wheels of Albions sons, black and
Opake divided from his back; he labours and he mourns!
For as his Emanation divided, his Spectre also divided
In terror of those starry wheels: and the Spectre stood over Los
Howling in pain: a blackning Shadow, blackning dark & opake
Cursing the terrible Los: bitterly cursing him for his friendship
To Albion, suggesting murderous thoughts against Albion.
Los rag’d and stamp’d the earth in his might & terrible wrath!
He stood and stampd the earth! then he threw down his hammer in rage &
10 In fury: then he sat down and wept, terrified! Then arose
And chaunted his song, labouring with the tongs and hammer:
But still the Spectre divided, and still his pain increas’d!
In pain the Spectre divided: in pain of hunger and thirst:
To devour Los’s Human Perfection, but when he saw that Los
PLATE 7
Was living: panting like a frighted wolf, and howling
He stood over the Immortal, in the solitude and darkness:
Upon the darkning Thames, across the whole Island westward,
A horrible Shadow of Death, among the Furnaces: beneath
The pillar of folding smoke; and he sought by other means,
To lure Los: by tears, by arguments of science & by terrors:
Terrors in every Nerve, by spasms & extended pains:
While Los answer’d unterrified to the opake blackening Fiend
And thus the Spectre spoke: Wilt thou still go on to destruction?
10 Till thy life is all taken away by this deceitful Friendship?
He drinks thee up like water! like wine he pours thee
Into his tuns: thy Daughters are trodden in his vintage
He makes thy Sons the trampling of his bulls, they are plow’d
And harrowd for his profit, lo! thy stolen Emanation
Is his garden of pleasure! all the Spectres of his Sons mock thee
Look how they scorn thy once admired palaces! now in ruins
Because of Albion! because of deceit and friendship! For Lo!
Hand has peopled Babel & Nineveh: Hyle, Ashur & Aram:
Cobans son is Nimrod: his son Cush is adjoind to Aram,
20 By the Daughter of Babel, in a woven mantle of pestilence & war.
They put forth their spectrous cloudy sails; which drive their immense
Constellations over the deadly deeps of indefinite Udan-Adan[.]
Kox is the Father of Shem & Ham & Japheth, he is the Noah
Of the Flood of Udan-Adan. Hut’n is the Father of the Seven
From Enoch to Adam; Schofield is Adam who was New-
Created in Edom. I saw it indignant, & thou art not moved!
This has divided thee in sunder: and wilt thou still forgive?
O! thou seest not what I see! what is done in the Furnaces.
Listen, I will tell thee what is done in moments to thee unknown:
30 Luvah was cast into the Furnaces of affliction and sealed,
And Vala fed in cruel delight, the Furnaces with fire:
Stern Urizen beheld; urgd by necessity to keep
The evil day afar, and if perchance with iron power
He might avert his own despair: in woe & fear he saw
Vala incircle round the Furnaces where Luvah was clos’d;
With joy she heard his howlings, & forgot he was her Luvah,
With whom she liv’d in bliss in times of innocence & youth!
Vala comes from the Furnace in a cloud, but wretched Luvah
Is howling in the Furnaces, in flames among Albions Spectres,
40 To prepare the Spectre of Albion to reign over thee O Los,
Forming the Spectres of Albion according to his rage:
To prepare the Spectre of Adam, who is Scofield: the Ninth
Of Albions sons, & the father of all his brethren in the Shadowy
Generation. Cambel & Gwendolen wove webs of war & of
Religion, to involve all Albions sons, and when they had
Involv’d Eight; their webs roll’d outwards into darkness
And Scofield the Ninth remaind on the outside of the Eight
And Kox, Kotope, & Bowen, One in him, a Fourfold Wonder
Involv’d the Eight: Such are the Generations of the Giant Albion,
50 To separate a Law of Sin, to punish thee in thy members.
Los answer’d. Altho’ I know not this! I know far worse than this:
I know that Albion hath divided me, and that thou O my Spectre,
Hast just cause to be irritated: but look stedfastly upon me:
Comfort thyself in my strength the time will arrive,
When all Albions injuries shall cease, and when we shall
Embrace him tenfold bright, rising from his tomb in immortality.
They have divided themselves by Wrath, they must be united by
Pity: let us therefore take example & warning O my Spectre,
O that I could abstain from wrath! O that the Lamb
60 Of God would look upon me and pity me in my fury.
In anguish of regeneration: in terrors of self annihilation:
Pity must join together those whom wrath has torn in sunder,
And the Religion of Generation which was meant for the destruction
Of Jerusalem, become her covering, till the time of the End.
O holy Generation [Image] of regeneration!
O point of mutual forgiveness between Enemies!
Birthplace of the Lamb of God incomprehensible!
The Dead despise & scorn thee, & cast thee out as accursed:
Seeing the Lamb of God in thy gardens & thy palaces:
70 Where they desire to place the Abomination of Desolation.
Hand sits before his furnace: scorn of others & furious pride:
Freeze round him to bars of steel & to iron rocks beneath
His feet: indignant self-righteousness like whirlwinds of the north:
PLATE 8
Rose up against me thundering from the Brook of Albions River
From Ranelagh & Strumbolo, from Cromwells gardens & Chelsea
The place of wounded Soldiers, but when he saw my Mace
Whirld round from heaven to earth, trembling he sat: his cold
Poisons rose up: & his sweet deceits coverd them all over
With a tender cloud. As thou art now; such was he O Spectre
I know thy deceit & thy revenges, and unless thou desist
I will certainly create an eternal Hell for thee. Listen!
Be attentive! be obedient! Lo the Furnaces are ready to recieve thee.
10 I will break thee into shivers! & melt thee in the furnaces of death;
I will cast thee into forms of abhorrence & torment if thou
Desist not from thine own will, & obey not my stern command!
I am closd up from my children: my Emanation is dividing
And thou my Spectre art divided against me. But mark
I will compell thee to assist me in my terrible labours. To beat
These hypocritic Selfhoods on the Anvils of bitter Death
I am inspired: I act not for myself: for Albions sake
I now am what I am: a horror and an astonishment
Shuddring the heavens to look upon me: Behold what cruelties
20 Are practised in Babel & Shinar, & have approachd to Zions Hill
While Los spoke, the terrible Spectre fell shuddring before him
Watching his time with glowing eyes to leap upon his prey[.]
Los opend the Furnaces in fear, the Spectre saw to Babel & Shinar
Across all Europe & Asia, he saw the tortures of the Victims.
He saw now from the ou[t]side what he before saw & felt from within
He saw that Los was the sole, uncontrolld Lord of the Furnaces
Groaning he kneeld before Los’s iron-shod feet on London Stone,
Hungring & thirsting for Los’s life yet pretending obedience.
While Los pursud his speech in threat’nings loud & fierce.
30 Thou art my Pride & Self-righteousness: I have found thee out:
Thou art reveald before me in all thy magnitude & power
The Uncircumcised pretences to Chastity must be cut in sunder!
Thy holy wrath & deep deceit cannot avail against me
Nor shalt thou ever assume the triple-form of Albions Spectre
For I am one of the living: dare not to mock my inspired fury
If thou wast cast forth from my life! if I was dead upon the mountains
Thou mightest be pitied & lovd: but now I am living; unless
Thou abstain ravening I will create an eternal Hell for thee.
Take thou this Hammer & in patience heave the thundering Bellows
40 Take thou these Tongs: strike thou alternate with me: labour obedient[.]
Hand & Hyle & Koban: Skofeld, Kox & Kotope, labour mightily[.]
In the Wars of Babel & Shinar, all their Emanations were
Condensd. Hand has absorbd all his Brethen in his might
All the infant Loves & Graces were lost, for the mighty Hand
PLATE 9
Condens’d his Emanations into hard opake substances;
And his infant thoughts & desires, into cold, dark, cliffs of death.
His hammer of gold he siezd; and his anvil of adamant.
He siez’d the bars of condens’d thoughts, to forge them:
Into the sword of war: into the bow and arrow:
Into the thundering cannon and into the murdering gun[.]
I saw the limbs form’d for exercise, contemn’d: & the beauty of
Eternity, look’d upon as deformity & loveliness as a dry tree:
10 I saw disease forming a Body of Death around the Lamb
Of God, to destroy Jerusalem, & to devour the body of Albion
By war and stratagem to win the labour of the husbandman:
Awkwardness arm’d in steel: folly in a helmet of gold:
Weakness with horns & talons: ignorance with a rav’ning beak!
Every Emanative joy forbidden as a Crime:
And the Emanations buried alive in the earth with pomp of religion:
Inspiration deny’d; Genius forbidden by laws of punishment:
I saw terrified; I took the sighs & tears, & bitter groans:
I lifted them into my Furnaces; to form the spiritual sword,
That lays open the hidden heart: I drew forth the pang
20 Of sorrow red hot: I workd it on my resolute anvil:
I heated it in the flames of Hand, & Hyle, & Coban
Nine times; Gwendolen & Cambel & Gwineverra
Are melted into the gold, the silver, the liquid ruby,
The crysolite, the topaz, the jacinth, & every precious stone.
Loud roar my Furnaces and loud my hammer is heard:
I labour day and night, I behold the soft affections
Condense beneath my hammer into forms of cruelty
But still I labour in hope, tho’ still my tears flow down,
That he who will not defend Truth, may be competid to defend
30 A Lie: that he may be snared and caught and snared and taken
That Enthusiasm and Life may not cease: arise Spectre arise!
Thus they contended among the Furnaces with groans & tears;
Groaning the Spectre heavd the bellows, obeying Los’s frowns;
Till the Spaces of Erin were perfected in the furnaces
Of affliction, and Los drew them forth, compelling the harsh Spectre.
PLATE 10
Into the Furnaces & into the valleys of the Anvils of Death
And into the mountains of the Anvils & of the heavy Hammers
Till he should bring the Sons & Daughters of Jerusalem to be
The Sons & Daughters of Los that he might protect them from
Albions dread Spectres; storming, loud, thunderous & mighty
The Bellows & the Hammers move compell’d by Los’s hand.
And this is the manner of the Sons of Albion in their strength
They take the Two Contraries which are calld Qualities, with which
Every Substance is clothed, they name them Good & Evil
10 From them they make an Abstract, which is a Negation
Not only of the Substance from which it is derived
A murderer of its own Body: but also a murderer
Of every Divine Member: it is the Reasoning Power
An Abstract objecting power, that Negatives every thing
This is the Spectre of Man: the Holy Reasoning Power
And in its Holiness is closed the Abomination of Desolation
Therefore Los stands in London building Golgonooza
Compelling his Spectre to labours mighty; trembling in fear
The Spectre weeps, but Los unmovd by tears or threats remains
20 I must Create a System, or be enslav’d by another Mans
I will not Reason & Compare: my business is to Create
So Los, in fury & strength: in indignation & burning wrath
Shuddring the Spectre howls, his howlings terrify the night
He stamps around the Anvil, beating blows of stern despair
He curses Heaven & Earth, Day & Night & Sun & Moon
He curses Forest Spring & River, Desart & sandy Waste
Cities & Nations, Families & Peoples, Tongues & Laws
Driven to desperation by Los’s terrors & threatning fears
Los cries, Obey my voice & never deviate from my will
30 And I will be merciful to thee: be thou invisible to all
To whom I make thee invisible, but chief to my own Children
O Spectre of Urthona: Reason not against their dear approach
Nor them obstruct with thy temptations of doubt & despair[.]
O Shame O strong & mighty Shame I break thy brazen fetters
If thou refuse, thy present torments will seem southern breezes
To what thou shalt endure if thou obey not my great will.
The Spectre answer’d. Art thou not ashamd of those thy Sins
That thou callest thy Children? lo the Law of God commands
That they be offered upon his Altar: O cruelty & torment
40 For thine are also mine! I have kept silent hitherto,
Concerning my chief delight: but thou hast broken silence
Now I will speak my mind! Where is my lovely Enitharmon
O thou my enemy, where is my Great Sin? She is also thine
I said: now is my grief at worst: incapable of being
Surpassed: but every moment it accumulates more & more
It continues accumulating to eternity! the joys of God advance
For he is Righteous: he is not a Being of Pity & Compassion
He cannot feel Distress: he feeds on Sacrifice & Offering:
Delighting in cries & tears & clothd in holiness & solitude
50 But my griefs advance also, for ever & ever without end
O that I could cease to be! Despair! I am Despair
Created to be the great example of horror & agony: also my
Prayer is vain I called for compassion: compassion mockd
Mercy & pity threw the grave stone over me & with lead
And iron, bound it over me for ever: Life lives on my
Consuming: & the Almighty hath made me his Contrary
To be all evil, all reversed & for ever dead: knowing
And seeing life, yet living not; how can I then behold
And not tremble; how can I be beheld & not abhorrd
60 So spoke the Spectre shuddring, & dark tears ran down his shadowy face
Which Los wipd off, but comfort none could give! or beam of hope
Yet ceasd he not from labouring at the roarings of his Forge
With iron & brass Building Golgonooza in great contendings
Till his Sons & Daughters came forth from the Furnaces
At the sublime Labours for Los, compelld the invisible Spectre
PLATE II
To labours mighty, with vast strength, with his mighty chains.
In pulsations of time, & extensions of space, like Urns of Beulah
With great labour upon his anvils & in his ladles the Ore
He lifted, pouring it into the clay ground prepar’d with art;
Striving with Systems to deliver Individuals from those Systems;
That whenever any Spectre began to devour the Dead,
He might feel the pain as if a man gnawd his own tender nerves.
Then Erin came forth from the Furnaces, & all the Daughters of Beulah
Came from the Furnaces, by Los’s mighty power for Jerusalems
10 Sake: walking up and down among the Spaces of Erin:
And the Sons and Daughters of Los came forth in perfection lovely!
And the Spaces of Erin reach’d from the starry heighth, to the starry depth.
Los wept with exceeding joy & all wept with joy together!
They feard they never more should see their Father, who
Was built in from Eternity, in the Cliffs of Albion.
But when the joy of meeting was exhausted in loving embrace;
Again they lament. O what shall we do for lovely Jerusalem?
To protect the Emanations of Albions mighty ones from cruelty?
Sabrina & Ignoge begin to sharpen their beamy spears
20 Of light and love: their little children stand with arrows of gold:
Ragan is wholly cruel Scofield is bound in iron armour!
He is like a mandrake in the earth before Reubens gate:
He shoots beneath Jerusalems walls to undermine her foundations:
Vala is but thy Shadow, O thou loveliest among women!
A shadow animated by thy tears O mournful Jerusalem!
PLATE 12
Why wilt thou give to her a Body whose life is but a Shade?
Her joy and love, a shade: a shade of sweet repose:
But animated and vegetated, she is a devouring worm:
What shall we do for thee O lovely mild Jerusalem?
And Los said. I behold the finger of God in terrors!
Albion is dead! his Emanation is divided from him!
But I am living! yet I feel my Emanation also dividing
Such thing was never known! O pity me, thou all-piteous-one!
What shall I do! or how exist, divided from Enitharmon?
10 Yet why despair! I saw the finger of God go forth
Upon my Furnaces, from within the Wheels of Albions Sons:
Fixing their Systems, permanent: by mathematic power
Giving a body to Falshood that it may be cast off for ever.
With Demonstrative Science piercing Apollyon with his own bow!
God is within, & without! he is even in the depths of Hell!
Such were the lamentations of the Labourers in the Furnaces!
And they appeard within & without incircling on both sides
The Starry Wheels of Albions Sons, with Spaces for Jerusalem:
And for Vala the shadow of Jerusalem: the ever mourning shade:
20 On both sides, within & without beaming gloriously!
Terrified at the sublime Wonder, Los stood before his Furnaces.
And they stood around, terrified with admiration at Erins Spaces
For the Spaces reachd from the starry heighth, to the starry depth;
And they builded Golgonooza: terrible eternal labour!
What are those golden builders doing? where was the burying-place
Of soft Ethinthus? near Tyburns fatal Tree? is that
Mild Zions hills most ancient promontory; near mournful
Ever weeping Paddington? is that Calvary and Golgotha?
Becoming a building of pity and compassion? Lo!
30 The stones are pity and the bricks, well wrought affections:
Enameld with love & kindness, & the tiles engraven gold
Labour of merciful hands: the beams & rafters are forgiveness:
The mortar & cement of the work, tears of honesty: the nails,
And the screws & iron braces, are well wrought blandishments,
And well contrived words, firm fixing, never forgotten,
Always comforting the remembrance: the floors, humility,
The cielings, devotion: the hearths, thanksgiving:
Prepare the furniture O Lambeth in thy pitying looms!
The curtains, woven tears & sighs, wrought into lovely forms
40 For comfort, there the secret furniture of Jerusalems chamber
Is wrought: Lambeth! the Bride the Lambs Wife loveth thee:
Thou art one with her & knowest not of self in thy supreme joy.
Go on, builders in hope: tho Jerusalem wanders far away,
Without the gate of Los: among the dark Satanic wheels.
Fourfold the Sons of Los in their divisions: and fourfold,
The great City of Golgonooza: fourfold toward the north
And toward the south fourfold, & fourfold toward the east & west
Each within other toward the four points: that toward
Eden, and that toward the World of Generation,
50 And that toward Beulah, and that toward Ulro:
Ulro is the space of the terrible starry wheels of Albions sons:
But that toward Eden is walled up, till time of renovation:
Yet it is perfect in its building, ornaments & perfection.
And the Four Points are thus beheld in Great Eternity
West, the Circumference: South, the Zenith: North,
The Nadir: East, the Center, unapproachable for ever.
These are the four Faces towards the Four Worlds of Humanity
In every Man. Ezekiel saw them by Chebars flood.
And the Eyes are the South, and the Nostrils are the East.
60 And the Tongue is the West, and the Ear is the North.
And the North Gate of Golgonooza toward Generation
Has four sculpturd Bulls terrible before the Gate of iron.
And iron, the Bulls: and that which looks toward Ulro,
Clay bak’d & enamel’d, eternal glowing as four furnaces:
Turning upon the Wheels of Albions sons with enormous power.
And that toward Beulah four, gold, silver, brass, & iron:
PLATE 13
And that toward Eden, four, form’d of gold, silver, brass, & iron.
The South, a golden Gate, has four Lions terrible, living!
That toward Generation, four, of iron carv’d wondrous:
That toward Ulro, four, clay bak’d, laborious workmanship
That toward Eden, four; immortal gold, silver, brass & iron.
The Western Gate fourfold, is closd: having four Cherubim
Its guards, living, the work of elemental hands, laborious task!
Like Men, hermaphroditic, each winged with eight wings
That towards Generation, iron; that toward Beulah, stone;
10 That toward Ulro, clay: that toward Eden, metals.
But all clos’d up till the last day, when the graves shall yield their dead
The Eastern Gate, fourfold: terrible & deadly its ornaments:
Taking their forms from the Wheels of Albions sons; as cogs
Are formd in a wheel, to fit the cogs of the adverse wheel.
That toward Eden, eternal ice, frozen in seven folds
Of forms of death: and that toward Beulah, stone:
The seven diseases of the earth are carved terrible.
And that toward Ulro, forms of war: seven enormities:
And that toward Generation, seven generative forms.
20 And every part of the City is fourfold; & every inhabitant, fourfold.
And every pot & vessel & garment & utensil of the houses,
And every house, fourfold; but the third Gate in every one
Is closd as with a threefold curtain of ivory & fine linen & ermine.
And Luban stands in middle of the City, a moat of fire,
Surrounds Luban, Los’s Palace & the golden Looms of Cathedron.
And sixty-four thousand Genii, guard the Eastern Gate:
And sixty-four thousand Gnomes, guard the Northern Gate:
And sixty-four thousand Nymphs, guard the Western Gate:
And sixty-four thousand Fairies, guard the Southern Gate:
30 Around Golgonooza lies the land of death eternal; a Land
Of pain and misery and despair and ever brooding melancholy:
In all the Twenty-seven Heavens, numberd from Adam to Luther;
From the blue Mundane Shell, reaching to the Vegetative Earth.
The Vegetative Universe, opens like a flower from the Earths center:
In which is Eternity. It expands in Stars to the Mundane Shell
And there it meets Eternity again, both within and without,
And the abstract Voids between the Stars are the Satanic Wheels.
There is the Cave; the Rock; the Tree; the Lake of Udan Adan;
The Forest, and the Marsh, and the Pits of bitumen deadly:
40 The Rocks of solid fire: the Ice valleys: the Plains
Of burning sand: the rivers, cataract & Lakes of Fire:
The Islands of the fiery Lakes: the Trees of Malice: Revenge:
And black Anxiety; and the Cities of the Salamandrine men:
(But whatever is visible to the Generated Man,
Is a Creation of mercy & love, from the Satanic Void.)
The land of darkness flamed but no light, & no repose:
The land of snows of trembling, & of iron hail incessant:
The land of earthquakes: and the land of woven labyrinths:
The land of snares & traps & wheels & pit-falls & dire mills:
50 The Voids, the Solids, & the land of clouds & regions of waters:
With their inhabitants: in the Twenty-seven Heavens beneath Beulah:
Self-righteousnesses conglomerating against the Divine Vision:
A Concave Earth wondrous, Chasmal, Abyssal, Incoherent:
Forming the Mundane Shell: above; beneath: on all sides surrounding
Golgonooza: Los walks round the walls night and day.
He views the City of Golgonooza, & its smaller Cities:
The Looms & Mills & Prisons & Work-houses of Og & Anak:
The Amalekite: the Canaanite: the Moabite: the Egyptian:
And all that has existed in the space of six thousand years:
60 Permanent, & not lost not lost nor vanishd, & every little act,
Word, work, & wish, that has existed, all remaining still
In those Churches ever consuming & ever building by the Spectres
Of all the inhabitants of Earth wailing to be Created:
Shadowy to those who dwell not in them, meer possibilities:
But to those who enter into them they seem the only substances
For every thing exists & not one sigh nor smile nor tear,
PLATE 14
One hair nor particle of dust, not one can pass away.
He views the Cherub at the Tree of Life, also the Serpent,
Orc the first born coild in the south: the Dragon Urizen:
Tharmas the Vegetated Tongue even the Devouring Tongue:
A threefold region, a false brain: a false heart:
And false bowels: altogether composing the False Tongue,
Beneath Beulah: as a watry flame revolving every way
And as dark roots and stems: a Forest of affliction, growing
In seas of sorrow. Los also views the Four Females:
10 Ahania, and Enion, and Vala, and Enitharmon lovely.
And from them all the lovely beaming Daughters of Albion,
Ahania & Enion & Vala, are three evanescent shades:
Enitharmon is a vegetated mortal Wife of Los:
His Emanation, yet his Wife till the sleep of Death is past.
Such are the Buildings of Los: & such are the Woofs of Enitharmon:
And Los beheld his Sons, and he beheld his Daughters:
Every one a translucent Wonder: a Universe within,
Increasing inwards, into length and breadth, and heighth:
Starry & glorious: and they every one in their bright loins:
20 Have a beautiful golden gate which opens into the vegetative world:
And every one a gate of rubies & all sorts of precious stones
In their translucent hearts, which opens into the vegetative world:
And every one a gate of iron dreadful and wonderful,
In their translucent heads, which opens into the vegetative world
And every one has the three regions Childhood: Manhood: & Age:
But the gate of the tongue: the western gate in them is clos’d,
Having a wall builded against it: and thereby the gates
Eastward & Southward & Northward, are incircled with flaming fires.
And the North is Breadth, the South is Heighth & Depth:
30 The East is Inwards: & the West is Outwards every way.
And Los beheld the mild Emanation Jerusalem eastward bending
Her revolutions toward the Starry Wheels in maternal anguish
Like a pale cloud arising from the arms of Beulahs Daughters:
In Entuthon Benythons deep Vales beneath Golgonooza.
PLATE 15
And Hand & Hyle rooted into Jerusalem by a fibre
Of strong revenge & Skofeld Vegetated by Reubens Gate
In every Nation of the Earth till the Twelve Sons of Albion
Enrooted into every Nation: a mighty Polypus growing
From Albion over the whole Earth: such is my awful Vision.
I see the Four-fold Man. The Humanity in deadly sleep
And its fallen Emanation. The Spectre & its cruel Shadow.
I see the Past, Present & Future, existing all at once
Before me; O Divine Spirit sustain me on thy wings!
10 That I may awake Albion from his long & cold repose.
For Bacon & Newton sheathed in dismal steel, their terrors hang
Like iron scourges over Albion. Reasonings like vast Serpents
Infold around my limbs, bruising my minute articulations
I turn my eyes to the Schools & Universities of Europe
And there behold the Loom of Locke whose Woof rages dire
Washd by the Water-wheels of Newton, black the cloth
In heavy wreathes folds over every Nation; cruel Works
Of many Wheels I view, wheel without wheel, with cogs tyrannic
Moving by compulsion each other: not as those in Eden: which
20 Wheel within Wheel in freedom revolve in harmony & peace.
I see in deadly fear in London Los raging round his Anvil
Of death: forming an Ax of gold: the Four Sons of Los
Stand round him cutting the Fibres from Albions hills
That Albions Sons may roll apart over the Nations
While Reuben enroots his brethren in the narrow Canaanite
From the Limit Noah to the Limit Abram in whose Loins
Reuben in his Twelve-fold majesty & beauty shall take refuge
As Abraham flees from Chaldea shaking his goary locks
But first Albion must sleep, divided from the Nations
30 I see Albion sitting upon his Rock in the first Winter
And thence I see the Chaos of Satan & the World of Adam
When the Divine Hand went forth on Albion in the mid Winter
And at the place of Death when Albion sat in Eternal Death
Among the Furnaces of Los in the Valley of the Son of Hinnom
PLATE l6
Hampstead Highgate Finchley Hendon Muswell hill: rage loud
Before Bromions iron Tongs & glowing Poker reddening fierce
Hertfordshire glows with fierce Vegetation! in the Forests
The Oak frowns terrible, the Beech & Ash & Elm enroot
Among the Spiritual fires; loud the Corn fields thunder along
The Soldiers fife; the Harlots shriek; the Virgins dismal groan
The Parents fear: the Brothers jealousy: the Sisters curse
Beneath the Storms of Theotormon & the thundring Bellows
Heaves in the hand of Palamabron who in Londons darkness
10 Before the Anvil, watches the bellowing flames: thundering
The Hammer loud rages in Rintrahs strong grasp swinging loud
Round from heaven to earth down falling with heavy blow
Dead on the Anvil, where the red hot wedge groans in pain
He quenches it in the black trough of his Forge: Londons River
Feeds the dread Forge, trembling & shuddering along the Valleys
Humber & Trent roll dreadful before the Seventh Furnace
And Tweed & Tyne anxious to give up their Souls for Albions sake
Lincolnshire Derbyshire Nottinghamshire Leicestershire
From Oxfordshire to Norfolk on the Lake of Udan Adan
20 Labour within the Furnaces, walking among the Fires
With Ladles huge & iron Pokers over the Island white.
Scotland pours out his Sons to labour at the Furnaces
Wales gives his Daughters to the Looms; England: nursing Mothers
Gives to the Children of Albion & to the Children of Jerusalem.
From the blue Mundane Shell even to the Earth of Vegetation
Throughout the whole Creation which groans to be deliverd
Albion groans in the deep slumbers of Death upon his Rock.
Here Los fixd down the Fifty-two Counties of England & Wales
The Thirty-six of Scotland, & the Thirty-four of Ireland
30 With mighty power, when they fled out at Jerusalems Gates
Away from the Conflict of Luvah & Urizen, fixing the Gates
In the Twelve Counties of Wales & thence Gates looking every way
To the Four Points: conduct to England & Scotland & Ireland
And thence to all the Kingdoms & Nations & Families of the Earth[.]
The Gate of Reuben in Carmarthenshire: the Gate of Simeon in
Cardiganshire: & the Gate of Levi in Montgomeryshire
The Gate of Judah Merionethshire: the Gate of Dan Flintshire
The Gate of Napthali, Radnorshire: the Gate of Gad Pembrokeshire
The Gate of Asher, Carnarvonshire the Gate of Issachar Brecknokshire
40 The Gate of Zebulun, in Anglesea & Sodor. so is Wales divided.
The Gate of Joseph, Denbighshire: the Gate of Benjamin Glamorganshire
For the protection of the Twelve Emanations of Albions Sons
And the Forty Counties of England are thus divided in the Gates
Of Reuben Norfolk, Suffolk, Essex. Simeon Lincoln, York Lancashire
Levi. Middlesex Kent Surrey. Judah Somerset Glouster Wiltshire.
Dan. Cornwall Devon Dorset, Napthali., Warwick Leicester Worcester
Gad. Oxford Bucks Harford. Asher, Sussex Hampshire Berkshire
Issachar, Northampton Rutland Nottgham. Zebulun Bedford Huntgn Camb
Joseph Stafford Shrops Heref. Benjamin, Derby Cheshire Monmouth;
50 And Cumberland Northumberland Westmoreland & Durham are
Divided in the Gates of Reuben, Judah Dan & Joseph
And the Thirty-six Counties of Scotland, divided in the Gates
Of Reuben Kincard Haddntn Forfar, Simeon Ayr Argyll Banff
Levi Edinburh Roxbro Ross. Judah, Abrdeen Berwik Dumfries
Dan Bute Caitnes Clakmanan. Napthali Nairn Invernes Linlithgo
Gad Peebles Perth Renfru. Asher Sutherlan Sterling Wigtoun
Issachar Selkirk Dumbartn Glasgo. Zebulun Orkney Shetland Skye
Joseph Elgin Lanerk Kinros. Benjamin Kromarty Murra Kirkubriht
Governing all by the sweet delights of secret amorous glances
60 In Enitharmons Halls builded by Los & his mighty Children
All things acted on Earth are seen in the bright Sculptures of
Los’s Halls & every Age renews its powers from these Works
With every pathetic story possible to happen from Hate or
Wayward Love & every sorrow & distress is carved here
Every Affinity of Parents Marriages & Friendships are here
In all their various combinations wrought with wondrous Art
All that can happen to Man in his pilgrimage of seventy years
Such is the Divine Written Law of Horeb & Sinai:
And such the Holy Gospel of Mount Olivet & Calvary:
PLATE 17
His Spectre divides & Los in fury compells it to divide:
To labour in the fire, in the water, in the earth, in the air,
To follow the Daughters of Albion as the hound follows the scent
Of the wild inhabitant of the forest, to drive them from his own:
To make a way for the Children of Los to come from the Furnaces
But Los himself against Albions Sons his fury bends, for he
Dare not approach the Daughters openly lest he be consumed
In the fires of their beauty & perfection & be Vegetated beneath
Their Looms, in a Generation of death & resurrection to forgetfulness
10 They wooe Los continually to subdue his strength: he continually
Shews them his Spectre: sending him abroad over the four points of heaven
In the fierce desires of beauty & in the tortures of repulse! He is
The Spectre of the Living pursuing the Emanations of the Dead.
Shuddring they flee: they hide in the Druid Temples in cold chastity:
Subdued by the Spectre of the Living & terrified by undisguisd desire.
For Los said: Tho my Spectre is divided: as I am a Living Man
I must compell him to obey me wholly: that Enitharmon may not
Be lost: & lest he should devour Enitharmon: Ah me!
Piteous image of my soft desires & loves: O Enitharmon!
20 I will compell my Spectre to obey: I will restore to thee thy Children.
No one bruises or starves himself to make himself fit for labour!
Tormented with sweet desire for these beauties of Albion
They would never love my power if they did not seek to destroy
Enitharmon: Vala would never have sought & loved Albion
If she had not sought to destroy Jerusalem; such is that false
And Generating Love: a pretence of love to destroy love:
Cruel hipocrisy unlike the lovely delusions of Beulah:
And cruel forms, unlike the merciful forms of Beulahs Night
They know not why they love nor wherefore they sicken & die
30 Calling that Holy Love: which is Envy Revenge & Cruelty
Which separated the stars from the mountains: the mountains from Man
And left Man, a little grovelling Root, outside of Himself.
Negations are not Contraries: Contraries mutally Exist:
But Negations Exist Not: Exceptions & Objections & Unbeliefs
Exist not: nor shall they ever be Organized for ever & ever:
If thou separate from me, thou art a Negation: a meer
Reasoning & Derogation from me, an Objecting & cruel Spite
And Malice & Envy: but my Emanation, Alas! will become
My Contrary: O thou Negation, I will continually compell
40 Thee to be invisible to any but whom I please, & when
And where & how I please, and never! never! shalt thou be Organized
But as a distorted & reversed Reflexion in the Darkness
And in the Non Entity: nor shall that which is above
Ever descend into thee: but thou shalt be a Non Entity for ever
And if any enter into thee, thou shalt be an Unquenchable Fire
And he shall be a never dying Worm, mutually tormented by
Those that thou tormentest, a Hell & Despair for ever & ever.
So Los in secret with himself communed & Enitharmon heard
In her darkness & was comforted: yet still she divided away
50 In gnawing pain from Los’s bosom in the deadly Night;
First as a red Globe of blood trembling beneath his bosom[.]
Suspended over her he hung: he infolded her in his garments
Of wool: he hid her from the Spectre, in shame & confusion of
Face; in terrors & pains of Hell & Eternal Death, the
Trembling Globe shot forth Self-living & Los howld over it:
Feeding it with his groans & tears day & night without ceasing:
And the Spectrous Darkness from his back divided in temptations,
And in grinding agonies in threats: stiflings: & direful strugglings.
Go thou to Skofield: ask him if he is Bath or if he is Canterbury
60 Tell him to be no more dubious: demand explicit words
Tell him: I will dash him into shivers, where & at what time
I please: tell Hand & Skofield they are my ministers of evil
To those I hate: for I can hate also as well as they!
PLATE 18
From every-one of the Four Regions of Human Majesty,
There is an Outside spread Without, & an Outside spread Within
Beyond the Outline of Identity both ways, which meet in One:
An orbed Void of doubt, despair, hunger, & thirst & sorrow.
Here the Twelve Sons of Albion, join’d in dark Assembly,
Jealous of Jerusalems children, asham’d of her little-ones
(For Vala produc’d the Bodies. Jerusalem gave the Souls)
Became as Three Immense Wheels, turning upon one-another
Into Non-Entity, and their thunders hoarse appall the Dead
10 To murder their own Souls, to build a Kingdom among the Dead
Cast! Cast ye Jerusalem forth! The Shadow of delusions!
The Harlot daughter! Mother of pity and dishonourable forgiveness
Our Father Albions sin and shame! But father now no more!
Nor sons. nor hateful peace & love, nor soft complacencies
With transgressors meeting in brotherhood around the table,
Or in the porch or garden. No more the sinful delights
Of age and youth and boy and girl and animal and herb,
And river and mountain, and city & village, and house & family,
Beneath the Oak & Palm, beneath the Vine and Fig-tree,
20 In self-denial! – But War and deadly contention, Between
Father and Son, and light and love! All bold asperities
Of Haters met in deadly strife, rending the house & garden
The unforgiving porches, the tables of enmity, and beds
And chambers of trembling & suspition, hatreds of age & youth
And boy & girl, & animal & herb, & river & mountain
And city & village, and house & family. That the Perfect,
May live in glory, redeem’d by Sacrifice of the Lamb
And of his children, before sinful Jerusalem. To build
Babylon the City of Vala, the Goddess Virgin-Mother.
30 She is our Mother! Nature! Jerusalem is our Harlot-Sister
Return’d with Children of pollution, to defile our House,
With Sin and Shame. Cast! Cast her into the Potters field.
Her little-ones, She must slay upon our Altars: and her aged
Parents must be carried into captivity, to redeem her Soul
To be for a Shame & a Curse, and to be our Slaves for ever
So cry Hand & Hyle the eldest of the fathers of Albions
Little-ones; to destroy the Divine Saviour; the Friend of Sinners,
Building Castles in desolated places, and strong Fortifications.
Soon Hand mightily devour’d & absorb’d Albions Twelve Sons.
40 Out from his bosom a mighty Polypus, vegetating in darkness,
And Hyle & Coban were his two chosen ones, for Emissaries
In War: forth from his bosom they went and return’d,
Like Wheels from a great Wheel reflected in the Deep.
Hoarse turn’d the Starry Wheels, rending a way in Albions Loins
Beyond the Night of Beulah. In a dark & unknown Night,
Outstretch’d his Giant beauty on the ground in pain & tears:
PLATE 19
His Children exil’d from his breast pass to and fro before him
His birds are silent on his hills, flocks die beneath his branches
His tents are fall’n! his trumpets, and the sweet sound of his harp
Are silent on his clouded hills, that belch forth storms & fire.
His milk of Cows, & honey of Bees, & fruit of golden harvest,
Is gather’d in the scorching heat, & in the driving rain:
Where once he sat he weary walks in misery and pain:
His Giant beauty and perfection fallen into dust:
Till from within his witherd breast grown narrow with his woes:
10 The corn is turn’d to thistles & the apples into poison:
The birds of song to murderous crows, his joys to bitter groans!
The voices of children in his tents, to cries of helpless infants!
And self-exiled from the face of light & shine of morning,
In the dark world a narrow house! he wanders up and down,
Seeking for rest and finding none! and hidden far within,
His Eon weeping in the cold and desolated Earth.
All his Affections now appear withoutside: all his Sons,
Hand, Hyle & Coban, Guantok, Peachey, Brereton, Slayd & Hutton,
Scofeld, Kox, Kotope & Bowen; his Twelve Sons: Satanic Mill!
20 Who are the Spectres of the Twentyfour, each Double-form’d:
Revolve upon his mountains groaning in pain: beneath
The dark incessant sky, seeking for rest and finding none:
Raging against their Human natures, ravning to gormandize
The Human majesty and beauty of the Twentyfour,
Condensing them into solid rocks with cruelty and abhorrence
Suspition & revenge, & the seven diseases of the Soul
Settled around Albion and around Luvah in his secret cloud[.]
Willing the Friends endur’d, for Albions sake, and for
Jerusalem his Emanation shut within his bosom;
30 Which hardend against them more and more; as he builded onwards
On the Gulph of Death in self-righteousness, that roll’d
Before his awful feet, in pride of virtue for victory:
And Los was roofd in from Eternity in Albions Cliffs
Which stand upon the ends of Beulah, and withoutside, all
Appear’d a rocky form against the Divine Humanity.
Albions Circumference was clos’d: his Center began darkning
Into the Night of Beulah, and the Moon of Beulah rose
Clouded with storms: Los his strong Guard walkd round
beneath the Moon
And Albion fled inward among the currents of his rivers.
40 He found Jerusalem upon the River of his City soft repos’d
In the arms of Vala, assimilating in one with Vala
The Lilly of Havilah: and they sang soft thro’ Lambeths vales,
In a sweet moony night & silence that they had created
With a blue sky spread over with wings and a mild moon,
Dividing & uniting into many female forms: Jerusalem
Trembling! then in one comingling in eternal tears,
Sighing to melt his Giant beauty, on the moony river.
PLATE 20
But when they saw Albion fall’n upon mild Lambeths vale:
Astonish’d! Terrified! they hover’d over his Giant limbs.
Then thus Jerusalem spoke, while Vala wove the veil of tears:
Weeping in pleadings of Love, in the web of despair.
Wherefore hast thou shut me into the winter of human life
And clos’d up the sweet regions of youth and virgin innocence:
Where we live, forgetting error, not pondering on evil:
Among my lambs & brooks of water, among my warbling birds:
Where we delight in innocence before the face of the Lamb:
10 Going in and out before him in his love and sweet affection.
Vala replied weeping & trembling, hiding in her veil.
When winter rends the hungry family and the snow falls:
Upon the ways of men hiding the paths of man and beast,
Then mourns the wanderer: then he repents his wanderings & eyes
The distant forest; then the slave groans in the dungeon of stone.
The captive in the mill of the stranger, sold for scanty hire.
They view their former life: they number moments over and over;
Stringing them on their remembrance as on a thread of sorrow.
Thou art my sister and my daughter! thy shame is mine also!
20 Ask me not of my griefs! thou knowest all my griefs.
Jerusalem answer’d with soft tears over the valleys.
O Vala what is Sin? that thou shudderest and weepest
At sight of thy once lov’d Jerusalem! What is Sin but a little
Error & fault that is soon forgiven; but mercy is not a Sin
Nor pity nor love nor kind forgiveness! O! if I have Sinned
Forgive & pity me! O! unfold thy Veil in mercy & love!
Slay not my little ones, beloved Virgin daughter of Babylon
Slay not my infant loves & graces, beautiful daughter of Moab
I cannot put off the human form I strive but strive in vain
30 When Albion rent thy beautiful net of gold and silver twine;
Thou hadst woven it with art, thou hadst caught me in the bands
Of love; thou refusedst to let me go: Albion beheld thy beauty
Beautiful thro’ our Love’s comeliness, beautiful thro’ pity.
The Veil shone with thy brightness in the eyes of Albion,
Because it inclosd pity & love; because we lov’d one-another!
Albion lov’d thee! he rent thy Veil! he embrac’d thee! he lov’d thee!
Astonish’d at his beauty & perfection, thou forgavest his furious love:
I redounded from Albions bosom in my virgin loveliness.
The Lamb of God reciev’d me in his arms he smil’d upon us:
40 He made me his Bride & Wife: he gave thee to Albion.
Then was a time of love: O why is it passed away!
Then Albion broke silence and with groans reply’d
PLATE 21
O Vala! O Jerusalem! do you delight in my groans
You O lovely forms, you have prepared my death-cup:
The disease of Shame covers me from head to feet: I have no hope
Every boil upon my body is a separate & deadly Sin.
Doubt first assaild me, then Shame took possession of me
Shame divides Families. Shame hath divided Albion in sunder!
First fled my Sons, & then my Daughters, then my Wild Animations
My Cattle next, last ev’n the Dog of my Gate. the Forests fled
The Corn-fields, & the breathing Gardens outside separated
10 The Sea; the Stars: the Sun: the Moon: drivn forth by my disease
All is Eternal Death unless you can weave a chaste
Body over an unchaste Mind! Vala! O that thou wert pure!
That the deep wound of Sin might be clos’d up with the Needle,
And with the Loom: to cover Gwendolen & Ragan with costly Robes
Of Natural Virtue[,] for their Spiritual forms without a Veil
Wither in Luvahs Sepulcher. I thrust him from my presence
And all my Children followd his loud howlings into the Deep.
Jerusalem! dissembler Jerusalem! I look into thy bosom:
I discover thy secret places: Cordella! I behold
20 Thee whom I thought pure as the heavens in innocence &fear:
Thy Tabernacle taken down, thy secret Cherubim disclosed
Art thou broken? Ah me Sabrina, running by my side:
In childhood what wert thou? unutterable anguish! Conwenna
Thy cradled infancy is most piteous. O hide, O hide!
Their secret gardens were made paths to the traveller:
I knew not of their secret loves with those I hated most,
Nor that their every thought was Sin & secret appetite[.]
Hyle sees in fear, he howls in fury over them, Hand sees
In jealous fear: in stern accusation with cruel stripes
30 He drives them thro’ the Streets of Babylon before my face:
Because they taught Luvah to rise into my clouded heavens
Battersea and Chelsea mourn for Cambel & Gwendolen!
Hackney and Holloway sicken for Estrild & Ignoge!
Because the Peak, Malvern & Cheviot Reason in Cruelty
Penmaenmawr & Dhinas-bran Demonstrate in Unbelief
Manchester & Liverpool are in tortures of Doubt & Despair
Malden & Colchester Demonstrate: I hear my Childrens voices
I see their piteous faces gleam out upon the cruel winds
From Lincoln & Norwich, from Edinburgh & Monmouth:
40 I see them distant from my bosom scourgd along the roads
Then lost in clouds; I hear their tender voices! clouds divide
I see them die beneath the whips of the Captains! they are taken
In solemn pomp into Chaldea across the bredths of Europe
Six months they lie embalmd in silent death: worshipped
Carried in Arks of Oak before the armies in the spring
Bursting their Arks they rise again to life: they play before
The Armies: I hear their loud cymbals & their deadly cries
Are the Dead cruel? are those who are infolded in moral Law
Revengeful? O that Death & Annihilation were the same!
50 Then Vala answerd spreading her scarlet Veil over Albion
PLATE 22
Albion thy fear has made me tremble; thy terrors have surrounded me
Thy Sons have naild me on the Gates piercing my hands & feet:
Till Skofields Nimrod the mighty Huntsman [of] Jehovah came,
With Cush his Son & took me down. He in a golden Ark,
Bears me before his Armies tho my shadow hovers here
The flesh of multitudes fed & nourisd me in my childhood
My morn & evening food were prepard in Battles of Men
Great is the cry of the Hounds of Nimrod along the Valley
Of Vision, they scent the odor of War in the Valley of Vision.
10 All Love is lost! terror succeeds & Hatred instead of Love
And stern demands of Right & Duty instead of Liberty
Once thou wast to me the loveliest Son of heaven; but now
Where shall I hide from thy dread countenance & searching eyes
I have looked into the secret Soul of him I loved
And in the dark recesses found Sin & can never return.
Albion again utterd his voice beneath the silent Moon
I brought Love into light of day to pride in chaste beauty
I brought Love into light & fancied Innocence is no more
Then spoke Jerusalem O Albion! my Father Albion
20 Why wilt thou number every little fibre of my Soul
Spreading them out before the Sun like stalks of flax to dry?
The Infant Joy is beautiful, but its anatomy
Horrible ghast & deadly! nought shalt thou find in it
But dark despair & everlasting brooding melancholy!
Then Albion turnd his face toward Jerusalem & spoke
Hide thou Jerusalem in impalpable voidness, not to be
Touchd by the hand nor seen with the eye: O Jerusalem
Would thou wert not & that thy place might never be found
But come O Vala with knife & cup: drain my blood
30 To the last drop! then hide me in thy Scarlet Tabernacle
For I see Luvah whom I slew. I behold him in my Spectre
As I behold Jerusalem in thee O Vala dark and cold
Jerusalem then stretchd her hand toward the Moon & spoke
Why should Punishment Weave the Veil with Iron Wheels of War
When Forgiveness might it Weave with Wings of Cherubim
Loud groand Albion from mountain to mountain & replied
PLATE 23
Jerusalem! Jerusalem! deluding shadow of Albion!
Daughter of my phantasy! unlawful pleasure! Albions curse!
I came here with intention to annihilate thee! But
My soul is melted away, inwoven within the Veil
Hast thou again knitted the Veil of Vala, which I for thee
Pitying rent in ancient times. I see it whole and more
Perfect, and shining with beauty! But thou! O wretched Father!
Jerusalem reply’d, like a voice heard from a sepulcher:
Father! once piteous! Is Pity a Sin? Embalm’d in Vala’s bosom
10 In an Eternal Death for Albions sake, our best beloved.
Thou art my Father & my Brother: Why hast thou hidden me,
Remote from the divine Vision: my Lord and Saviour.
Trembling stood Albion at her words in jealous dark despair:
He felt that Love and Pity are the same; a soft repose!
Inward complacency of Soul: a Self-annihilation!
I have erred! I am ashamed! and will never return more:
I have taught my children sacrifices of cruelty: what shall I answer?
I will hide it from Eternals! I will give myself for my Children!
Which way soever I turn, I behold Humanity and Pity!
20 He recoil’d: he rush’d outwards; he bore the Veil whole away
His fires redound from his Dragon Altars in Errors returning.
He drew the Veil of Moral Virtue, woven for Cruel Laws,
And cast it into the Atlantic Deep, to catch the Souls of the Dead.
He stood between the Palm tree & the Oak of weeping
Which stand upon the edge of Beulah; and there Albion sunk
Down in sick pallid languor! These were his last words, relapsing!
Hoarse from his rocks, from caverns of Derbyshire & Wales
And Scotland, utter’d from the Circumference into Eternity.
Blasphemous Sons of Feminine delusion! God in the dreary Void
30 Dwells from Eternity, wide separated from the Human Soul
But thou deluding Image by whom imbu’d the Veil I rent
Lo here is Valas Veil whole, for a Law, a Terror & a Curse!
And therefore God takes vengeance on me: from my clay-cold bosom
My children wander trembling victims of his Moral Justice.
His snows fall on me and cover me, while in the Veil I fold
My dying limbs. Therefore O Manhood, if thou art aught
But a meer Phantasy, hear dying Albions Curse!
May God who dwells in this dark Ulro & voidness, vengeance take,
And draw thee down into this Abyss of sorrow and torture,
40 Like me thy Victim. O that Death & Annihilation were the same!
PLATE 24
What have I said? What have I done? O all-powerful Human Words:
You recoil back upon me in the blood of the Lamb slain in his Children.
Two bleeding Contraries equally true, are his Witnesses against me
We reared mighty Stones: we danced naked around them:
Thinking to bring Love into light of day, to Jerusalems shame:
Displaying our Giant limbs to all the winds of heaven! Sudden
Shame siezd us, we could not look on one-another for abhorrence: the Blue
Of our immortal Veins & all their Hosts fled from our Limbs,
And wanderd distant in a dismal Night clouded & dark:
10 The Sun fled from the Britons forehead: the Moon from his mighty loins:
Scandinavia fled with all his mountains filld with groans.
O what is Life & what is Man. O what is Death! Wherefore
Are you my Children, natives in the Grave to where I go
Or are you born to feed the hungry ravenings of Destruction
To be the sport of Accident! to waste in Wrath & Love, a weary
Life, in brooding cares & anxious labours, that prove but chaff.
O Jerusalem Jerusalem I have forsaken thy Courts
Thy Pillars of ivory & gold: thy Curtains of silk & fine
Linen: thy Pavements of precious stones: thy Walls of pearl
20 And gold, thy Gates of Thanksgiving thy Windows of Praise:
Thy Clouds of Blessing; thy Cherubims of Tender-mercy
Stretching their Wings sublime over the Little-ones of Albion[.]
O Human Imagination O Divine Body I have Crucified
I have turned my back upon thee into the Wastes of Moral Law:
There Babylon is builded in the Waste, founded in Human desolation.
O Babylon thy Watchman stands over thee in the night
Thy severe Judge all the day long proves thee O Babylon
With provings of destruction, with giving thee thy hearts desire.
But Albion is cast forth to the Potter his Children to the Builders
30 To build Babylon because they have forsaken Jerusalem
The Walls of Babylon are Souls of Men: her Gates the Groans
Of Nations; her Towers are the Miseries of once happy Families.
Her Streets are paved with Destruction, her Houses built with Death
Her Palaces with Hell & the Grave; her Synagogues with Torments
Of ever-hardening Despair squard & polishd with cruel skill
Yet thou wast lovely as the summer cloud upon my hills
When Jerusalem was thy hearts desire in times of youth & love.
Thy Sons came to Jerusalem with gifts, she sent them away
With blessings on their hands & on their feet, blessings of gold,
40 And pearl & diamond: thy Daughters sang in her Courts:
They came up to Jerusalem; they walked before Albion
In the Exchanges of London every Nation walkd
And London walkd in every Nation mutual in love & harmony
Albion coverd the whole Earth, England encompassd the Nations,
Mutual each within others bosom in Visions of Regeneration;
Jerusalem coverd the Atlantic Mountains & the Erythrean,
From bright Japan & China to Hesperia France & England.
Mount Zion lifted his head in every Nation under heaven:
And the Mount of Olives was beheld over the whole Earth:
50 The footsteps of the Lamb of God were there: but now no more
No more shall I behold him, he is closd in Luvahs Sepulcher.
Yet why these smitings of Luvah, the gentlest mildest Zoa?
If God was Merciful this could not be: O Lamb of God
Thou art a delusion and Jerusalem is my Sin! O my Children
I have educated you in the crucifying cruelties of Demonstration
Till you have assum’d the Providence of God & slain your Father
Dost thou appear before me who liest dead in Luvahs Sepulcher
Dost thou forgive me! thou who wast Dead & art Alive?
Look not so merciful upon me O thou Slain Lamb of God
60 I die! I die in thy arms tho Hope is banishd from me.
Thundring the Veil rushes from his hand Vegetating Knot by
Knot, Day by Day, Night by Night; loud roll the indignant Atlantic
Waves & the Erythrean, turning up the bottoms of the Deeps
PLATE 25
And there was heard a great lamenting in Beulah: all the Regions
Of Beulah were moved as the tender bowels are moved: & they said:
Why did you take Vengeance O ye Sons of the mighty Albion?
Planting these Oaken Groves: Erecting these Dragon Temples
Injury the Lord heals but Vengeance cannot be healed:
As the Sons of Albion have done to Luvah: so they have in him
Done to the Divine Lord & Saviour, who suffers with those that suffer:
For not one sparrow can suffer, & the whole Universe not suffer also,
In all its Regions, & its Father & Saviour not pity and weep.
10 But Vengeance is the destroyer of Grace & Repentance in the bosom
Of the Injurer: in which the Divine Lamb is cruelly slain:
Descend O Lamb of God & take away the imputation of Sin
By the Creation of States & the deliverance of Individuals Evermore Amen
Thus wept they in Beulah over the Four Regions of Albion
But many doubted & despaird & imputed Sin & Righteousness
To Individuals & not to States, and these Slept in Ulro.
PLATE 26
SUCH VISIONS HAVE APPEARD TO ME
AS I MY ORDERD RACE HAVE RUN
JERUSALEM IS NAMED LIBERTY
AMONG THE SONS OF ALBION
PLATE 27
TO THE JEWS
Jerusalem the Emanation of the Giant Albion! Can it be? Is it a Truth that the Learned have explored? Was Britain the Primitive Seat of the Patriarchal Religion? If it is true: my title-page is also True, that Jerusalem was & is the Emanation of the Giant Albion. It is True, and cannot be controverted. Ye are united O ye inhabitants of Earth in One Religion. The Religion of Jesus: the most Ancient, the Eternal: & the Everlasting Gospel – The Wicked will turn it to Wickedness, the Righteous to Righteousness,
10 Amen! Huzza! Selah!
‘All things Begin & End in Albions Ancient Druid Rocky Shore.’
Your Ancestors derived their origin from Abraham, Heber, Shem, and Noah, who were Druids: as the Druid Temples (which are the Patriarchal Pillars & Oak Groves) over the whole Earth witness to this day.
You have a tradition, that Man anciently containd in his mighty limbs all things in Heaven & Earth: this you recieved from the Druids
20 ‘But now the Starry Heavens are fled from the mighty limbs of Albion’
Albion was the Parent of the Druids; & in his Chaotic State of Sleep
Satan & Adam & the whole World was Created by the Elohim.
The fields from Islington to Marybone,
To Primrose Hill and Saint Johns Wood:
Were builded over with pillars of gold,
And there Jerusalems pillars stood.
Her Little-ones ran on the fields
The Lamb of God among them seen
And fair Jerusalem his Bride:
Among the little meadows green.
Pancrass & Kentish-town repose
10 Among her golden pillars high:
Among her golden arches which
Shine upon the starry sky.
The Jews-harp-house & the Green Man;
The Ponds where Boys to bathe delight:
The fields of Cows by Willans farm:
Shine in Jerusalems pleasant sight.
20 She walks upon our meadows green:
The Lamb of God walks by her side:
And every English Child is seen,
Children of Jesus & his Bride,
Forgiving trespasses and sins
Lest Babylon with cruel Og,
With Moral & Self-righteous Law
Should Crucify in Satans Synagogue!
What are those golden Builders doing
Near mournful ever-weeping Paddington
Standing above that mighty Ruin
Where Satan the first victory won.
30 Where Albion slept beneath the Fatal Tree
And the Druids golden Knife,
Rioted in human gore,
In Offerings of Human Life
They groan’d aloud on London Stone
They groan’d aloud on Tyburns Brook
Albion gave his deadly groan,
And all the Atlantic Mountains shook
40 Albions Spectre from his Loins
Tore forth in all the pomp of War!
Satan his name: in flames of fire
He stretch’d his Druid Pillars far.
Jerusalem fell from Lambeth’s Vale,
Down thro Poplar & Old Bow;
Thro Malden & acros the Sea,
In War & howling death & woe.
The Rhine was red with human blood:
The Danube rolld a purple tide:
On the Euphrates Satan stood:
And over Asia stretch’d his pride.
50 He witherd up sweet Zions Hill,
From every Nation of the Earth:
He witherd up Jerusalems Gates,
And in a dark Land gave her birth.
He witherd up the Human Form,
By laws of sacrifice for sin:
Till it became a Mortal Worm:
But O! translucent all within.
The Divine Vision still was seen
Still was the Human Form, Divine
Weeping in weak & mortal clay
60 O Jesus still the Form was thine.
And thine the Human Face & thine
The Human Hands & Feet & Breath
Entering thro’ the Gates of Birth
And passing thro’ the Gates of Death
And O thou Lamb of God, whom I
Slew in my dark self-righteous pride:
Art thou return’d to Albions Land!
And is Jerusalem thy Bride?
Come to my arms & never more
70 Depart; but dwell for ever here:
Create my Spirit to thy Love:
Subdue my Spectre to thy Fear.
Spectre of Albion! warlike Fiend!
In clouds of blood & ruin roll’d:
I here reclaim thee as my own
My Selfhood! Satan! armd in gold.
Is this thy soft Family-Love
Thy cruel Patriarchal pride
Planting thy Family alone,
80 Destroying all the World beside.
A mans worst enemies are those
Of his own house & family;
And he who makes his law a curse,
By his own law shall surely die.
In my Exchanges every Land
Shall walk, & mine in every Land,
Mutual shall build Jerusalem:
Both heart in heart & hand in hand.
If Humility is Christianity; you O Jews are the true
90 Christians; If your tradition that Man contained in his
Limbs, all Animals, is True & they were separated from him by cruel Sacrifices: and when compulsory cruel Sacrifices had brought Humanity into a Feminine Tabernacle, in the loins of Abraham & David: the Lamb of God, the Saviour became apparent on Earth as the Prophets had foretold? The Return of Israel is a Return to Mental Sacrifice & War. Take up the Cross O Israel & follow Jesus.
PLATE 28
JERUSALEM: CHAPTER II.
Every ornament of perfection, and every labour of love,
In all the Garden of Eden, & in all the golden mountains
Was become an envied horror, and a remembrance of jealousy:
And every Act a Crime, and Albion the punisher & judge.
And Albion spoke from his secret seat and said
All these ornaments are crimes, they are made by the labours
Of loves: of unnatural consanguinities and friendships
Horrid to think of when enquired deeply into; and all
These hills & valleys are accursed witnesses of Sin
10 I therefore condense them into solid rocks, stedfast!
A foundation and certainty and demonstrative truth:
That Man be separate from Man, & here I plant my seat.
Cold snows drifted around him: ice coverd his loins around
He sat by Tyburns brook, and underneath his heel, shot up!
A deadly Tree, he nam’d it Moral Virtue, and the Law
Of God who dwells in Chaos hidden from the human sight.
The Tree spread over him its cold shadows, (Albion groand)
They bent down, they felt the earth and again enrooting
Shot into many a Tree! an endless labyrinth of woe!
20 From willing sacrifice of Self, to sacrifice of (miscall’d) Enemies
For Atonement: Albion began to erect twelve Altars,
Of rough unhewn rocks, before the Potters Furnace
He nam’d them Justice, and Truth. And Albions Sons
Must have become the first Victims, being the first transgressors
But they fled to the mountains to seek ransom: building A Strong
Fortification against the Divine Humanity and Mercy,
In Shame & Jealousy to annihilate Jerusalem!
PLATE 29
Turning his back to the Divine Vision, his Spectrous
Chaos before his face appeard: an Unformed Memory.
Then spoke the Spectrous Chaos to Albion darkning cold
From the back & loins where dwell the Spectrous Dead
I am your Rational Power O Albion & that Human Form
You call Divine, is but a Worm seventy inches long
That creeps forth in a night & is dried in the morning sun
In fortuitous concourse of memorys accumulated & lost
It plows the Earth in its own conceit, it overwhelms the Hills
10 Beneath its winding labyrinths, till a stone of the brook
Stops it in midst of its pride among its hills & rivers[.]
Battersea & Chelsea mourn, London & Canterbury tremble
Their place shall not be found as the wind passes over.
The ancient Cities of the Earth remove as a traveller
And shall Albions Cities remain when I pass over them
With my deluge of forgotten remembrances over the tablet
So spoke the Spectre to Albion, he is the Great Selfhood
Satan: Worshipd as God by the Mighty Ones of the Earth
Having a white Dot calld a Center from which branches out
20 A Circle in continual gyrations, this became a Heart
From which sprang numerous branches varying their motions
Producing many Heads three or seven or ten, & hands & feet
Innumerable at will of the unfortunate contemplator
Who becomes his food[:] such is the way of the Devouring Power
And this is the cause of the appearance in the frowning Chaos[.]
Albions Emanation which he had hidden in Jealousy
Appeard now in the frowning Chaos prolific upon the Chaos
Reflecting back to Albion in Sexual Reasoning Hermaphroditic
Albion spoke. Who art thou that appearest in gloomy pomp
30 Involving the Divine Vision in colours of autumn ripeness
I never saw thee till this time, nor beheld life abstracted
Nor darkness immingled with light on my furrowd field
Whence camest thou! who art thou O loveliest? the Divine Vision
Is as nothing before thee, faded is all life and joy
Vala replied in clouds of tears Albions garment embracing
I was a City & a Temple built by Albions Children.
I was a Garden planted with beauty I allured on hill & valley
The River of Life to flow against my walls & among my trees
Vala was Albions Bride & Wife in great Eternity
40 The loveliest of the daughters of Eternity when in day-break
I emanated from Luvah over the Towers of Jerusalem
And in her Courts among her little Children offering up
The Sacrifice of fanatic love! why loved I Jerusalem:
Why was I one with her embracing in the Vision of Jesus
Wherefore did I loving create love, which never yet
Immingled God & Man, when thou & I, hid the Divine Vision
In cloud of secret gloom which behold involve me round about
Know me now Albion: look upon me I alone am Beauty
The Imaginative Human Form is but a breathing of Vala
50 I breathe him forth into the Heaven from my secret Cave
Born of the Woman to obey the Woman O Albion the mighty
For the Divine appearance is Brotherhood, but I am Love
PLATE 30
Elevate into the Region of Brotherhood with my red fires
Art thou Vala? replied Albion, image of my repose
O how I tremble! how my members pour down milky fear!
A dewy garment covers me all over, all manhood is gone:
At thy word & at thy look death enrobes me about
From head to feet, a garment of death & eternal fear
Is not that Sun thy husband & that Moon thy glimmering Veil?
Are not the Stars of heaven thy Children! art thou not Babylon?
Art thou Nature Mother of all! is Jerusalem thy Daughter
10 Why have thou elevate inward: O dweller of outward chambers
From grot & cave beneath the Moon dim region of death
Where I laid my Plow in the hot noon, where my hot team fed
Where implements of War are forged, the Plow to go over the Nations
In pain girding me round like a rib of iron in heaven: O Vala
In Eternity they neither marry nor are given in marriage
Albion the high Cliff of the Atlantic is become a barren Land
Los stood at his Anvil: he heard the contentions of Vala –
He heavd his thundring Bellows upon the valleys of Middlesex
He opend his Furnaces before Vala, then Albion frownd in anger
20 On his Rock: ere yet the Starry Heavens were fled away
From his awful Members, and thus Los cried aloud
To the Sons of Albion & to Hand the eldest Son of Albion
I hear the screech of Childbirth loud pealing, & the groans
Of Death, in Albions clouds dreadful utterd over all the Earth
What may Man be? who can tell! but what may Woman be?
To have power over Man from Cradle to corruptible Grave.
There is a Throne in every Man, it is the Throne of God
This Woman has claimd as her own & Man is no more!
Albion is the Tabernacle of Vala & her Temple
30 And not the Tabernacle & Temple of the Most High
O Albion why wilt thou Create a Female Will?
To hide the most evident God in a hidden covert, even
In the shadows of a Woman & a secluded Holy Place
That we may pry after him as after a stolen treasure
Hidden among the Dead & mured up from the paths of life
Hand! art thou not Reuben enrooting thyself into Bashan
Till thou remainest a vaporous Shadow in a Void! O Merlin!
Unknown among the Dead where never before Existence came
Is this the Female Will O ye lovely Daughters of Albion. To
40 Converse concerning Weight & Distance in the Wilds of Newton & Locke
So Los spoke standing on Mam-Tor looking over Europe & Asia
The Graves thunder beneath his feet from Ireland to Japan
Reuben slept in Bashan like one dead in the valley
Cut off from Albions mountains & from all the Earths summits
Between Succoth & Zaretan beside the Stone of Bohan
While the Daughters of Albion divided Luvah into three Bodies
Los bended his Nostrils down to the Earth, then sent him over
Jordan to the Land of the Hittite: every-one that saw him
Fled! they fled at his horrible Form: they hid in caves
50 And dens, they looked to one-another & became what they beheld
Reuben return’d to Bashan, in despair he slept on the Stone.
Then Gwendolen divided into Rahab & Tirza in Twelve Portionsf[.]
Los rolled, his Eyes into two narrow circles, then sent him
Over Jordan; all terrified fled: they became what they beheld.
If Perceptive Organs vary: Objects of Perception seem to vary:
If the Perceptive Organs close: their Objects seem to close also:
Consider this O mortal Man: O worm of sixty winters said Los
Consider Sexual Organization & hide thee in the dust.
PLATE 31
Then the Divine hand found the Two Limits, Satan and Adam,
In Albions bosom: for in every Human bosom those Limits stand.
And the Divine voice came from the Furnaces, as multitudes without
Number: the voices of the innumerable multitudes of Eternity.
And the appearance of a Man was seen in the Furnaces;
Saving those who have sinned from the punishment of the Law,
(In pity of the punisher whose state is eternal death,)
And keeping them from Sin by the mild counsels of his love.
Albion goes to Eternal Death: In Me all Eternity,
10 Must pass thro’ condemnation, and awake beyond the Grave:
No individual can keep these Laws, for they are death
To every energy of man, and forbid the springs of life;
Albion hath enterd the State Satan! Be permanent O State!
And be thou for ever accursed! that Albion may arise again:
And be thou created into a State! I go forth to Create
States: to deliver Individuals evermore! Amen.
So spoke the voice from the Furnaces, descending into Non-Entity
[To Govern the Evil by Good: and States abolish Systems.]
PLATE 32
Reuben return’d to his place, in vain he sought beautiful Tirzah
For his Eyelids were narrowd, & his Nostrils scented the ground
And Sixty Winters Los raged in the Divisions of Reuben:
Building the Moon of Ulro, plank by plank & rib by rib
Reuben slept in the Cave of Adam, and Los folded his Tongue
Between Lips of mire & clay, then sent him forth over Jordan
In the love of Tirzah he said Doubt is my food day & night –
All that beheld him fled howling and gnawed their tongues
For pain: they became what they beheld. In reasonings Reuben returned
10 To Heshbon, disconsolate he walkd thro Moab & he stood
Before the Furnaces of Los in a horrible dreamful slumber,
On Mount Gilead looking toward Gilgal: and Los bended
His Ear in a spiral circle outward; then sent him over Jordan.
The Seven Nations fled before him they became what they beheld
Hand, Hyle & Coban fled: they became what they beheld
Gwantock & Peachy hid in Damascus beneath Mount Lebanon
Brereton & Slade in Egypt. Hutton & Skofeld & Kox
Fled over Chaldea in terror in pains in every nerve
Kotope & Bowen became what they beheld, fleeing over the Earth
20 And the Twelve Female Emanations fled with them agonizing.
Jerusalem trembled seeing her Children drivn by Los’s Hammer
In the visions of the dreams of Beulah on the edge of Non-Entity
Hand stood between Reuben & Merlin, as the Reasoning Spectre
Stands between the Vegetative Man & his Immortal Imagination
And the Four Zoa’s clouded rage East & West & North & South
They change their situations, in the Universal Man.
Albion groans, he sees the Elements divide before his face.
And England who is Brittannia divided into Jerusalem & Vala
And Urizen assumes the East, Luvah assumes the South
30 In his dark Spectre ravening from his open Sepulcher
And the Four Zoa’s who are the Four Eternal Senses of Man
Became Four Elements separating from the Limbs of Albion
These are their names in the Vegetative Generation
[West Weighing East & North dividing Generation South [ ]ing]
And Accident & Chance were found hidden in Length Bredth & Highth
And they divided into Four ravening deathlike Forms
Fairies & Genii & Nymphs & Gnomes of the Elements.
These are States Permanently Fixed by the Divine Power[.]
The Atlantic Continent sunk round Albions cliffy shore
40 And the Sea poured in amain upon the Giants of Albion
As Los bended the Senses of Reuben Reuben is Merlin
Exploring the Three States of Ulro; Creation;
Redemption, & Judgment
And many of the Eternal Ones laughed after their manner
Have you known the Judgment that is arisen among the
Zoa’s of Albion? where a Man dare hardly to embrace
His own Wife, for the terrors of Chastity that they call
By the name of Morality, their Daughters govern all
In hidden deceit! they are Vegetable only fit for burning:
Art & Science cannot exist but by Naked Beauty displayd
50 Then those in Great Eternity who contemplate on Death
Said thus. What seems to Be: Is: To those to whom
It seems to Be, & is productive of the most dreadful
Consequences to those to whom it seems to Be: even of
Torments, Despair, Eternal Death; but the Divine Mercy
Steps beyond and Redeems Man in the Body of Jesus Amen
And Length Bredth Highth again Obey the Divine Vision Hallelujah
PLATE 33
And One stood forth from the Divine family & said
I feel my Spectre rising upon me! Albion! arouze thyself!
Why dost thou thunder with frozen Spectrous wrath against us?
The Spectre is, in Giant Man; insane, and most deform’d.
Thou wilt certainly provoke my Spectre against thine in fury!
He has a Sepulcher hewn out of a Rock ready for thee:
And a Death of Eight thousand years, forg’d by thyself, upon
The point of his Spear! if thou persistest to forbid with Laws
Our Emanations, and to attack our secret supreme delights
10 So Los spoke: But when he saw blue death in Albions feet,
Again he join’d the Divine Body, following merciful;
While Albion fled more indignant: revengeful covering
PLATE 34
His face and bosom with petrifie hardness, and his hands
And feet, lest any should enter his bosom & embrace
His hidden heart; his Emanation wept & trembled within him:
Uttering not his jealousy, but hiding it as with
Iron and steel, dark and opake, with clouds & tempests brooding:
His strong limbs shudderd upon his mountains high and dark.
Turning from Universal Love petrific as he went,
His cold against the warmth of Eden rag’d with loud
Thunders of deadly war (the fever of the human soul)
10 Fires and clouds of rolling smoke! but mild the Saviour follow’d him,
Displaying the Eternal Vision! the Divine Similitude!
In loves and tears of brothers, sisters, sons, fathers, and friends
Which if Man ceases to behold, he ceases to exist:
Saying. Albion! Our wars are wars of life, & wounds of love,
With intellectual spears, & long winged arrows of thought:
Mutual in one anothers love and wrath all renewing
We live as One Man; for contracting our infinite senses
We behold multitude; or expanding: we behold as one,
As One Man all the Universal Family; and that One Man
20 We call Jesus the Christ: and he in us, and we in him,
Live in perfect harmony in Eden the land of life,
Giving, recieving, and forgiving each others trespasses.
He is the Good shepherd, he is the Lord and master:
He is the Shepherd of Albion, he is all in all,
In Eden: in the garden of God: and in heavenly Jerusalem.
If we have offended, forgive us, take not vengeance against us.
Thus speaking; the Divine Family follow Albion:
I see them in the Vision of God upon my pleasant valleys.
I behold London; a Human awful wonder of God!
30 He says: Return, Albion, return! I give myself for thee:
My Streets are my, Ideas of Imagination.
Awake Albion, awake! and let us awake up together.
My Houses are Thoughts: my Inhabitants: Affections,
The children of my thoughts, walking within my blood-vessels,
Shut from my nervous form which sleeps upon the verge of Beulah
In dreams of darkness, while my vegetating blood in veiny pipes,
Rolls dreadful thro’ the Furnaces of Los, and the Mills of Satan.
For Albions sake, and for Jerusalem thy Emanation
I give myself, and these my brethren give themselves for Albion.
40 So spoke London, immortal Guardian! I heard in Lambeths shades:
In Felpham I heard and saw the Visions of Albion
I write in South Molton Street, what I both see and hear
In regions of Humanity, in Londons opening streets.
I see thee awful Parent Land in light, behold I see!
Verulam! Canterbury! venerable parent of men,
Generous immortal Guardian golden clad! for Cities
Are Men, fathers of multitudes, and Rivers & Mountains
Are also Men; every thing is Human, mighty! sublime!
In every bosom a Universe expands, as wings
50 Let down at will around, and call’d the Universal Tent.
York, crown’d with loving kindness. Edinburgh, cloth’d
With fortitude as with a garment of immortal texture
Woven in looms of Eden, in spiritual deaths of mighty men
Who give themselves, in Golgotha, Victims to Justice; where
There is in Albion a Gate of Precious stones and gold
Seen only by Emanations, by vegetations viewless,
Bending across the road of Oxford Street; it from Hyde Park
To Tyburns deathful shades, admits the wandering souls
Of multitudes who die from Earth: this Gate cannot be found
PLATE 35
By Satans Watch-fiends tho’ they search numbering every grain
Of sand on Earth every night, they never find this Gate.
It is the Gate of Los. Withoutside is the Mill, intricate, dreadful
And fill’d with cruel tortures; but no mortal man can find the Mill
Of Satan, in his mortal pilgrimage of seventy years
For Human beauty knows it not: nor can Mercy find it! But
In the Fourth region of Humanity, Urthona namd[,]
Mortality begins to roll the billows of Eternal Death
Before the Gate of Los. Urthona here is named Los.
10 And here begins the System of Moral Virtue, named Rahab.
Albion fled thro’ the Gate of Los, and he stood in the Gate.
Los was the friend of Albion who most lov’d him. In Cambridgeshire
His eternal station, he is the twenty-eighth, & is four-fold.
Seeing Albion had turn’d his back against the Divine Vision,
Los said to Albion. Whither fleest thou? Albion reply’d.
I die! I go to Eternal Death! the shades of death
Hover within me & beneath, and spreading themselves outside
Like rocky clouds, build me a gloomy monument of woe:
Will none accompany me in my death? or be a Ransom for me
20 In that dark Valley? I have girded round my cloke, and on my feet
Bound these black shoes of death, & on my hands, deaths iron gloves:
God hath forsaken me, & my friends are become a burden
A weariness to me, & the human footstep is a terror to me.
Los answerd, troubled: and his soul was rent in twain:
Must the Wise die for an Atonement? does Mercy endure Atonement?
No! It is Moral Severity, & destroys Mercy in its Victim.
So speaking, not yet infected with the Error & Illusion,
PLATE 36
Los shudder’d at beholding Albion, for his disease
Arose upon him pale and ghastly: and he call’d around
The Friends of Albion: trembling at the sight of Eternal Death
The four appear’d with their Emanations in fiery
Chariots: black their fires roll beholding Albions House of Eternity
Damp couch the flames beneath and silent, sick, stand shuddering
Before the Porch of sixteen pillars: weeping every one
Descended and fell down upon their knees around Albions knees,
Swearing the Oath of God! with awful voice of thunders round
10 Upon the hills & valleys, and the cloudy Oath roll’d far and wide
Albion is sick! said every Valley, every mournful Hill
And every River: our brother Albion is sick to death.
He hath leagued himself with robbers: he hath studied the arts
Of unbelief: Envy hovers over him! his Friends are his abhorrence!
Those who give their lives for him are despised!
Those who devour his soul, are taken into his bosom!
To destroy his Emanation is their intention:
Arise! awake O Friends of the Giant Albion
They have perswaded him of horrible falshoods!
20 They have sown errors over all his fruitful fields!
The Twenty-four heard! they came trembling on watry chariots.
Borne by the Living Creatures of the third procession
Of Human Majesty, the Living Creatures wept aloud as they
Went along Albions roads, till they arriv’d at Albions House.
O! how the torments of Eternal Death, waited on Man:
And the loud-rending bars of the Creation ready to burst:
That the wide world might fly from its hinges & the immortal mansion
Of Man, for ever be possessd by monsters of the deeps:
And Man himself become a Fiend, wrap’d in an endless curse,
30 Consuming and consum’d for-ever in flames of Moral Justice.
For had the Body of Albion fall’n down, and from its dreadful ruins
Let loose the enormous Spectre on the darkness of the deep,
At enmity with the Merciful & fill’d with devouring fire,
A nether-world must have recievd the foul enormous spirit,
Under pretence of Moral Virtue, fill’d with Revenge and Law.
There to eternity chain’d down, and issuing in red flames
And curses, with his mighty arms brandish’d against the heavens
Breathing cruelty blood & vengeance, gnashing his teeth with pain
Torn with black storms, & ceaseless torrents of his own consuming fire:
40 Within his breast his mighty Sons chaind down & fill’d with cursings:
And his dark Eon, that once fair crystal form divinely clear:
Within his ribs producing serpents whose souls are flames of fire.
But, glory to the Merciful-One, for he is of tender mercies!
And the Divine Family wept over him as One Man.
And these the Twenty-four in whom the Divine Family
Appeard; and they were One in Him. A Human Vision!
Human Divine, Jesus the Saviour, blessed for ever and ever.
Selsey, true friend! who afterwards submitted to be devourd
By the waves of Despair, whose Emanation rose above
50 The flood, and was nam’d Chichester, lovely mild & gentle! Lo!
Her lambs bleat to the sea-fowls cry, lamenting still for Albion.
Submitting to be call’d the son of Los the terrible vision:
Winchester stood devoting himself for Albion: his tents
Outspread with abundant riches, and his Emanations
Submitting to be call’d Enitharmons daughters, and be born
In vegetable mould: created by the Hammer and Loom
In Bowlahoola & Allamanda where the Dead wail night & day.
(I call them by their English names: English, the rough basement.
Los built the stubborn structure of the Language, acting against
60 Albions melancholy, who must else have been a Dumb despair.)
Gloucester and Exeter and Salisbury and Bristol: and benevolent Bath
PLATE 37
Bath who is Legions: he is the Seventh, the physician and
The poisoner: the best and worst in Heaven and Hell:
Whose Spectre first assimilated with Luvah in Albions mountains
A triple octave he took, to reduce Jerusalem to twelve
To cast Jerusalem forth upon the wilds to Poplar & Bow:
To Malden & Canterbury in the delights of cruelty:
The Shuttles of death sing in the sky to Islington & Pancrass
Round Marybone to Tyburns River, weaving black melancholy as a net,
And despair as meshes closely wove over the west of London,
10 Where mild Jerusalem sought to repose in death & be no more.
She fled to Lambeths mild Vale and hid herself beneath
The Surrey Hills where Rephaim terminates: her Sons are siez’d
For victims of sacrifice; but Jerusalem cannot be found! Hid
By the Daughters of Beulah: gently snatch’d away: and hid in Beulah
There is a Grain of Sand in Lambeth that Satan cannot find
Nor can his Watch Fiends find it: tis translucent & has many Angles
But he who finds it will find Oothoons palace, for within
Opening into Beulah every angle is a lovely heaven
But should the Watch Fiends find it, they would call it Sin
20 And lay its Heavens & their inhabitants in blood of punishment
Here Jerusalem & Vala were hid in soft slumberous repose
Hid from the terrible East, shut up in the South & West.
The Twenty-eight trembled in Deaths dark caves, in cold despair
They kneeld around the Couch of Death in deep humiliation
And tortures of self condemnation while their Spectres ragd within.
The Four Zoa’s in terrible combustion clouded rage
Drinking the shuddering fears & loves of Albions Families
Destroying by selfish affections the things that they most admire
Drinking & eating, & pitying & weeping, as at a trajic scene.
30 The soul drinks murder & revenge, & applauds its own holiness
They saw Albion endeavouring to destroy their Emanations.
PLATE 38
They saw their Wheels rising up poisonous against Albion
Urizen, cold & scientific: Luvah, pitying & weeping
Tharmas, indolent & sullen: Urthona, doubting & despairing
Victims to one another & dreadfully plotting against each other
To prevent Albion walking about in the Four Complexions.
They saw America clos’d out by the Oaks of the western shore;
And Tharmas dash’d on the Rocks of the Altars of Victims in Mexico.
If we are wrathful Albion will destroy Jerusalem with rooty Groves
If we are merciful, ourselves must suffer destruction on his Oaks:
10 Why should we enter into our Spectres, to behold our own corruptions
O God of Albion descend! deliver Jerusalem from the Oaken Groves!
Then Los grew furious raging: Why stand we here trembling around
Calling on God for help; and not ourselves in whom God dwells
Stretching a hand to save the falling Man: are we not Four
Beholding Albion upon the Precipice ready to fall into Non-Entity:
Seeing these Heavens & Hells conglobing in the Void. Heavens over Hells
Brooding in holy hypocritic lust, drinking the cries of pain
From howling victims of Law: building Heavens Twenty-seven-fold.
Swelld & bloated General Forms, repugnant to the Divine-
20 Humanity, who is the Only General and Universal Form
To which all Lineaments tend & seek with love & sympathy
All broad & general principles belong to benevolence
Who protects minute particulars, every one in their own identity.
But here the affectionate touch of the tongue is closd in by deadly teeth
And the soft smile of friendship & the open dawn of benevolence
Become a net & a trap, & every energy renderd cruel,
Till the existence of friendship & benevolence is denied:
The wine of the Spirit & the vineyards of the Holy-One,
Here: turn into poisonous stupor & deadly intoxication:
30 That they may be condemnd by Law & the Lamb of God be slain!
And the two Sources of Life in Eternity[,] Hunting and War,
Are become the Sources of dark & bitter Death & of corroding Hell:
The open heart is shut up in integuments of frozen silence
That the spear that lights it forth may shatter the ribs & bosom
A pretence of Art, to destroy Art: a pretence of Liberty
To destroy Liberty, a pretence of Religion to destroy Religion
Oshea and Caleb fight: they contend in the valleys of Peor
In the terrible Family Contentions of those who love each other:
The Armies of Balaam weep – no women come to the field
40 Dead corses lay before them, & not as in Wars of old.
For the Soldier who fights for Truth, calls his enemy his brother:
They fight & contend for life, & not for eternal death!
But here the Soldier strikes, & a dead corse falls at his feet
Nor Daughter nor Sister nor Mother come forth to embosom the Slain!
But Death! Eternal Death! remains in the Valleys of Peor.
The English are scatterd over the face of the Nations: are these
Jerusalems children? Hark! hear the Giants of Albion cry at night
We smell the blood of the English! we delight in their blood on our Altars!
The living & the dead shall be ground in our rumbling Mills
50 For bread of the Sons of Albion: of the Giants Hand & Scofield
Scofeld & Kox are let loose upon my Saxons! they accumulate
A World in which Man is by his Nature the Enemy of Man,
In pride of Selfhood unwieldy stretching out into Non Entity
Generalizing Art & Science till Art & Science is lost.
Bristol & Bath, listen to my words, & ye Seventeen: give ear!
It is easy to acknowledge a man to be great & good while we
Derogate from him in the trifles & small articles of that goodness:
Those alone are his friends, who admire his minutest powers[.]
Instead of Albions lovely mountains & the curtains of Jerusalem
60 I see a Cave, a Rock, a Tree deadly and poisonous, unimaginative:
Instead of the Mutual Forgivenesses, the Minute Particulars, I see
Pits of bitumen ever burning: artificial Riches of the Canaanite
Like Lakes of liquid lead: instead of heavenly Chapels, built
By our dear Lord: I see Worlds crusted with snows & ice;
I see a Wicker Idol woven round Jerusalems children. I see
The Canaanite, the Amalekite, the Moabite, the Egyptian:
By Demonstrations the cruel Sons of Quality & Negation.
Driven on the Void in incoherent despair into Non Entity
I see America closd apart, & Jerusalem driven in terror
70 Away from Albions mountains, far away from Londons spires:
I will not endure this thing: I alone withstand to death,
This outrage! Ah me! how sick & pale you all stand round me!
Ah me! pitiable ones! do you also go to deaths vale?
All you my Friends & Brothers: all you my beloved Companions:
Have you also caught the infection of Sin & stern Repentance?
I see Disease arise upon you! yet speak to me and give
Me some comfort: why do you all stand silent? I alone
Remain in permanent strength. Or is all this goodness & pity, only
That you may take the greater vengeance in your Sepulcher.
80 So Los spoke. Pale they stood around the House of Death:
In the midst of temptations & despair: among the rooted Oaks:
Among reared Rocks of Albions Sons, at length they rose
PLATE 39
With one accord in love sublime, & as on Cherubs wings
They Albion surround with kindest violence to bear him back
Against his will thro Los’s Gate to Eden: Four-fold; loud:
Their Wings waving over the bottomless Immense: to bear
Their awful charge back to his native home: but Albion dark,
Repugnant; rolld his Wheels backward into Non-Entity
Loud roll the Starry Wheels of Albion into the World of Death
And all the Gate of Los, clouded with clouds redounding from
Albions dread Wheels, stretching out spaces immense between
10 That every little particle of light & air, became Opake
Black & immense, a Rock of difficulty & a Cliff
Of black despair; that the immortal Wings labourd against
Cliff after cliff, & over Valleys of despair & death:
The narrow Sea between Albion & the Atlantic Continent:
Its waves of pearl became a boundless Ocean bottomless,
Of grey obscurity, filld with clouds & rocks & whirling waters
And Albions Sons ascending & descending in the horrid Void.
But as the Will must not be bended but in the day of Divine
Power: silent calm & motionless, in the mid-air sublime,
20 The Family Divine hover around the darkend Albion.
Such is the nature of the Ulro: that whatever enters:
Becomes Sexual, & is Created, and Vegetated, and Born.
From Hyde Park spread their vegetating roots beneath Albion
In dreadful pain the Spectrous Uncircumcised Vegetation. –
Forming a Sexual Machine: an Aged Virgin Form.
In Erins Land toward the north, joint after joint & burning
In love & jealousy immingled & calling it Religion
And feeling the damps of death they with one accord delegated Los
Conjuring him by the Highest that he should Watch over them
30 Till Jesus shall appear: & they gave their power to Los
Naming him the Spirit of Prophecy, calling him Elijah
Strucken with Albions disease they become what they behold;
They assimilate with Albion in pity & compassion;
Their Emanations return not: their Spectres rage in the Deep
The Slumbers of Death came over them around the Couch of Death
Before the Gate of Los & in the depths of Non Entity
Among the Furnaces of Los: among the Oaks of Albion.
Man is adjoind to Man by his Emanative portion:
Who is Jerusalem in every individual Man: and her
40 Shadow is Vala, builded by the Reasoning power in Man
O search & see: turn your eyes inward: open O thou World
Of Love & Harmony in Man: expand thy ever lovely Gates.
They wept into the deeps a little space at length was heard
The voice of Bath, faint as the voice of the Dead in the House of Death
PLATE 40
Bath, healing City! whose wisdom in midst of Poetic
Fervor: mild spoke thro’ the Western Porch, in soft gentle tears
O Albion mildest Son of Eden! clos’d is thy Western Gate
Brothers of Eternity: this Man whose great example
We all admir’d & lov’d, whose all benevolent countenance, seen
In Eden, in lovely Jerusalem, drew even from envy
The tear: and the confession of honesty, open & undisguis’d
From mistrust and suspition. The Man is himself become
A piteous example of oblivion. To teach the Sons
10 Of Eden, that however great and glorious; however loving
And merciful the Individuality; however high
Our palaces and cities, and however fruitful are our fields
In Selfhood, we are nothing: but fade away in mornings breath.
Our mildness is nothing: the greatest mildness we can use
Is incapable and nothing: none but the Lamb of God can heal
This dread disease: none but Jesus: O Lord descend and save:
Albions Western Gate is clos’d: his death is coming apace:
Jesus alone can save him; for alas we none can know
How soon his lot may be our own. When Africa in sleep
20 Rose in the night of Beulah, and bound down the Sun & Moon
His friends cut his strong chains, & overwhelm’d his dark
Machines in fury & destruction, and the Man reviving repented
He wept before his wrathful brethren, thankful & considerate
For their well timed wrath. But Albions sleep is not
Like Africa’s: and his machines are woven with his life
Nothing but mercy can save him! nothing but mercy interposing
Lest he should slay Jerusalem in his fearful jealousy
O God descend: gather our brethren, deliver Jerusalem[.]
But that we may omit no office of the friendly spirit
30 Oxford take thou these leaves of the Tree of Life: with eloquence
That thy immortal tongue inspires; present them to Albion:
Perhaps he may recieve them, offerd from thy loved hands.
So spoke, unhear’d by Albion. the merciful Son of Heaven
To those whose Western Gates were open, as they stood weeping
Around Albion: but Albion heard him not; obdurate! hard!
He frown’d on all his Friends, counting them enemies in his sorrow
And the Seventeen conjoining with Bath, the Seventh:
In whom the other Ten shone manifest, a Divine Vision!
Assimilated and embrac’d Eternal Death for Albions sake.
40 And these the names of the Eighteen combining with those Ten
PLATE 41
Bath, mild Physician of Eternity, mysterious power
Whose springs are unsearchable & knowledge infinite.
Hereford, ancient Guardian of Wales, whose hands
Builded the mountain palaces of Eden, stupendous works!
Lincoln, Durham & Carlisle, Councellors of Los.
And Ely, Scribe of Los, whose pen no other hand
Dare touch: Oxford, immortal Bard! with eloquence
Divine, he wept over Albion: speaking the words of God
In mild perswasion: bringing leaves of the Tree of Life.
Thou art in Error Albion, the Land of Ulro:
One Error not remov’d, will destroy a human Soul
Repose in Beulahs night, till the Error is remov’d
Reason not on both sides. Repose upon our bosoms
Till the Plow of Jehovah, and the Harrow of Shaddai
Have passed over the Dead, to awake the Dead to Judgment.
But Albion turn’d away refusing comfort.
Oxford trembled while he spoke, then fainted in the arms
Of Norwich, Peterboro, Rochester, Chester awful, Worcester,
Litchfield, Saint Davids, Landaff, Asaph, Bangor, Sodor,
20 Bowing their heads devoted: and the Furnaces of Los
Began to rage, thundering loud the storms began to roar
Upon the Furnaces, and loud the Furnaces rebellow beneath
And these the Four in whom the twenty-four appear’d four-fold:
Verulam, London, York, Edinburgh, mourning one towards another
Alas! – The time will come, when a mans worst enemies
Shall be those of his own house and family: in a Religion
Of Generation, to destroy by Sin and Atonement, happy Jerusalem,
The Bride and Wife of the Lamb. O God thou art Not an Avenger!
PLATE 42
Thus Albion sat, studious of others in his pale disease:
Brooding on evil: but when Los opend the Furnaces before him:
He saw that the accursed things were his own affections,
And his own beloveds: then he turn’d sick: his soul died within him
Also Los sick & terrified beheld the Furnaces of Death
And must have died, but the Divine Saviour descended
Among the infant loves & affections, and the Divine Vision wept
Like evening dew on every herb upon the breathing ground
Albion spoke in his dismal dreams: O thou deceitful friend
10 Worshipping mercy & beholding thy friend in such affliction:
Los! thou now discoverest thy turpitude to the heavens.
I demand righteousness & justice. O thou ingratitude!
Give me my Emanations back[,] food for my dying soul:
My daughters are harlots! my sons are accursed before me.
Enitharmon is my daughter: accursed with a fathers curse:
O! I have utterly been wasted! I have given my daughters to devils
So spoke Albion in gloomy majesty, and deepest night
Of Ulro rolld round his skirts from Dover to Cornwall.
Los answerd. Righteousness & justice I give thee in return
20 For thy righteousness! but I add mercy also, and bind
Thee from destroying these little ones: am I to be only
Merciful to thee and cruel to all that thou hatest[?]
Thou wast the Image of God surrounded by the Four Zoa’s
Three thou hast slain! I am the Fourth: thou canst not destroy me.
Thou art in Error; trouble me not with thy righteousness.
I have innocence to defend and ignorance to instruct:
I have no time for seeming; and little arts of compliment,
In morality and virtue: in self-glorying and pride.
There is a limit of Opakeness, and a limit of Contraction;
30 In every Individual Man, and the limit of Opakeness,
Is named Satan: and the limit of Contraction is named Adam.
But when Man sleeps in Beulah, the Saviour in mercy takes
Contractions Limit, and of the Limit he forms Woman: That
Himself may in process of time be born Man to redeem
But there is no Limit of Expansion! there is no Limit of Translucence,
In the bosom of Man for ever from eternity to eternity.
Therefore I break thy bonds of righteousness; I crush thy messengers!
That they may not crush me and mine: do thou be righteous,
And I will return it; otherwise I defy thy worst revenge:
40 Consider me as thine enemy: on me turn all thy fury
But destroy not these little ones, nor mock the Lords anointed:
Destroy not by Moral Virtue, the little ones whom he hath chosen:
The little ones whom he hath chosen in preference to thee.
He hath cast thee off for ever; the little ones he hath anointed!
Thy Selfhood is for ever accursed from the Divine presence
So Los spoke: then turn’d his face & wept for Albion.
Albion replied. Go: Hand & Hyle! sieze the abhorred [fiend]:
As you Have siezd the Twenty-four rebellious ingratitudes;
To atone for you, for spiritual death! Man lives by deaths of Men
50 Bring him to justice before heaven here upon London stone,
Between Blackheath & Hounslow, between Norwood & Finchley
All that they have is mine: from my free genrous gift,
They now hold all they have: ingratitude to me:
To me their benefactor calls aloud for vengeance deep.
Los stood before his Furnaces awaiting the fury of the Dead:
And the Divine hand was upon him, strengthening him mightily.
The Spectres of the Dead cry out from the deeps beneath
Upon the hills of Albion; Oxford groans in his iron furnace
Winchester in his den & cavern; they lament against
60 Albion: they curse their human kindness & affection
They rage like wild beasts in the forests of affliction
In the dreams of Ulro they repent of their human kindness.
Come up, build Babylon, Rahab is ours & all her multitudes
With her in pomp and glory of victory. Depart
Ye twenty-four into the deeps! let us depart to glory!
Their Human majestic forms sit up upon their Couches
Of death: they curb their Spectres as with iron curbs
They enquire after Jerusalem in the regions of the dead,
With the voices of dead men, low, scarcely articulate,
70 And with tears cold on their cheeks they weary repose.
O when shall the morning of the grave appear, and when
Shall our salvation come? we sleep upon our watch
We cannot awake! and our Spectres rage in the forests
O God of Albion where art thou! pity the watchers!
Thus mourn they. Loud the Furnaces of Los thunder upon
The clouds of Europe & Asia, among the Serpent Temples!
And Los drew his Seven Furnaces around Albions Altars
And as Albion built his frozen Altars, Los built the Mundane Shell,
In the Four Regions of Humanity East & West & North & South,
80 Till Norwood & Finchley & Blackheath & Hounslow, coverd the whole Earth.
This is the Net & Veil of Vala, among the Souls of the Dead.
PLATE 43
Then the Divine Vision like a silent Sun appeard above
Albions dark rocks: setting behind the Gardens of Kensington
On Tyburns River, in clouds of blood: where was mild Zion Hills
Most ancient promontory, and in the Sun, a Human Form appeard
And thus the Voice Divine went forth upon the rocks of Albion
I elected Albion for my glory; I gave to him the Nations,
Of the whole Earth. He was the Angel of my Presence: and all
The Sons of God were Albions Sons: and Jerusalem was my joy.
The Reactor hath hid himself thro envy. I behold him.
10 But you cannot behold him till he be reveald in his System
Albions Reactor must have a Place prepard: Albion must Sleep
The Sleep of Death, till the Man of Sin & Repentance be reveald.
Hidden in Albions Forests he lurks: he admits of no Reply
From Albion: but hath founded his Reaction into a Law
Of Action, for Obedience to destroy the Contraries of Man[.]
He hath compelld Albion to become a Punisher & hath possessd
Himself of Albions Forests & Wilds: and Jerusalem is taken!
The City of the Woods in the Forest of Ephratah is taken!
London is a stone of her ruins; Oxford is the dust of her walls!
20 Sussex & Kent are her scatterd garments: Ireland her holy place:
And the murderd bodies of her little ones are Scotland and Wales[.]
The Cities of the Nations are the smoke of her consummation
The Nations are her dust: ground by the chariot wheels
Of her lordly conquerors, her palaces levelld with the dust.
I come that I may find a way for my banished ones to return
Fear not O little Flock I come: Albion shall rise again.
So saying, the mild Sun inclosd the Human Family.
Forthwith from Albions darkning [r]ocks came two Immortal forms
Saying We alone are escaped. O merciful Lord and Saviour,
30 We flee from the interiors of Albions hills and mountains!
From his Valleys Eastward: from Amalek Canaan & Moab:
Beneath his vast ranges of hills surrounding Jerusalem.
Albion walkd on the steps of fire before his Halls
And Vala walkd with him in dreams of soft deluding slumber.
He looked up & saw the Prince of Light with splendor faded
Then Albion ascended mourning into the porches of his Palace
Above him rose a Shadow from his wearied intellect:
Of living gold, pure, perfect, holy: in white linen pure he hoverd
A sweet entrancing self-delusion a watry vision of Albion
40 Soft exulting in existence; all the Man absorbing!
Albion fell upon his face prostrate before the watry Shadow
Saying O Lord whence is this change: thou knowest I am nothing!
And Vala trembled & coverd her face: & her locks were spread on the pavement
We heard astonishd at the Vision & our hearts trembled within us:
We heard the voice of slumberous Albion, and thus he spake,
Idolatrous to his own Shadow words of eternity uttering:
O I am nothing when I enter into judgment with thee!
If thou withdraw thy breath I die & vanish into Hades
If thou dost lay thine hand upon me behold I am silent:
50 If thou withhold thine hand; I perish like a fallen leaf:
O I am nothing: and to nothing must return again:
If thou withdraw thy breath, Behold I am oblivion.
He ceasd: the shadowy voice was silent: but the cloud hoverd over their heads
In golden wreathes, the sorrow of Man; & the balmy drops fell down.
And lo! that son of Man that Shadowy Spirit of mild Albion:
Luvah descended from the cloud; in terror Albion rose:
Indignant rose the awful Man, & turnd his back on Vala.
We heard the voice of Albion starting from his sleep:
Whence is this voice crying Enion! that soundeth in my ears?
60 O cruel pity! O dark deceit! can love seek for dominion?
And Luvah strove to gain dominion over Albion
They strove together above the Body where Vala was inclosd
And the dark Body of Albion left prostrate upon the crystal pavement,
Coverd with boils from head to foot: the terrible smitings of Luvah.
Then frownd the fallen Man and put forth Luvah from his presence
Saying. Go and Die the Death of Man, for Vala the sweet wanderer.
I will turn the volutions of your ears outward, and bend your nostrils
Downward, and your fluxile eyes englob’d roll round in fear:
Your withring lips and tongue shrink up into a narrow circle,
70 Till into narrow forms you creep: go take your fiery way:
And learn what tis to absorb the Man you Spirits of Pity & Love.
They heard the voice and fled swift as the winters setting sun.
And now the human blood foamd high, the Spirits Luvah & Vala
Went down the Human Heart where Paradise & its joys abounded,
In jealous fears & fury & rage, & flames roll round their fervid feet:
And the vast form of Nature like a serpent playd before them
And as they fled in folding fires & thunders of the deep:
Vala shrunk in like the dark sea that leaves its slimy banks.
And from her bosom Luvah fell far as the east and west.
80 And the vast form of Nature like a serpent rolld between,
Whether of Jerusalems or Valas ruins congenerated, we know not:
All is confusion: all is tumult, & we alone are escaped.
So spoke the fugitives; they joind the Divine Family, trembling
PLATE 44
And the Two that escaped; were the Emanation of Los & his
Spectre: for whereever the Emanation goes, the Spectre
Attends her as her Guard, & Los’s Emanation is named
Enitharmon, & his Spectre is named Urthona: they knew
Not where to flee: they had been on a visit to Albions Children
And they strove to weave a Shadow of the Emanation
To hide themselves: weeping & lamenting for the Vegetation
Of Albions Children: fleeing thro Albions vales in streams of gore.
Being not irritated by insult bearing insulting benevolences
10 They percieved that corporeal friends are spiritual enemies
They saw the Sexual Religion in its embryon Uncircumcision
And the Divine hand was upon them bearing them thro darkness
Back safe to their Humanity as doves to their windows:
Therefore the Sons of Eden praise Urthonas Spectre in Songs
Because he kept the Divine Vision in time of trouble.
They wept & trembled: & Los put forth his hand & took them in
Into his Bosom: from which Albion shrunk in dismal pain;
Rending the fibres of Brotherhood & in Feminine Allegories
20 Inclosing Los: but the Divine Vision appeard with Los
Following Albion into his Central Void among his Oaks.
And Los prayed and said. O Divine Saviour arise
Upon the Mountains of Albion as in ancient time. Behold!
The Cities of Albion seek thy face, London groans in pain
From Hill to Hill & the Thames laments along the Valleys
The little Villages of Middlesex & Surrey hunger & thirst
The Twenty-eight Cities of Albion stretch their hands to thee:
Because of the Opressors of Albion in every City & Village:
They mock at the Labourers limbs! they mock at his starvd Children!
They buy his Daughters that they may have power to sell his Sons:
30 They compell the Poor to live upon a crust of bread by soft mild arts:
They reduce the Man to want: then give with pomp & ceremony.
The praise of Jehovah is chaunted from lips of hunger & thirst:
Humanity knows not of Sex: wherefore are Sexes in Beulah?
In Beulah the Female lets down her beautiful Tabernacle;
Which the Male enters magnificent between her Cherubim:
And becomes One with her mingling condensing in Self-love
The Rocky Law of Condemnation & double Generation, & Death.
Albion hath enterd the Loins the place of the Last Judgment:
And Luvah hath drawn the Curtains around Albion in Vala’s bosom
40 The Dead awake to Generation! Arise O Lord, & rend the Veil!
So Los in lamentations followd Albion. Albion coverd,
PLATE 45
His western heaven with rocky clouds of death & despair.
Fearing that Albion should turn his back against the Divine Vision
Los took his globe of fire to search the interiors of Albions
Bosom, in all the terrors of friendship, entering the caves
Of despair & death, to search the tempters out, walking among
Albions rocks & precipices! caves of solitude & dark despair,
And saw every Minute Particular of Albion degraded & murderd
But saw not by whom; they were hidden within in the minute particulars
Of which they had possessd themselves; and there they take up
10 The articulations of a mans soul, and laughing throw it down
Into the frame, then knock it out upon the plank, & souls are bak’d
In bricks to build the pyramids of Heber & Terah. But Los
Searchd in vain: closd from the minutia he walkd, difficult.
He came down from Highgate thro Hackney & Holloway towards London
Till he came to old Stratford & thence to Stepney & the Isle
Of Leuthas Dogs, thence thro the narrows of the Rivers side
And saw every minute particular, the jewels of Albion, running down
The kennels of the streets & lanes as if they were abhorrd.
Every Universal Form, was become barren mountains of Moral
20 Virtue: and every Minute Particular hardend into grains of sand:
And all the tendernesses of the soul cast forth as filth & mire,
Among the winding places of deep contemplation intricate
To where the Tower of London frownd dreadful over Jerusalem:
A building of Luvah builded in Jerusalems eastern gate to be
His secluded Court: thence to Bethlehem where was builded
Dens of despair in the house of bread: enquiring in vain
Of stones and rocks he took his way, for human form was none:
And thus he spoke, looking on Albions City with many tears
What shall I do! what could I do, if I could find these Criminals
30 I could not dare to take vengeance; for all things are so constructed
And builded by the Divine hand, that the sinner shall always escape,
And he who takes vengeance alone is the criminal of Providence;
If I should dare to lay my finger on a grain of sand
In way of vengeance; I punish the already punishd: O whom
Should I pity if I pity not the sinner who is gone astray!
O Albion, if thou takest vengeance; if thou revengest thy wrongs
Thou art for ever lost! What can I do to hinder the Sons
Of Albion from taking vengeance? or how shall I them perswade.
So spoke Los, travelling thro darkness & horrid solitude:
40 And he beheld Jerusalem in Westminster & Marybone,
Among the ruins of the Temple: and Vala who is her Shadow,
Jerusalems Shadow bent northward over the Island white.
At length he sat on London Stone, & heard Jerusalems voice.
Albion I cannot be thy Wife, thine own Minute Particulars,
Belong to God alone, and all thy little ones are holy
They are of Faith & not of Demonstration: wherefore is Vala
Clothd in black mourning upon my rivers currents, Vala awake!
I hear thy shuttles sing in the sky, and round my limbs
I feel the iron threads of love & jealousy & despair.
50 Vala replyd. Albion is mine: Luvah gave me to Albion
And now recieves reproach & hate. Was it not said of old
Set your Son before a man & he shall take you & your sons
For slaves: but set your Daughter before a man & She
Shall make him & his sons & daughters your slaves for ever:
And is this Faith? Behold the strife of Albion & Luvah
Is great in the east, their spears of blood rage in the eastern heaven
Urizen is the champion of Albion, they will slay my Luvah:
And thou O harlot daughter! daughter of despair art all
This cause of these shakings of my towers on Euphrates.
60 Here is the House of Albion, & here is thy secluded place
And here we have found thy sins: & hence we turn thee forth,
For all to avoid thee: to be astonishd at thee for thy sins:
Because thou art the impurity & the harlot: & thy children:
Children of whoredoms: born for Sacrifice: for the meat & drink
Offering: to sustain the glorious combat & the battle & war
That Man may be purified by the death of thy delusions.
So saying she her dark threads cast over the trembling River:
And over the valleys; from the hills of Hertfordshire to the hills
Of Surrey across Middlesex. & across Albions House
70 Of Eternity! pale stood Albion at his eastern gate,
PLATE 46
Leaning against the pillars, & his disease rose from his skirts
Upon the Precipice he stood: ready to fall into Non-Entity.
Los was all astonishment & terror: he trembled sitting on the Stone
Of London: but the interiors of Albions fibres & nerves were hidden
From Los; astonishd he beheld only the petrified surfaces:
And saw his Furnaces in ruins, for Los is the Demon of the Furnaces;
He saw also the Four Points of Albion reversd inwards
He siezd his Hammer & Tongs, his iron Poker & his Bellows,
Upon the valleys of Middlesex, Shouting loud for aid Divine.
10 In stern defiance came from Albions bosom Hand, Hyle, Koban,
Gwantok, Peachy, Brertun, Slaid, Huttn, Skofeld, Kock, Kotope
Bowen: Albions Sons: they bore him a golden couch into the porch
And on the Couch reposd his limbs, trembling from the bloody field.
Rearing their Druid Patriarchal rocky Temples around his limbs.
(All things begin & end, in Albions Ancient Druid Rocky Shore.)
PLATE 47
[When Albion utterd his last words Hope is banishd from me]
From Camberwell to Highgate where the mighty Thames shudders along,
Where Los’s Furnaces stand, where Jerusalem & Vala howl:
Luvah tore forth from Albions Loins, in fibrous veins, in rivers
Of blood over Europe: a Vegetating Root in grinding pain.
Animating the Dragon Temples, soon to become that Holy Fiend
The Wicker Man of Scandinavia in which cruelly consumed
The Captives reard to heaven howl in flames among the stars
Loud the cries of War on the Rhine & Danube, with Albions Sons,
10 Away from Beulahs hills & vales break forth the Souls of the Dead,
With cymbal, trumpet, clarion; & the scythed chariots of Britain.
And the Veil of Vala, is composed of the Spectres of the Dead
Hark! the mingling cries of Luvah with the Sons of Albion
Hark! & Record the terrible wonder! that the Punisher
Mingles with his Victims Spectre, enslaved and tormented
To him whom he has murderd, bound in vengeance & enmity
Shudder not, but Write, & the hand of God will assist you!
Therefore I write Albions last words. Hope is banish’d from me.
PLATE 48
These were his last words, and the merciful Saviour in his arms
Reciev’d him, in the arms of tender mercy and repos’d
The pale limbs of his Eternal Individuality
Upon the Rock of Ages. Then, surrounded with a Cloud:
In silence the Divine Lord builded with immortal labour,
Of gold & jewels a sublime Ornament, a Couch of repose,
With Sixteen pillars: canopied with emblems & written verse.
Spiritual Verse, order’d & measur’d, from whence, time shall reveal.
The Five books of the Decalogue, the books of Joshua & Judges,
10 Samuel, a double book & Kings, a double book, the Psalms & Prophets
The Four-fold Gospel, and the Revelations everlasting
Eternity groan’d & was troubled, at the image of Eternal Death!
Beneath the bottoms of the Graves, which is Earths central joint,
There is a place where Contrarieties are equally true:
(To protect from the Giant blows in the sports of intellect,
Thunder in the midst of kindness, & love that kills its beloved:
Because Death is for a period, and they renew tenfold.)
From this sweet Place Maternal Love awoke Jerusalem
With pangs she forsook Beulahs pleasant lovely shadowy Universe
20 Where no dispute can come; created for those who Sleep.
Weeping was in all Beulah, and all the Daughters of Beulah
Wept for their Sister the Daughter of Albion, Jerusalem:
When out of Beulah the Emanation of the Sleeper descended
With solemn mourning out of Beulahs moony shades and hills:
Within the Human Heart, whose Gates closed with solemn sound.
And this the manner of the terrible Separation
The Emanations of the grievously afflicted Friends of Albion
Concenter in one Female form an Aged pensive Woman.
Astonish’d! lovely! embracing the sublime shade: the Daughters of Beulah
30 Beheld her with wonder! With awful hands she took
A Moment of Time, drawing it out with many tears & afflictions
And many sorrows: oblique across the Atlantic Vale
Which is the Vale of Rephaim dreadful from East to West,
Where the Human Harvest waves abundant in the beams of Eden
Into a Rainbow of jewels and gold, a mild Reflection from
Albions dread Tomb. Eight thousand and five hundred years
In its extension. Every two hundred years has a door to Eden
She also took an Atom of Space, with dire pain opening it a Center
Into Beulah: trembling the Daughters of Beulah dried
40 Her tears, she ardent embrac’d her sorrows, occupied in labours
Of sublime mercy in Rephaims Vale. Perusing Albions Tomb
She sat: she walk’d among the ornaments solemn mourning.
The Daughters attended her shudderings, wiping the death sweat
Los also saw her in his seventh Furnace, he also terrified
Saw the finger of God go forth upon his seventh Furnace:
Away from the Starry Wheels to prepare Jerusalem a place.
When with a dreadful groan the Emanation mild of Albion
Burst from his bosom in the Tomb like a pale snowy cloud,
Female and lovely, struggling to put off the Human form
50 Writhing in pain. The Daughters of Beulah in kind arms reciev’d
Jerusalem: weeping over her among the Spaces of Erin,
In the Ends of Beulah, where the Dead wail night & day.
And thus Erin spoke to the Daughters of Beulah, in soft tears
Albion the Vortex of the Dead! Albion the Generous!
Albion the mildest son of Heaven! The Place of Holy Sacrifice!
Where Friends Die for each other: will become the Place,
Of Murder, & Unforgiving, Never-awaking Sacrifice of Enemies[.]
The Children must be sacrific’d! (a horror never known
Till now in Beulah.) unless a Refuge can be found
60 To hide them from the wrath of Albions Law that freezes sore
Upon his Sons & Daughters, self-exiled from his bosom
Draw ye Jerusalem away from Albions Mountains
To give a Place for Redemption, let Sihon and Og
Remove Eastward to Bashan and Gilead, and leave
PLATE 49
The secret coverts of Albion & the hidden places of America
Jerusalem Jerusalem! why wilt thou turn away
Come ye O Daughters of Beulah, lament for Og & Sihon
Upon the Lakes of Ireland from Rathlin to Baltimore:
Stand ye upon the Dargle from Wicklow to Drogheda
Come & mourn over Albion the White Cliff of the Atlantic
The Mountain of Giants: all the Giants of Albion are become
Weak: witherd: darkend: & Jerusalem is cast forth from Albion.
They deny that they ever knew Jerusalem, or ever dwelt in Shiloh[.]
10 The Gigantic roots & twigs of the vegetating Sons of Albion
Filld with the little-ones are consumed in the Fires of their Altars
The vegetating Cities are burned & consumed from the Earth:
And the Bodies in which all Animals & Vegetations, the Earth & Heaven
Were containd in the All Glorious Imagination are witherd & darkend:
The golden Gate of Havilah, and all the Garden of God,
Was caught up with the Sun in one day of fury and war:
The Lungs, the Heart, the Liver, shrunk away far distant from Man
And left a little slimy substance floating upon the tides.
In one night the Atlantic Continent was caught up with the Moon,
20 And became an Opake Globe far distant clad with moony beams.
The Visions of Eternity, by reason of narrowed perceptions,
Are become weak Visions of Time & Space, fix’d into furrows of death;
Till deep dissimulation is the only defence an honest man has left[.]
O Polypus of Death O Spectre over Europe and Asia
Withering the Human Form by Laws of Sacrifice for Sin
By Laws of Chastity & Abhorrence I am witherd up.
Striving to Create a Heaven in which all shall be pure & holy
In their Own Selfhoods, in Natural Selfish Chastity to banish Pity
And dear Mutual Forgiveness; & to become One Great Satan
30 Inslavd to the most powerful Selfhood: to murder the Divine Humanity
In whose sight all are as the dust & who chargeth his Angels with folly!
Ah: weak & wide astray: Ah shut in narrow doleful form!
Creeping in reptile flesh upon the bosom of the ground:
The Eye of Man, a little narrow orb, closd up & dark,
Scarcely beholding the Great Light; conversing with the ground
The Ear, a little shell, in small volutions shutting out
True Harmonies, & comprehending great, as very small:
The Nostrils, bent down to the earth & clos’d with senseless flesh,
That odours cannot them expand, nor joy on them exult:
40 The Tongue, a little moisture fills, a little food it cloys,
A little sound it utters, & its cries are faintly heard.
Therefore they are removed: therefore they have taken root
In Egypt & Philistea: in Moab & Edom & Aram:
In the Erythrean Sea their Uncircu[m]cision in Heart & Loins
Be lost for ever & ever, then they shall arise from Self
By Self Annihilation into Jerusalems Courts & into Shiloh
Shiloh the Masculine Emanation among the Flowers of Beulah
Lo Shiloh dwells over France, as Jerusalem dwells over Albion
Build & prepare a Wall & Curtain for Americas shore!
Rush on: Rush on! Rush on! ye vegetating Sons of Albion 50
The Sun shall go before you in Day: the Moon shall go
Before you in Night. Come on! Come on! Come on! The Lord
Jehovah is before, behind, above, beneath, around
He has builded the arches of Albions Tomb binding the Stars
In merciful Order, bending the Laws of Cruelty to Peace.
He hath placed Og & Anak, the Giants of Albion for their Guards:
Building the Body of Moses in the Valley of Peor: the Body
Of Divine Analogy; and Og & Sihon in the tears of Balaam
The Son of Beor, have given their power to Joshua & Caleb.
60 Remove from Albion, far remove these terrible surfaces.
They are beginning to form Heavens & Hells in immense
Circles: the Hells for food to the Heavens: food of torment,
Food of despair: they drink the condemnd Soul & rejoice
In cruel holiness, in their Heavens of Chastity & Uncircumcision
Yet they are blameless & Iniquity must be imputed only
To the State they are enterd into that they may be deliverd:
Satan is the State of Death, & not a Human existence:
But Luvah is named Satan, because he has enterd that State.
A World where Man is by Nature the enemy of Man
70 Because the Evil is Created into a State, that Men
May be deliverd time after time evermore. Amen.
Learn therefore O Sisters to distinguish the Eternal Human
That walks about among the stones of fire in bliss & woe
Alternate! from those States or Worlds in which the Spirit travels:
This is the only means to Forgiveness of Enemies
Therefore remove from Albion these terrible Surfaces
And let wild seas & rocks close up Jerusalem away from
PLATE 50
The Atlantic Mountains where Giants dwelt in Intellect;
Now given to stony Druids, and Allegoric Generation
To the Twelve Gods of Asia, the Spectres of those who Sleep:
Sway’d by a Providence oppos’d to the Divine Lord Jesus:
A murderous Providence! A Creation that groans, living on Death.
Where Fish & Bird & Beast & Man & Tree & Metal & Stone
Live by Devouring, going into Eternal Death continually:
Albion is now possess’d by the War of Blood! the Sacrifice
Of envy Albion is become, and his Emanation cast out:
10 Come Lord Jesus, Lamb of God descend! for if; O Lord!
If thou hadst been here, our brother Albion had not died.
Arise sisters! Go ye & meet the Lord, while I remain –
Behold the foggy mornings of the Dead on Albions cliffs:
Ye know that if the Emanation remains in them:
She will become an Eternal Death, an Avenger of Sin
A Self-righteousness: the proud Virgin-Harlot! Mother of War!
And we also & all Beulah, consume beneath Albions curse.
So Erin spoke to the Daughters of Beulah. Shuddering
With their wings they sat in the Furnace, in a night
20 Of stars, for all the Sons of Albion appeard distant stars,
Ascending and descending into Albions sea of death.
And Erins lovely Bow enclos’d the Wheels of Albions Sons.
Expanding on wing, the Daughters of Beulah replied in sweet response
Come O thou Lamb of God and take away the remembrance of Sin
To Sin & to hide the Sin in sweet deceit. is lovely!!
To Sin in the open face of day is cruel & pitiless! But
To record the Sin for a reproach: to let the Sun go down
In a remembrance of the Sin: is a Woe & a Horror!
A brooder of an Evil Day, and a Sun rising in blood
30 Come then O Lamb of God and take away the remembrance of Sin
End of Chap. 2d.
PLATE 52
He never can be a Friend to the Human Race who is the Preacher of Natural Morality or Natural Religion. he is a flatterer who means to betray, to perpetuate Tyrant Pride & the Laws of that Babylon which he forsees shall shortly be destroyed, with the Spiritual and not the Natural Sword: He is in the State named Rahab: which State must be put off before he can be the Friend of Man.
You O Deists profess yourselves the Enemies of Christianity: and you are so: you are also the Enemies of the
10 Human Race & of Universal Nature. Man is born a
Spectre or Satan & is altogether an Evil, & requires a New Selfhood continually & must continually be changed into his direct Contrary. But your Greek Philosophy (which is a remnant of Druidism) teaches that Man is Righteous in his Vegetated Spectre: an Opinion of fatal & accursed consequence to Man, as the Ancients saw plainly by Revelation to the intire abrogation of Experimental Theory. and many believed what they saw, and Prophecied of Jesus.
Man must & will have Some Religion; if he has not the
20 Religion of Jesus, he will have the Religion of Satan, & will
erect the Synagogue of Satan. calling the Prince of this World, God; and destroying all who do not worship Satan under the Name of God. Will any one say: Where are those who worship Satan under the Name of God! Where are they? Listen! Every Religion that Preaches Vengeance for Sin is the Religion of the Enemy & Avenger; and not of the Forgiver of Sin, and their God is Satan, Named by the Divine Name. Your Religion O Deists: Deism, is the Worship of the God of this World by the
30 means of what you call Natural Religion and Natural
Philosophy, and of Natural Morality or Self-Righteousness, the Selfish Virtues of the Natural Heart. This was the Religion of the Pharisees who murderd Jesus. Deism is the same & ends in the same.
Voltaire Rousseau Gibbon Hume, charge the Spiritually Religious with hypocrisy! but how a Monk or a Methodist either, can be a Hypocrite: I cannot concieve. We are Men of like passions with others & pretend not to be holier than others: therefore, when a Religious Man falls into
40 Sin, he ought not to be calld a Hypocrite: this title is more
properly to be given to a Player who falls into Sin; whose profession is Virtue & Morality & the making Men Self-Righteous. Foote in calling Whitefield, Hypocrite: was himself one: for Whitefield pretended not to be holier than others: but confessed his Sins before all the World; Voltaire! Rousseau! You cannot escape my charge that you are Pharisees & Hypocrites, for you are constantly talking of the Virtues of the Human Heart, and particularly of your own, that you may accuse others & especially the Religious,
50 whose errors, you by this display of pretended Virtue,
chiefly design to expose. Rousseau thought Men Good by Nature; he found them Evil & found no friend. Friendship cannot exist without Forgiveness of Sins continually. The Book written by Rousseau calld his Confessions is an apology & cloke for his sin & not a confession.
But you also charge the poor Monks & Religious with being the causes of War: while you acquit & flatter the Alexanders & Caesars, the Lewis’s & Fredericks: who alone are its causes & its actors. But the Religion of Jesus,
60 Forgiveness of Sin, can never be the cause of a War nor of
a single Martyrdom.
Those who Martyr others or who cause War are Deists, but never can be Forgivers of Sin. The Glory of Christianity is, To Conquer by Forgiveness. All the Destruction therefore, in Christian Europe has arisen from Deism, which is Natural Religion.
I saw a Monk of Charlemaine
Arise before my sight
I talkd with the Grey Monk as we stood
In beams of infernal light
Gibbon arose with a lash of steel
And Voltaire with a wracking wheel
The Schools in clouds of learning rolld
Arose with War in iron & gold.
Thou lazy Monk they sound afar
10 In vain condemning glorious War
And in your Cell you shall ever dwell
Rise War & bind him in his Cell.
The blood, red ran from the Grey Monks side
His hands & feet were wounded wide
His body bent, his arms & knees
Like to the roots of ancient trees
When Satan first the black bow bent
And the Moral Law from the Gospel rent
He forgd the Law into a Sword
20 And spilld the blood of mercys Lord.
Titus! Constantine! Charlemaine!
O Voltaire! Rousseau! Gibbon! Vain
Your Grecian Mocks & Roman Sword
Against this image of his Lord!
For a Tear is an Intellectual thing;
And a Sigh is the Sword of an Angel King
And the bitter groan of a Martyrs woe
Is an Arrow from the Almighties Bow.
PLATE 53
JERUSALEM: CHAPTER III.
But Los, who is the Vehicular Form of strong Urthona
Wept vehemently over Albion where Thames currents spring
From the rivers of Beulah; pleasant river! soft, mild, parent stream
And the roots of Albions Tree enterd the Soul of Los
As he sat before his Furnaces clothed in sackcloth of hair
In gnawing pain dividing him from his Emanation;
Inclosing all the children of Los time after time.
Their Giant forms condensing into Nations & Peoples & Tongues
Translucent the Furnaces, of Beryll & Emerald immortal:
10 And Seven-fold each within other: incomprehensible
To the Vegetated Mortal Eye’s perverted & single vision
The Bellows are the Animal Lungs. the Hammers, the Animal Heart
The Furnaces, the Stomach for Digestion; terrible their fury
Like seven burning heavens rang’d from South to North
Here on the banks of the Thames, Los builded Golgonooza,
Outside of the Gates of the Human Heart, beneath Beulah
In the midst of the rocks of the Altars of Albion. In fears
He builded it, in rage & in fury. It is the Spiritual Fourfold
London: continually building & continually decaying desolate:
20 In eternal labours: loud the Furnaces & loud the Anvils
Of Death thunder incessant around the flaming Couches of
The Twentyfour Friends of Albion and round the awful Four
For the protection of the Twelve Emanations of Albions Sons
The Mystic Union of the Emanation in the Lord; Because
Man divided from his Emanation is a dark Spectre
His Emanation is an ever-weeping melancholy Shadow
But she is made receptive of Generation thro’ mercy
In the Potters Furnace, among the Funeral Urns of Beulah
From Surrey hills, thro’ Italy and Greece, to Hinnoms vale.
PLATE 54
In Great Eternity, every particular Form gives forth or Emanates
Its own peculiar Light, & the Form is the Divine Vision
And the Light is his Garment. This is Jerusalem in every Man
A Tent & Tabernacle of Mutual Forgiveness Male & Female Clothings.
And Jerusalem is called Liberty among the Children of Albion
But Albion fell down a Rocky fragment from: Eternity hurld
By his own Spectre, who is the Reasoning Power in every Man
Into his own Chaos which is the Memory between Man & Man
The silent broodings of deadly revenge springing from the
10 All powerful parental affection, fills Albion from head to foot
Seeing his Sons assimilate with Luvah, bound in the bonds
Of spiritual Hate, from which springs Sexual Love as iron chains:
He tosses like a cloud outstretchd among Jerusalems Ruins
Which overspread all the Earth, he groans among his ruind porches
But the Spectre like a hoar frost & a Mildew rose over Albion
Saying, I am God O Sons of Men! I am your Rational Power!
Am I not Bacon & Newton & Locke who teach Humility to Man!
Who teach Doubt & Experiment & my two Wings Voltaire: Rousseau.
Where is that Friend of Sinners! that Rebel against my Laws!
20 Who teaches Belief to the Nations, & an unknown Eternal Life
Come hither into the Desart & turn these stones to bread.
Vain foolish Man! wilt thou believe without Experiment?
And build a World of Phantasy upon my Great Abyss!
A World of Shapes in craving lust & devouring appetite
So spoke the hard cold constrictive Spectre he is named Arthur
Constricting into Druid Rocks round Canaan Agag & Aram & Pharoh
Then Albion drew England into his bosom in groans & tears
But she stretchd out her starry Night in Spaces against him, like
A long Serpent, in the Abyss of the Spectre which augmented
30 The Night with Dragon wings coverd with stars & in the Wings
Jerusalem & Vala appeard: & above between the Wings magnificent
The Divine Vision dimly appeard in clouds of blood weeping.
PLATE 55
When those who disregard all Mortal Things, saw a Mighty-One
Among the Flowers of Beulah still retain his awful strength
They wonderd: checking their wild flames & Many gathering
Together into an Assembly; they said, let us go down
And see these changes! Others said, If you do so prepare
For being driven from our fields, what have we to do with the Dead?
To be their inferiors or superiors we equally abhor;
Superior, none we know: inferior none: all equal share
Divine Benevolence & joy, for the Eternal Man
10 Walketh among us, calling us his Brothers & his Friends:
Forbidding us that Veil which Satan puts between Eve & Adam
By which the Princes of the Dead enslave their Votaries
Teaching them to form the Serpent of precious stones & gold
To sieze the Sons of Jerusalem & plant them in One Mans Loins
To make One Family on Contraries: that Joseph may be sold
Into Egypt: for Negation; a Veil the Saviour born & dying rends.
But others said: Let us to him who only Is, & who
Walketh among us, give decision, bring forth all your fires!
So saying, an eternal deed was done: in fiery flames
20 The Universal Conc[l]ave raged, such thunderous sounds as never
Were sounded from a mortal cloud, nor on Mount Sinai old
Nor in Havilah where the Cherub rolld his redounding flame.
Loud! loud! the Mountains lifted up their voices, loud the Forests
Rivers thunderd against their banks, loud Winds furious fought
Cities & Nations contended in fires & clouds & tempests.
The Seas raisd up their voices & lifted their hands on high
The Stars in their courses fought, the Sun! Moon! Heaven: Earth.
Contending for Albion & for Jerusalem his Emanation
And for Shiloh, the Emanation of France & for lovely Vala.
30 Then far the greatest number were about to make a Separation
And they Elected Seven, calld the Seven Eyes of God;
Lucifer, Molech, Elohim, Shaddai, Pahad, Jehovah, Jesus.
They namd the Eighth, he came not, he hid in Albions Forests
But first they said: (& their Words stood in Chariots in array
Curbing their Tygers with golden bits & bridles of silver & ivory)
Let the Human Organs be kept in their perfect Integrity
At will Contracting into Worms, or Expanding into Gods
And then behold! what are these Ulro Visions of Chastity[?]
Then as the moss upon the tree: or dust upon the plow:
40 Or as the sweat upon the labouring shoulder: or as the chaff
Of the wheat-floor or as the dregs of the sweet wine-press
Such are these Ulro Visions, for tho we sit down within
The plowed furrow, listning to the weeping clods till we
Contract or Expand Space at will: or if we raise ourselves
Upon the chariots of the morning, Contracting or Expanding Time:
Every one knows, we are One Family: One Man blessed for ever
Silence remaind & every one resumd his Human Majesty
And many conversed on these things as they labourd at the furrow
Saying: It is better to prevent misery, than to release from misery
50 It is better to prevent error, than to forgive the criminal:
Labour well the Minute Particulars, attend to the Little-ones:
And those who are in misery cannot remain so long
If we do but our duty: labour well the teeming Earth.
They Plow’d in tears, the trumpets sounded before the golden Plow
And the voices of the Living Creatures were heard in the clouds of heaven
Crying: Compell the Reasoner to Demonstrate with unhewn Demonstrations
Let the Indefinite be explored, and let every Man be Judged
By his own Works. Let all Indefinites be thrown into Demonstrations
To be pounded to dust & melted in the Furnaces of Affliction:
60 He who would do good to another, must do it in Minute Particulars
General Good is the plea of the scoundrel hypocrite & flatterer:
For Art & Science cannot exist but in minutely organized Particulars
And not in generalizing Demonstrations of the Rational Power.
The Infinite alone resides in Definite & Determinate Identity
Establishment of Truth depends on destruction of Falshood continually
On Circumcision: not on Virginity, O Reasoners of Albion
So cried they at the Plow. Albions Rock frowned above
And the Great Voice of Eternity rolled above terrible in clouds
Saying Who will go forth for us! & Who shall we send before our face?
PLATE 56
Then Los heaved his thund’ring Bellows on the Valley of Middlesex
And thus he chaunted his Song: the Daughters of Albion reply.
What may Man be? who can tell! But what may Woman be?
To have power over Man from Cradle to corruptible Grave.
He who is an Infant, and whose Cradle is a Manger
Knoweth the Infant sorrow: whence it came, and where it goeth:
And who weave it a Cradle of the grass that withereth away.
This World is all a Cradle for the erred wandering Phantom:
Rock’d by Year, Month, Day & Hour; and every two Moments
10 Between, dwells a Daughter of Beulah, to feed the Human Vegetable
Entune: Daughters of Albion, your hymning Chorus mildly!
Cord of affection thrilling extatic on the iron Reel:
To the golden Loom of Love! to the moth-labourd Woof
A Garment and Cradle weaving for the infantine Terror:
For fear; at entering the gate into our World of cruel
Lamentation: it flee back & hide in Non-Entitys dark wild
Where dwells the Spectre of Albion: destroyer of Definite Form.
The Sun shall be a Scythed Chariot of Britain: the Moon: a Ship
In the British Ocean! Created by Los’s Hammer; measured out
20 Into Days & Nights & Years & Months, to travel with my feet
Over these desolate rocks of Albion: O daughters of despair:
Rock the Cradle, and in mild melodies tell me where found
What you have enwoven with so much tears & care? so much
Tender artifice: to laugh: to weep: to learn: to know;
Remember! recollect! what dark befel in wintry days
O it was lost for ever! and we found it not: it came
And wept at our wintry Door: Look! look! behold! Gwendolen
Is become a Clod of Clay! Merlin is a Worm of the Valley!
Then Los uttered with Hammer & Anvil: Chaunt! revoice!
30 I mind not your laugh: and your frown I not fear! and
You must my dictate obey from your gold-beam’d Looms; trill
Gentle to Albions Watchman, on Albions mountains; reeccho
And rock the Cradle while! Ah me! Of that Eternal Man
And of the cradled Infancy in his bowels of compassion:
Who fell beneath his instruments of husbandry & became
Subservient to the clods of the furrow! the cattle and even
The emmet and earth-Worm are his superiors & his lords.
Then the response came warbling from trilling Looms in Albion
We Women tremble at the light therefore: hiding fearful
40 The Divine Vision with Curtain & Veil & fleshly Tabernacle
Los utter’d: swift as the rattling thunder upon the mountains
Look back into the Church Paul! Look! Three Women around
The Cross! O Albion why didst thou a Female Will Create?
PLATE 57
And the voices of Bath & Canterbury & York & Edinburgh, Cry
Over the Plow of Nations in the strong hand of Albion thundering along
Among the Fires of the Druid & the deep black rethundering Waters
Of the Atlantic which poured in impetuous loud loud, louder & louder.
And the Great Voice of the Atlantic howled over the Druid Altars:
Weeping over his Children in Stone-henge in Malden & Colchester.
Round the Rocky Peak of Derbyshire London Stone & Rosamonds Bower
What is a Wife & what is a Harlot? What is a Church & What
Is a Theatre? are they Two & not One? can they Exist Separate?
10 Are not Religion & Politics the Same Thing? Brotherhood is Religion
O Demonstrations of Reason Dividing Families in Cruelty & Pride!
But Albion fled from the Divine Vision, with the Plow of Nations enflaming
The Living Creatures maddend and Albion fell into the Furrow, and
The Plow went over him & the Living was Plowed in among the Dead
But his Spectre rose over the starry Plow. Albion fled beneath the Plow
Till he came to the Rock of Ages. & he took his Seat upon the Rock.
Wonder siezd all in Eternity! to behold the Divine Vision, open
The Center into an Expanse, & the Center rolled out into an Expanse.
PLATE 58
In beauty the Daughters of Albion divide & unite at will
Naked & drunk with blood Gwendolen dancing to the timbrel
Of War: reeling up the Street of London she divides in twain
Among the Inhabitants of Albion, the People fall around[.]
The Daughters of Albion, divide & unite in jealousy & cruelty
The Inhabitants of Albion at the Harvest & the Vintage
Feel their Brain cut round beneath the temples shrieking
Bonifying into a Scull, the Marrow exuding in dismal pain.
They flee over the rocks bonifying: Horses: Oxen: feel the knife.
10 And while the Sons of Albion by severe War & Judgment, bonify[,]
The Hermaphroditic Condensations are divided by the Knife
The obdurate Forms are cut asunder by Jealousy & Pity.
Rational Philosophy and Mathematic Demonstration
Is divided in the intoxications of pleasure & affection
Two Contraries War against each other in fury & blood,
And Los fixes them on his Anvil, incessant his blows:
He fixes them with strong blows. placing the stones & timbers.
To Create a World of Generation from the World of Death:
Dividing the Masculine & Feminine: for the comingling
20 Of Albions & Luvahs Spectres was Hermaphroditic
Urizen wrathful strode above directing the awful Building:
As a Mighty Temple; delivering Form out of confusion
Jordan sprang beneath its threshold bubbling from beneath
Its pillars: Euphrates ran under its arches: white sails
And silver oars reflect on its pillars, & sound on its ecchoing
Pavements: where walk the Sons of Jerusalem who remain Ungenerate
But the revolving Sun and Moon pass thro its porticoes,
Day & night, in sublime majesty & silence they revolve
And shine glorious within: Hand & Koban archd over the Sun
30 In the hot noon, as he traveld thro his journey: Hyle & Skofield
Archd over the Moon at midnight & Los Fixd them there,
With his thunderous Hammer; terrified the Spectres rage & flee
Canaan is his portico; Jordan is a fountain in his porch;
A fountain of milk & wine to relieve the traveller:
Egypt is the eight steps within, Ethiopia supports his pillars;
Lybia & the Lands unknown, are the ascent without;
Within is Asia & Greece, ornamented with exquisite art:
Persia & Media are his halls: his inmost hall is Great Tartary.
China & India & Siberia are his temples for entertainment
40 Poland & Russia & Sweden, his soft retired chambers
France & Spain & Italy & Denmark & Holland & Germany
Are the temples among his pillars. Britain is Los’s Forge;
America North & South are his baths of living waters.
Such is the Ancient World of Urizen in the Satanic Void
Created from the Valley of Middlesex by Londons River
From Stone-henge and from London Stone, from Cornwall to Cathnes
The Four Zoa’s rush around on all sides in dire ruin
Furious in pride of Selfhood the terrible Spectres of Albion
Rear their dark Rocks among the Stars of God: stupendous
50 Works! A World of Generation continually Creating; out of
The Hermaphroditic Satanic World of rocky destiny.
PLATE 59
And formed into Four precious stones, for enterance from Beulah
For the Veil of Vala which Albion cast into the Atlantic Deep
To catch the Souls of the Dead: began to Vegetate & Petrify
Around the Earth of Albion, among the Roots of his Tree
This Los formed into the Gates & mighty Wall, between the Oak
Of Weeping & the Palm of Suffering beneath Albions Tomb.
Thus in process of time it became the beautiful Mundane Shell,
The Habitation of the Spectres of the Dead & the Place
Of Redemption & of awaking again into Eternity
10 For Four Universes round the Mundane Egg remain Chaotic
One to the North; Urthona: One to the South; Urizen:
One to the East: Luvah: One to the West, Tharmas;
They are the Four Zoas that stood around the Throne Divine.
Verulam: London: York & Edinburgh: their English names
But when Luvah assumed the World of Urizen Southward
And Albion was slain upon his Mountains & in his Tent,
All fell towards the Center, sinking downwards in dire ruin,
In the South remains a burning Fire: in the East, a Void
In the West, a World of raging Waters: in the North; solid Darkness
20 Unfathomable without end: but in the midst of these
Is Built eternally the sublime Universe of Los & Enitharmon
And in the North Gate, in the West of the North, toward Beulah
Cathedrons Looms are builded. and Los’s Furnaces in the South[.]
A wondrous golden Building immense with ornaments sublime
Is bright Cathedrons golden Hall, its Courts Towers & Pinnacles
And one Daughter of Los sat at the fiery Reel & another
Sat at the shining Loom with her Sisters attending round
Terrible their distress & their sorrow cannot be utterd
And another Daughter of Los sat at the Spinning Wheel
30 Endless their labour, with bitter food, void of sleep,
Tho hungry they labour: they rouze themselves anxious
Hour after hour labouring at the whirling Wheel
Many Wheels & as many lovely Daughters sit weeping
Yet the intoxicating delight that they take in their work
Obliterates every other evil; none pities their tears
Yet they regard not pity & they expect no one to pity
For they labour for life & love, regardless of any one
But the poor Spectres that they work for, always incessantly
They are mockd, by every one that passes by, they regard not
40 They labour; & when their Wheels are broken by scorn & malice
They mend them sorrowing with many tears & afflictions.
Other Daughters Weave on the Cushion & Pillow, Network fine
That Rahab & Tirzah may exist & live & breathe & love
Ah, that it could be as the Daughters of Beulah wish!
Other Daughters of Los, labouring at Looms less fine
Create the Silk-worm & the Spider & the Catterpiller
To assist in their most grievous work of pity & compassion
And others Create the wooly Lamb & the downy Fowl
To assist in the work: the Lamb bleats: the Sea-fowl cries
50 Men understand not the distress & the labour & sorrow
That in the Interior Worlds is carried on in fear & trembling
Weaving the shuddring fears & loves of Albions Families
Thunderous rage the Spindles of iron, & the iron Distaff
Maddens in the fury of their hands, weaving in bitter tears
The Veil of Goats-hair & Purple & Scarlet & fine twined Linen
PLATE 60
The clouds of Albions Druid Temples rage in the eastern heaven
While Los sat terrified beholding Albions Spectre who is Luvah
Spreading in bloody veins in torments over Europe & Asia;
Not yet formed but a wretched torment unformed & abyssal
In flaming fire; within the Furnaces the Divine Vision appeard
On Albions hills: often walking from the Furnaces in clouds
And flames among the Druid Temples & the Starry Wheels
Gatherd Jerusalems Children in his arms & bore them like
A Shepherd in the night of Albion which overspread all the Earth
10 I gave thee liberty and life O lovely Jerusalem
And thou hast bound me down upon the Stems of Vegetation
I gave thee Sheep-walks upon the Spanish Mountains Jerusalem
I gave thee Priams City and the Isles of Grecia lovely!
I gave thee Hand & Scofield & the Counties of Albion:
They spread forth like a lovely root into the Garden of God:
They were as Adam before me: united into One Man,
They stood in innocence & their skiey tent reachd over Asia
To Nimrods Tower to Ham & Canaan walking with Mizraim
Upon the Egyptian Nile, with solemn songs to Grecia
20 And sweet Hesperia even to Great Chaldea & Tesshina
Following thee as a Shepherd by the Four Rivers of Eden
Why wilt thou rend thyself apart, Jerusalem?
And build this Babylon & sacrifice in secret Groves,
Among the Gods of Asia: among the fountains of pitch & nitre
Therefore thy Mountains are become barren Jerusalem!
Thy Valleys, Plains of burning sand, thy Rivers: waters of death
Thy Villages die of the Famine and thy Cities
Beg bread from house to house, lovely Jerusalem
Why wilt thou deface thy beauty & the beauty of thy little-ones
30 To please thy Idols, in the pretended chastities of Uncircumcision[?]
Thy Sons are lovelier than Egypt or Assyria; wherefore
Dost thou blacken their beauty by a Secluded place of rest,
And a peculiar Tabernacle, to cut the integuments of beauty
Into veils of tears and sorrows O lovely Jerusalem!
They have perswaded thee to this, therefore their end shall come
And I will lead thee thro the Wilderness in shadow of my cloud
And in my love I will lead thee, lovely Shadow of Sleeping Albion.
This is the Song of the Lamb, sung by Slaves in evening time.
But Jerusalem faintly saw him, closd in the Dungeons of Babylon
40 Her Form was held by Beulahs Daughters, but all within unseen
She sat at the Mills, her hair unbound her feet naked
Cut with the flints: her tears run down, her reason grows like
The Wheel of Hand, incessant turning day & night without rest
Insane she raves upon the winds hoarse, inarticulate:
All night Vala hears, she triumphs in pride of holiness
To see Jerusalem deface her lineaments with bitter blows
Of despair, while the Satanic Holiness triumphd in Vala
In a Religion of Chastity & Uncircumcised Selfishness
Both of the Head & Heart & Loins, closd up in Moral Pride.
50 But the Divine Lamb stood beside Jerusalem, oft she saw
The lineaments Divine & oft the Voice heard, & oft she said:
O Lord & Saviour, have the Gods of the Heathen pierced thee?
Or hast thou been pierced in the House of thy Friends?
Art thou alive! & livest thou for-evermore? or art thou
Not: but a delusive shadow, a thought that liveth not.
Babel mocks saying, there is no God nor Son of God
That thou O Human Imagination, O Divine Body art all
A delusion. but I know thee O Lord when thou arisest upon
My weary eyes even in this dungeon & this iron mill.
60 The Stars of Albion cruel rise; thou bindest to sweet influences:
For thou also sufferest with me altho I behold thee not:
And altho I sin & blaspheme thy holy name, thou pitiest me:
Because thou knowest I am deluded by the turning mills,
And by these visions of pity & love because of Albions death.
Thus spake Jerusalem, & thus the Divine Voice replied.
Mild Shade of Man, pitiest thou these Visions of terror & woe!
Give forth thy pity & love, fear not! lo I am with thee always.
Only believe in me that I have power to raise from death
Thy Brother who Sleepeth in Albion: fear not trembling Shade
PLATE 61
Behold: in the Visions of Elohim Jehovah, behold Joseph & Mary
And be comforted O Jerusalem in the Visions of Jehovah Elohim
She looked & saw Joseph the Carpenter in Nazareth & Mary
His espoused Wife. And Mary said, If thou put me away from thee
Dost thou not murder me? Joseph spoke in anger & fury. Should I
Marry a Harlot & an Adulteress? Mary answerd. Art thou more pure
Than thy Maker who forgiveth Sins & calls again Her that is Lost
Tho She hates, he calls her again in love. I love my dear Joseph
But he driveth me away from his presence, yet I hear the voice of God
10 In the voice of my Husband, tho he is angry for a moment, he will not
Utterly cast me away, if I were pure, never could I taste the sweets
Of the Forgive[ne]ss of Sins: if I were holy: I never could behold the tears
Of love! of him who loves me in the midst of his anger in furnace of fire.
Ah my Mary: said Joseph: weeping over & embracing her closely in
His arms: Doth he forgive Jerusalem & not exact Purity from her who is
Polluted. I heard his voice in my sleep & his Angel in my dream:
Saying, Doth Jehovah Forgive a Debt only on condition that it shall
Be Payed? Doth he Forgive Pollution only on conditions of Purity
That Debt is not Forgiven! That Pollution is not Forgiven
20 Such is the Forgiveness of the Gods, the Moral Virtues of the
Heathen, whose tender Mercies are Cruelty. But Jehovahs Salvation
Is without Money & without Price, in the Continual Forgiveness of Sins
In the Perpetual Mutual Sacrifice in Great Eternity! for behold!
There is none that liveth & Sinneth not! And this is the Covenant
Of Jehovah: If you Forgive one-another, so shall Jehovah Forgive You:
That He Himself may Dwell among You. Fear not then to take
To thee Mary thy Wife, for she is with Child by the Holy Ghost
Then Mary burst forth into a Song! she flowed like a River of
Many Streams in the arms of Joseph & gave forth her tears of joy
30 Like many waters, and Emanating into gardens & palaces upon
Euphrates & to forests & floods & animals wild & tame from
Gihon to Hiddekel, & to corn fields & villages & inhabitants
Upon Pison & Arnon & Jordan. And I heard the voice among
The Reapers Saying, Am I Jerusalem the lost Adulteress? or am I
Babylon come up to Jerusalem? And another voice answerd Saying
Does the voice of my Lord call me again? am I pure thro his Mercy
And Pity. Am I become lovely as a Virgin in his sight who am
Indeed a Harlot drunken with the Sacrifice of Idols does he
Call her pure as he did in the days of her Infancy when She
40 Was cast out to the loathing of her person. The Chaldean took
Me from my Cradle. The Amalekite stole me away upon his Camels
Before I had ever beheld with love the Face of Jehovah: or known
That there was a God of Mercy: O Mercy O Divine Humanity!
O Forgiveness & Pity & Compassion! If I were Pure I should never
Have known Thee; If I were Unpolluted I should never have
Glorified thy Holiness, or rejoiced in thy great Salvation.
Mary leaned her side against Jerusalem. Jerusalem recieved
The Infant into her hands in the Visions of Jehovah. Times passed on
Jerusalem fainted over the Cross & Sepulcher She heard the voice
50 Wilt thou make Rome thy Patriarch Druid & the Kings of Europe his
Horsemen? Man in the Resurrection changes his Sexual Garments at will
Every Harlot was once a Virgin: every Criminal an Infant Love:
PLATE 62
Repose on me till the morning of the Grave. I am thy life.
Jerusalem replied. I am an outcast: Albion is dead!
I am left to the trampling foot & the spurning heel!
A Harlot I am calld. I am sold from street to street!
I am defaced with blows & with the dirt of the Prison!
And wilt thou become my Husband O my Lord & Saviour?
Shall Vala bring thee forth! shall the Chaste be ashamed also?
I see the Maternal Line, I behold the Seed of the Woman!
Cainah, & Ada & Zillah & Naamah Wife of Noah.
10 Shuahs daughter & Tamar & Rahab the Canaanites:
Ruth the Moabite & Bathsheba of the daughters of Heth
Naamah the Ammonite, Zibeah the Philistine, & Mary
These are the Daughters of Vala, Mother of the Body of death
But I thy Magdalen behold thy Spiritual Risen Body
Shall Albion arise? I know he shall arise at the Last Day!
I know that in my flesh I shall see God: but Emanations
Are weak. they know not whence they are, nor whither tend.
Jesus replied. I am the Resurrection & the Life.
I Die & pass the limits of possibility, as it appears
20 To individual perception. Luvah must be Created
And Vala; for I cannot leave them in the gnawing Grave.
But will prepare a way for my banished-ones to return
Come now with me into the villages, walk thro all the cities.
Tho thou art taken to prison & judgment, starved in the streets
I will command the cloud to give thee food & the hard rock
To flow with milk & wine, tho thou seest me not a season
Even a long season & a hard journey & a howling wilderness:
Tho Valas cloud hide thee & Luvahs fires follow thee:
Only believe & trust in me, Lo. I am always with thee:
30 So spoke the Lamb of God while Luvahs Cloud reddening above
Burst forth in streams of blood upon the heavens & dark night
Involvd Jerusalem, & the Wheels of Albions Sons turnd hoarse
Over the Mountains & the fires blaz’d on Druid Altars
And the Sun set in Tyburns Brook where Victims howl & cry.
But Los beheld the Divine Vision among the flames of the Furnaces
Therefore he lived & breathed in hope. but his tears fell incessant
Because his Children were closd from him apart: & Enitharmon
Dividing in fierce pain: also the Vision of God was closd in clouds
Of Albions Spectres, that Los in despair oft sat, & often ponderd
40 On Death Eternal in fierce shudders upon the mountains of Albion
Walking: & in the vales in howlings fierce, then to his Anvils
Turning, anew began his labours, tho in terrible pains:
PLATE 63
Jehovah stood among the Druids in the Valley of Annandale
When the Four Zoas of Albion, the Four Living Creatures, the Cherubim
Of Albion tremble before the Spectre, in the starry Harness of the Plow
Of Nations. And their Names are Urizen & Luvah & Tharmas & Urthona
Luvah slew Tharmas the Angel of the Tongue & Albion brought him
To Justice in his own City of Paris, denying the Resurrection
Then Vala the Wife of Albion, who is the Daughter of Luvah
Took vengeance Twelve-fold among the Chaotic Rocks of the Druids
Where the Human Victims howl to the Moon & Thor & Friga
10 Dance the dance of death contending with Jehovah among the Cherubim.
The Chariot Wheels filled with Eyes rage along the howling Valley
In the Dividing of Reuben & Benjamin bleeding from Chesters River
The Giants & the Witches & the Ghosts of Albion dance with
Thor & Friga, & the Fairies lead the Moon along the Valley of Cherubim
Bleeding in torrents from Mountain to Mountain, a lovely Victim
And Jehovah stood in the Gates of the Victim, & he appeared
A weeping Infant in the Gates of Birth in the midst of Heaven
The Cities & Villages of Albion became Rock & Sand Unhumanized
The Druid Sons of Albion & the Heavens a Void around unfathomable
20 No Human Form but Sexual & a little weeping Infant pale reflected
Multitudinous in the Looking Glass of Enitharmon, on all sides
Around in the clouds of the Female, on Albions Cliflfs of the Dead
Such the appearance in Cheviot: in the Divisions of Reuben
When the Cherubim hid their heads under their wings in deep slumbers
When the Druids demanded Chastity from Woman & all was lost.
How can the Female be Chaste O thou stupid Druid Cried Los
Without the Forgiveness of Sins in the merciful clouds Of Jehovah
And without the Baptism of Repentance to wash away Calumnies, and
The Accusations of Sin that each may be Pure in their Neighbours sight
30 O when shall Jehovah give us Victims from his Flocks & Herds
Instead of Human Victims by the Daughters of Albion &Canaan
Then laugh’d Gwendolen & her laughter shook the Nations & Familys of
The Dead beneath Beulah from Tyburn to Golgotha, and from
Ireland to Japan, furious her Lions & Tygers & Wolves sport before
Los on the Thames & Medway, London & Canterbury groan in pain
Los knew not yet what was done: he thought it was all in Vision
In Visions of the Dreams of Beulah among the Daughters of Albion
Therefore the Murder was put apart in the Looking-Glass of Enitharmon
He saw in Vala’s hand the Druid Knife of Revenge & the Poison Cup
40 Of Jealousy, and thought it a Poetic Vision of the Atmospheres
Till Canaan rolld apart from Albion across the Rhine: along the Danube
And all the Land of Canaan suspended over the Valley of Cheviot
From Bashan to Tyre & from Troy to Gaza of the Amalekite
And Reuben fled with his head downwards among the Caverns
PLATE 64
Of the Mundane Shell which froze on all sides round Canaan on
The vast Expanse: where the Daughters of Albion Weave the Web
Of Ages & Generations, folding & unfolding it, like a Veil of Cherubim
And sometimes it touches the Earths summits, & sometimes spreads
Abroad into the Indefinite Spectre, who is the Rational Power.
Then All the Daughters of Albion became One before Los: even Vala!
And she put forth her hand upon the Looms in dreadful howlings
Till she vegetated into a hungry Stomach & a devouring Tongue.
Her Hand is a Court of Justice, her Feet: two Armies in Battle
10 Storms & Pestilence: in her Locks: & in her Loins Earthquake,
And Fire, & the Ruin of Cities & Nations & Families & Tongues
She cries: The Human is but a Worm, & thou O Male: Thou art
Thyself Female, a Male: a breeder of Seed: a Son & Husband: & Lo,
The Human Divine is Womans Shadow, a Vapor in the summers heat
Go assume Papal dignity thou Spectre, thou Male Harlot: Arthur
Divide into the Kings of Europe in times remote O Woman-born
And Woman-nourishd & Woman-educated & Woman-scorn’d:
Wherefore art thou living? said Los, & Man cannot live in thy presence
Art thou Vala the Wife of Albion O thou lovely Daughter of Luvah
20 All Quarrels arise from Reasoning, the secret Murder, and
The violent Man-slaughter, these are the Spectres double Cave
The Sexual Death living on accusation of Sin & Judgment
To freeze Love & Innocence into the gold & silver of the Merchant
Without Forgiveness of Sin Love is Itself Eternal Death.
Then the Spectre drew Vala into his bosom magnificent terrific
Glittering with precious stones & gold, with Garments of blood & fire[.]
He wept in deadly wrath of the Spectre, in self-contradicting agony
Crimson with Wrath & green with Jealousy dazling with Love
And Jealousy immingled & the purple of the violet darkend deep
30 Over the Plow of Nations thundring in the hand of Albions Spectre
A dark Hermaphrodite they stood frowning upon Londons River
And the Distaff & Spindle in the hands of Vala with the Flax of
Human Miseries turnd fierce with the Lives of Men along the Valley
As Reuben fled before the Daughters of Albion Taxing the Nations
Derby Peak yawnd a horrid Chasm at the Cries of Gwendolen, & at
The stamping feet of Ragan upon the flaming Treddles of her Loom
That drop with crimson gore with the Loves of Albion & Canaan
Opening along the Valley of Rephaim, weaving over the Caves of Machpelah
PLATE 65
To decide Two Worlds with a great decision: a World of Mercy, and
A World of Justice: the World of Mercy for Salvation
To cast Luvah into the Wrath, and Albion into the Pity
In the Two Contraries of Humanity & in the Four Regions.
For in the depths of Albions bosom in the eastern heaven,
They sound the clarions strong! they chain the howling Captives:
They cast the lots into the helmet: they give the oath of blood in Lambeth
They vote the death of Luvah, & they naild him to Albions Tree in Bath:
They staind him with poisonous blue, they inwove him in cruel roots
10 To die a death of Six thousand years bound round with vegetation
The sun was black & the moon rolld a useless globe thro Britain!
Then left the Sons of Urizen the plow & harrow, the loom
The hammer & the chisel, & the rule & compasses; from London fleeing
They forg’d the sword on Cheviot, the chariot of war & the battle-ax,
The trumpet fitted to mortal battle, & the flute of summer in Annandale
And all the Arts of Life. they changd into the Arts of Death in Albion.
The hour-glass contemnd because its simple workmanship,
Was like the workmanship of the plowman, & the water wheel,
That raises water into cisterns: broken & burnd with fire:
20 Because its workmanship, was like the workmanship of the shepherd.
And in their stead, intricate wheels invented, wheel without wheel:
To perplex youth in their outgoings, & to bind to labours in Albion.
Of day & night the myriads of eternity that they may grind
And polish brass & iron hour after hour laborious task:
Kept ignorant of its use, that they might spend the days of wisdom
In sorrowful drudgery, to obtain a scanty pittance of bread:
In ignorance to view a small portion & think that All,
And call it Demonstration: blind to all the simple rules of life.
Now: now the battle rages round thy tender limbs O Vala,
30 Now smile among thy bitter tears: now put on all thy beauty
Is not the wound of the sword sweet! & the broken bone delightful?
Wilt thou now smile among the scythes when the wounded groan in the field[?]
We were carried away in thousands from London; & in tens
Of thousands from Westminster & Marybone in ships closd up:
Chaind hand & foot, competid to fight under the iron whips
Of our captains; fearing our officers more than the enemy.
Lift up thy blue eyes Vala & put on thy sapphire shoes:
O melancholy Magdalen behold the morning over Maiden break;
Gird on thy flaming zone, descend into the sepulcher of Canterbury.
40 Scatter the blood from thy golden brow, the tears from thy silver locks:
Shake off the waters from thy wings! & the dust from thy white garments
Remember all thy feigned terrors on the secret couch of Lambeths Vale
When the sun rose in glowing morn, with arms of mighty hosts
Marching to battle who was wont to rise with Urizens harps
Girt as a sower with his seed to scatter life abroad over Albion:
Arise O Vala! bring the bow of Urizen: bring the swift arrows of light.
How rag’d the golden horses of Urizen, compelld to the chariot of love!
Compelld to leave the plow to the ox, to snuff up the winds of desolation
To trample the corn fields in boastful neighings: this is no gentle harp
50 This is no warbling brook, nor shadow of a mirtle tree:
But blood and wounds and dismal cries, and shadows of the oak:
And hearts laid open to the light, by the broad grizly sword:
And bowels hid in hammerd steel rip’d quivering on the ground.
Call forth thy smiles of soft deceit: call forth thy cloudy tears:
We hear thy sighs in trumpets shrill when morn shall blood renew.
So sang the Spectre Sons of Albion round Luvahs Stone of Trial:
Mocking and deriding at the writhings of their Victim on Salisbury:
Drinking his Emanation in intoxicating bliss rejoicing in Giant dance;
For a Spectre has no Emanation but what he imbibes from decieving
60 A Victim! Then he becomes her Priest & she his Tabernacle,
And his Oak Grove, till the Victim rend the woven Veil,
In the end of his sleep when Jesus calls him from his grave
Howling the Victims on the Druid Altars yield their souls
To the stern Warriors: lovely sport the Daughters round their Victims;
Drinking their lives in sweet intoxication; hence arose from Bath
Soft deluding odours, in spiral volutions intricately winding
Over Albions mountains, a feminine indefinite cruel delusion.
Astonishd: terrified & in pain & torment, Sudden they behold
Their own Parent the Emanation of their murderd Enemy
70 Become their Emanation and their Temple and
Tabernacle They knew not, this Vala was their beloved Mother Vala Albions Wife.
Terrified at the sight of the Victim: at his distorted sinews!
The tremblings of Vala vibrate thro’ the limbs of Albions Sons:
While they rejoice over Luvah in mockery & bitter scorn:
Sudden they become like what they behold in howlings & deadly pain.
Spasms smite their features, sinews & limbs: pale they look on one another.
They turn, contorted: their iron necks bend unwilling towards
Luvah: their lips tremble: their muscular fibres are crampd & smitten
They become like what they behold! Yet immense in strength & power,
PLATE 66
In awful pomp & gold, in all the precious unhewn stones of Eden
They build a stupendous Building on the Plain of Salisbury; with chains
Of rocks round London Stone: of Reasonings: of unhewn Demonstrations
In labyrinthine arches, (Mighty Urizen the Architect,) thro which
The Heavens might revolve & Eternity be bound in their chain.
Labour unparallelld! a wondrous rocky World of cruel destiny
Rocks piled on rocks reaching the stars: stretching from pole to pole.
The Building is Natural Religion & its Altars Natural Morality
A building of eternal death: whose proportions are eternal despair
10 Here Vala stood turning the iron Spindle of destruction
From heaven to earth: howling! invisible! but not invisible
Her Two Covering Cherubs afterwards named Voltaire & Rousseau:
Two frowning Rocks: on each side of the Cove & Stone of Torture:
Frozen Sons of the feminine Tabernacle of Bacon, Newton & Locke.
For Luvah is France: the Victim of the Spectres of Albion.
Los beheld in terror: he pour’d his loud storms on the Furnaces:
The Daughters of Albion clothed in garments of needle work
Strip them off from their shoulders: and bosoms, they lay aside
20 Their garments; they sit naked upon the Stone of trial.
The Knife of flint passes over the howling Victim: his blood
Gushes & stains the fair side of the fair Daug[h]ters of Albion.
They put aside his curls; they divide his seven locks upon
His forehead: they bind his forehead with thorns of iron
They put into his hand a reed, they mock: Saying: Behold
The King of Canaan whose are seven hundred chariots of iron!
They take off his vesture whole with their Knives of flint:
But they cut asunder his inner garments: searching with
Their cruel fingers for his heart, & there they enter in pomp,
In many tears; & there they erect a temple & an altar:
30 They pour cold water on his brain in front, to cause
Lids to grow over his eyes in veils of tears: and caverns
To freeze over his nostrils, while they feed his tongue from cups
And dishes of painted clay. Glowing with beauty & cruelty:
They obscure the sun & the moon; no eye can look upon them.
Ah! alas! at the sight of the Victim, & at sight of those who are smitten,
All who see, become what they behold, their eyes are coverd
With veils of tears and their nostrils & tongues shrunk up
Their ear bent outwards, as their Victim, so are they in pangs
Of unconquerable fear! amidst delights of revenge Earth-shaking!
And as their eye & ear shrunk, the heavens shrunk away
The Divine Vision became First a burning flame, then a column
Of fire, then an awful fiery wheel surrounding earth & heaven:
And then a globe of blood wandering distant in an unknown night:
Afar into the unknown night the mountains fled away:
Six months of mortality; a summer: & six months of mortality; a winter:
The Human form began to be alterd by the Daughters of Albion
And the perceptions to be dissipated into the Indefinite. Becoming
A mighty Polypus nam’d Albions Tree: they tie the Veins
And Nerves into two knots: & the Seed into a double knot:
50 They look forth: the Sun is shrunk: the Heavens are shrunk
Away into the far remote: and the Trees & Mountains witherd
Into indefinite cloudy shadows in darkness & separation.
By Invisible Hatreds adjoind, they seem remote and separate
From each other; and yet are a Mighty Polypus in the Deep!
As the Mistletoe grows on the Oak, so Albions Tree on Eternity: Lo!
He who will not comingle in Love, must be adjoind by Hate
They look forth from Stone-henge! from the Cove round London Stone
They look on one another: the mountain calls out to the mountain:
Plinlimmon shrunk away: Snowdon trembled: the mountains
60 Of Wales & Scotland beheld the descending War: the routed flying:
Red run the streams of Albion: Thames is drunk with blood:
As Gwendolen cast the shuttle of war: as Cambel returnd the beam.
The Humber & the Severn: are drunk with the blood of the slain:
London feels his brain cut round: Edinburghs heart is circumscribed!
York & Lincoln hide among the flocks, because of the griding Knife.
Worcester & Hereford: Oxford & Cambridge reel &stagger,
Overwearied with howling: Wales & Scotland alone sustain the fight!
The inhabitants are sick to death: they labour to divide into Days
And Nights, the uncertain Periods; and into Weeks & Months. In vain
70 They send the Dove & Raven: & in vain the Serpent over the mountains.
And in vain the Eagle & Lion over the four-fold wilderness.
They return not: but generate in rocky places desolate.
They return not: but build a habitation separate from Man.
The Sun forgets his course like a drunken man; he hesitates,
Upon the Cheselden hills, thinking to sleep on the Severn
In vain: he is hurried afar into an unknown Night
He bleeds in torrents of blood as he rolls thro heaven above
He chokes up the paths of the sky; the Moon is leprous as snow:
Trembling & descending down seeking to rest upon high Mona:
Scattering her leprous snows in flakes of disease over Albion.
The Stars flee remote: the heaven is iron, the earth is sulphur,
And all the mountains & hills shrink up like a withering gourd,
As the Senses of Men shrink together under the Knife of flint,
In the hands of Albions Daughters, among the Druid Temples,
PLATE 67
By those who drink their blood & the blood of their Covenant
And the Twelve Daughters of Albion united in Rahab & Tirzah
A Double Female: and they drew out from the Rocky Stones
Fibres of Life to Weave for every Female is a Golden Loom
The Rocks are opake hardnesses covering all Vegetated things.
And as they Wove & Cut from the Looms in various divisions
Stretching over Europe & Asia from Ireland to Japan
They divided into many lovely Daughters to be counterparts
To those they Wove, for when they Wove a Male, they divided
10 Into a Female to the Woven Male, in opake hardness
They cut the Fibres from the Rocks groaning in pain they Weave;
Calling the Rocks Atomic Origins of Existence; denying Eternity
By the Atheistical Epicurean Philosophy of Albions Tree
Such are the Feminine & Masculine when separated from Man
They call the Rocks Parents of Men, & adore the frowning Chaos
Dancing around in howling pain clothed in the bloody Veil.
Hiding Albions Sons within the Veil, closing Jerusalems
Sons without; to feed with their Souls the Spectres of Albion
Ashamed to give Love openly to the piteous & merciful Man
20 Counting him an imbecile mockery: but the Warrior
They adore: & his revenge cherish with the blood of the Innocent
They drink up Dan & Gad, to feed with milk Skofeld & Kotope
They strip off Josephs Coat & dip it in the blood of battle
Tirzah sits weeping to hear the shrieks of the dying: her Knife
Of flint is in her hand: she passes it over the howling Victim[.]
The Daughters Weave their Work in loud cries over the Rock
Of Horeb! still eyeing Albions Cliffs eagerly siezing & twisting
The threads of Vala & Jerusalem running from mountain to mountain
Over the whole Earth: loud the Warriors rage in Beth Peor
30 Beneath the iron whips of their Captains & consecrated banners
Loud the Sun & Moon rage in the conflict: loud the Stars
Shout in the night of battle & their spears grow to their hands
With blood, weaving the deaths of the Mighty into a Tabernacle
For Rahab & Tirzah; till the Great Polypus of Generation covered the Earth.
In Verulam the Polypus’s Head, winding around his bulk
Thro Rochester, and Chichester, & Exeter & Salisbury,
To Bristol: & his Heart beat strong on Salisbury Plain
Shooting out Fibres round the Earth, thro Gaul & Italy
And Greece, & along the Sea of Rephaim into Judea
40 To Sodom & Gomorrha: thence to India, China &Japan
The Twelve Daughters in Rahab & Tirzah have circumscribd the Brain
Beneath & pierced it thro the midst with a golden pin.
Blood hath staind her fair side beneath her bosom.
O thou poor Human Form! said she. O thou poor child of woe!
Why wilt thou wander away from Tirzah: why me compel to bind thee?
If thou dost go away from me I shall consume upon these Rocks[.]
These fibres of thine eyes that used to beam in distant heavens
Away from me: I have bound down with a hot iron.
These nostrils that expanded with delight in morning skies
50 I have bent downward with lead melted in my roaring furnaces
Of affliction; of love; of sweet despair; of torment unendurable
My soul is seven furnaces, incessant roars the bellows
Upon my terribly flaming heart, the molten metal runs
In channels thro my fiery limbs: O love! O pity! O fear!
O pain! O the pangs, the bitter pangs of love forsaken
Ephraim was a wilderness of joy where all my wild beasts ran
The River Kanah wanderd by my sweet Manassehs side
To see the boy spring into heavens sounding from my sight!
Go Noah fetch the girdle of strong brass, heat it red-hot:
60 Press it around the loins of this ever expanding cruelty
Shriek not so my only love! I refuse thy joys: I drink
Thy shrieks because Hand & Hyle are cruel & obdurate to me
PLATE 68
O Skofield why art thou cruel? Lo Joseph is thine! to make
You One: to weave you both in the same mantle of skin
Bind him down Sisters bind him down on Ebal, Mount of cuising:
Malah come forth from Lebanon: & Hoglah from Mount Sinai:
Come circumscribe this tongue of sweets & with a screw of iron
Fasten this ear into the rock: Milcah the task is thine
Weep not so Sisters: weep not so: our life depends on this
Or mercy & truth are fled away from Shechem & Mount Gilead
Unless my beloved is bound upon the Stems of Vegetation
10 And thus the Warriors cry, in the hot day of Victory, in Songs.
Look: the beautiful Daughter of Albion sits naked upon the Stone
Her panting Victim beside her: her heart is drunk with blood
Tho her brain is not drunk with wine: she goes forth from Albion
In pride of beauty: in cruelty of holiness: in the brightness
Of her tabernacle, & her ark & secret place, the beautiful Daughter
Of Albion, delights the eyes of the Kings. their hearts & the
Hearts of their Warriors glow hot before Thor & Friga. O Molech!
O Chemosh! O Bacchus! O Venus! O Double God of Generation
The Heavens are cut like a mantle around from the Cliffs of Albion
20 Across Europe; across Africa; in howlings & deadly War
A sheet & veil & curtain of blood is let down from Heaven
Across the hills of Ephraim & down Mount Olivet to
The Valley of the Jebusite: Molech rejoices in heaven
He sees the Twelve Daughters naked upon the Twelve Stones
Themselves condensing to rocks & into the Ribs of a Man
Lo they shoot forth in tender Nerves across Europe & Asia
Lo they rest upon the Tribes, where their panting Victims lie[.]
Molech rushes into the Kings in love to the beautiful Daughters
But they frown & delight in cruelty, refusing all other joy
30 Bring your Offerings, your first begotten: pamperd with milk & blood
Your first born of seven years old: be they Males or Females:
To the beautiful Daughters of Albion! they sport before the Kings
Clothed in the skin of the Victim: blood: human blood: is the life
And delightful food of the Warrior: the well fed Warriors flesh
Of him who is slain in War: fills the Valleys of Ephraim with
Breeding Women walking in pride & bringing forth under green trees
With pleasure, without pain, for their food is, blood of the Captive
Molech rejoices thro the Land from Havilah to Shur: he rejoices
In moral law & its severe penalties: loud Shaddai & Jehovah
40 Thunder above: when they see the Twelve panting Victims
On the Twelve Stones of Power, & the beautiful Daughters of Albion
If you dare rend their Veil with your Spear; you are healed of Love!
From the Hills of Camberwell & Wimbledon: from the Valleys
Of Walton & Esher: from Stone-henge & from Maidens Cove
Jerusalems Pillars fall in the rendings of fierce War
Over France & Germany: upon the Rhine & Danube
Reuben & Benjamin flee; they hide in the Valley of Rephaim
Why trembles the Warriors limbs when he beholds thy beauty
Spotted with Victims blood? by the fires of thy secret tabernacle
50 And thy ark & holy place: at thy frowns: at thy dire revenge
Smitten as Uzzah of old: his armour is softend; his spear
And sword faint in his hand, from Albion across Great Tartary
O beautiful Daughter of Albion: cruelty is thy delight
O Virgin of terrible eyes, who dwellest by Valleys of springs
Beneath the Mountains of Lebanon, in the City of Rehob in Hamath
Taught to touch the harp: to dance in the Circle of Warriors
Before the Kings of Canaan: to cut the flesh from the Victim
To roast the flesh in fire: to examine the Infants limbs
In cruelties of holiness: to refuse the joys of love: to bring
60 The Spies from Egypt, to raise jealousy in the bosoms of the Twelve
Kings of Canaan: then to let the Spies depart to Meribah Kadesh
To the place of the Amalekite; I am drunk with unsatiated love
I must rush again to War: for the Virgin has frownd &refusd
Sometimes I curse & sometimes bless thy fascinating beauty
Once Man was occupied in intellectual pleasures & energies
But now my soul is harrowd with grief & fear & love & desire
And now I hate & now I love & Intellect is no more:
There is no time for any thing but the torments of love & desire
The Feminine & Masculine Shadows soft, mild & ever varying
70 In beauty: are Shadows now no more, but Rocks in Horeb
PLATE 69
Then all the Males combined into One Male & every one
Became a ravening eating Cancer growing in the Female
A Polypus of Roots of Reasoning Doubt Despair & Death,
Going forth & returning from Albions Rocks to Canaan:
Devouring Jerusalem from every Nation of the Earth.
Envying stood the enormous Form at variance with Itself
In all its Members: in eternal torment of love & jealousy:
Driven forth by Los time after time from Albions cliffy shore,
Drawing the free loves of Jerusalem into infernal bondage;
10 That they might be born in contentions of Chastity & in
Deadly Hate between Leah & Rachel, Daughters of Deceit & Fraud
Bearing the Images of various Species of Contention
And Jealousy & Abhorrence & Revenge & deadly Murder,
Till they refuse liberty to the Male; & not like Beulah
Where every Female delights to give her maiden to her husband
The Female searches sea & land for gratifications to the
Male Genius: who in return clothes her in gems & gold
And feeds her with the food of Eden, hence all her beauty beams
She Creates at her will a little moony night & silence
20 With Spaces of sweet gardens & a tent of elegant beauty:
Closed in by a sandy desart & a night of stars shining,
And a little tender moon & hovering angels on the wing,
And the Male gives a Time & Revolution to her Space
Till the time of love is passed in ever varying delights
For All Things Exist in the Human Imagination
And thence in Beulah they are stolen by secret amorous theft,
Till they have had Punishment enough to make them commit Crimes[.]
Hence rose the Tabernacle in the Wilderness & all its Offerings,
From Male & Female Loves in Beulah & their Jealousies
30 But no one can consummate Female bliss in Los’s World without
Becoming a Generated Mortal, a Vegetating Death
And now the Spectres of the Dead awake in Beulah: all
The Jealousies become Murderous: uniting together in Rahab
A Religion of Chastity, forming a Commerce to sell Loves,
With Moral Law, an Equal Balance, not going down with decision
Therefore the Male severe & cruel filld with stern Revenge:
Mutual Hate returns & mutual Deceit & mutual Fear.
Hence the Infernal Veil grows in the disobedient Female:
Which Jesus rends & the whole Druid Law removes away
40 From the Inner Sanctuary: a False Holiness hid within the Center,
For the Sanctuary of Eden, is in the Camp: in the Outline,
In the Circumference: & every Minute Particular is Holy:
Embraces are Cominglings: from the Head even to the Feet;
And not a pompous High Priest entering by a Secret Place.
Jerusalem pined in her inmost soul over Wandering Reuben
As she slept in Beulahs Night hid by the Daughters of Beulah
PLATE 70
And this the form of mighty Hand sitting on Albions cliffs
Before the face of Albion, a mighty threatning Form.
His bosom wide & shoulders huge overspreading wondrous
Bear Three strong sinewy Necks & Three awful & terrible Heads
Three Brains in contradictory council brooding incessantly.
Neither daring to put in act its councils, fearing each-other,
Therefore rejecting Ideas as nothing & holding all Wisdom
To consist, in the agreements & disagree[me]nts of Ideas.
Plotting to devour Albions Body of Humanity & Love.
10 Such Form the aggregate of the Twelve Sons of Albion took; & such
Their appearance when combind: but often by birth-pangs & loud groans
They divide to Twelve: the key-bones & the chest dividing in pain
Disclose a hideous orifice; thence issuing the Giant-brood
Arise as the smoke of the furnace, shaking the rocks from sea to sea.
And there they combine into Three Forms, named Bacon & Newton & Locke,
In the Oak Groves of Albion which overspread all the Earth.
Imputing Sin & Righteousness to Individuals;
Rahab Sat deep within him hid: his Feminine Power unreveal’d
Brooding Abstract Philosophy, to destroy Imagination,
the Divine-
-Humanity A Three-fold Wonder: feminine: most
20 beautiful: Three-fold
Each within other. On her white marble & even Neck, her Heart
Inorb’d and bonified: with locks of shadowing modesty, shining
Over her beautiful Female features, soft flourishing in beauty
Beams mild, all love and all perfection, that when the lips
Recieve a kiss from Gods or Men, a threefold kiss returns
From the pressd loveliness: so her whole immortal form three-fold
Three-fold embrace returns: consuming lives of Gods &Men
In fires of beauty melting them as gold & silver in the furnace[.]
Her Brain enlabyrinths the whole heaven of her bosom & loins
30 To put in act what her Heart wills; O who can withstand her power
Her name is Vala in Eternity: in Time her name is Rahab
The Starry Heavens all were fled from the mighty limbs of Albion
PLATE 71
And above Albions Land was seen the Heavenly Canaan
As the Substance is to the Shadow: and above Albions Twelve Sons
Were seen Jerusalems Sons: and all the Twelve Tribes spreading
Over Albion. As the Soul is to the Body, so Jerusalems Sons,
Are to the Sons of Albion: and Jerusalem is Albions Emanation
What is Above is Within, for every-thing in Eternity is translucent:
The Circumference is Within: Without, is formed the Selfish Center
And the Circumference still expands going forward to Eternity.
And the Center has Eternal States! these States we now explore.
10 And these the Names of Albions Twelve Sons, & of his Twelve Daughters
With their Districts. Hand dwelt in Selsey & had Sussex & Surrey
And Kent & Middlesex: all their Rivers & their Hills, of locks & herds:
Their Villages Towns Cities Sea-Ports Temples sublime Cathedrals;
All were his Friends & their Sons & Daughters intermarry in Beulah
For all are Men in Eternity. Rivers Mountains Cities Villages,
All are Human & when you enter into their Bosoms you walk
In Heavens & Earths; as in your own Bosom you bear your Heaven
And Earth, & all you behold, tho it appears Without it is Within
In your Imagination of which this World of Mortality is but a Shadow.
20 Hyle dwelt in Winchester comprehending Hants Dorset Devon Cornwall.
Their Villages Cities SeaPorts, their Corn fields & Gardens spacious
Palaces, Rivers & Mountains, and between Hand & Hyle arose
Gwendolen & Cambel who is Boadicea: they go abroad & return
Like lovely beams of light from the mingled affections of the Brothers
The Inhabitants of the whole Earth rejoice in their beautiful light.
Coban dwelt in Bath. Somerset Wiltshire Gloucestershire,
Obeyd his awful voice Ignoge is his lovely Emanation;
She adjoin’d with Gwantokes Children, soon lovely Cordella arose.
Gwantoke forgave & joyd over South Wales & all its Mountains.
Peachey had North Wales Shropshire Cheshire & the Isle of Man.
His Emanation is Mehetabel terrible & lovely upon the Mountains
Brertun had Yorkshire Durham Westmoreland & his Emanation
Is Ragan, she adjoind to Slade, & produced Gonorill far beaming.
Slade had Lincoln Stafford Derby Nottingham & his lovely
Emanation Gonorill rejoices over hills & rocks & woods & rivers.
Huttn had Warwick Northampton Bedford Buckingham
Leicester & Berkshire: & his Emanation is Gwinefred beautiful
Skofeld had Ely Rutland Cambridge Huntingdon Norfolk
Suffolk Hartford & Essex: & his Emanation is Gwinevera
40 Beautiful, she beams towards the east, all kinds of precious stones
And pearl, with instruments of music in holy Jerusalem
Kox had Oxford Warwick Wilts: his Emanation is Estrild:
Joind with Cordella she shines southward over the Atlantic.
Kotope had Hereford Stafford Worcester, & his Emanation
Is Sabrina joind with Mehetabel she shines west over America
Bowen had all Scotland, the Isles, Northumberland & Cumberland
His Emanation is Conwenna, she shines a triple form
Over the north with pearly beams gorgeous & terrible
Jerusalem & Vala rejoice in Bowen & Conwenna.
50 But the Four Sons of Jerusalem that never were Generated
Are Rintrah and Palamabron and Theotormon and Bromion. They
Dwell over the Four Provinces of Ireland in heavenly light
The Four Universities of Scotland, & in Oxford &Cambridge & Winchester
But now Albion is darkened & Jerusalem lies in ruins:
Above the Mountains of Albion, above the head of Los.
And Los shouted with ceaseless shoutings & his tears pourd down
His immortal cheeks, rearing his hands to heaven for aid Divine!
But he spoke not to Albion: fearing lest Albion should turn his Back
Against the Divine Vision: & fall over the Precipice of Eternal Death.
60 But he receded before Albion & before Vala weaving the Veil
With the iron shuttle of War among the rooted Oaks of Albion;
Weeping & shouting to the Lord day & night; and his Children
Wept round him as a flock silent Seven Days of Eternity
PLATE 72
And the Thirty-two Counties of the Four Provinces of Ireland
Are thus divided: The Four Counties are in the Four Camps
Munster South in Reubens Gate, Connaut West in Josephs Gate
Ulster North in Dans Gate, Leinster East in Judahs Gate
For Albion in Eternity has Sixteen Gates among his Pillars
But the Four towards the West were Walled up & the Twelve
That front the Four other Points were turned Four Square
By Los for Jerusalems sake & called the Gates of Jerusalem
Because Twelve Sons of Jerusalem fled successive thro the Gates
10 But the Four Sons of Jerusalem who fled not but remaind
Are Rintrah & Palamabron & Theotormon & Bromion
The Four that remain with Los to guard the Western Wall
And these Four remain to guard the Four Walls of Jerusalem
Whose foundations remain in the Thirty-two Counties of Ireland
And in Twelve Counties of Wales, & in the Forty Counties
Of England & in the Thirty-six Counties of Scotland
And the names of the Thirty-two Counties of Ireland are these
Under Judah & Issachar & Zebulun are Lowth Longford
Eastmeath Westmeath Dublin Kildare Kings County
20 Queens County Wicklow Catherloh Wexford Kilkenny
And those under Reuben & Simeon & Levi are these
Waterford Tipperary Cork Limerick Kerry Clare
And those under Ephraim Manasseh & Benjamin are these
Galway Roscommon Mayo Sligo Leitrim
And those under Dan Asher & Napthali are these
Donnegal Antrim Tyrone Fermanagh Armagh Londonderry
Down Managhan Cavan. These are the Land of Erin
All these Center in London & in Golgonooza, from whence
They are Created continually East & West & North & South
30 And from them are Created all the Nations of the Earth
Europe & Asia & Africa & America, in fury Fourfold!
And Thirty-two the Nations: to dwell in Jerusalems Gates
O Come ye Nations Come ye People Come up to Jerusalem
Return Jerusalem & dwell together as of old: Return
Return: O Albion let Jerusalem overspread all Nations
As in the times of old: O Albion awake: Reuben wanders
The Nations wait for Jerusalem, they look up for the Bride
France Spain Italy Germany Poland Russia Sweden Turkey
Arabia Palestine Persia Hindostan China Tartary Siberia
40 Egypt Lybia Ethiopia Guinea Caffraria Negroland Morocco
Congo Zaara Canada Greenland Carolina Mexico
Peru Patagonia Amazonia Brazil. Thirty-two Nations
And under these Thirty-two Classes of Islands in the Ocean
All the Nations Peoples & Tongues throughout all the Earth
And the Four Gates of Los surround the Universe Within and
Without; & whatever is visible in the Vegetable Earth, the same
Is visible in the Mundane Shell; reversd in mountain & vale
And a Son of Eden was set over each Daughter of Beulah to guard
In Albions Tomb the wondrous Creation: & the Four-gold Gate
Towards Beulah is to the South[.] Fenelon, Guion, Teresa,
50 Whitefield & Hervey, guard that Gate; with all the gentle Souls
Who guide the great Wine-press of Love; Four precious Stones that Gate:
PLATE 73
Such are Cathedrons golden Halls: in the City of Golgonooza
And Los’s Furnaces howl loud; living: self-moving: lamenting
With fury & despair, & they stretch from South to North
Thro all the Four Points: Lo! the Labourers at the Furnaces
Rintrah & Palamabron, Theotormon & Bromion, loud labring
With the innumerable multitudes of Golgonooza, round the Anvils
Of Death. But how they came forth from the Furnaces & how long
Vast & severe the anguish eer they knew their Father; were
Long to tell & of the iron rollers, golden axle-trees & yokes
10 Of brass, iron chains & braces & the gold, silver & brass
Mingled or separate: for swords; arrows; cannons; mortars
The terrible ball: the wedge: the loud sounding hammer of destruction
The sounding flail to thresh: the winnow: to winnow kingdoms
The water wheel & mill of many innumerable wheels resistless
Over the Four fold Monarchy from Earth to the Mundane Shell.
Perusing Albions Tomb in the starry characters of Og & Anak:
To Create the lion & wolf the bear: the tyger & ounce:
To Create the wooly lamb & downy fowl & scaly serpent
The summer & winter: day & night: the sun & moon & stars
20 The tree: the plant: the flower: the rock: the stone: the metal:
Of Vegetative Nature: by their hard restricting condensations.
Where Luvahs World of Opakeness grew to a period: It
Became a Limit, a Rocky hardness without form & void
Accumulating without end: here Los who is of the Elohim
Opens the Furnaces of affliction in the Emanation
Fixing the Sexual into an ever-prolific Generation
Naming the Limit of Opakeness Satan & the Limit of Contraction
Adam, who is Peleg & Joktan: & Esau & Jacob: &Saul & David
Voltaire insinuates that these Limits are the cruel work of God
30 Mocking the Remover of Limits & the Resurrection of the Dead
Setting up Kings in wrath: in holiness of Natural Religion
Which Los with his mighty Hammer demolishes time on time
In miracles & wonders in the Four-fold Desart of Albion
Permanently Creating to be in Time Reveald & Demolishd
Satan Cain Tubal Nimrod Pharoh Priam Bladud Belin
Arthur Alfred the Norman Conqueror Richard John
[Edward Henry Elizabeth James Charles William George]
And all the Kings & Nobles of the Earth & all their Glories
These are Created by Rahab & Tirzah in Ulro: but around
40 These, to preserve them from Eternal Death Los Creates
Adam Noah Abraham Moses Samuel David Ezekiel
[Pythagoras Socrates Euripedes Virgil Dante Milton]
Dissipating the rocky forms of Death, by his thunderous Hammer[.]
As the Pilgrim passes while the Country permanent remains
So Men pass on: but States remain permanent for ever
The Spectres of the Dead howl round the porches of Los
In the terrible Family feuds of Albions cities & villages
To devour the Body of Albion, hungring & thirsting & ravning
The Sons of Los clothe them & feed, & provide houses & gardens
50 And every Human Vegetated Form in its inward recesses
Is a house of ple[as]antness & a garden of delight Built by the
Sons & Daughters of Los in Bowlahoola & in Cathedron
From London to York & Edinburgh the Furnaces rage terrible
Primrose Hill is the mouth of the Furnace & the Iron Door;
PLATE 74
The Four Zoa’s clouded rage; Urizen stood by Albion
With Rintrah and Palamabron and Theotormon and Bromion
These Four are Verulam & London & York & Edinburgh
And the Four Zoa’s are Urizen & Luvah & Tharmas & Urthona
In opposition deadly, and their Wheels in poisonous
And deadly stupor turn’d against each other loud & fierce
Entering into the Reasoning Power, forsaking Imagination
They became Spectres; & their Human Bodies were reposed
In Beulah, by the Daughters of Beulah with tears & lamentations
10 The Spectre is the Reasoning Power in Man; & when separated
From Imagination, and closing itself as in steel, in a Ratio
Of the Things of Memory, It thence frames Laws & Moralities
To destroy Imagination! the Divine Body, by Martyrdoms & Wars
Teach me O Holy Spirit the Testimony of Jesus! let me
Comprehend wonderous things out of the Divine Law[.]
I behold Babylon in the opening Streets of London, I behold
Jerusalem in ruins wandering about from house
to house This I behold the shudderings of death attend my steps
I walk up and down in Six Thousand Years: their
Events are present before me
20 To tell how Los in grief & anger, whirling round his Hammer on high
Drave the Sons & Daughters of Albion from their ancient mountains
They became the Twelve Gods of Asia Opposing the Divine Vision
The Sons of Albion are Twelve: the Sons of Jerusalem Sixteen
I tell how Albions Sons by Harmonies of Concords & Discords
Opposed to Melody, and by Lights & Shades, opposed to Outline
And by Abstraction opposed to the Visions of Imagination
By cruel Laws divided Sixteen into Twelve Divisions
How Hyle roofd Los in Albions Cliffs by the Affections rent
Asunder & opposed to Thought, to draw Jerusalems Sons
30 Into the Vortex of his Wheels, therefore Hyle is called Gog
Age after age drawing them away towards Babylon
Babylon, the Rational Morality deluding to death the little ones
In strong temptations of stolen beauty; I tell how Reuben slept
On London Stone & the Daughters of Albion ran around admiring
His awful beauty: with Moral Virtue the fair deciever; offspring
Of Good & Evil, they divided him in love upon the Thames & sent
Him over Europe in streams of gore out of Cathedrons Looms
How Los drave them from Albion & they became Daughters of Canaan
Hence Albion was calld the Canaanite & all his Giant Sons.
40 Hence is my Theme. O Lord my Saviour, open thou the Gates
And I will lead forth thy Words, telling how the Daughters
Cut the Fibres of Reuben, how he rolld apart & took Root
In Bashan, terror-struck Albions Sons look toward Bashan
They have divided Simeon he also rolld apart in blood
Over the Nations till he took Root beneath the shining Looms
Of Albions Daughters in Philistea by the side of Amalek
They have divided Levi: he hath shot out into Forty eight Roots
Over the Land of Canaan: they have divided Judah
He hath took Root in Hebron, in the Land of Hand & Hyle
50 Dan: Napthali: Gad: Asher: Issachar: Zebulun: roll apart
From all the Nations of the Earth to dissipate into Non Entity
I see a Feminine Form arise from the Four terrible Zoas
Beautiful but terrible struggling to take a form of beauty
Rooted in Shechem: this is Dinah, the youthful form of Erin
The Wound I see in South Molton S[t]reet & Stratford place
Whence Joseph & Benjamin rolld apart away from the Nations
In vain they rolld apart; they are fixed into the Land of Cabul
PLATE 75
And Rahab Babylon the Great hath destroyed Jerusalem
Bath stood upon the Severn with Merlin & Bladud & Arthur
The Cup of Rahab in his hand: her Poisons Twenty-seven-fold
And all her Twenty-seven Heavens now hid & now reveal’d
Appear in strong delusive light of Time & Space drawn out
In shadowy pomp by the Eternal Prophet created evermore
For Los in Six Thousand Years walks up & down continually
That not one Moment of Time be lost & every revolution
Of Space he makes permanent in Bowlahoola & Cathedron.
10 And these the names of the Twenty-seven Heavens & their Churches
Adam, Seth, Enos, Cainan, Mahalaleel, Jared, Enoch,
Methuselah, Lamech; these are the Giants mighty, Hermaphroditic
Noah, Shem, Arphaxad, Cainan the Second, Salah, Heber,
Peleg, Reu, Serug, Nahor, Terah: these are the Female Males:
A Male within a Female hid as in an Ark & Curtains.
Abraham, Moses, Solomon, Paul, Constantine, Charlemaine,
Luther. these Seven are the Male Females: the Dragon Forms
The Female hid within a Male: thus Rahab is reveald
Mystery Babylon the Great: the Abomination of Desolation
20 Religion hid in War: a Dragon red, & hidden Harlot
But Jesus breaking thro’ the Central Zones of Death & Hell
Opens Eternity in Time & Space; triumphant in Mercy
Thus are the Heavens formd by Los within the Mundane Shell
And where Luther ends Adam begins again in Eternal Circle
To awake the Prisoners of Death; to bring Albion again
With Luvah into light eternal, in his eternal day.
But now the Starry Heavens are fled from the mighty limbs of Albion
PLATE 77
TO THE CHRISTIANS
Devils are I give you the end of a
False Religion golden string,
‘Saul Saul’ Only wind it into a ball:
‘Why persecutest thou me.’ It will lead you in at
Heavens gate,
Built in Jerusalems wall.
We are told to abstain from fleshly desires that we may lose no time from the Work of the Lord. Every moment lost, is a moment that cannot be redeemed every pleasure that intermingles with the duty of our station is a folly unredeemable & is planted like the seed of a wild flower among our wheat. All the tortures of repentance, are tortures of self-reproach on account of our leaving the DivineHarvest to the Enemy, the struggles of intanglement with incoherent roots. I know of no other Christianity and of no other Gospel than the liberty both of body & mind
10 to exercise the Divine Arts of Imagination Imagination
the real & eternal World of which this Vegetable Universe is but a faint shadow & in which we shall live in our Eternal or Imaginative Bodies, when these Vegetable Mortal Bodies are no more. The Apostles knew of no other Gospel. What were all their spiritual gifts? What is the Divine Spirit? is the Holy Ghost any other than an Intellectual Fountain? What is the Harvest of the Gospel & its Labours? What is that Talent which it is a curse to
20 hide? What are the Treasures of Heaven which we are to
lay up for ourselves, are they any other than Mental Studies & Performances? What are all the Gifts of the Gospel, are they not all Mental Gifts? Is God a Spirit who must be worshipped in Spirit & in Truth and are not the Gifts of the Spirit Every-thing to Man? O ye Religious discountenance every one among you who shall pretend to despise Art & Science! I call upon you in the Name of Jesus! What is the Life of Man but Art & Science? is it Meat & Drink? is not the Body more than Raiment?
30 What is Mortality but the things relating to the Body,
which Dies? What is Immortality but the things relating to the Spirit, which Lives Eternally! What is the Joy of Heaven but Improvement in the things of the Spirit? What are the Pains of Hell but Ignorance, Bodily Lust, Idleness & devastation of the things of the Spiritf?] Answer this to yourselves, & expel from among you those who pretend to despise the labours of Art & Science which alone are the labours of the Gospel: Is not this plain & manifest to the thought? Can you think at all & not
40 pronounce heartily! That to Labour in Knowledge, is to
Build up Jerusalem: and to Despise Knowledge, is to Despise Jerusalem & her Builders. And remember: He who despises & mocks a Mental Gift in another; calling it pride & selfishness & sin; mocks Jesus the giver of every Mental Gift, which always appear to the ignorance-loving Hypocrite, as Sins, but that which is a Sin in the sight of cruel Man, is not so in the sight of our kind God.
50 Let every Christian as much as in him lies engage himself
openly & publicly before all the World in some Mental pursuit for the Building up of Jerusalem
I stood among my valleys of the south
And saw a flame of fire, even as a Wheel
Of fire surrounding all the heavens: it went
From west to east against the current of
Creation and devourd all things in its loud
Fury & thundering course round heaven & earth
By it the Sun was rolld into an orb:
By it the Moon faded into a globe,
Travelling thro the night: for from its dire
10 And restless fury, Man himself shrunk up
Into a little root a fathom long.
And I asked a Watcher & a Holy-One
Its Name? he answerd. It is the Wheel of Religion
I wept & said. Is this the law of Jesus
This terrible devouring sword turning every way
He answerd; Jesus died because he strove
Against the current of this Wheel: its Name
Is Caiaphas, the dark Preacher of Death
Of sin, of sorrow, & of punishment;
20 Opposing Nature! It is Natural Religion
But Jesus is the bright Preacher of Life
Creating Nature from this fiery Law,
By self-denial & forgiveness of Sin.
Go therefore, cast out devils in Christs name
Heal thou the sick of spiritual disease
Pity the evil, for thou art not sent
To smite with terror & with punishments
Those that are sick, like to the Pharisees
Crucifying & encompassing sea & land
30 For proselytes to tyranny & wrath.
But to the Publicans & Harlots go!
Teach them True Happiness, but let no curse
Go forth out of thy mouth to blight their peace
For Hell is opend to Heaven; thine eyes beheld
The dungeons burst & the Prisoners set free.
England! awake! awake! awake!
Jerusalem thy Sister calls!
Why wilt thou sleep the sleep of death?
And close her from thy ancient walls.
Thy hills & valleys felt her feet,
Gently upon their bosoms move:
Thy gates beheld sweet Zions ways;
Then was a time of joy and love.
And now the time returns again:
Our souls exult & Londons towers,
Receive the Lamb of God to dwell
In Englands green & pleasant bowers.
PLATE 78
JERUSALEM: CHAPTER IV.
The Spectres of Albions Twelve Sons revolve mightily
Over the Tomb & over the Body: ravning to devour
The Sleeping Humanity. Los with his mace of iron
Walks round: loud his threats, loud his blows fall
On the rocky Spectres, as the Potter breaks the potsherds;
Dashing in pieces Self-righteousnesses: driving them from Albions
Cliffs: dividing them into Male & Female forms in his Furnaces
And on his Anvils: lest they destroy the Feminine Affections
They are broken. Loud howl the Spectres in his iron Furnace
10 While Los laments at his dire labours, viewing Jerusalem,
Sitting before his Furnaces clothed in sackcloth of hair;
Albions Twelve Sons surround the Forty-two Gates of Erin,
In terrible armour, raging against the Lamb & against Jerusalem,
Surrounding them with armies to destroy the Lamb of God.
They took their Mother Vala, and they crown’d her with gold:
They namd her Rahab, & gave her power over the Earth
The Concave Earth round Golgonooza in Entuthon Benython,
Even to the stars exalting her Throne, to build beyond the Throne
Of God and the Lamb, to destroy the Lamb & usurp the Throne of God
Drawing their Ulro Voidness round the Four-fold
20 Humanity
Naked Jerusalem lay before the Gates upon Mount Zion
The Hill of Giants, all her foundations levelld with the dust!
Her Twelve Gates thrown down: her children carried into captivity
Herself in chains: this from within was seen in a dismal night
Outside, unknown before in Beulah, & the twelve gates were fill’d
With blood; from Japan eastward to the Giants causway, west
In Erins Continent: and Jerusalem wept upon Euphrates banks
Disorganizd; an evanescent shade, scarce seen or heard among
Her childrens Druid Temples dropping with blood wanderd weeping!
30 And thus her voice went forth in the darkness of Philisthea.
My brother & my father are no more! God hath forsaken me
The arrows of the Almighty pour upon me & my children
I have sinned and am an outcast from the Divine Presence!
PLATE 79
My tents are fall’n! my pillars are in ruins! my children dashd
Upon Egypts iron floors, & the marble pavements of Assyria;
I melt my soul in reasonings among the towers of Heshbon;
Mount Zion is become a cruel rock & no more dew
Nor rain: no more the spring of the rock appears: but cold
Hard & obdurate are the furrows of the mountain of wine & oil:
The mountain of blessing is itself a curse & an astonishment:
The hills of Judea are fallen with me into the deepest hell
Away from the Nations of the Earth, & from the Cities of the Nations;
10 I walk to Ephraim, I seek for Shiloh: I walk like a lost sheep
Among precipices of despair: in Goshen I seek for light
In vain: and in Gilead for a physician and a comforter.
Goshen hath followd Philistea: Gilead hath joind with Og!
They are become narrow places in a little and dark land:
How distant far from Albion! his hills & his valleys no more
Recieve the feet of Jerusalem: they have cast me quite away:
And Albion is himself shrunk to a narrow rock in the midst of the sea!
The plains of Sussex & Surrey, their hills of flocks & herds
No more seek to Jerusalem nor to the sound of my Holy-ones.
20 The Fifty-two Counties of England are hardend against me
As if I was not their Mother, they despise me & cast me out
London coverd the whole Earth. England encompassd the Nations:
And all the Nations of the Earth were seen in the Cities of Albion:
My pillars reachd from sea to sea: London beheld me come
From my east & from my west; he blessed me and gave
His children to my breasts, his sons & daughters to my knees
His aged parents sought me out in every city & village:
They discernd my countenance with joy! they shewd me to their sons
Saying Lo Jerusalem is here! she sitteth in our secret chambers
30 Levi and Judah & Issachar: Ephra[i]m, Manasseh, Gad and Dan
Are seen in our hills & valleys: they keep our flocks & herds:
They watch them in the night: and the Lamb of God appears among us!
The river Severn stayd his course at my command:
Thames pourd his waters into my basons and baths:
Medway mingled with Kishon: Thames recievd the heavenly Jordan
Albion gave me to the whole Earth to walk up & down; to pour
Joy upon every mountain, to teach songs to the shepherd & plowman
I taught the ships of the Sea to sing the songs of Zion.
Italy saw me, in sublime astonishment: France was wholly mine:
40 As my garden & as my secret bath; Spain was my heavenly couch:
I slept in his golden hills: the Lamb of God met me there.
There we walked as in our secret chamber among our little ones
They looked upon our loves with joy: they beheld our secret joys:
With holy raptures of adoration rapd sublime in the Visions of God:
Germany; Poland & the North wooed my footsteps they found
My gates in all their mountains & my curtains in all their vales
The furniture of their houses was the furniture of my chamber
Turkey & Grecia saw my instr[u]ments of music, they arose
They siezd the harp: the flute: the mellow horn of Jerusalems joy
50 They sounded thanksgivings in my courts: Egypt & Lybia heard
The swarthy sons of Ethiopia stood round the Lamb of God
Enquiring for Jerusalem: he led them up my steps to my altar:
And thou America! I once beheld thee but now behold no more
Thy golden mountains where my Cherubim & Seraphim rejoicd
Together among my little-ones. But now, my Altars run with blood!
My fires are corrupt! my incense is a cloudy pestilence
Of seven diseases! Once a continual cloud of salvation, rose
From all my myriads; once the Four-fold World rejoicd among
The pillars of Jerusalem, between my winged Cherubim:
60 But now I am closd out from them in the narrow passages
Of the valleys of destruction, into a dark land of pitch & bitumen.
From Albions Tomb afar and from the four-fold wonders of God
Shrunk to a narrow doleful form in the dark land of Cabul;
There is Reuben & Gad & Joseph & Judah & Levi, closd up
In narrow vales: I walk & count the bones of my beloveds
Along the Valley of Destruction, among these Druid Temples
Which overspread all the Earth in patriarchal pomp & cruel pride
Tell me O Vala thy purposes; tell me wherefore thy shuttles
Drop with the gore of the slain; why Euphrates is red with blood
70 Wherefore in dreadful majesty & beauty outside appears
Thy Masculine from thy Feminine hardening against the heavens
To devour the Human! Why dost thou weep upon the wind among
These cruel Druid Temples: O Vala! Humanity is far above
Sexual organization; & the Visions of the Night of Beulah
Where Sexes wander in dreams of bliss among the Emanations
Where the Masculine & Feminine are nurs’d into Youth & Maiden
By the tears & smiles of Beulahs Daughters till the time of Sleep is past.
Wherefore then do you realize these nets of beauty & delusion
In open day to draw the souls of the Dead into the light,
80 Till Albion is shut out from every Nation under Heaven.
PLATE 80
Encompassd by the frozen Net and by the rooted Tree
I walk weeping in pangs of a Mothers torment for her Children:
I walk in affliction: I am a worm, and no living soul!
A worm going to eternal torment: raisd up in a night
To an eternal night of pain, lost! lost! lost! for ever!
Beside her Vala howld upon the winds in pride of beauty
Lamenting among the timbrels of the Warriors: among the Captives
In cruel holiness, and her lamenting songs were from Arnon
And Jordan to Euphrates. Jerusalem followd trembling
10 Her children in captivity, listening to Valas lamentation
condemnation in fierce burning flames
In the thick cloud & darkness, & the voice went forth from
The cloud. O rent in sunder from Jerusalem the Harlot daughter!
In an eternal condemnation in fierce burning flames
Of torment unendurable: and if once a Delusion be found
Woman must perish & the Heavens of Heavens remain no more
My Father gave to me command to murder Albion
In unreviving Death; my Love, my Luvah orderd me in night
To murder Albion the King of Men, he fought in battles fierce
He conquerd Luvah my beloved: he took me and my Father
20 He slew them: I revived them to life in my warm bosom
He saw them issue from my bosom, dark in Jealousy
He burnd before me: Luvah framd the Knife & Luvah gave
The Knife into his daughters hand: such thing was never known
Before in Albions land, that one should die a death never to be reviv’d
For in our battles we the Slain men view with pity and love:
We soon revive them in the secret of our tabernacles
But I Vala, Luvahs daughter, keep his body embalmd in moral laws
With spices of sweet odours of lovely jealous stupefaction:
Within my bosom, lest he arise to life & slay my Luvah
30 Pity me then O Lamb of God! O Jesus pity me!
Come into Luvahs Tents, and seek not to revive the Dead!
So sang she: and the Spindle turnd furious as she sang:
The Children of Jerusalem the Souls of those who sleep
Were caught into the flax of her Distaff, & in her Cloud
To weave Jerusalem a body according to her will
A Dragon form on Zion Hills most ancient promontory
The Spindle turnd in blood & fire: loud sound the trumpets
Of war: the cymbals play loud before the Captains
With Cambel & Gwendolen in dance and solemn song
40 The Cloud of Rahab vibrating with the Daughters of Albion
Los saw terrified, melted with pity & divided in wrath
He sent them over the narrow seas in pity and love
Among the Four Forests of Albion which overspread all the Earth
They go forth & return swift as a flash of lightning,
Among the tribes of warriors: among the Stones of power!
Against Jerusalem they rage thro all the Nations of Europe
Thro Italy & Grecia, to Lebanon & Persia & India.
The Serpent Temples thro the Earth, from the wide Plain of Salisbury
Resound with cries of Victims, shouts & songs & dying groans
50 And flames of dusky fire, to Amalek, Canaan and Moab[.]
And Rahab like a dismal and indefinite hovering Cloud
Refusd to take a definite form, she hoverd over all the Earth
Calling the definite, sin: defacing every definite form;
Invisible, or Visible, stretchd out in length or spread in breadth:
Over the Temples drinking groans of victims weeping in pity,
And joying in the pity, howling over Jerusalems walls.
Hand slept on Skiddaws top: drawn by the love of beautiful
Cambel: his bright, beaming Counterpart, divided from him
And her delusive light beamd fierce above the Mountain,
60 Soft: invisible: drinking his sighs in sweet intoxication:
Drawing out fibre by fibre: returning to Albions Tree
At night: and in the morning to Skiddaw; she sent him over
Mountainous Wales into the Loom of Cathedron fibre by fibre:
He ran in tender nerves across Europe to Jerusalems Shade,
To weave Jerusalem a Body repugnant to the Lamb.
Hyle on East Moor in rocky Derbyshire, rav’d to the Moon
For Gwendolen: she took up in bitter tears his anguishd heart,
That apparent to all in Eternity, glows like the Sun in the breast:
She hid it in his ribs & back: she hid his tongue with teeth
70 In terrible convulsions pitying & gratified drunk with pity
Glowing with loveliness before him, becoming apparent
According to his changes: she roll’d his kidneys round
Into two irregular forms: and looking on Albions dread Tree,
She wove two vessels of seed, beautiful as Skiddaws snow;
Giving them bends of self interest & selfish natural virtue:
She hid them in his loins; raving he ran among the rocks,
Compelld into a shape of Moral Virtue against the Lamb.
The invisible lovely one giving him a form according to
His Law a form against the Lamb of God opposd to Mercy
80 And playing in the thunderous Loom in sweet intoxication
Filling cups of silver & crystal with shrieks & cries, with groans
And dolorous sobs: the wine of lovers in the Wine-press of Luvah
O sister Cambel said Gwendolen, as their long beaming light
Mingled above the Mountain[:] what shall we do to keep
These awful forms in our soft bands: vdistracted with trembling
PLATE 81
I have mockd those who refused cruelty & I have admired
The cruel Warrior. I have refused to give love to Merlin the piteous.
He brings to me the Images of his Love & I reject in chastity
And turn them out into the streets for Harlots to be food
To the stern Warrior. I am become perfect in beauty over my Warrior
For Men are caught by Love: Woman is caught by Pride
That Love may only be obtaind in the passages of Death.
Let us look: let us examine: is the Cruel become an Infant
Or is he still a cruel Warrior? look Sisters, look! O piteous
10 I have destroyd Wandring Reuben who strove to bind my Will
I have stripd off Josephs beautiful integument for my Beloved,
The Cruel-one of Albion: to clothe him in gems of my Zone
I have named him Jehovah of Hosts. Humanity is become
A weeping Infant in ruind lovely Jerusalems folding Cloud:
In Heaven Love begets Love! but Fear is the Parent of Earthly Love!
And he who will not bend to Love must be subdud by Fear,
PLATE 82
I have heard Jerusalems groans; from Vala’s cries & lamentations
I gather our eternal fate: Outcasts from life and love:
Unless we find a way to bind these awful Forms to our
Embrace we shall perish annihilate, discoverd our Delusions.
Look I have wrought without delusion: Look! I have wept!
And given soft milk mingled together with the spirits of flocks
Of lambs and doves, mingled together in cups and dishes
Of painted clay; the mighty Hyle is become a weeping infant;
Soon shall the Spectres of the Dead follow my weaving threads.
10 The Twelve Daughters of Albion attentive listen in secret shades
On Cambridge and Oxford beaming soft uniting with Rahabs cloud
While Gwendolen spoke to Cambel turning soft the spinning reel:
Or throwing the wingd shuttle; or drawing the cords with softest songs
The golden cords of the Looms animate beneath their touches soft,
Along the Island white, among the Druid Temples, while Gwendolen
Spoke to the Daughters of Albion standing on Skiddaws top.
So saying she took a Falsehood & hid it in her left hand:
To entice her Sisters away to Babylon on Euphrates.
And thus she closed her left hand and utterd her Falshood:
20 Forgetting that Falshood is prophetic, she hid her hand behind her,
Upon her back behind her loins & thus utterd her Deceit.
I heard Enitharmon say to Los: Let the Daughters of Albion
Be scatterd abroad and let the name of Albion be forgotten:
Divide them into three: name them Amalek Canaan & Moab:
Let Albion remain a desolation without an inhabitant:
And let the Looms of Enitharmon & the Furnaces of Los
Create Jerusalem, & Babylon & Egypt & Moab & Amalek,
And Helle & Hesperia & Hindostan & China & Japan.
But hide America, for a Curse an Altar of Victims & a Holy Place.
30 See Sisters Canaan is pleasant, Egypt is as the Garden of Eden:
Babylon is our chief desire, Moab our bath in summer:
Let us lead the stems of this Tree let us plant it before Jerusalem
To judge the Friend of Sinners to death without the Veil:
To cut her off from America, to close up her secret Ark:
And the fury of Man exhaust in War, Woman permanent remain
See how the fires of our loins point eastward to Babylon
Look, Hyle is become an infant Love: look! behold! see him lie!
Upon my bosom, look! here is the lovely wayward form
That gave me sweet delight by his torments beneath my Veil;
40 By the fruit of Albions Tree I have fed him with sweet milk
By contentions of the mighty for Sacrifice of Captives;
Humanity the Great Delusion: is changd to War & Sacrifice:
I have naild his hands on Beth Rabbim & his [feet] on Heshbons Wall:
O that I could live in his sight: O that I could bind him to my arm.
So saying: She drew aside her Veil from Mam-Tor to Dovedale
Discovering her own perfect beauty to the Daughters of Albion
And Hyle a winding Worm beneath [her Loom upon the scales.
Hyle was become a winding Worm:] & not a weeping Infant.
Trembling & pitying she screamd & fled upon the wind:
50 Hyle was a winding Worm and herself perfect in beauty:
The desarts tremble at his wrath: they shrink themselves in fear.
Cambel trembled with jealousy: she trembled! she envied!
The envy ran thro Cathedrons Looms into the Heart
Of mild Jerusalem, to destroy the Lamb of God. Jerusalem
Languishd upon Mount Olivet, East of mild Zions Hill.
Los saw the envious blight above his Seventh Furnace
On Londons Tower on the Thames: he drew Cambel in wrath,
Into his thundering Bellows, heaving it for a loud blast!
And with the blast of his Furnace upon fishy Billingsgate,
60 Beneath Albions fatal Tree, before the Gate of Los:
Shewd her the fibres of her beloved to ameliorate
The envy; loud she labourd in the Furnace of fire,
To form the mighty form of Hand according to her will.
In the Furnaces of Los & in the Wine-press treading day & night
Naked among the human clusters: bringing wine of anguish
To feed the afflicted in the Furnaces: she minded not
The raging flames, the she returnd [consumd day after day
A redning skeleton in howling woe:] instead of beauty
Defo[r]mity: she gave her beauty to another: bearing abroad
70 Her struggling torment in her iron arms: and like a chain,
Binding his wrists & ankles with the iron arms of love.
Gwendolen saw the Infant in her siste[r]s arms; she howld
Over the forests with bitter tears, and over the winding Worm
Repentant: and she also in the eddying wind of Los’s Bellows
Began her dolorous task of love in the Wine-press of Luvah
To form the Worm into a form of love by tears & pain.
The Sisters saw! trembling ran thro their Looms! soften[in]g mild
Towards London: then they saw the Furna[c]es opend, & in tears
Began to give their souls away in the Furna[c]es of affliction.
80 Los saw & was comforted at his Furnaces uttering thus his voice.
I know I am Urthona keeper of the Gates of Heaven,
And that I can at will expatiate in the Gardens of bliss;
But pangs of love draw me down to my loins which are
Become a fountain of veiny pipes: O Albion! my brother!
PLATE 83
Corrup[t]ability appears upon thy limbs, and never more
Can I arise and leave thy side, but labour here incessant
Till thy awaking: yet alas I shall forget Eternity:
Against the Patriarchal pomp and cruelty, labouring incessant
I shall become an Infant horror. Enion! Tharmas! friends
Absorb me not in such dire grief: O Albion, my brother!
Jerusalem hungers in the desart: affection to her children!
The scorn’d and contemnd youthful girl, where shall she fly?
10 Sussex shuts up her Villages. Hants, Devon & Wilts
Surrounded with masses of stone in orderd forms, determine then
A form for Vala and a form for Luvah, here on the Thames
Where the Victim nightly howls beneath the Druids knife:
A Form of Vegetation, nail them down on the stems of Mystery:
O when shall the Saxon return with the English his redeemed brother!
O when shall the Lamb of God descend among the Reprobate!
I woo to Amalek to protect my fugitives[.] Amalek trembles:
I call to Canaan & Moab in my night watches, they mourn:
They listen not to my cry, they rejo[i]ce among their warriors
Woden and Thor and Friga wholly consume my Saxons:
20 On their enormous Altars built in the terrible north:
From Irelands rocks to Scandinavia Persia and Tartary:
From the Atlantic Sea to the universal Erythrean.
Found ye London! enormous City! weeps thy River?
Upon his parent bosom lay thy little ones O Land
Forsaken. Surrey and Sussex are Enitharmons Chamber.
Where I will build her a Couch of repose & my pillars
Shall surround her in beautiful labyrinths: Oothoon?
Where hides my child? in Oxford hidest thou with Antamon?
In graceful hidings of error: in merciful deceit
30 Lest Hand the terrible destroy his Affection. thou hidest her:
In chaste appearances for sweet deceits of love & modesty
Immingled, interwoven, glistening to the sickening sight.
Let Cambel and her Sisters sit within the Mundane Shell:
Forming the fluctuating Globe according to their will.
According as they weave the little embryon nerves & veins
The Eye, the little Nostrils, & the delicate Tongue & Ears
Of labyrinthine intricacy: so shall they fold the World
That whatever is seen upon the Mundane Shell, the same
Be seen upon the Fluctuating Earth woven by the Sisters.
40 And sometimes the Earth shall roll in the Abyss & sometimes
Stand in the Center & sometimes stretch flat in the Expanse,
According to the will of the lovely Daughters of Albion.
Sometimes it shall assimilate with mighty Golgonooza:
Touching its summits: & sometimes divided roll apart.
As a beautiful Veil so these Females shall fold & unfold
According to their will the outside surface of the Earth
An outside shadowy Surface superadded to the real Surface;
Which is unchangeable for ever & ever Amen: so be it!
Separate Albions Sons gently from their Emanations,
50 Weaving bowers of delight on the current of infant Thames
Where the old Parent still retains his youth as I alas!
Retain my youth eight thousand and five hundred years.
The labourer of ages in the Valleys of Despair:
The land is markd for desolation & unless we plant
The seeds of Cities & of Villages in the Human bosom
Albion must be a rock of blood: mark ye the points
Where Cities shall remain & where Villages[;] for the rest:
It must lie in confusion till Albions time of awaking.
Place the Tribes of Llewellyn in America for a hiding place:
60 Till sweet Jerusalem emanates again into Eternity
The night falls thick: I go upon my watch: be attentive:
The Sons of Albion go forth; I follow from my Furnaces:
That they return no more: that a place be prepard on Euphrates
Listen to your Watchmans voice: sleep not before the Furnaces
Eternal Death stands at the door. O God pity our labours.
So Los spoke, to the Daughters of Beulah while his Emanation
Like a faint rainbow waved before him in the awful gloom
Of London City on the Thames from Surrey Hills to Highgate:
Swift turn the silver spindles, & the golden weights play soft
70 And lulling harmonies beneath the Looms, from Caithness in the north
To Lizard-point & Dover in the south: his Emanation
Joy’d in the many weaving threads in bright Cathedrons Dome
Weaving the Web of life for Jerusalem, the Web of life
Down flowing into Entuthons Vales glistens with soft affections.
While Los arose upon his Watch, and down from Golgonooza
Putting on his golden sandals to walk from mountain to mountain,
He takes his way, girding himself with gold & in his hand
Holding his iron mace: The Spectre remains attentive
Alternate they watch in night: alternate labour in day
80 Before the Furnaces labouring, while Los all night watches
The stars rising & setting, & the meteors & terrors of night.
With him went down the Dogs of Leutha, at his feet
They lap the water of the trembling Thames then follow swift
And thus he heard the voice of Albions daughters on Euphrates,
Our Father Albions land: O it was a lovely land! & the Daughters of Beulah
Walked up and down in its green mountains: but Hand is fled
Away: & mighty Hyle: & after them Jerusalem is gone: Awake
PLATE 84
Highgates heights & Hampsteads, to Poplar Hackney & Bow
To Islington & Paddington & the Brook of Albions River
We builded Jerusalem as a City & a Temple: from Lambeth
We began our Foundations; lovely Lambeth! O lovely Hills
Of Camberwell, we shall behold you no more in glory & pride
For Jerusalem lies in ruins & the Furnaces of Los are builded there
You are now shrunk up to a narrow Rock in the midst of the Sea
But here we build Babylon on Euphrates, compelld to build
And to inhabit, our Little-ones to clothe in armour of the gold
10 Of Jerusalems Cherubims & to forge them swords of her Altars
I see London blind & age-bent begging thro the Streets
Of Babylon, led by a child, his tears run down his beard
The voice of Wandering Reuben ecchoes from street to street
In all the Cities of the Nations Paris Madrid Amsterdam
The Corner of Broad Street weeps; Poland Street languishes
To Great Queen Street & Lincolns Inn, all is distress & woe.
[three lines gouged out irrecoverably]
20 The night falls thick Hand comes from Albion in his strength
He combines into a Mighty-one the Double Molech & Chemosh
Marching thro Egypt in his fury the East is pale at his course
The Nations of India, the Wild Tartar that never knew Man
Starts from his lofty places & casts down his tents & flees away
But we woo him all the night in songs, O Los come forth O Los
Divide us from these terrors & give us power them to subdue
Arise upon thy Watches let us see thy Globe of fire
On Albions Rocks & let thy voice be heard upon Euphrates.
Thus sang the Daughters in lamentation, uniting into One
30 With Rahab as she turnd the iron Spindle of destruction.
Terrified at the Sons of Albion they took the Falshood which
Gwendolen hid in her left hand, it grew & grew till it
PLATE 85
Became a Space & an Allegory around the Winding Worm[.]
They namd it Canaan & built for it a tender Moon
Los smild with joy thinking on Enitharmon & he brought
Reuben from his twelvefold wandrings & led him into it
Planting the Seeds of the Twelve Tribes & Moses & David
And gave a Time & Revolution to the Space Six Thousand Years
He calld it Divine Analogy, for in Beulah the Feminine
Emanations Create Space, the Masculine Create Time, & plant
The Seeds of beauty in the Space: listning to their lamentation
10 Los walks upon his ancient Mountains in the deadly darkness
Among his Furnaces directing his laborious Myriads watchful
Looking to the East: & his voice is heard over the whole Earth
As he watches the Furnaces by night, & directs the labourers
And thus Los replies upon his Watch: the Valleys listen silent:
The Stars stand still to hear: Jerusalem & Vala cease to mourn:
His voice is heard from Albion: the Alps & Appenines
Listen: Hermon & Lebanon bow their crowned heads
Babel & Shinar look toward the Western Gate, they sit down
Silent at his voice: they view the red Globe of fire in Los’s hand
20 As he walks from Furnace to Furnace directing the Labourers
And this is the Song of Los, the Song that he sings on his Watch
O lovely mild Jerusalem! O Shiloh of Mount Ephraim!
I see thy Gates of precious stones: thy Walls of gold & silver
Thou art the soft reflected Image of the Sleeping Man
Who stretchd on Albions rocks reposes amidst his Twenty-eight
Cities: where Beulah lovely terminates, in the hills & valleys of Albion
Cities not yet embodied in Time and Space: plant ye
The Seeds O Sisters in the bosom of Time & Spaces womb
To spring up for Jerusalem: lovely Shadow of Sleeping Albion
30 Why wilt thou rend thyself apart & build an Earthly Kingdom
To reign in pride & to opress & to mix the Cup of Delusion
O thou that dwellest with Babylon! Come forth O lovely-one
PLATE 86
I see thy Form O lovely mild Jerusalem, Wingd with Six Wings
In the opacous Bosom of the Sleeper, lovely Three-fold
In Head & Heart & Reins three Universes of love & beauty
Thy forehead bright: Holiness to the Lord, with Gates of pearl
Reflects Eternity beneath thy azure wings of feathery down
Ribbd delicate & clothd with featherd gold & azure & purple
From thy white shoulders shadowing, purity in holiness!
Thence featherd with soft crimson of the ruby bright as fire
Spreading into the azure Wings which like a canopy
10 Bends over thy immortal Head in which Eternity dwells
Albion beloved Land; I see thy mountains & thy hills
And valleys & thy pleasant Cities Holiness to the Lord
I see the Spectres of thy Dead O Emanation of Albion.
Thy Bosom white, translucent coverd with immortal gems
A sublime ornament not obscuring the outlines of beauty
Terrible to behold for thy extreme beauty & perfection
Twelve-fold here all the Tribes of Israel I behold
Upon the Holy Land: I see the River of Life & Tree of Life
I see the New Jerusalem descending out of Heaven
20 Between thy Wings of gold & silver featherd immortal
Clear as the rainbow, as the cloud of the Suns tabernacle
Thy Reins coverd with Wings translucent sometimes covering
And sometimes spread abroad reveal the flames of holiness
Which like a robe covers: & like a Veil of Seraphim
In flaming fire unceasing burns from Eternity to Eternity
Twelvefold I there behold Israel in her Tents
A Pillar of a Cloud by day: a Pillar of fire by night
Guides them: there I behold Moab & Ammon & Amalek
There Bells of silver round thy knees living articulate
30 Comforting sounds of love & harmony & on thy feet
Sandals of gold & pearl, & Egypt & Assyria before me
The Isles of Javan, Philistea, Tyre and Lebanon
Thus Los sings upon his Watch walking from Furnace to Furnace.
He siezes his Hammer every hour, flames surround him as
He beats: seas roll beneath his feet, tempests muster
Arou[n]d his head, the thick hail stones stand ready to obey
His voice in the black cloud, his Sons labour in thunders
At his Furnaces; his Daughters at their Looms sing woes[.]
His Emanation separates in milky fibres agonizing
40 Among the golden Looms of Cathedron sending fibres of love
From Golgonooza with sweet visions for Jerusalem, wanderer.
Nor can any consummate bliss without being Generated
On Earth; of those whose Emanations weave the loves
Of Beulah for Jerusalem & Shiloh, in immortal Golgonooza
Concentering in the majestic form of Erin in eternal tears
Viewing the Winding Worm on the Desarts of Great Tartary
Viewing Los in his shudderings, pouring balm on his sorrows
So dread is Los’s fury, that none dare him to approach
Without becoming his Children in the Furnaces of affliction
50 And Enitharmon like a faint rainbow waved before him
Filling with Fibres from his loins which reddend with desire
Into a Globe of blood beneath his bosom trembling in darkness
Of Albions clouds, he fed it, with his tears & bitter groans
Hiding his Spectre in invisibility from the timorous Shade
Till it became a separated cloud of beauty grace & love
Among the darkness of his Furnaces dividing asunder till
She separated stood before him a lovely Female weeping
Even Enitharmon separated outside, & his Loins closed
And heal’d after the separation: his pains he soon forgot:
Lured by her beauty outside of himself in shadowy grief.
60 Two Wills they had; Two Intellects: & not as in times of old.
Silent they wanderd hand in hand like two Infants wandring
From Enion in the desarts, terrified at each others beauty
Envying each other yet desiring, in all devouring Love,
PLATE 87
Repelling weeping Enion blind & age-bent into the fourfold
Desarts. Los first broke silence & begun to utter his love
O lovely Enitharmon: I behold thy graceful forms
Moving beside me till intoxicated with the woven labyrinth
Of beauty & perfection my wild fibres shoot in veins
Of blood thro all my nervous limbs. soon overgrown in roots
I shall be closed from thy sight, sieze therefore in thy hand
The small fibres as they shoot around me draw out in pity
And let them run on the winds of thy bosom: I will fix them
10 With pulsations, we will divide them into Sons & Daughters
To live in thy Bosoms translucence as in an eternal morning
Enitharmon answerd. No! I will sieze thy Fibres & weave
Them: not as thou wilt but as I will, for I will Create
A round Womb beneath my bosom lest I also be overwoven
With Love; be thou assured I never will be thy slave
Let Mans delight be Love; but Womans delight be Pride[.]
In Eden our loves were the same here they are opposite
I have Loves of my own I will weave them in Albions Spectre
Cast thou in Jerusalems shadows thy Loves! silk of liquid
20 Rubies Jacinths Crysolites: issuing from thy Furnaces. While
Jerusalem divides thy care: while thou carest for Jerusalem
Know that I never will be thine: also thou hidest Vala
From her these fibres shoot to shut me in a Grave.
You are Albions Victim, he has set his Daughter in your path
PLATE 88
Los answerd sighing like the Bellows of his Furnaces
I care not! the swing of my Hammer shall measure the starry round[.]
When in Eternity Man converses with Man they enter
Into each others Bosom (which are Universes of delight)
In mutual interchange, and first their Emanations meet
Surrounded by their Children, if they embrace & comingle
The Human Four-fold Forms mingle also in thunders of Intellect
But if the Emanations mingle not; with storms & agitations
Of earthquakes & consuming fires they roll apart in fear
10 For Man cannot unite with Man but by their Emanations
Which stand both Male & Female at the Gates of each Humanity
How then can I ever again be united as Man with Man
While thou my Emanation refusest my Fibres of dominion?
When Souls mingle & join thro all the Fibres of Brotherhood
Can there be any secret joy on Earth greater than this?
Enitharmon answerd: This is Womans World, nor need she any
Spectre to defend her from Man. I will Create secret places
And the masculine names of the places Merlin & Arthur.
A triple Female Tabernacle for Moral Law I weave
20 That he who loves Jesus may loathe terrified Female love
Till God himself become a Male subservient to the Female.
She spoke in scorn & jealousy, alternate torments; and
So speaking she sat down on Sussex shore singing lulling
Cadences & playing in sweet intoxication among the glistening
Fibres of Los: sending them over the Ocean eastward into
The realms of dark death; O perverse to thyself, contrarious
To thy own purposes; for when she began to weave
Shooting out in sweet pleasure her bosom in milky Love
Flowd into the aching fibres of Los, yet contending against him
30 In pride sending his Fibres over to her objects of jealousy
In the little lovely Allegoric Night of Albions Daughters
Which stretchd abroad, expanding east & west & north & south
Thro’ all the World of Erin & of Los & all their Children
A sullen smile broke from the Spectre in mockery & scorn
Knowing himself the author of their divisions & shrinkings, gratified
At their contentions, he wiped his tears he washd his visage.
The Man who respects Woman shall be despised by Woman
And deadly cunning & mean abjectness only, shall enjoy them
For I will make their places of joy & love, excrementitious[.]
40 Continually building, continually destroying in Family feuds
While you are under the dominion of a jealous Female
Unpermanent for ever because of love & jealousy,
You shall want all the Minute Particulars of Life
Thus joyd the Spectre in the dusky fires of Los’s Forge, eyeing
Enitharmon who at her shining Looms sings lulling cadences
While Los stood at his Anvil in wrath the victim of their love
And hate: dividing the Space of Love with brazen Compasses
In Golgonooza & in Udan-Adan & in Entuthon of Urizen.
The blow of his Hammer is Justice, the swing of his Hammer Mercy.
50 The force of Los’s Hammer is eternal Forgiveness; but
His rage or his mildness were vain, she scatterd his love on the wind
Eastward into her own Center, creating the Female Womb.
In mild Jerusalem around the Lamb of God. Loud howl
The Furnaces of Los! I loud roll the Wheels of Enitharmon
The Four Zoa’s in all their faded majesty burst out in fury
And fire, Jerusalem took the Cup which foamd in Vala’s hand
Like the red Sun upon the mountains in the bloody day
Upon the Hermaphroditic Wine-presses of Love & Wrath.
PLATE 89
Tho divided by the Cross & Nails & Thorns & Spear
In cruelties of Rahab & Tirzah[,] permanent endure
A terrible indefinite Hermaphroditic form
A Wine-press of Love & Wrath double Hermaph[r]oditic
Twelvefold in Allegoric pomp in selfish holiness
The Pharisaion, the Grammateis, the Presbuterion,
The Archiereus, the Iereus, the Saddusaion, double
Each withoutside of the other, covering eastern heaven
Thus was the Covering Cherub reveald majestic image
10 Of Selfhood, Body put off, the Antichrist accursed
Coverd with precious stones, a Human Dragon terrible
And bright, stretchd over Europe & Asia gorgeous
In three nights he devourd the rejected corse of death
His Head dark, deadly, in its Brain incloses a reflexion
Of Eden all perverted: Egypt on the Gihon many tongued
And many mouthd: Ethiopia, Lybia, the Sea of Rephaim
Minute Particulars in slavery I behold among the brick-kilns
Disorganiz’d, & there is Pharoh in his iron Court:
And the Dragon of the River & the Furnaces of iron.
20 Outwoven from Thames & Tweed & Severn awful streams
Twelve ridges of Stone frown over all the Earth in tyrant pride
Frown over each River stupendous Works of Albions Druid Sons
And Albions Forests of Oaks coverd the Earth from Pole to Pole
His Bosom wide reflects Moab & Ammon, on the River
Pison, since calld Arnon, there is Heshbon beautiful
The Rocks of Rabbath on the Arnon & the Fish-pools of Heshbon
Whose currents flow into the Dead Sea by Sodom & Gomorra
Above his Head high arching Wings black filld with Eyes
Spring upon iron sinews from the Scapulae & Os Humeri.
30 There Israel in bondage to his Generalizing Gods
Molech & Chemosh, & in his left breast is Philistea
In Druid Temples over the whole Earth with Victims Sacrifice,
From Gaza to Damascus Tyre & Sidon & the Gods
Of Javan thro the Isles of Grecia & all Europes Kings
Where Hiddekel pursues his course among the rocks
Two Wings spring from his ribs of brass, starry, black as night
But translucent their blackness as the dazling of gems
His Loins inclose Babylon on Euphrates beautiful
And Rome in sweet Hesperia, there Israel scatterd abroad
40 In martyrdoms & slavery I behold: ah vision of sorrow!
Inclosd by eyeless Wings, glowing with fire as the iron
Heated in the Smiths forge, but cold the wind of their dread fury
But in the midst of a devouring Stomach, Jerusalem
Hidden within the Covering Cherub as in a Tabernacle
Of threefold workmanship in allegoric delusion & woe[.]
There the Seven Kings of Canaan & Five Baalim of Philistea
Sihon & Og the Anakim & Emim, Nephilim & Gibborim
From Babylon to Rome & the Wings spread from Japan
Where the Red Sea terminates the World of Generation & Death
50 To Irelands farthest rocks where Giants builded their Causeway
Into the Sea of Rephaim, but the Sea oerwhelmd them all.
A Double Female now appeard within the Tabernacle,
Religion hid in War, a Dragon red & hidden Harlot
Each within other, but without a Warlike Mighty-one
Of dreadful power, sitting upon Horeb pondering dire
And mighty preparations mustering multitudes innumerable
Of warlike sons among the sands of Midian & Aram
For multitudes of those who sleep in Alla descend
Lured by his warlike symphonies of tabret pipe & harp
60 Burst the bottoms of the Graves & Funeral Arks of Beulah
Wandering in that unknown Night beyond the silent Grave
They become One with the Antichrist & are absorbd in him
PLATE 90
The Feminine separates from the Masculine & both from Man,
Ceasing to be His Emanations, Life to Themselves assuming:
And while they circumscribe his Brain, & while they circumscribe
His Heart, & while they circumscribe his Loins: a Veil & Net
Of Veins of red Blood grows around them like a scarlet robe,
Covering them from the sight of Man like the woven Veil of Sleep
Such as the Flowers of Beulah weave to be their Funeral Mantles
But dark! opake! tender to touch, & painful! & agonizing
To the embrace of love, & to the mingling of soft fibres
10 Of tender affection, that no more the Masculine mingles
With the Feminine, but the Sublime is shut out from the Pathos
In howling torment, to build stone walls of separation, compelling
The Pathos, to weave curtains of hiding secresy from the torment.
Bowen & Conwenna stood on Skiddaw cutting the Fibres
Of Benjamin from Chesters River: loud the River; loud the Mersey
And the Ribble, thunder into the Irish sea, as the Twelve Sons
Of Albion drank & imbibed the Life & eternal Form of Luvah
Cheshire & Lancashire & Westmoreland groan in anguish
As they cut the fibres from the Rivers he sears them with hot
Iron of his Forge & fixes them into Bones of chalk & Rock
20 Conwenna sat above: with solemn cadences she drew
Fibres of life out from the Bones into her golden Loom
Hand had his Furnace on Highgate heights & it reachd
To Brockley Hills across the Thames: he with double Boadicea
In cruel pride cut Reuben apart from the Hills of Surrey
Comingling with Luvah & with the Sepulcher of Luvah
For the Male is a Furnace of beryll: the Female is a golden Loom
Los cries: No Individual ought to appropriate to Himself
Or to his Emanation, any of the Universal Characteristics
30 Of David or of Eve, of the Woman, or of the Lord.
Of Reuben or of Benjamin, of Joseph or Judah or Levi[.]
Those who dare appropriate to themselves Universal Attributes
Are the Blasphemous Selfhoods & must be broken asunder[.]
A Vegetated Christ & a Virgin Eve, are the Hermaphroditic
Blasphemy, by his Maternal Birth he is that Evil-One
And his Maternal Humanity must be put off Eternally
Lest the Sexual Generation swallow up Regeneration
Come Lord Jesus take on thee the Satanic Body of Holiness
So Los cried in the Valleys of Middlesex in the Spirit of Prophecy
40 While in Selfhood Hand & Hyle & Bowen & Skofeld appropriate
The Divine Names: seeking to Vegetate the Divine Vision
In a corporeal & ever dying Vegetation & Corruption
Mingling with Luvah in One, they become One Great Satan
Loud scream the Daughters of Albion beneath the Tongs & Hammer
Dolorous are their lamentations in the burning Forge
They drink Reuben & Benjamin as the iron drinks the fire
They are red hot with cruelty: raving along the Banks of Thames
And on Tyburns Brook among the howling Victims in loveliness
While Hand & Hyle condense the Little-ones & erect them into
50 A mighty Temple even to the stars: but they Vegetate
Beneath Los’s Hammer, that Life may not be blotted out.
For Los said: When the Individual appropriates Universality
He divides into Male & Female: & when the Male & Female,
Appropriate Individuality, they become an Eternal Death.
Hermaphroditic worshippers of a God of cruelty & law!
Your Slaves & Captives; you compell to worship a God of Mercy.
These are the Demonstrations of Los, & the blows of my mighty Hammer
So Los spoke. And the Giants of Albion terrified & ashamed
With Los’s thunderous Words, began to build trembling rocking Stones
60 For his Words roll in thunders & lightnings among the Temples
Terrified rocking to & fro upon the earth, & sometimes
Resting in a Circle in Malden or in Strathness or Dura.
Plotting to devour Albion & Los the friend of Albion
Denying in private: mocking God & Eternal Life: & in Public
Collusion, calling themselves Deists, Worshipping the Maternal
Humanity; calling it Nature, and Natural Religion
But still the thunder of Los peals loud & thus the thunder’s cry
These beautiful Witchcrafts of Albion, are gratifyd by Cruelty
PLATE 91
It is easier to forgive an Enemy than to forgive a Friend:
The man who permits you to injure him, deserves your vengeance:
He also will recieve it; go Spectre! obey my most secret desire:
Which thou knowest without my speaking: Go to these Fiends of Righteousness
Tell them to obey their Humanities, & not pretend Holiness;
When they are murderers: as far as my Hammer & Anvil permit
Go, tell them that the Worship of God, is honouring his gifts
In other men: & loving the greatest men best, each according
To his Genius: which is the Holy Ghost in Man; there is no other
10 God, than that God who is the intellectual fountain of Humanity;
He who envies or calumniates: which is murder & cruelty,
Murders the Holy-one: Go tell them this & overthrow their cup,
Their bread, their altar-table, their incense & their oath:
Their marriage & their baptism, their burial & consecration:
I have tried to make friends by corporeal gifts but have only
Made enemies: I never made friends but by spiritual gifts;
By severe contentions of friendship & the burning fire of thought.
He who would see the Divinity must see him in his Children
One first, in friendship & love; then a Divine Family, & in the midst
20 Jesus will appear; so he who wishes to see a Vision; a perfect Whole
Must see it in its Minute Particulars; Organized & not as thou
O Fiend of Righteousness pretendest; thine is a Disorganized
And snowy cloud: brooder of tempests & destructive War.
You smile with pomp & rigor: you talk of benevolence & virtue:
I act with benevolence & Virtue & get murderd time after time:
You accumulate Particulars, & murder by analyzing, that you
May take the aggregate; & you call the aggregate Moral Law:
And you call that Swelld & bloated Form; a Minute Particular.
But General Forms have their vitality in Particulars: & every
30 Particular is a Man; a Divine Member of the Divine Jesus.
So Los cried at his Anvil in the horrible darkness weeping:
The Spectre builded stupendous Works, taking the Starry Heavens
Like to a curtain & folding them according to his will
Repeating the Smaragdine Table of Hermes to draw Los down
Into the Indefinite, refusing to believe without demonstration[.]
Los reads the Stars of Albion! the Spectre reads the Voids
Between the Stars: among the arches of Albions Tomb sublime
Rolling the Sea in rocky paths: forming Leviathan
And Behemoth: the War by Sea enormous & the War
40 By Land astounding: erecting pillars in the deepest Hell,
To reach the heavenly arches; Los beheld undaunted furious
His heavd Hammer; he swung it round & at one blow,
In unpitying ruin driving down the pyramids of pride
Smiting the Spectre on his Anvil & the integuments of his Eye
And Ear unbinding in dire pain, with many blows,
Of strict severity self-subduing, & with many tears labouring.
Then he sent forth the Spectre all his pyramids were grains
Of sand & his pillars: dust on the flys wing: & his starry
Heavens; a moth of gold & silver mocking his anxious grasp
50 Thus Los alterd his Spectre & every Ratio of his Reason
He alterd time after time, with dire pain & many tears
Till he had completely divided him into a separate space.
Terrified Los sat to behold trembling & weeping & howling
I care not whether a Man is Good or Evil; all that I care
Is whether he is a Wise Man or a Fool. Go! put off Holiness
And put on Intellect: or my thundrous Hammer shall drive thee
To wrath which thou condemnest: till thou obey my voice
So Los terrified cries: trembling & weeping & howling! Beholding
PLATE 92
What do I see? The Briton Saxon Roman Norman amalgamating
In my Furnaces into One Nation the English: & taking refuge
In the Loins of Albion. The Canaanite united with the fugitive
Hebrew, whom she divided into Twelve, & sold into Egypt
Then scatterd the Egyptian & Hebrew to the four Winds:
This sinful Nation Created in our Furnaces & Looms is Albion
So Los spoke. Enitharmon answerd in great terror in Lambeths Vale
The Poets Song draws to its period & Enitharmon is no more.
For if he be that Albion I can never weave him in my Looms
10 But when he touches the first fibrous thread, like filmy dew
My Looms will be no more & I annihilate vanish for ever
Then thou wilt Create another Female according to thy Will.
Los answerd swift as the shuttle of gold. Sexes must vanish & cease
To be, when Albion arises from his dread repose O lovely Enitharmon:
When all their Crimes, their Punishments their Accusations of Sin:
All their Jealousies Revenges, Murders, hidings of Cruelty in Deceit
Appear only in the Outward Spheres of Visionary Space and Time,
In the shadows of Possibility by Mutual Forgiveness forevermore
And in the Vision & in the Prophecy, that we may Foresee & Avoid
20 The terrors of Creation & Redemption & Judgment. Beholding them
Displayd in the Emanative Visions of Canaan in Jerusalem & in Shiloh
And in the Shadows of Remembrance, & in the Chaos of the Spectre
Amalek, Edom, Egypt, Moab, Ammon, Ashur, Philistea, around Jerusalem
Where the Druids reard their Rocky Circles to make permanent Remembrance
Of Sin, & the Tree of Good & Evil sprang from the Rocky Circle & Snake
Of the Druid, along the Valley of Rephaim from Camberwell to Golgotha
And framed the Mundane Shell Cavernous in Length Bredth & Highth
PLATE 93
Enitharmon heard. She raisd her head like the mild Moon
O Rintrah! O Palamabron! What are your dire & awful purposes
Enitharmons name is nothing before you: you forget all my Love!
The Mothers love of obedience is forgotten & you seek a Love
Of the pride of dominion, that will Divorce Ocalythron & Elynittria
Upon East Moor in Derbyshire & along the Valleys of Cheviot
Could you Love me Rintrah, if you Pride not in my Love
As Reuben found Mandrakes in the field & gave them to his Mother
Pride meets with Pride upon the Mountains in the stormy day
10 In that terrible Day of Rintrahs Plow & of Satans driving the Team.
Ah! then I heard my little ones weeping along the Valley:
Ah! then I saw my beloved ones fleeing from my Tent
Merlin was like thee Rintrah among the Giants of Albion
Judah was like Palamabron: O Simeon! O Levi! ye fled away
How can I hear my little ones weeping along the Valley
Or how upon the distant Hills see my beloveds Tents.
Then Los again took up his speech as Enitharmon ceast
Fear not my Sons this Waking Death, he is become One with me
Behold him here! We shall not Die! we shall be united in Jesus.
20 Will you suffer this Satan this Body of Doubt that Seems but Is Not
To occupy the very threshold of Eternal Life, if Bacon, Newton, Locke,
Deny a Conscience in Man & the Communion of Saints & Angels
Contemning the Divine Vision & Fruition, Worshiping the Deus
Of the Heathen, The God of This World, & the Goddess Nature
Mystery Babylon the Great, The Druid Dragon & hidden Harlot[,]
Is it not that Signal of the Morning which was told us in the Beginning
Thus they converse upon Mam-Tor, the Graves thunder under their feet
PLATE 94
Albion cold lays on his Rock: storms & snows beat round him.
Beneath the Furnaces & the starry Wheels & the Immortal Tomb
Howling winds cover him: roaring seas dash furious against him
In the deep darkness broad lightnings glare long thunders roll
The weeds of Death inwrap his hands & feet blown incessant
And washd incessant by the for-ever restless sea-waves foaming abroad
Upon the white Rock. England a Female Shadow as deadly damps
Of the Mines of Cornwall & Derbyshire lays upon his bosom heavy
Moved by the wind in volumes of thick cloud returning folding round
10 His loins & bosom unremovable by swelling storms & loud rending
Of enraged thunders. Around them the Starry Wheels of their Giant Sons
Revolve: & over them the Furnaces of Los & the Immortal Tomb around
Erin sitting in the Tomb, to watch them unceasing night and day
And the Body of Albion was closed apart from all Nations.
Over them the famishd Eagle screams on boney Wings and around
Them howls the Wolf of famine deep heaves the Ocean black thundering
Around the wormy Garments of Albion: then pausing in deathlike silence
Time was Finished! The Breath Divine Breathed over Albion
Beneath the Furnaces & starry Wheels and in the Immortal Tomb
20 And England who is Brittannia awoke, from Death on Albions bosom
She awoke pale & cold she fainted seven times on the Body of Albion
O pitious Sleep O pitious Dream! O God O God awake I have slain
In Dreams of Chastity & Moral Law I have Murdered Albion! Ah!
In Stone-henge & on London Stone & in the Oak Groves of Malden
I have Slain him in my Sleep with the Knife of the Druid O England
O all ye Nations of the Earth behold ye the Jealous Wife
The Eagle & the Wolf & Monkey & Owl & the King & Priest were there
PLATE 95
Her voice pierc’d Albions clay cold ear. he moved upon the Rock.
The Breath Divine went forth upon the morning hills, Albion mov’d
Upon the Rock, he opend his eyelids in pain; in pain he mov’d
His stony members, he saw England. Ah! shall the Dead live again
The Breath Divine went forth over the morning hills Albion rose
In anger: the wrath of God breaking bright flaming on all sides around
His awful limbs: into the Heavens he walked clothed in flames
Loud thundring, with broad flashes of flaming lightning & pillars
Of fire, speaking the Words of Eternity in Human Forms, in direful
10 Revolutions of Action & Passion, thro the Four Elements on all sides
Surrounding his awful Members. Thou seest the Sun in heavy clouds
Struggling to rise above the Mountains, in his burning hand
He takes his Bow, then chooses out his arrows of flaming gold
Murmuring the Bowstring breathes with ardor! clouds roll round the
Horns of the wide Bow, loud sounding winds sport on the mountain brows
Compelling Urizen to his Furrow; & Tharmas to his Sheepfold;
And Luvah to his Loom: Urthona he beheld mighty labouring at
His Anvil, in the Great Spectre Los unwearied labouring & weeping
Therefore the Sons of Eden praise Urthonas Spectre in songs
Because he kept the Divine Vision in time of trouble.
20 As the Sun & Moon lead forward the Visions of Heaven & Earth
England who is Brittannia enterd Albions bosom rejoicing,
Rejoicing in his indignation! adoring his wrathful rebuke.
She who adores not your frowns will only loathe your smiles
PLATE 96
As the Sun & Moon lead forward the Visions of Heaven & Earth
England who is Brittannia entered Albions bosom rejoicing
Then Jesus appeared standing by Albion as the Good Shepherd
By the lost Sheep that he hath found & Albion knew that it
Was the Lord the Universal Humanity, & Albion saw his Form
A Man, & they conversed as Man with Man, in Ages of Eternity
And the Divine Appearance was the likeness & similitude of Los
Albion said. O Lord what can I do! my Selfhood cruel
Marches against thee deceitful from Sinai & from Edom
10 Into the Wilderness of Judah to meet thee in his pride
I behold the Visions of my deadly Sleep of Six Thousand Years
Dazling around thy skirts like a Serpent of precious stones & gold
I know it is my Self: O my Divine Creator & Redeemer
Jesus replied Fear not Albion unless I die thou canst not live
But if I die I shall arise again & thou with me
This is Friendship & Brotherhood without it Man Is Not
So Jesus spoke: the Covering Cherub coming on in darkness
Overshadowd them & Jesus said Thus do Men in Eternity
One for another to put off by forgiveness, every sin
20 Albion replyd. Cannot Man exist without Mysterious
Offering of Self for Another, is this Friendship & Brotherhood
I see thee in the likeness & similitude of Los my Friend
Jesus said. Wouldest thou love one who never died
For thee or ever die for one who had not died for thee
And if God dieth not for Man & giveth not himself
Eternally for Man Man could not exist! for Man is Love:
As God is Love: every kindness to another is a little Death
In the Divine Image nor can Man exist but by Brotherhood
So saying the Cloud overshadowing divided them asunder
30 Albion stood in terror: not for himself but for his Friend
Divine, & Self was lost in the contemplation of faith
And wonder at the Divine Mercy & at Los’s sublime honour
Do I sleep amidst danger to Friends! O my Cities & Counties
Do you sleep! rouze up! rouze up. Eternal Death is abroad
So Albion spoke & threw himself into the Furnaces of affliction
All was a Vision, all a Dream: the Furnaces became
Fountains of Living Waters flowing from the Humanity Divine
And all the Cities of Albion rose from their Slumbers, and All
The Sons & Daughters of Albion on soft clouds Waking from Sleep
40 Soon all around remote the Heavens burnt with flaming fires
And Urizen & Luvah & Tharmas & Urthona arose into
Albions Bosom: Then Albion stood before Jesus in the Clouds
Of Heaven Fourfold among the Visions of God in Eternity
PLATE 97
Awake! Awake Jerusalem! O lovely Emanation of Albion
Awake and overspread all Nations as in Ancient Time
For lo! the Night of Death is past and the Eternal Day
Appears upon our Hills: Awake Jerusalem, and come away
So spake the Vision of Albion & in him so spake in my hearing
The Universal Father Then Albion stretchd his hand into Infinitude,
And took his Bow. Fourfold the Vision for bright beaming Urizen
Layd his hand on the South & took a breathing Bow of carved Gold
Luvah his hand stretch’d to the East & bore a Silver Bow bright shining
10 Tharmas Westward a Bow of Brass pure flaming richly wrought
Urthona Northward in thick storms a Bow of Iron terrible thundering.
And the Bow is a Male & Female & the Quiver of the Arrows of Love,
Are the Children of this Bow: a Bow of Mercy & Loving-kindness: laying
Open the hidden Heart in Wars of mutual Benevolence Wars of Love
And the Hand of Man grasps firm between the Male & Female Loves
And he Clothed himself in Bow & Arrows in awful state Fourfold
In the midst of his Twenty-eight Cities each with his Bow breathing
PLATE 98
Then each an Arrow flaming from his Quiver fitted carefully
They drew fourfold the unreprovable String, bending thro the wide Heavens
The horned Bow Fourfold, loud sounding flew the flaming Arrow fourfold
Murmuring the Bow-string breathes with ardor. Clouds roll round the horns
Of the wide Bow, loud sounding Winds sport on the Mountains brows:
The Druid Spectre was Annihilate loud thundring rejoicing terrific vanishing
Fourfold Annihilation & at the clangor of the Arrows of Intellect
The innumerable Chariots of the Almighty appeard in Heaven
And Bacon & Newton & Locke, & Milton & Shakspear & Chaucer
10 A Sun of blood red wrath surrounding heaven on all sides around
Glorious incompreh[en]sible by Mortal Man & each Chariot was Sexual Threefold
And every Man stood Fourfold, each Four Faces had. One to the West
One toward the East One to the South One to the North, the Horses Fourfold
And the dim Chaos brightend beneath, above, around! Eyed as the Peacock
According to the Human Nerves of Sensation, the Four Rivers of the Water of Life
South stood the Nerves of the Eye. East in Rivers of bliss the Nerves of the
Expansive Nostrils West, flowd the Parent Sense the Tongue. North stood
The labyrinthine Ear. Circumscribing & circumcising the excrementitious
Husk & Covering into Vacuum evaporating revealing the lineaments of Man
20 Driving outward the Body of Death in an Eternal Death & Resurrection
Awaking it to Life among the Flowers of Beulah rejoicing in Unity
In the Four Senses in the Outline the Circumference & Form, for ever
In Forgiveness of Sins which is Self Annihilation, it is the Covenant of Jehovah
The Four Living Creatures Chariots of Humanity Divine Incomprehensible
In beautiful Paradises expand These are the Four Rivers of Paradise
And the Four Faces of Humanity fronting the Four Cardinal Points
Of Heaven going forward forward irresistible from Eternity to Eternity
And they conversed together in Visionary forms dramatic which bright
Redounded from their Tongues in thunderous majesty, in Visions
30 In new Expanses, creating exemplars of Memory and of Intellect
Creating Space, Creating Time according to the wonders Divine
Of Human Imagination, throughout all the Three Regions immense
Of Childhood, Manhood & Old Age[;] & the all tremendous unfathomable Non Ens
Of Death was seen in regenerations terrific or complacent varying
According to the subject of discourse & every Word & Every Character
Was Human according to the Expansion or Contraction, the Translucence or
Opakeness of Nervous fibres such was the variation of Time & Space
Which vary according as the Organs of Perception vary & they walked
To & fro in Eternity as One Man reflecting each in each & clearly seen
40 And seeing: according to fitness & order. And I heard Jehovah speak
Terrific from his Holy Place & saw the Words of the Mutual Covenant Divine
On Chariots of gold & jewels with Living Creatures starry & flaming
With every Colour, Lion, Tyger, Horse, Elephant, Eagle Dove, Fly, Worm,
And the all wondrous Serpent clothed in gems & rich array Humanize
In the Forgiveness of Sins according to the Covenant of Jehovah. They Cry
Where is the Covenant of Priam, the Moral Virtues of the Heathen
Where is the Tree of Good & Evil that rooted beneath the cruel heel
Of Albions Spectre the Patriarch Druid! where are all his Human Sacrifices
For Sin in War & in the Druid Temples of the Accuser of Sin: beneath
50 The Oak Groves of Albion that coverd the whole Earth beneath his Spectre
Where are the Kingdoms of the World & all their glory that grew on Desolation
The Fruit of Albions Poverty Tree when the Triple Headed Gog-Magog Giant
Of Albion Taxed the Nations into Desolation & then gave the Spectrous Oath
Such is the Cry from all the Earth from the Living Creatures of the Earth
And from the great City of Golgonooza in the Shadowy Generation
And from the Thirty-two Nations of the Earth among the living Creatures
PLATE 99
All Human Forms identified even Tree Metal Earth & Stone, all
Human Forms identified, living going forth & returning wearied
Into the Planetary lives of Years Months Days & Hours reposing
And then Awaking into his Bosom in the Life of Immortality.
And I heard the Name of their Emanations they are named Jerusalem
THE END
SONGS AND BALLADS FROM BLAKE’S NOTEBOOK (1793)
CONTENTS
NEVER PAIN TO TELL THY LOVE...
I FEARD THE FURY OF MY WIND...
I ASKED A THIEF TO STEAL ME A PEACH...
O LAPWING THOU FLIEST AROUND THE HEATH...
EXPERIMENT. THOU HAST A LAP FULL OF SEED...
IF YOU TRAP THE MOMENT BEFORE ITS RIPE...
ARE NOT THE JOYS OF MORNING SWEETER...
WHY SHOULD I CARE FOR THE MEN OF THAMES...
THE SWORD SUNG ON THE BARREN HEATH...
ABSTINENCE SOWS SAND ALL OVER...
AN OLD MAID EARLY EER I KNEW...
WHAT IS IT MEN DO IN WOMEN REQUIRE
MY SPECTRE AROUND ME NIGHT & DAY
OER MY SINS THOU SIT & MOAN...
MOCK ON MOCK ON VOLTAIRE ROUSSEAU
NOW ART HAS LOST ITS MENTAL CHARMS
THE CAVERNS OF THE GRAVE IVE SEEN
AROUND THE SPRINGS OF GRAY MY WILD ROOT WEAVES
LONG JOHN BROWN & LITTLE MARY BELL
NEVER PAIN TO TELL THY LOVE...
Never pain to tell thy Love
Love that never told can be
For the gentle wind does move
Silently invisibly
I told my love I told my love 5
I told her all my heart
Trembling cold in ghastly fears
Ah she doth depart
Soon as she was gone from me
A traveller came by 10
Silently invisibly
O was no deny
I FEARD THE FURY OF MY WIND...
I feard the fury of my wind
Would blight all blossoms fair & true
And my sun it shind & shind
And my wind it never blew
But a blossom fair or true 5
Was not found on any tree
For all blossoms grew & grew
Fruitless false tho fair to see
I SAW A CHAPEL ALL OF GOLD...
I saw a chapel all of gold
That none did dare to enter in
And many weeping stood without
Weeping mourning worshipping
I saw a serpent rise between 5
The white pillars of the door
And he forcd & forcd & forcd
Down the golden hinges tore
And along the pavement sweet
Set with pearls & rubies bright 10
All his slimy length he drew
Till upon the altar white
Vomiting his poison out
On the bread & on the wine
So I turnd into a sty 15
And laid me down among the swine
I LAID ME DOWN UPON A BANK...
I laid me down upon a bank
Where love lay sleeping
I heard among the rushes dank
Weeping Weeping
Then I went to the heath & the wild 5
To the thistles & thorns of the waste
And they told me how they were beguild
Driven out & compeld to be chaste
A CRADLE SONG
Sleep Sleep beauty bright
Dreaming oer the joys of night
Sleep Sleep: in thy sleep
Little sorrows sit & weep
Sweet Babe in thy face 5
Soft desires I can trace
Secret joys & secret smiles
Little pretty infant wiles.
As thy softest limbs I feel
Smiles as of the morning steal 10
Oer thy cheek & oer thy breast
Where thy little heart does rest
O the cunning wiles that creep
In thy little heart asleep
When thy little heart does wake 15
Then the dreadful lightnings break
From thy cheek & from thy eye
Oer the youthful harvests nigh
Infant wiles & infant smiles
Heaven & Earth of peace beguiles 20
I ASKED A THIEF TO STEAL ME A PEACH...
I asked a thief to steal me a peach
He turned up his eyest
I ask’d a lithe lady to lie her down
Holy & meek she cries —
As soon as I went 5
An angel came.
He wink’d at the thief
And smild at the dame —
And without one word said
Had a peach from the tree 10
And still as a maid
Enjoy’d the lady.
TO MY MIRTLE
To a lovely mirtle bound
Blossoms showring all around
O how sick & weary I
Underneath my mirtle lie
Why should I be bound to thee 5
O my lovely mirtle tree
O LAPWING THOU FLIEST AROUND THE HEATH...
[To go] on I Plate
O lapwing thou fliest around the heath
Nor seest the net that is spread beneath
Why dost thou not fly among the corn fields
They cannot spread nets where a harvest yields
AN ANSWER TO THE PARSON
Why of the sheep do you not learn peace
Because I dont want you to shear my fleece
EXPERIMENT. THOU HAST A LAP FULL OF SEED...
Thou hast a lap full of seed
And this is a fine country
Why dost thou not cast thy seed
And live in it merrily
Shall I cast it on the sand 5
And turn it into fruitful land
For on no other ground
Can I sow my seed
Without tearing up
Some stinking weed 10
RICHES
The countless gold of a merry heart
The rubies & pearls of a loving eye
The indolent never can bring to the mart
Nor the secret hoard up in his treasury
IF YOU TRAP THE MOMENT BEFORE ITS RIPE...
If you trap the moment before its ripet
The tears of repentance youll certainly wipe
But if once you let the ripe moment go
You can never wipe off the tears of woe
ETERNITY
He who binds to himself a joy
Does the winged life destroy
But he who kisses the joy as it flies
Lives in eternity’s sun rise
I HEARD AN ANGEL SINGING...
I heard an Angel singing
When the day was springing
Mercy Pity Peace
Is the worlds release
Thus he sung all day 5
Over the new mown hay
Till the sun went down
And haycocks looked brown
I heard a Devil curse
Over the heath & the furze 10
Mercy could be no more
If there was nobody poor
And pity no more could be
If all were as happy as we
At his curse the sun went downt 15
And the heavens gave a frown
Down pourd the heavy rain
Over the new reapd grain
And Miseries increase
Is Mercy Pity Peace 20
SILENT SILENT NIGHT...
Silent Silent Night
Quench the holy light
Of thy torches bright
For possessd of Day
Thousand spirits stray 5
That sweet joys betray
Why should joys be sweet
Used with deceit
Nor with sorrows meet
But an honest joy 10
Does itself destroy
For a harlot coy
TO NOBODADDY
Why art thou silent & invisible
Father of jealousy
Why dost thou hide thyself in clouds
From every searching Eye
Why darkness & obscurity 5
In all thy words & laws
That none dare eat the fruit but from
The wily serpents jaws
Or is it because Secresy
gains females loud applause 10
ARE NOT THE JOYS OF MORNING SWEETER...
Are not the joys of morning sweetert
Than the joys of night
And are the vigrous joys of youth
Ashamed of the light
Let age & sickness silent rob 5
The vineyards in the night
But those who burn with vigrous youth
Pluck fruits before the light
HOW CAME PRIDE IN MAN...
How came pride in Man
From Mary it began
How Contempt & Scorn
What a world is Man
His Earth 5
HOW TO KNOW LOVE FROM DECEIT
Love to faults is always blind
Always is to joy inclind
Lawless wingd & unconfind
And breaks all chains from every mind
Deceit to secresy confind 5
Lawful cautious & refind
To every thing but interest blind
And forges fetters for the mind
THE WILD FLOWERS SONG
As I wanderd the forest
The green leaves among
I heard a wild flower
Singing a Song
I slept in the earth 5
In the silent night
I murmurd my fears
And I felt delight
In the morning I went
As rosy as morn 10
To seek for new Joy
But I met with scorn
SOFT SNOW
I walked abroad in a snowy day
I askd the soft snow with me to play
She playd & she melted in all her prime
And the winter calld it a dreadful crime
MERLINS PROPHECY
The harvest shall flourish in wintry Weather
When two virginities meet together
The King & the Priest must be tied in a tether
Before two virgins can meet together
WHY SHOULD I CARE FOR THE MEN OF THAMES...
Why should I care for the men of thames
Or the cheating waves of charterd streams
Or shrink at the little blasts of fear
That the hireling blows into my ear
Tho born on the cheating banks of Thames 5
Tho his waters bathed my infant limbs
The Ohio shall wash his stains from me
I was born a slave but I go to be free
DAY
The Sun arises in the East
Clothd in robes of blood & gold
Swords & spears & wrath increast
All around his bosom rolld
Crownd with warlike fires & raging desires 5
THE SWORD SUNG ON THE BARREN HEATH...
The sword sung on the barren heath
The sickle in the fruitful field
The sword he sung a song of death
But could not make the sickle yield
ABSTINENCE SOWS SAND ALL OVER...
Abstinence sows sand all over
The ruddy limbs & flaming hair t
But Desire Gratified
Plants fruits of life & beauty there
IN A WIFE I WOULD DESIRE...
In a wife I would desire
What in whores is always found
The lineaments of Gratified desire
LACEDEMONIAN INSTRUCTION
Come hither my boy tell me what thou seest there
A fool tangled in a religious snaret
AN OLD MAID EARLY EER I KNEW...
An old maid early eer I knew
Ought but the love that on me grew
And now Im coverd oer & oer
And wish that I had been a Whore
O I cannot cannot find 5
The undaunted courage of a Virgin Mind
For Early I in love was crost
Before my flower of love was lost
SEVERAL QUESTIONS ANSWERD
He who binds to himself a joy
Doth the winged life destroy
But he who kisses the joy as it flies
Lives in Eternitys sun rise
THE LOOK OF LOVE ALARMS
The look of love alarms
Because tis filld with fire
But the look of soft deceit
Shall Win the lovers hire
SOFT DECEIT & IDLENESS
Soft deceit & Idleness
These are Beautys sweetest dresst
WHAT IS IT MEN DO IN WOMEN REQUIRE
What is it men in women do require t
The lineaments of Gratified Desire
What is it women do in men require t
The lineaments of Gratified Desire
AN ANCIENT PROVERB
Remove away that blackning church
Remove away that marriage hearse
Remove away thatof blood t
Youll quite remove the ancient curse t
THE FAIRY
Come hither my sparrows
My little arrows
If a tear or a smile
Will a man beguile
If an amorous delay 5
Clouds a sunshiny day
If the step of a foot t
Smites the heart to its root
Tis the marriage ring
Makes each fairy a king 10
So a fairy sung
From the leaves I sprung
He leapd from the spray
To flee away
But in my hat caught t 15
He soon shall be taught
Let him laugh let him cry
Hes my butterfly t
For I’ve pulld out the Sting
Of the marriage ring 20
THE KID
Thou little Kid didst play
&ct
MY SPECTRE AROUND ME NIGHT & DAY
My Spectre around me night & day t
Like a Wild beast guards my way
My Emanation far within t
Weeps incessantly for my Sin
A Fathomless & boundless deep 5
There we wander there we weep
On the hungry craving wind
My Spectre follows thee behind
He scents thy footsteps in the snow
Wheresoever thou dost go 10
Thro the wintry hail & rain
When wilt thou return again
Dost thou not in Pride & scorn t
Fill with tempests all my morn
And with jealousies & fears 15
Fill my pleasant nights with tears
Seven of my sweet loves thy knife
Has bereaved of their life
Their marble tombs I built with tearst
And with cold & shuddering fears 20
Seven more loves weep night & day
Round the tombs where my loves lay
And seven more loves attend each night
Around my couch with torches bright
And seven more Loves in my bed 25
Crown with wine my mournful headt
Pitying & forgiving all
Thy transgressions great & small
When wilt thou return & view
My loves & them to life renew 30
When wilt thou return & live
When wilt thou pity as I forgive t
Never Never I return t
Still for Victory I burn
Living thee alone Ill have 35
And when dead Ill be thy Grave
Thro the Heavn & Earth & Hell
Thou shalt never never quell
I will fly & thou pursue
Night & Morn the flight renew 40
Till I turn from Female Love t
And root up the Infernal Grove t
I shall never worthy be t
To Step into Eternity
And to end thy cruel mockst 45
Annihilate thee on the rockst
And another form create
To be subservient to my Fate
Let us agree to give up Love
And root up the infernal grove 50
Then shall we return & see
The worlds of happy Eternity
& Throughout all Eternity t
I forgive you you forgive me
As our dear Redeemer said 55
This the Wine & this the Bread
OER MY SINS THOU SIT & MOAN...
[Postscript]
Oer my Sins Thou sit & moan t
Hast thou no Sins of thy own t
Oer my Sins thou sit & weep t
And lull thy own Sins fast asleep t
What Transgressions I commit 5
Are for thy Transgressions fit
They thy Harlots thou their Slave
And my Bed becomes their Grave
Poor pale pitiable form
That I follow in a Storm 10
Iron tears & groans of lead
Bind around my akeing head
And let us go to the highest downs
With many pleasing wiles
The Woman that does not love your Frowns 15
Will never embrace your smiles
MOCK ON MOCK ON VOLTAIRE ROUSSEAU
Mock on Mock on Voltaire Rousseau
Mock on Mock on! tis all in vain!
You throw the sand against the wind
And the wind blows it back againt
And every sand becomes a Gem 5
Reflected in the beams divine
Blown back they blind the mocking Eye t
But still in Israels paths they shine
The Atoms of Democritus
And Newtons Particles of light 10
Are sands upon the Red sea shore
Where Israels tents do shine so bright
MORNING
To find the western path
Right thro the gates of Wrath
I urge my way
Sweet Mercy leads me on
With soft repentant moan 5
I see the break of day
The war of swords & spears
Melted by dewy tears
Exhales on high
The Sun is freed from fears 10
And with soft grateful tears
Ascends the sky
TERROR IN THE HOUSE DOES ROAR
Terror in the house does roar
But Pity stands before the door
THE BIRDS
He. Where thou dwellest in what Grove
Tell me Fair one tell me love
Where thou thy charming Nest dost build
O thou pride of every field
She. Yonder stands a lonely tree 5
There I live & mourn for thee
Morning drinks my silent tear
And evening winds my sorrows bear
He. O thou Summers harmony
I have livd & mournd for thee 10
Each day I mourn along the wood
And night hath heard my sorrows loud
She. Dost thou truly long for me
And am I thus sweet to thee
Sorrow now is at an End 15
O my Lover & my Friend
He. Come on wings of joy well fly
To where my Bower hangs on high
Come & make thy calm retreat
Among green leaves & blossoms sweet 20
WHY WAS CUPID A BOY
Why was Cupid a Boy
And why a boy was he
He should have been a Girl
For ought that I can see
For he shoots with his bow 5
And the Girl shoots with her Eye
And they both are merry & glad
And laugh when we do cry
And to make Cupid a Boy t
Was the Cupid Girls mocking plant 10
For a boy cant interpret the thing t
Till he is become a man
And then hes so piercd with care
And wounded with arrowy smarts
That the whole business of his life 15
Is to pick out the heads of the darts
Twas the Greeks love of war
Turnd Love into a Boy
And Woman into a Statue of Stone
And away fled every joy 20
NOW ART HAS LOST ITS MENTAL CHARMS
Now Art has lost its mental Charmst
France shall subdue the World in Arms
So spoke an Angel at my birth
Then said Descend thou upon Earth
Renew the Arts on Britains Shore 5
And France shall fall down & adore
With works of Art their Armies meet
And War shall sink beneath thy feet t
But if thy Nation Arts refuse
And if they scorn the immortal Muse 10
France shall the arts of Peace restore
And save thee from the Ungrateful shore t
Spirit who lovst Brittannias Isle t
Round which the Fiends of Commerce smile t
[unfinished]
[Dedication to Blake’s Illustrations to Blair’s Grave, printed 1808]
TO THE QUEEN
The Door of Death is made of Gold,
That Mortal Eyes cannot behold;
But, when the Mortal Eyes are clos’d,
And cold and pale the Limbs repos’d,
The Soul awakes; and, wond’ring, sees 5
In her mild Hand the golden Keys:
The Grave is Heaven’s golden Gate,
And rich and poor around it wait;
O Shepherdess of England’s Fold,
Behold this Gate of Pearl and Gold! 10
To dedicate to England’s Queen
The Visions that my Soul has seen,
And, by Her kind permission, bring
What I have borne on solemn Wing,
From the vast regions of the Grave, 15
Before Her Throne my Wings I wave;
Bowing before my Sov’reign’s Feet,
“The Grave produc’d these Blossoms sweet
“In mild repose from Earthly strife;
“The Blossoms of Eternal Life!” 20
WILLIAM BLAKE
[From Blake’s Notebook]
THE CAVERNS OF THE GRAVE IVE SEEN
The Caverns of the Grave Ive seen t
And these I shewd to Englands Queen
But now the Caves of Hell I view t
Who shall I dare to shew them to
What mighty Soul in Beautys form t5
Shall dauntless View the Infernal Storm t
Egremonts Countess can controll t
The flames of Hell that round me roll t
If she refuse I still go on
Till the Heavens & Earth are gone 10
Still admird by Noble minds t
Followd by Envy on the winds
Reengravd Time after Time
Ever in their Youthful prime
My Designs unchangd remain t15
Time may rage but rage in vain
For above Times troubled Fountains
On the Great Atlantic Mountains
In my Golden House on high
There they Shine Eternally 20
I ROSE UP AT THE DAWN OF DAY
I rose up at the dawn of day
Get thee away get thee away
Prayst thou for Riches away away
This is the Throne of Mammon grey
Said I this sure is very odd 5
I took it to be the Throne of God
For every Thing besides I have
It is only for Riches that I can crave
I have Mental Joy & Mental Health
And Mental Friends & Mental wealth t10
Ive a Wife I love & that loves me
Ive all But Riches Bodily
I am in Gods presence night & dayt
And he never turns his face away
The accuser of sins by my side does stand 15
And he holds my money bag in his hand
For my worldly things God makes him pay t
And hed pay for more if to him I would pray
And so you may do the worst you can do
Be assurd Mr Devil I wont pray to you 20
Then If for Riches I must not Pray
God knows I little of Prayers need say
So as a Church is known by its Steeple t
If I pray it must be for other People t
He says if I do not worship him for a God 25
I shall eat coarser food & go worse shod
So as I dont value such things as these
You must do Mr Devil just as God please
[A Separate Manuscript]
A FAIRY SKIPD UPON MY KNEE
A fairy skipd upon my knee t
Singing & dancing merrily
I said Thou thing of patches rings
Pins Necklaces & such like things
Disguiser of the Female Form 5
Thou paltry gilded poisnous worm
Weeping he fell upon my thigh
And thus in tears did soft reply
Knowest thou not O Fairies Lord
How much by us Contemnd Abhorrd 10
Whatever hides the Female form
That cannot bear the Mental storm
Therefore in Pity still we give
Our lives to make the Female live
And what would turn into disease 15
We turn to what will joy & please t
[With Blake’s Illustrations to Gray’s Poems ]
AROUND THE SPRINGS OF GRAY MY WILD ROOT WEAVES
Around the Springs of Gray my wild root weaves
Traveller repose & Dream among my leaves,
--WILL. BLAKE
TO MRS ANN FLAXMAN
A little Flower grew in a lonely Vale
Its form was lovely but its colours. pale
One standing in the Porches of the Sun
When his Meridian Glories were begun
Leapd from the steps of fire & on the grass 5
Alighted where this little flower was
With hands divine he movd the gentle Sod
And took the Flower up in its native Clod
Then planting it upon a Mountains brow
‘Tis your own fault if you dont flourish now 10
WILLIAM BLAKE
BALLADS
THE SMILE
There is a Smile of Love
And there is a Smile of Deceit
And there is a Smile of Smiles
In which these two Smiles meet
And there is a Frown of Hate 5
And there is a Frown of disdain
And there is a Frown of Frowns
Which you strive to forget in vain
For it sticks in the Hearts deep Core
And it sticks in the deep Back bone 10
And no Smile that ever was smild
But only one Smile alone
That betwixt the Cradle & Grave
It only once Smild can be
But when it once is Smild 15
Theres an end to all Misery
THE GOLDEN NET
Three Virgins at the break of day
Whither young Man whither away
Alas for woe! alas for woe! t
They cry & tears for ever flow
The one was Clothd in flames of firet 5
The other Clothd in iron wire t
The other Clothd in tears & sighs t
Dazling bright before my Eyes
They bore a Net of Golden twine
To hang upon the Branches fine 10
Pitying I wept to see the woe t
That Love & Beauty undergo
To be consumd in burning Fires
And in ungratified Desires
And in tears clothd Night & day 15
Melted all my Soul away
When they saw my Tears a Smile
That did Heaven itself beguile
Bore the Golden Net aloft
As on downy Pinions soft t 20
Over the Morning of my Day t
Underneath the Net I stray
Now intreating Burning Fire t
Now intreating Iron Wire t
Now intreating Tears & Sighs 25
O when will the morning rise t
THE MENTAL TRAVELLERT
I traveld thro’ a Land of Men
A Land of Men & Women too
And heard & saw such dreadful things
As cold Earth wanderers never knew
For there the Babe is born in joy 5
That was begotten in dire woe
Just as we Reap in joy the fruit
Which we in bitter tears did sow
And if the Babe is born a Boy
He’s given to a Woman Old 10
Who nails him down upon a rock
Catches his Shrieks in Cups of gold
She binds iron thorns around his head
She pierces both his hands & feet
She cuts his heart out at his side 15
To make it feel both cold & heat
Her fingers number every Nerve
Just as a Miser counts his gold
She lives upon his shrieks & cries
And She grows young as he grows old 20
Till he becomes a bleeding youth
And she becomes a Virgin bright
Then he rends up his Manacles
And binds her down for his delight
He plants himself in all her Nerves 25
Just as a Husbandman his mould
And She becomes his dwelling place
And Garden fruitful Seventy fold
An aged Shadow soon he fades
Wandring round an Earthly Cot 30
Full filled all with gems & gold
Which he by industry had got
And these are the gems of the Human Soul
The rubies & pearls of a lovesick eye
The countless gold of the akeing heart 35
The martyrs groan & the lovers sigh
They are his meat they are his drink
He feeds the Beggar & the Poor
And the way faring Traveller
For ever open is his door 40
His grief is their eternal joy
They make the roofs & walls to ring
Till from the fire on the hearth
A little Female Babe does spring
And she is all of solid fire 45
And gems & gold that none his hand
Dares stretch to touch her Baby form
Or wrap her in his swaddling-band
But She comes to the Man she loves
If young or old or rich or poor 50
They soon drive out the aged Host
A Begger at anothers door
He wanders weeping far away
Untill some other take him in
Oft blind & age-bent sore distrest 55
Untill he can a Maiden win
And to Allay his freezing Age
The Poor Man takes her in his arms
The Cottage fades before his Sight
The Garden & its lovely Charms 60
The Guests are scatterd thro’ the land
For the Eye altering alters all
The Senses roll themselves in fear
And the flat Earth becomes a Ball
The Stars Sun Moon all shrink away 65
A desart vast without a bound
And nothing left to eat or drink
And a dark desart all around
The honey of her Infant lips
The bread & wine of her sweet smile 70
The wild game of her roving Eye
Does him to Infancy beguile
For as he eats & drinks he grows
Younger & younger every day
And on the desart wild they both 75
Wander in terror & dismay
Like the wild Stag she flees away
Her fear plants many a thicket wild
While he pursues her night & day
By various arts of Love beguild 80
By various arts of Love & Hate
Till the wide desart planted oer
With Labyrinths of wayward Love
Where roams the Lion Wolf & Boart
Till he becomes a wayward Babe t 85
And she a weeping Woman Old t
Then many a Lover wanders here
The Sun & Stars are nearer rolld
The trees bring forth sweet Extacy
To all who in the desart roam 90
Till many a City there is Built
And many a pleasant Shepherds home
But when they find the frowning Babe
Terror strikes thro the region wide
They cry the Babe the Babe is Born 95
And flee away on Every side t
For who dare touch the frowning form
His arm is witherd to its root
Lions Boars Wolves all howling flee
And every Tree does shed its fruit 100
And none can touch that frowning form
Except it be a Woman Old
She nails him down upon the Rock
And all is done as I have told
THE LAND OF DREAMS
Awake awake my little Boy
Thou wast thy Mothers only joy
Why dost thou weep in thy gentle sleep
Awake thy Father does thee keep
O what Land is the Land of Dreams 5
What are its Mountains & what are its Streams
O Father I saw my Mother there
Among the Lillies by waters fair
Among the Lambs clothed in white
She walkd with her Thomas in sweet delight 10
I wept for joy like a dove I mourn
O when shall I again return
Dear Child I also by pleasant Streams
Have wanderd all Night in the Land of Dreams
But tho calm & warm the Waters wide 15
I could not get to the other side
Father O Father what do we here
In this Land of unbelief & fear
The Land of Dreams is better far
Above the light of the Morning Star 20
MARY
Sweet Mary the first time she ever was there
Came into the Ball room among the Fair
The young Men & Maidens around her throng
And these are the words upon every tongue
An Angel is here from the heavenly Climes 5
Or again does return the Golden times t
Her eyes outshine every brilliant ray
She opens her lips tis the Month of May
Mary moves in soft beauty & conscious delight
To augment with sweet smiles all the joys of the Night 10
Nor once blushes to own to the rest of the Fair
That sweet Love & Beauty are worthy our care
In the Morning the Villagers rose with delight
And repeated with pleasure the joys of the night
And Mary arose among Friends to be free 15
But no Friend from henceforward thou Mary shalt see
Some said she was proud some calld her a whore
And some when she passed by shut to the door
A damp cold came oer her her blushes all fled
Her lillies & roses are blighted & shed 20
O why was I born with a different Face
Why was I not born like this Envious Race t
Why did Heaven adorn me with bountiful hand
And then set me down in an envious Land
To be weak as a Lamb & smooth as a Dove 25
And not to raise Envy is calld Christian Love
But if you raise Envy your Merits to blame
For planting such spite in the weak & the tame
I will humble my Beauty I will not dress fine
I will keep from the Ball & my Eyes shall not shine 30
And if any Girls Lover forsakes her for me
I’ll refuse him my hand & from Envy be free t
She went out in Morning attird plain & neat
Proud Marys gone Mad said the Child in the Street
She went out in Morning in plain neat attire 35
And came home in Evening bespatterd with mire
She trembled & wept sitting on the Bed side
She forgot it was Night & she trembled & cried
She forgot it was Night she forgot it was Morn
Her soft Memory imprinted with Faces of Scorn 40
With Faces of Scorn & with Eyes of disdain
Like foul Fiends inhabiting Marys mild Brain
She remembers no Face like the Human Divine
All Faces have Envy sweet Mary but thine
And thine is a Face of sweet Love in Despair 45
And thine is a Face of mild sorrow & care
And thine is a Face of wild terror & fear
That shall never be quiet till laid on its bier
THE CRYSTAL CABINET
The Maiden caught me in the Wild
Where I was dancing merrily
She put me into her Cabinet
And Lockd me up with a golden Key
This Cabinet is formd of Gold 5
And Pearl & Crystal shining bright
And within it opens into a World
And a little lovely Moony Night t
Another England there I saw
Another London with its Tower 10
Another Thames & other Hills
And another pleasant Surrey Bower
Another Maiden like herself
Translucent lovely shining clear
Threefold each in the other closd 15
O what a pleasant trembling fear
O what a smile a threefold Smile
Filld me that like a flame I burnd
I bent to Kiss the lovely Maid
And found a Threefold Kiss returnd 20
I strove to sieze the inmost Form
With ardor fierce & hands of flame
But burst the Crystal Cabinet
And like a Weeping Babe became
A weeping Babe upon the wild 25
And Weeping Woman pale reclind
And in the outward air again
I filld with woes the passing Wind
THE GREY MONK
I die I die the Mother said
My Children die for lack of Bread t
What more has the merciless Tyrant said
The Monk sat down on the Stony Bed t
The blood red ran from the Grey Monks side 5
His hands & feet were wounded wide
His Body bent his arms & knees
Like to the roots of ancient trees
His eye was dry no tear could flow
A hollow groan first spoke his woe 10
He trembled & shudderd upon the Bedt
At length with a feeble cry he said
When God commanded this hand to write t
In the studious hours of deep midnight
He told me the writing I wrote should provet 15
The Bane of all that on Earth I lovd t
My Brother starvd between two Walls
His Childrens Cry my Soul appalls
I mockd at the wrack & griding chain t
My bent body mocks their torturing pain t 20
Thy Father drew his sword in the North
With his thousands strong he marched forth t
Thy Brother has armd himself in Steel t
To avenge the wrongs thy Children feel t
But vain the Sword & vain the Bow 25
They never can work Wars overthrow
The Hermits Prayer & the Widows tear
Alone can free the World from fear
For a Tear is an Intellectual Thing t
And a Sigh is the Sword of an Angel King 30
And the bitter groan of the Martyrs woe t
Is an Arrow from the Almighties Bow
The hand of Vengeance found the Bed t
To which the Purple Tyrant fled
The iron hand crushd the Tyrants head 35
And became a Tyrant in his steadt
AUGURIES OF INNOCENCE
To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour
A Robin Red breast in a Cage 5
Puts all Heaven in a Rage
A Dove house filld with doves & Pigeons
Shudders Hell thro all its regions
A dog starvd at his Masters Gate
Predicts the ruin of the State 10
A Horse misusd upon the Road
Calls to Heaven for Human blood
Each outcry of the hunted Hare
A fibre from the Brain does tear
A Skylark wounded in the wing 15
A Cherubim does cease to sing
The Game Cock clipd & armd for fight
Does the Rising Sun affright
Every Wolfs & Lions howl
Raises from Hell a Human Soul 20
The wild deer wandring here & there
Keeps the Human Soul from Care
The Lamb misusd breeds Public strife
And yet forgives the Butchers Knife
The Bat that flits at close of Eve 25
Has left the Brain that wont Believe
The Owl that calls upon the Night
Speaks the Unbelievers fright
He who shall hurt the little Wren
Shall never be belovd by Men 30
He who the Ox to wrath has movd
Shall never be by Woman lovd
The wanton Boy that kills the Fly
Shall feel the Spiders enmity
He who torments the Chafers sprite 35
Weaves a Bower in endless Night
The Catterpiller on the Leaf
Repeats to thee thy Mothers grief
Kill not the Moth nor Butterfly
For the Last judgment draweth nigh 40
He who shall train the Horse to War
Shall never pass the Polar Bar
The Beggers Dog & Widows Cat
Feed them & thou wilt grow fat
The Gnat that sings his Summers song 45
Poison gets from Slanders tongue
The poison of the Snake & Newt
Is the sweat of Envys Foot
The Poison of the Honey Bee
Is the Artists jealousy 50
The Princes Robes & Beggars Rags
Are Toadstools on the Misers Bagst
A truth thats told with bad intent
Beats all the Lies you can invent
It is right it should be so 55
Man was made for Joy & Woe
And when this we rightly know
Thro the World we safely go
Joy & Woe are woven fine
A Clothing for the soul divine 60
Under every grief & pine
Runs a joy with silken twine
The Babe is more than swadling Bands
Throughout all these Human Lands
Tools were made & Born were hands 65
Every Farmer Understands
Every Tear from Every Eye
Becomes a Babe in Eternity
This is caught by Females bright
And returnd to its own delight 70
The Bleat the Bark Bellow & Roar
Are Waves that Beat on Heavens Shore
The Babe that weeps the Rod beneath
Writes Revenge in realms of death
The Beggars Rags fluttering in Air 75
Does to Rags the Heavens tear
The Soldier armd with Sword & Gun
Palsied strikes the Summers Sun
The poor Mans Farthing is worth more
Than all the Gold on Africs Shore. 80
One Mite wrung from the Labrers hands
Shall buy & sell the Misers Lands
Or if protected from on high
Does that whole Nation sell & buy
He who mocks the Infants Faith 85
Shall be mock’d in Age & Death
He who shall teach the Child to Doubt
The rotting Grave shall neer get out
He who respects the Infants faith
Triumphs over Hell & Death 90
The Childs Toys & the Old Mans Reasons
Are the Fruits of the Two seasons
The Questioner who sits so sly
Shall never know how to Reply
He who replies to words of Doubt 95
Doth put the Light of Knowledge out
The Strongest Poison ever known
Came from Caesars Laurel Crown
Nought can Deform the Human Race
Like to the Armours iron brace 100
When Gold & Gems adorn the Plow
To peaceful Arts shall Envy Bow
A Riddle or the Crickets Cry
Is to Doubt a fit Reply
The Emmets Inch & Eagles Mile 105
Make Lame Philosophy to smile
He who Doubts from what he sees
Will neer Believe do what you Please
If the Sun & Moon should Doubt
Theyd immediately Go out 110
To be in a Passion you Good may Do
But no Good if a Passion is in you
The Whore & Gambler by the State
Licencd build that Nations Fate
The Harlots cry from Street to Street 115
Shall weave Old Englands winding Sheet
The Winners Shout the Losers Curse
Dance before dead Englands Hearse
Every Night & every Morn
Some to Misery are Born 120
Every Morn & every Night
Some are Born to sweet delight
Some are Born to sweet delight
Some are Born to Endless Night
We are led to Believe a Lie 125
When we see not Thro the Eye t
Which was Born in a Night to perish in a Night
When the Soul Slept in Beams of Light
God Appears & God is Light
To those poor Souls who dwell in Night 130
But does a Human Form Display
To those who Dwell in Realms of day
LONG JOHN BROWN & LITTLE MARY BELL
Little Mary Bell had a Fairy in a Nut t
Long John Brown had the Devil in his Gut
Long John Brown lovd Little Mary Bell
And the Fairy drew the Devil into the Nut-shell
Her Fairy skipd out & her Fairy skipd in 5
He laughd at the Devil saying Love is a Sin
The devil he raged & the Devil he was wroth
And the devil enterd into the Young Mans broth
He was soon in the Gut of the loving Young Swain
For John eat & drank to drive away Loves pain 10
But all he could do he grew thinner & thinner
Tho he eat & drank as much as ten Men for his dinner
Some said he had a Wolf in his stomach day & night
Some said he had the Devil & they guessd right
The fairy skipd about in his glory Joy & Pride 15
And he laughd at the Devil till poor John Brown died
Then the Fairy skipd out of the old Nut shell
And woe & alack for Pretty Mary Bell
For the Devil crept in when The Fairy skipd out
And there goes Miss Bell with her fusty old Nut 20
WILLIAM BOND
I wonder whether the Girls are mad
And I wonder whether they mean to kill
And I wonder if William Bond will die
For assuredly he is very ill
He went to Church in a May morning 5
Attended by Fairies one two & three
But the Angels Of Providence drove them away
And he returnd home in Misery
He went not out to the Field nor Fold
He went not out to the Village nor Town 10
But he came home in a black black cloud
And took to his Bed & there lay down
And an Angel of Providence at his Feet
And an Angel of Providence at his Head
And in the midst a Black Black Cloud 15
And in the midst the Sick Man on his Bed
And on his Right hand was Mary Green
And on his Left hand was his Sister Jane
And their tears fell thro the black black Cloud
To drive away the sick mans pain 20
O William if thou dost another Love t
Dost another Love better than poor Mary
Go & take that other to be thy Wife
And Mary Green shall her Servant be
Yes Mary I do another Love 25
Another I Love far better than thee
And Another I will have for my Wife
Then what have I to do with thee
For thou art Melancholy Pale
And on thy Head is the cold Moons shine 30
But she is ruddy & bright as day
And the sun beams dazzle from her eyne
Mary trembled & Mary chilld
And Mary fell down on the right hand floor
That William Bond & his Sister Jane 35
Scarce could recover Mary more
When Mary woke & found her Laid
On the Right hand of her William dear
On the Right hand of his loved Bed
And saw her William Bond so near 40
The Fairies that fled from William Bond
Danced around her Shining Head
They danced over the Pillow white
And the Angels of Providence left the Bed
I thought Love livd in the hot sun Shine 45
But O he lives in the Moony light
I thought to find Love in the heat of day
But sweet Love is the Comforter of Night
Seek Love in the Pity of others Woe
In the gentle relief of anothers care 50
In the darkness of night & the winters snow
In the naked & outcast Seek Love there
MR BLAKE’S NURSERY RHYME
The sow came in with the saddle,
The little pig rocked the cradle,
The dish jumped o’ top of the table
To see the brass pot swallow the ladle.
The old pot behind the door 5
Called the kettle a blackamoor.
‘Odd bobbs’ said the gridiron, ‘can’t you agree?
I’m the head constable, bring them to me.’
SATIRIC VERSES AND EPIGRAMS FROM BLAKE’S NOTEBOOK
CONTENTS
MOTTO TO THE SONGS OF INNOCENCE & OF EXPERIENCE
LET THE BROTHELS OF PARIS BE OPENED...
WHO WILL EXCHANGE HIS OWN FIRE SIDE...
WHEN KLOPSTOCK ENGLAND DEFIED...
ON THE VIRGINITY OF THE VIRGIN MARY & JOHANNA SOUTHCOTT
YOU DONT BELIEVE I WONT ATTEMPT TO MAKE YE
IF IT IS TRUE WHAT THE PROPHETS WRITE...
I AM NO HOMERS HERO YOU ALL KNOW...
THE ANGEL THAT PRESIDED OER MY BIRTH...
SOME MEN CREATED FOR DESTRUCTION COME...
IF I EER GROW TO MANS ESTATE...
IF MEN WILL ACT LIKE A MAID SMILING OVER A CHURN...
ANGER & WRATH MY BOSOM RENDS...
AND HIS LEGS CARRIED IT LIKE A LONG FORK...
WAS I ANGRY WITH HAYLEY WHO USD ME SO ILL
BLAKES APOLOGY FOR HIS CATALOGUE
COSWAY FRAZER & BALDWIN OF EGYPTS LAKE...
MY TITLE AS [A] GENIUS THUS IS PROVD...
P — — LOVED ME, NOT AS HE LOVD HIS FRIENDS...
THE SUSSEX MEN ARE NOTED FOOLS...
OF H S BIRTH THIS WAS THE HAPPY LOT...
IMITATION OF POPE A COMPLIMENT TO THE LADIES
THE ONLY MAN THAT EER I KNEW...
MADMAN I HAVE BEEN CALLD FOOL THEY CALL THEE...
HES A BLOCKHEAD WHO WANTS A PROOF OF WHAT HE CAN’T PERCIEVE...
S — — - IN CHILDHOOD ON THE NURSERY FLOOR...
HE HAS OBSERVD THE GOLDEN RULE...
CR — — LOVES ARTISTS AS HE LOVES HIS MEAT...
A PETTY SNEAKING KNAVE I KNEW...
ENGLISH ENCOURAGEMENT OF ART (FIRST READING)
ENGLISH ENCOURAGEMENT OF ART (FINAL READING)
WHEN YOU LOOK AT A PICTURE YOU ALWAYS CAN SEE...
THE CUNNING SURES & THE AIM AT YOURS...
ALL PICTURES THATS PANTED WITH SENSE & WITH THOUGHT...
YOU SAY THEIR PICTURES WELL PAINTED BE...
THE ERRORS OF A WISE MAN MAKE YOUR RULE...
GREAT THINGS ARE DONE WHEN MEN & MOUNTAINS MEET...
IF YOU PLAY A GAME OF CHANCE KNOW BEFORE YOU BEGIN...
NO REAL STYLE OF COLOURING EVER APPEARS
CAN THERE BE ANY THING MORE MEAN...
SIR JOSHUA PRAISES MICHAEL ANGELO...
SIR JO[S]HUA PRAISED RUBENS WITH A SMILE...
THE CRIPPLE EVERY STEP DRUDGES & LABOURS...
I RUBENS AM A STATESMAN & A SAINT...
SWELLD LIMBS WITH NO OUTLINE THAT YOU CAN DESCRY...
THESE ARE THE IDIOTS CHIEFEST ARTS...
RAFAEL SUBLIME MAJESTIC GRACEFUL WISE...
GIVE PENSIONS TO THE LEARNED PIG...
WHEN I SEE A RUBENS REMBRANT CORREGGIO...
DELICATE HANDS & HEADS WILL NEVER APPEAR...
I ASKD MY DEAR FRIEND ORATOR PRIGG...
O DEAR MOTHER OUTLINE OF KNOWLEDGE MOST SAGE
GREAT MEN & FOOLS DO OFTEN ME INSPIRE...
SOME PEOPLE ADMIRE THE WORK OF A FOOL
HER WHOLE LIFE IS AN EPIGRAM SMACK SMOOTH & NOBLY PEND...
WHEN A MAN HAS MARRIED A WIFE...
GROWN OLD IN LOVE FROM SEVEN TILL SEVEN TIMES SEVEN...
THE HEBREW NATION DID NOT WRITE IT...
SINCE ALL THE RICHES OF THIS WORLD...
TO CHLOES BREAST YOUNG CUPID SLILY STOLE...
NAIL HIS NECK TO THE CROSS NAIL IT WITH A NAIL...
A WOMAN SCALY & A MAN ALL HAIRY...
MOTTO TO THE SONGS OF INNOCENCE & OF EXPERIENCE
The Good are attracted by Mens perceptions
And Think not for themselves
Till Experience teaches them to catch
And to cage the Fairies & Elves
And then the Knave begins to snarl 5
And the Hypocrite to howl
And all his good Friends shew their private ends
And the Eagle is known from the Owl
LET THE BROTHELS OF PARIS BE OPENED...
Let the Brothels of Paris be opened
With many an alluring dance
To awake the Physicians thro the city
Said the beautiful Queen of France
Then old Nobodaddy aloft 5
Farted & belchd & coughd
And said I love hanging & drawing & quartering
Every bit as well as war & slaughtering
Then he swore a great & solemn Oath
To kill the people I am loth 10
But If they rebel they must go to hell
They shall have a Priest & a passing bell
The King awoke on his couch of gold
As soon as he heard these tidings told
Arise & come both fife & drum 15
And the [Famine] shall eat both crust & crumb
The Queen of France just touchd this Globe
And the Pestilence darted from her robe
But our good Queen quite grows to the ground
And a great many suckers grow all around 20
WHO WILL EXCHANGE HIS OWN FIRE SIDE...
Who will exchange his own fire side
For the stone of anothers door
Who will exchange his wheaten loaf
For the links of a dungeon floor
Fayette beheld the King & Queen 5
In curses & iron boundt
But mute Fayette wept tear for tear
And guarded them around
O who would smile on the wintry seas
& Pity the stormy roar 10
Or who will exchange his new born child
For the dog at the wintry door
WHEN KLOPSTOCK ENGLAND DEFIED...
When Klopstock England defiedt
Uprose terrible Blake in his pride
For old Nobodaddy aloft
Farted & Belchd & coughd
Then swore a great oath that made heavn quake 5
And calld aloud to English Blake
Blake was giving his body ease
At Lambeth beneath the poplar trees
From his seat then started he
And turnd himself round three times threet 10
The Moon at that sight blushd scarlet red
The stars threw down their cups & fled
And all the devils that were in hell
Answered with a ninefold yell
Klopstock felt the intripled turn 15
And all his bowels began to churn
And his bowels turned round three times three
And lockd in his soul with a ninefold key
That from his body it neer could be parted
Till to the last trumpet it was farted 20
Then again old nobodaddy swore
He neer had seen such a thing before
Since Noah was shut in the ark
Since Eve first chose her hell fire spark
Since twas the fashion to go naked 25
Since the old anything was created
And in pity he begd him to turn again
And ease poor Klopstocks nine fold pain
From pity then he redend round
And the ninefold Spell unwound 30
If Blake could do this when he rose up from shite
What might he not do if he sat down to write
ON THE VIRGINITY OF THE VIRGIN MARY & JOHANNA SOUTHCOTT
Whateer is done to her she cannot know
And if youll ask her she will swear it so
Whether tis good or evil none’s to blame
No one can take the pride no one the shame
YOU DONT BELIEVE I WONT ATTEMPT TO MAKE YE
You dont believe I wont attempt to make ye
You are asleep I wont attempt to wake ye
Sleep on Sleep on while in your pleasant dreams
Of Reason you may drink of Lifes clear streams
Reason and Newton they are quite two things 5
For so the Swallow & the Sparrow sings
Reason says Miracle. Newton says Doubt
Aye thats the way to make all Nature out
Doubt Doubt & dont believe without experiment
That is the very thing that Jesus meant 10
When he said Only Believe Believe & try
Try Try & never mind the Reason why
IF IT IS TRUE WHAT THE PROPHETS WRITE...
If it is True What the Prophets write
That the heathen Gods are all stocks & stones
Shall we for the sake of being Polite
Feed them with the juice of our marrow bones
And if Bezaleel & Aholiab drew 5
What the Finger of God pointed to their View
Shall we suffer the Roman & Grecian Rods
To compell us to worship them as Gods
They stole them from the Temple of the Lord
And Worshippd them that they might make Inspired Art Abhorrd 10
The Wood & Stone were calld The Holy Things —
And their Sublime Intent given to their Kings
All the Atonements of Jehovah spurnd
And Criminals to Sacrifices Turnd
I AM NO HOMERS HERO YOU ALL KNOW...
I am no Homers Hero you all know
I profess not Generosity to a Foe
My Generosity is to my Friends
That for their Friendship I may make amends
The Generous to Enemies promotes their Ends 5
And becomes the Enemy & Betrayer of his Friends
THE ANGEL THAT PRESIDED OER MY BIRTH...
The Angel that presided oer my birth
Said Little creature formd of Joy & Mirth
Go love without the help of any King on Earth
SOME MEN CREATED FOR DESTRUCTION COME...
Some Men created for destruction come
Into the World & make the World their home
Be they as Vile & Base as Eer they can
Theyll still be called ‘The Worlds’ honest man
IF I EER GROW TO MANS ESTATE...
If I eer Grow to Mans Estate
O Give to me a Womans fate
May I govern all both great & small
Have the last word & take the wall
FROM CRATETOS
Me Time has Crook’d. no good Workman
Is he. Infirm is all that he does
IF MEN WILL ACT LIKE A MAID SMILING OVER A CHURN...
If Men will act like a maid smiling over a Churn
They ought not when it comes to anothers turn
To grow sower at what a friend may utter
Knowing & feeling that we all have need of Butter
False Friends fie fie our Friendship you shant sever 5
In spite we will be greater friends than ever
ANGER & WRATH MY BOSOM RENDS...
Anger & Wrath my bosom rends
I thought them the Errors of friends
But all my limbs with warmth glow
I find them the Errors of the foe
AN EPITAPH
Come knock your heads against this stone
For sorrow that poor John Thompsons gone
ANOTHER
I was buried near this Dike
That my Friends may weep as much as they like
ANOTHER
Here lies John Trot the Friend of all mankind
He has not left one Enemy behind
Friends were quite hard to find old authors say
But now they stand in every bodies way
HE IS A COCK WOULD...
He is a Cock would
And would be a Cock if he could
AND HIS LEGS CARRIED IT LIKE A LONG FORK...
And his legs carried it like a long fork
Reachd all the way from Chichester to York
From York all across Scotland to the Sea
This was a Man of Men as seems to me
Not only in his Mouth his own Soul lay 5
But my Soul also would he bear away
Like as a Pedlar bears his weary Pack
So Stewhards Soul he buckld to his Back
But once alas committing a Mistake
He bore the wr[et]ched Soul of William Blake 10
That he might turn it into Eggs of Gold
But neither Back nor mouth those Eggs could hold
His underjaw dropd as those Eggs he laid
And Stewhards Eggs are addled & decayd
The Examiner whose very name is Huntt 15
Calld Death a Madman trembling for the affront
Like trembling Hare sits on his weakly paper
On which he usd to dance & sport & caper
Yorkshire Jack Hemp & gentle blushing Daw
Clapd Death into the corner of their jaw 20
And Felpham Billy rode out every morn
Horseback with Death over the fields of corn
Who with iron hand cuffd in the afternoon
The Ears of Billys Lawyer & Dragoon
And Cur my Lawyer & Dady Jack Hemps Parson 25
Both went to Law with Death to keep our Ears on
For how to starve Death we had laid a plot
Against his Price but Death was in the Pot
He made them pay his Price alack a day
He knew both Law & Gospel better than they 30
O that I neer ha[d] seen that William Blake
Or could from death Assassinetti wake
We thought Alas that such a thought should be
That Blake would Etch for him & draw for me
For twas a kind of Bargain Screwmuch made 35
That Blakes Designs should be by us displayed
Because he makes designs so very cheap
Then Screwmuch at Blakes soul took a long leap
Twas not a Mouse twas Death in a disguise
And I alas live to weep out mine Eyes 40
And Death sits laughing on their Monuments
On which hes written Recievd the Contents
But I have writ so sorrowful my thought is
His Epitaph for my tears are aqua fortis
Come Artists knock your heads against This stone 45
For Sorrow that our friend Bob Screwmuchs gone
And now the Men upon me smile & Laugh
Ill also write my own dear Epitaph
And Ill be buried near a Dike
That my friends may weep as much as they like 50
Here lies Stewhard the Friend of All &c
WAS I ANGRY WITH HAYLEY WHO USD ME SO ILL
Was I angry with Hayley who usd me so ill
Or can I be angry with Felphams old Mill
Or angry with Flaxman or Cromek or Stothard
Or poor Schiavonetti whom they to death botherd
Or angry with Macklin or Boydel or Bowyer 5
Because they did not say O what a Beau ye are
At a Friends Errors Anger shew
Mirth at the Errors of a Foe
BLAKES APOLOGY FOR HIS CATALOGUE
Having given great offence by writing in Prose
Ill write in Verse as Soft as Bartolloze
Some blush at what others can see no crime in
But nobody sees any harm in Rhyming
Dryden in Rhyme cries Milton only plannd 5
Every Fool shook his bells throughout the land
Tom Cooke cut Hogarth down with his clean graving
Thousands of Connoisseurs with joy ran raving
Thus Hayley on his Toilette seeing the Sope
Cries Homer is very much improvd by Pope 10
Some say Ive given great Provision to my foes
And that now I lead my false friends by the nose
Flaxman & Stothard smelling a sweet savour
Cry Blakified drawing spoils painter & Engraver
While I looking up to my Umbrella 15
Resolvd to be a very contrary fellow
Cry looking quite from Skumference to Center
No one can finish so high as the original Inventor
Thus Poor Schiavonetti died of the Cromek
A thing thats tied around the Examiners neck 20
This is my sweet apology to my friends
That I may put them in mind of their latter Ends
COSWAY FRAZER & BALDWIN OF EGYPTS LAKE...
Cosway Frazer & Baldwin of Egypts Lake
Fear to Associate with Blake
This Life is a Warfare against Evils
They heal the sick he casts out Devils
Hayley Flaxman & Stothard are also in doubt 5
Lest their Virtue should be put to the rout
One grins tother spits & in corners hides
And all the Virtuous have shewn their backsides
MY TITLE AS [A] GENIUS THUS IS PROVD...
My title as [a] Genius thus is provd
Not Praisd by Hayley nor by Flaxman lovd
TO H
You think Fuseli is not a Great Painter Im Glad
This is one of the best compliments he ever had
P — — LOVED ME, NOT AS HE LOVD HIS FRIENDS...
P — — loved me, not as he lovd his Friends
For he lovd them for gain to serve his Ends
He loved me and for no Gain at all
But to rejoice & triumph in my fall
To forgive Enemies H . does pretend 5
Who never in his Life forgave a friend
THE SUSSEX MEN ARE NOTED FOOLS...
The Sussex Men are Noted Fools
And weak is their brain pan
I wonder if H — — the paintert
Is not a Sussex Man
OF H S BIRTH THIS WAS THE HAPPY LOT...
Of H s birth this was the happy lot
His Mother on his Father him begot
ON H — — YS FRIENDSHIP
When H — — y finds out what you cannot do
That is the Very thing hell set you to
If you break not your Neck tis not his fault
But pecks of poison are not pecks of salt
And when he could not act upon my wife 5
Hired a Villain to bereave my Life
TO H — — -
Thy Friendship oft has made my heart to ake
Do be my Enemy for Friendships sake
ON H — — - THE PICK THANK
I write the Rascal Thanks till he & I
With Thanks & Compliments are quite drawn dry
IMITATION OF POPE A COMPLIMENT TO THE LADIES
Wondrous the Gods more wondrous are the Men
More Wondrous Wondrous still the Cock & Hen
More wondrous still the Table Stool & Chair
But Ah More wondrous still the Charming Fair
WILLIAM COWPER ESQRE
For this is being a Friend just in the nick
Not when hes well but waiting till hes sick
He calls you to his help be you not movd
Untill by being Sick his wants are provd
You see him spend his Soul in Prophecy 5
Do you believe it a Confounded lie
Till some Bookseller & the Public Fame
Proves there is truth in his extravagant claim
For tis atrocious in a Friend you love
To tell you any thing that he cant prove 10
And tis most wicked in a Christian Nation
For any Man to pretend to Inspiration
THE ONLY MAN THAT EER I KNEW...
The only Man that eer I knew
Who did not make me almost spew
Was Fuseli he was both Turk & Jew
And so dear Christian Friends how do you do
MADMAN I HAVE BEEN CALLD FOOL THEY CALL THEE...
Madman I have been calld Fool they Call thee
I wonder which they Envy Thee or Me
TO F — — —
I mock thee not tho I by thee am Mocked
Thou callst me Madman but I call thee Blockhead
HES A BLOCKHEAD WHO WANTS A PROOF OF WHAT HE CAN’T PERCIEVE...
Hes a Blockhead who wants a proof of what he Can’t Percieve
And he’s a Fool who tries to make such a Blockhead believe
TO NANCY F — — —
How can I help thy Husbands copying Me
Should that make difference twixt me & Thee
TO F — — —
You call me Mad tis Folly to do so
To seek to turn a Madman to a Foe
If you think as you speak you are an Ass
If you do not you are but what you was
S — — - IN CHILDHOOD ON THE NURSERY FLOOR...
S — — - in Childhood on the Nursery floor
Was extreme Old & most extremely poor
He is grown old & rich & what he will
He is extreme old & extreme poor still
HE HAS OBSERVD THE GOLDEN RULE...
He has observd the Golden Rulet
Till hes become the Golden Fool
TO S — — — D
You all your Youth observed the Golden Rule
Till youre at last become the golden Fool
I sport with Fortune Merry Blithe & Gay
Like to the Lion Sporting with his Prey
Take you the hide & horns which you may wear 5
Mine is the flesh the bones may be your Share
ON S — — -
You say reserve & modesty he has
Whose heart is iron his head wood & his face brass
The Fox the Owl the Beetle & the Bat
By sweet reserve & modesty get Fat
old acquaintance well renew...
old acquaintance well renewt
Prospero had One Caliban & I have Two
ON F — — & S — —
I found them blind I taught them how to seet
And now they know neither themselves nor met
Tis Excellent to turn a thorn to a pin
A Fool to a bolt a knave to a glass of gin
MR STOTHARD TO MR CROMEK
For Fortunes favours you your riches bring
But Fortune says she gave you no such thing
Why should you be ungrateful to your friends
Sneaking & Backbiting & Odds & Ends
MR CROMEK TO MR STOTHARD
Fortune favours the Brave old Proverbs say
But not with Money. that is not the way
Turn back turn back you travel all in vain
Turn thro the iron gate down Sneaking Lane
CR — — LOVES ARTISTS AS HE LOVES HIS MEAT...
Cr — — loves artists as he loves his Meat
He loves the Art but tis the Art to Cheat
A PETTY SNEAKING KNAVE I KNEW...
A Petty sneaking Knave I knew
O Mr Cr — — how do ye do
CROMEK SPEAKS
I always take my judgment from a Fool
Because his judgment is so very Cool
Not prejudicd by feelings great or small
Amiable state he cannot feel at all
ENGLISH ENCOURAGEMENT OF ART (FIRST READING)
[First reading]
If you mean to Please Every body you will
Set to work both Ignorance & skill
For a great multitude are Ignorantt
And skill to them seems raving & rant
Like putting oil & water into a lamp 5
Twill make a great splutter with smoke & damp
For there is no use as it seems to me
Of lighting a Lamp when you dont wish to see
ENGLISH ENCOURAGEMENT OF ART (FINAL READING)
[Final reading]
English Encouragement of Art
Cromeks opinions put into Rhyme
If you mean to Please Every body you will
Menny wouver both Bunglishness & skill
For a great Conquest are Bunglery
And Jenous looks to ham like mad Rantery
Like displaying oil & water into a lamp 5
Twill hold forth a huge splutter with smoke & damp
For its all sheer loss as it seems to me
Of displaying up a light when we want not to see
WHEN YOU LOOK AT A PICTURE YOU ALWAYS CAN SEE...
When you look at a picture you always can see
If a Man of Sense has Painted he
Then never flinch but keep up a Jaw
About freedom & jenny suck awa’t
And when it smells of the Lamp we can 5
Say all was owing to the Skilful Man
For the smell of water is but small
So een let Ignorance do it all
THE CUNNING SURES & THE AIM AT YOURS...
The Cunning sures & the Aim at yours
ALL PICTURES THATS PANTED WITH SENSE & WITH THOUGHT...
All Pictures thats Panted with Sense & with Thought
Are Painted by Madmen as sure as a Groat
For the Greater the Fool in the Pencil more blest
And when they are drunk they always pant best
Thy never can Rafael it Fuseli it nor Blake it 5
If they cant see an outline pray how can they make it
When Men will draw outlines begin you to jaw them
Madmen see outlines & therefore they draw them
YOU SAY THEIR PICTURES WELL PAINTED BE...
You say their Pictures well Painted be
And yet they are Blockheads you all agree
Thank God I never was sent to school
To be Flogd into following the Style of a Fool
THE ERRORS OF A WISE MAN MAKE YOUR RULE...
The Errors of a Wise Man make your Rule
Rather than the Perfections of a Fool
GREAT THINGS ARE DONE WHEN MEN & MOUNTAINS MEET...
Great things are done when Men & Mountains meet
This is not Done by jostling in the Street
IF YOU PLAY A GAME OF CHANCE KNOW BEFORE YOU BEGIN...
If you play a Game of Chance know before you begin
If you are benevolent you will never win
NO REAL STYLE OF COLOURING EVER APPEARS
No real Style of Colouring ever appears
But advertising in the News Papers
Look there youll see Sr Joshuas Colouring
Look at his Pictures All has taken Wing
CAN THERE BE ANY THING MORE MEAN...
Can there be any thing more mean
More Malice in disguise
Than Praise a Man for doing whatt
That Man does most despise
Reynolds Lectures Exactly sot 5
When he praises Michael Angelo
SIR JOSHUA PRAISES MICHAEL ANGELO...
Sir Joshua Praises Michael Angelot
Tis Christian Mildness when Knaves Praise a Foe
But Twould be Madness all the World would say
Should Michael Angelo praise Sir Joshuat
Christ usd the Pharisees in a rougher way 5
SIR JO[S]HUA PRAISED RUBENS WITH A SMILE...
Sir Jo[s]hua praised Rubens with a Smile
By Calling his the ornamental Style
And yet his praise of Flaxman was the smartest
When he calld him the Ornamental Artist
But sure such ornaments we well may spare 5
As Crooked limbs & louzy heads of hair
FLORENTINE INGRATITUDE
Sir Joshua sent his own Portrait to
The birth Place of Michael Angelo
And in the hand of the simpering fool
He put a Dirty paper scroll
And on the paper to be polite 5
Did Sketches by Michel Angelo write
The Florentines said Tis a Dutch English bore
Michael Angelos Name writ on Rembrandts door
The Florentines call it an English Fetch
For Michael Angelo did never Sketch 10
Every line of his has Meaning
And needs neither Suckling nor Weaning
Tis the trading English Venetian Cant
To speak Michael Angelo & Act Rembrandt
It will set his Dutch friends all in a roar 15
To write Mch Ang on Rembrandts Door
But You must not bring in your hand a Lie
If you mean that the Florentines should buy
Ghiottos Circle or Apelles Line
Were not the Work of Sketchers drunk with Wine 20
Nor of the City Clarks merry hearted Fashion
Nor of Sir Isaac Newtons Calculation
Nor of the City Clarks Idle Facilities
Which sprang from Sir Isaac Newtons great Abilities
These Verses were written by a very Envious Man 25
Who whatever likeness he may have to Michael Angelo
Never can have any to Sir Jehoshuan
A PITIFUL CASE
The Villain at the Gallows tree
When he is doomd to die
To assuage his misery
In Virtues praise does cry
So Reynolds when he came to die 5
To assuage his bitter woe:
Thus aloud did howl & cry
Michael Angelo Michael Angelo
TO THE ROYAL ACADEMY
A strange Erratum in all the Editions
Of Sir Joshua Reynoldss Lectures
Shou[l]d be corrected by the Young Gentlemen
And the Royal Academys Directors
Instead of Michael Angelo 5
Read Rembrandt for it is fit
To make meer common honesty
In all that he has writ
THE CRIPPLE EVERY STEP DRUDGES & LABOURS...
The Cripple every Step Drudges & labours
And says come learn to walk of me Good Neighbours
Sir Joshua in astonishment cries out
See what Great Labour Pain him & Modest Doubt
Newton & Bacon cry being badly Nurst. 5
He is all Experiments from last to first
He walks & stumbles as if he crep
And how high labourd is every step
I RUBENS AM A STATESMAN & A SAINT...
I Rubens am a Statesman & a Saint
Deceptions? O no — so I’ll learn to Paint
TO ENGLISH CONNOISSEURS
You must agree that Rubens was a Fool
And yet you make him master of Your School
And give more money for his Slobberings
Than you will give for Rafaels finest Things
I understood Christ was a Carpenter 5
And not a Brewers Servant my good Sir
SWELLD LIMBS WITH NO OUTLINE THAT YOU CAN DESCRY...
Swelld limbs with no outline that you can descry
That Stink in the Nose of a Stander by
But all the Pulp washd painted finishd with labour
Of an hundred journeymens how dye do Neighbour
A PRETTY EPIGRAM
A Pretty Epigram for the Entertainment of
those who have Paid Great Sums in the
Venetian & Flemish Ooze
Nature & Art in this together Suit
What is Most Grand is always most Minute
Rubens thinks Tables Chairs & Stools are Grand
But Rafael thinks A Head a foot a hand
THESE ARE THE IDIOTS CHIEFEST ARTS...
These are the Idiots chiefest artst
To blend & not define the Parts
The Swallow sings in Courts of Kings
That Fools have their high finishings
And this the Princes golden rule 5
The Laborious stumble of a Fool
To make out the parts is the wise mans aim
But to lose them the Fool makes his foolish Game
RAFAEL SUBLIME MAJESTIC GRACEFUL WISE...
Rafael Sublime Majestic Graceful Wise
His Executive Power must I despise
Rubens Low Vulgar Stupid Ignorant
His power of Execution I must grant
Learn the Laborious stumble of a Fool 5
And from an Idiots Actions form my rule
Go send your Children to the Slobbering School
ON THE GREAT ENCOURAGEMENT
Given by English Nobility & Gentry to Correggio Rubens
Rembrandt Reynolds Gainsborough Catalani
DuCrowe & Dilberry Doodle
As the Ignorant Savage will sell his own Wife
For a Sword or a Cutlass a dagger or Knife
So the Taught Savage Englishman spends his whole Fortune
On a smear or a squall to destroy Picture or Tune
And I call upon Colonel Wardle 5
To give these Rascals a dose of Cawdle
GIVE PENSIONS TO THE LEARNED PIG...
Give pensions to the Learned Pig
Or the Hare playing on a Tabor
Anglus can never see Perfection
But in the Journeymans Labour
WHEN I SEE A RUBENS REMBRANT CORREGGIO...
When I see a Rubens Rembrant Correggiot
I think of the Crippled Harry & Slobbering Joe
And then I question thus are artists rules
To be drawn from the works of two manifest fools
Then God defend us from the Arts I say 5
Send Battle Murder Sudden Death O pray
Rather than be such a blind Human Fool
Id be an Ass a Hog a Worm a Chair a Stool
DELICATE HANDS & HEADS WILL NEVER APPEAR...
Delicate Hands & Heads will never appear
While Titians &c as in the Book of Moonlight p 5
I ASKD MY DEAR FRIEND ORATOR PRIGG...
I askd my Dear Friend Orator Priggt
Whats the first part of Oratory he said a great wig
And what is the second then dancing a jig
And bowing profoundly he said a great wig
And what is the third then he snord like a pig 5
And puffing his cheeks he replied a Great wigt
So if a Great Panter with Questions you push
Whats the first Part of Panting hell say a Pant Brush
And what is the second with most modest blush
Hell smile like a Cherub & say a pant Brush 10
And what is the third hell bow like a rush
With a lear in his Eye hell reply a Pant Brush
Perhaps this is all a Painter can want
But look yonder that house is the house of Rembrant
O DEAR MOTHER OUTLINE OF KNOWLEDGE MOST SAGE
O dear Mother outline of knowledge most saget
Whats the First Part of Painting she said Patronage
And what is the second to Please & Engage
She frownd like a Fury & said Patronage
And what is the Third she put off Old Age 5
And smild like a Syren & said Patronage
TO VENETIAN ARTISTS
That God is Colouring Newton does shew
And the devil is a Black outline all of us know
Perhaps this little Fable may make us merry
A dog went over the water without a wherry
A bone which he had stolen he had in his mouth 5
He cared not whether the wind was north or south
As he swam he saw the reflection of the bone
This is quite Perfection, one Generalizing Tone
Outline Theres no outline Theres no such thing
All is Chiaro Scuro Poco Piu its all Colouring 10
Snap. Snap! he has lost shadow & substance too
He had them both before now how do ye do
A great deal better than I was before
Those who taste colouring love it more & more
GREAT MEN & FOOLS DO OFTEN ME INSPIRE...
Great Men & Fools do often me Inspire
But the Greater Fool the Greater Liar
SOME PEOPLE ADMIRE THE WORK OF A FOOL
Some people admire the work of a Fool
For its sure to keep your judgment cool
It does not reproach you with want of wit
It is not like a lawyer serving a writ
HER WHOLE LIFE IS AN EPIGRAM SMACK SMOOTH & NOBLY PEND...
Her whole Life is an Epigram smack smooth & nobly pend
Platted quite neat to catch applause with a sliding noose at the end
WHEN A MAN HAS MARRIED A WIFE...
When a Man has Married a Wife
he finds out whether
Her knees & elbows are only
glued together
GROWN OLD IN LOVE FROM SEVEN TILL SEVEN TIMES SEVEN...
Grown old in Love from Seven till Seven times Seven
I oft have wishd for Hell for Ease from Heaven
THE HEBREW NATION DID NOT WRITE IT...
The Hebrew Nation did not write it
Avarice & Chastity did shite it
TO GOD
If you have formd a Circle to go into
Go into it yourself & see how you would do
SINCE ALL THE RICHES OF THIS WORLD...
Since all the Riches of this World
May be gifts from the Devil & Earthly Kings
I should suspect that I worshipd the Devil
If I thankd my God for Worldly things
TO CHLOES BREAST YOUNG CUPID SLILY STOLE...
To Chloes breast young Cupid slily stole
But he crept in at Myras pocket hole
NAIL HIS NECK TO THE CROSS NAIL IT WITH A NAIL...
Nail his neck to the Cross nail it with a nail
Nail his neck to the Cross ye all have power over his tail
A WOMAN SCALY & A MAN ALL HAIRY...
A Woman Scaly & a Man all Hairy
Is such a Match as he who dares
Will find the Womans Scales Scrape off the Mans Hairs
THE WASHER WOMANS SONG
I washd them out & washd them in
And they told me it was a great Sin
THE PHOENIX TO MRS BUTTS
I saw a Bird rise from the East
As a Bird rises from its Nest
With sweetest Songs I ever heard
It sang I am Mrs Butts’s Bird
And then I saw a Fairy gay 5
That with this beauteous Bird would play
From a golden cloud she came
She calld the sweet Bird by its name
She call’d it Phoenix! Heavens Dove!
She call’d it all the names of Love 10
But the Bird flew fast away
Where little Children sport & play
And they strok’d it with their hands
All their cooe’s it understands
The Fairy to my bosom flew 15
Weeping tears of morning dew
I said: Thou foolish whimpring thing
Is not that thy Fairy Ring
Where those Children sport & play
In Fairy fancies light & gay 20
Seem a Child & be a Child
And the Phoenix is beguild
But if thou seem’st a Fairy thing
Then it flies on glancing Wing
WILLIAM BLAKE
LAOCOON
If Morality was Christianity Socrates was the Saviour
ÙÔ [Jehovah] & his two Sons Satan & Adam as they were copied from the Cherubim
of Solomons Temple by three Rhodians & applied to Natural Fact, or History of Ilium
Art Degraded Imagination Denied War Governed the Nations
5Evil
Good & Evil are
Riches & Poverty a Tree of
Misery
propagating
10 Generation & Death
The Gods of Priam are the Cherubim of Moses & Solomon: The Hosts
of Heaven
Without Unceasing Practise nothing can be done Practise is Art
If you leave off you are Lost
15 The Angel of the Divine Presence
ÞÜÐÚ ÙÔÕÔ [Angel of Jehovah]
Ÿ¦™¿Å§¿Â [Serpent-holder]
HEBREW ART is
called SIN by the Deist SCIENCE
20 All that we See is Vision
from Generated Organs gone as soon as come
Permanent in The Imagination; Considerd
as Nothing by the
NATURAL MAN
25 What can be Created
Can be Destroyed
Adam is only
The Natural Man
& not the Soul
30 or Imagination
Good
ÜÙÜÙê [Lilith]
Satans Wife The Goddess Nature is War & Misery & Heroism a Miser
Spiritual War
35 Israel deliverd from Egypt
is Art deliverd from
Nature & Imitation
A Poet a Painter a Musician an Architect : the Man
Or Woman who is not one of these is not a Christian
40 You must leave Fathers & Mothers & Houses & Lands if they stand in the way of Art
The Eternal Body of Man is The IMAGINATION, that is God himself
The Divine Body } Ùéâ [Yeshua] JESUS we are his
Members
It manifests itself in his Works of Art (In Eternity All is Vision)
45 The True Christian Charity not dependent on Money (the lifes blood of Poor Families)
that is on Caesar or Empire or Natural Religion
Money, which is The Great Satan or Reason
the Root of Good & Evil
In The Accusation of Sin
50 Prayer is the Study of Art Praise is the Practise of Art
Fasting &c. all relate to Art The outward Ceremony is Antichrist
Where any view of Money exists Art cannot be carried on, but War only
Read Matthew C X. 9 & 10v
by pretences to the Two Impossibilities Chastity & Abstinence Gods of the Heathen
He repented that he had made Adam
55 (of the Female, the Adamah)
& it grieved him at his heart
Art can never exist without
Naked Beauty displayed
The Gods of Greece & Egypt were Mathematical
60 Diagrams
See Plato’s
Works
Divine Union
Deriding
65 And Denying Immediate
Communion with God
The Spoilers say
Where are his Works
That he did in the Wilderness
70 Lo what are these
Whence came they
These are not the Works
Of Egypt nor Babylon
Whose Gods are the Powers
75 Of this World. Goddess, Nature.
Who first spoil & then destroy
Imaginative Art
For their Glory is
War and Dominion
80 Empire against Art See Virgils Eneid.
Lib. VI.v 848
For every
Pleasure
Money
85 Is Useless
There are States
in which. all
Visionary Men
are accounted
90 Mad Men
such are
Greece & Rome
Such is
Empire
95 or Tax
See Luke Ch 2.v l
Jesus & his Apostles & Disciples were all Artists Their Works were destroyd by the
Seven Angels of the Seven Churches in Asia Antichrist Science
The unproductive Man is not a Christian much less the Destroyer
The Old & New Testaments are the Great Code of Art
100 SCIENCE is the Tree of DEATH
ART is the Tree
of LIFE
GOD
is JESUS
105 The Whole Business of Man Is
The Arts & All Things Common
No Secre
sy in Art
What we call Antique Gems are the Gems of Aarons Breast Plate
110 Christianity is Art & not Money
Money is its Curse
Is not every Vice possible to Man
described in the Bible openly
All is not Sin that Satan calls so
115 all the Loves & Graces of Eternity
UNCOLLECTED WORKS
CONTENTS
THIS WAS SPOKE BY MY SPECTRE TO VOLTAIRE BACON &C
ODE ON THE DEATH OF A FAVOURITE CAT, DROWNED IN A TUB OF GOLD FISHES (AS ILLUSTRATOR ONLY)
A FATHER’S MEMOIRS OF HIS CHILD.
then She bore Pale desire father of Curiosity a Virgin ever
young. And after. Leaden Sloth from whom came Ignorance. who
brought forth wonder. These are the Gods which Came from fear.
for Gods like these. nor male nor female are but Single Pregnate
5 or if they list together mingling bring forth mighty powrs[.] She
knew them not yet they all war with Shame and Strengthen her weak
arm. But Pride awoke nor knew that Joy was born. and taking
Poisnous Seed from her own Bowels. in the Monster Shame infusd.
forth Came Ambition Crawling like a toad Pride Bears it in her
10 Bosom. and the Gods. all bow to it. So Great its Power. that
Pride inspird by it Prophetic Saw the Kingdoms of the World & all
their Glory. Giants of Mighty arm before the flood. Cains City.
built With Murder. Then Babel mighty Reard him to the Skies.
Babel with thousand tongues Confusion it was calld. and Givn to
15 Shame. this Pride observing inly Grievd. but knew not that.
the rest was Givn to Shame as well as this. Then Nineva &
Babylon & Costly tyre. And evn Jerusalem was Shewn. the holy
City. Then Athens Learning & the Pride of Greece. and further
from the Rising Sun. was Rome Seated on Seven hills the
20 mistress of the world. Emblem of Pride She Saw the Arts their
treasures Bring and luxury his bounteous table Spread. but now a
Cloud oercasts. and back to th’East. to Constantines Great City
Empire fled, Ere long to bleed & die a Sacrifice done by a
Priestly hand[.] So once the Sun his. Chariot drew. back. to
25 prolong a Good kings life.
The Cloud oer past & Rome now Shone again Miterd & Crown’d with
triple crown. Then Pride was better Pleasd She Saw the World fall
down in Adoration[.] But now full to the Setting Sun a Sun
arose out of the Sea. it rose & shed Sweet Influence oer the
30 Earth Pride feared for her City, but not long. for looking
Stedfastly She saw that Pride Reignd here. Now Direful Pains
accost her. and Still pregnant. so Envy came & Hate. twin progeny
Envy hath a Serpents head of fearful bulk hissing with hundred
tongues, her poisnous breath breeds Satire foul Contagion from
35 which none are free. oer whelmd by ever During Thirst She
Swalloweth her own Poison. which consumes her nether Parts.
from whence a River Springs. Most Black & loathsom through the
land it Runs Rolling with furious [p 3] Noise. but at the last it
Settles in a lake called Oblivion. tis at this Rivers fount where
40 evry mortals Cup is Mix’t My Cup is fill’d with Envy’s Rankest
Draught a miracle No less can set me Right. Desire Still
Pines but for
one Cooling Drop and tis Deny’d, while others in Contentments
downy Nest do sleep, it is the Cursed thorn wounding my breast
45 that makes me sing. however sweet tis Envy that Inspires my Song.
prickt. by the fame of others how I mourn and my complaints are
Sweeter than their Joys but O could I at Envy Shake my hands. my
notes Should Rise to meet the New born Day. Hate Meager hag Sets
Envy on unable to Do ought herself. but Worn away a Bloodless
50 Daemon The Gods all Serve her at her will so great her Power
is[.] like. fabled hecate She doth bind them to her law. Far in a
Direful Cave She lives unseen Closd from the Eye of Day. to the
hard Rock transfixt by fate and here She works her witcheries
that when She Groans She Shakes the Solid Ground Now Envy She
55 controlls with numming trance & Melancholy Sprung from her dark
womb There is a Melancholy, O how lovely tis whose heaven is in
the heavenly Mind for she from heaven came, and where She goes
heaven still doth follow her. She brings true joy once
fled. & Contemplation is her Daughter. Sweet Contemplation. She
60 brings humility to man Take her She Says & wear her in thine
heart lord of thy Self thou then art lord of all. Tis
Contemplation teacheth knowledge truly how to know. and
Reinstates him on his throne once lost how lost I’ll tell. But
Stop the motley Song I’ll Shew. how Conscience Came from heaven.
65 But O who listens to his Voice. T’was Conscience who brought
Melancholy down Conscience was sent a Guard to Reason. Reason
once fairer than the light till fould in Knowledges dark Prison
house. For knowledge drove sweet Innocence away. and Reason would
have followd but fate sufferd not. Then down Came conscience With
70 his lovely band The Eager Song Goes on telling how Pride against
her father Warrd & Overcame. Down his white Beard the Silver
torrents Roll. and Swelling Sighs burst forth his Children all in
arms appear to tear him from his throne Black was the deed. most
Black. Shame in a Mist Sat Round his troubled bead. & filld him
75 with Confusion. Fear as a torrent wild Roard Round his throne the
mighty pillars shake Now all the Gods in blackning Ranks appear.
like a tempestuous thunder Cloud Pride leads. them on. Now they
Surround the God. and bind him fast. Pride bound him, then usurpd
oer all the Gods. She Rode upon the Swelling wind and Scatterd
80 all who durst t’oppose. but Shame opposing fierce and hovering.
over her in the darkning Storm. She brought forth Rage. Mean
while Strife Mighty Prince was born Envy in direful Pains him
bore. then Envy brought forth Care. Care Sitteth in the wrinkled
brow. Strife Shapeless Sitteth under thrones of kings. like
85 Smouldring fire. or in the Buzz of Cities flies abroad Care
brought forth Covet Eyeless & prone to th’ Earth, and
Strife brought forth Revenge. Hate brooding in her Dismal den
grew Pregnant & bore Scorn, & Slander. Scorn waits on Pride.
but Slander. flies around the World to do the Work of hate her
90 drudge & Elf. but Policy doth drudge for hate as well as Slander.
& oft makes use of her. Policy Son of Shame. Indeed
hate Controlls all the Gods. at will. Policy brought forth Guile
& fraud. these Gods last namd live in the Smoke of Cities. on
Dusky wing breathing forth Clamour & Destruction. alas in Cities
95 wheres the man whose face is not a mask unto his heart Pride made
a Goddess. fair or Image rather till knowledge animated it.
‘twas Calld Selflove. The Gods admiring loaded her with Gifts as
once Pandora She ‘mongst men was Sent. and worser ills attended
her by far. She was a Goddess Powerful & bore Conceit and Shame
100 bore honour & made league with Pride & Policy doth dwell with
her by whom she [had] Mistrust & Suspition. Then bore a Daughter
called Emulation. who. married. honour these follow her around
the World[.] Go See the City friends Joind Hand in Hand. Go See.
the Natural the of flesh & blood. Go See more strong the ties of
TO NOBODADDY
Why art thou silent & invisible,
Father of Jealousy?
Why dost thou hide thyself in clouds
From every searching Eye?
Why darkness & obscurity
In all thy works & laws,
That none dare eat the fruit but from
Thy wily serpent’s jaws?
Or is it because Secrecy
Gains females’ loud applause?
PROSPECTUS TO THE PUBLIC
October 10, 1793.
The Labours of the Artist, the Poet, the Musician, have been proverbially attended by poverty and obscurity; this was never the fault of the Public, but was owing to a neglect of means to propagate such works as have wholly absorbed the Man of Genius. Even Milton and Shakespeare could not publish their own works.
This difficulty has been obviated by the Author of the following productions now presented to the Public; who has invented a method of Printing both Letter-press and Engraving in a style more ornamental, uniform, and grand, than any before discovered, while it produces works at less than one fourth of the expense.
If a method of Printing which combines the Painter and the Poet is a phenomenon worthy of public attention, provided that it exceeds in elegance all former methods, the Author is sure of his reward.
Mr. Blake’s powers of invention very early engaged the attention of many persons of eminence and fortune; by whose means he has been regularly enabled to bring before the Public works (he is not afraid to say) of equal magnitude and consequence with the productions of any age or country: among which are two large highly finished engravings (and two more are nearly ready) which will commence a Series of subjects from the Bible, and another from the History of England.
The following are the Subjects of the several Works now published and on Sale at Mr. Blake’s, No. 13, Hercules Buildings, Lambeth.
1. Job, a Historical Engraving. Size 1 ft.7 1/2 in. by 1 ft. 2 in.: price 12s.
2. Edward and Elinor, a Historical Engraving. Size 1 ft. 6 1/2 in. by 1 ft.: price 10s. 6d.
3. America, a Prophecy, in Illuminated Printing. Folio, with 18 designs: price 10s. 6d.
4. Visions of the Daughters of Albion, in Illuminated Printing. Folio, with 8 designs, price 7s. 6d.
5. The Book of Thel, a Poem in Illuminated Printing. Quarto, with 6 designs, price 3s.
6. The Marriage of Heaven and Hell, in Illuminated Printing. Quarto, with 14 designs, price 7s. 6d.
7. Songs of Innocence, in Illuminated Printing. Octavo, with 25 designs, price 5s.
8. Songs of Experience, in Illuminated Printing. Octavo, with 25 designs, price 5s.
9. The History of England, a small book of Engravings. Price 3s.
10. The Gates of Paradise, a small book of Engravings. Price 3s.
The Illuminated Books are Printed in Colours, and on the most beautiful wove paper that could be procured,
No Subscriptions for the numerous great works now in hand are asked, for none are wanted; but the Author will produce his works, and offer them to sale at a fair price.
THE GATES OF PARADISE
Mutual Forgiveness of each Vice
Such are the Gates of Paradise
Against the Accusers chief desire
Who walkd among the Stones of Fire
Jehovahs Finger Wrote the Law
Then Wept: then rose in Zeal & Awe
And the Dead Corpse from Sinais heat
Buried beneath his Mercy Seat
O Christians Christians tell me Why
You rear it on your Altars high
DESCRIPTIVE CATALOGUE
A DESCRIPTIVE
CATALOGUE OF PICTURES,
POETICAL AND HISTORICAL INVENTIONS,
PAINTED BY WILLIAM BLAKE IN WATER-COLOURS.
Being the ancient method of Fresco Painting revived:
and Drawings for Public Inspection, and for Sale by Private Contract.
London : Printed by D. N. Shury, 7, Berwick Street, Soho, for J. Blake, 28, Broad Street, Golden Square. 1809.
CONDITIONS OF SALE.
I. One-third of the Price to be paid at the time of Purchase, and the remainder on Delivery.
II. The Pictures and Drawings to remain in the Exhibition till its close, which will be the 25th of September, 1809: and the Picture of The Canterbury Pilgrims, which is to be engraved, will be sold only on condition of its remaining in the Artist’s hands twelve months, when it will be delivered to the Buyer.
NUMBER. I.
The Spiritual Form of Nelson guiding Leviathan, in whose wreathings are infolded the Nations of the Earth.
Clearness and precision have been the chief objects in painting these Pictures. Clear colours unmudded by oil, and firm and determinate lineaments unbroken by shadows, which ought to display and not to hide form, as is the practice of the latter Schools of Italy and Flanders.
NUMBER II: — ITS COMPANION.
The Spiritual Form of Pitt guiding Behemoth; he is that Angel who, pleased to perform the Almighty’s orders, rides on the whirlwind, directing the storms of war; He is ordering the Reaper to reap the Vine of the Earth, and the Ploughman to plough tip the Cities and Towers.
This Picture also is a proof of the power of colours unsullied with oil or with any cloggy vehicle. Oil has falsely been supposed to give strength to colours: but a little consideration must show the fallacy of this opinion. Oil will not drink or absorb colour enough to stand the test of very little time and of the air. It deadens every colour it is mixed with, at its first mixture, and in a little time becomes a yellow mask over all that it touches. Let the works of modern Artists since Rubens’ time witness the villany of some one at that time, who first brought Oil Painting into general opinion and practice: since which we have never had a Picture painted that could show itself by the side of an earlier production. Whether Rubens or Vandyke, or both, were guilty of this villany, is to be inquired in another work on Painting, and who first forged the silly story and known falsehood about John of Bruges inventing oil-colours: in the meantime let it be observed, that before Vandyke’s time and in his time all the genuine Pictures are on Plaster or Whiting grounds, and none since.
The two Pictures of Nelson and Pitt are compositions of a mythological cast, similar to those Apotheoses of Persian, Hindoo, and Egyptian Antiquity, which are still preserved on rude monuments, being copies from some stupendous originals now lost, or perhaps buried till some happier age. The Artist having been taken in vision into the ancient republics, monarchies, and patriarchates of Asia, has seen those wonderful originals, called in the Sacred Scriptures the Cherubim, which were sculptured and painted on walls of Temples, Towers, Cities, Palaces, and erected in the highly cultivated States of Egypt, Moab, Edom, Aram, among the Rivers of Paradise — being originals from which the Greeks and Hetrurians copied Hercules Farnese, Venus of Medicis, Apollo Belvedere, and all the grand works of ancient art. They were executed in a very superior style to those justly admired copies, being with their accompaniments terrific and grand in the highest degree. The Artist has endeavoured to emulate the grandeur of those seen in his vision, and to apply it to modern Heroes, on a smaller scale.
No man can believe that either Homer’s Mythology, or Ovid’s, was the production of Greece, or of Latium; neither will any one believe that the Greek statues, as they are called, were the invention of Greek Artists; perhaps the Torso is the only original work remaining; all the rest are evidently copies, though fine ones, from greater works of the Asiatic Patriarchs. The Greek Muses are daughters of Mnemosyne or Memory, and not of Inspiration or Imagination, therefore not authors of such sublime conceptions. Those wonderful originals seen in my visions were some of them one hundred feet in height; some were painted as pictures, and some carved as basso-relievos, and some as groups of statues, all containing mythological and recondite meaning, where more is meant than meets the eye. The Artist wishes it was now the fashion to make such monuments, and then he should not doubt of having a national commission to execute these two Pictures on a scale that is suitable to the grandeur of the nation, who is the parent of his heroes, in high-finished fresco, where the colours would be as pure and as permanent as precious stones though the figures were one hundred feet in height.
All Frescoes are as high-finished as miniatures or enamels, and they are known to be unchangeable; but oil, being a body itself, will drink or absorb very little colour, and, changing yellow, and at length brown, destroys every colour it is mixed with, especially every delicate colour. It turns every permanent white to a yellow and brown putty, and has compelled the use of that destroyer of colour, white-lead, which, when its protecting oil is evaporated, will become lead again. This is an awful thing to say to Oil Painters; they may call it madness, but it is true. All the genuine old little Pictures, called Cabinet Pictures, are in fresco and not in oil. Oil was not used, except by blundering ignorance, till after Vandyke’s time; but the art of fresco-painting being lost, oil became a fetter to genius and a dungeon to art. But one convincing proof among many others that these assertions are true is, that real gold and silver cannot be used with oil, as they are in all the old pictures and in Mr. B.’s frescoes.
NUMBER III.
Sir Jeffery Chaucer and the Nine-and-twenty Pilgrims on their journey to Canterbury.
The time chosen is early morning, before sunrise, when the jolly company are just quitting the Tabarde Inn. The Knight and Squire with the Squire’s Yeoman lead the Procession; next follow the youthful Abbess, her nun, and three priests; her greyhounds attend her:
‘Of small hounds had she that she fed
With roast flesh, milk, and wastel bread.’
Next follow the Friar and Monk; then the Tapiser, the Pardoner, and the Sompnour and Manciple. After these ‘Our Host,’ who occupies the centre of the cavalcade, directs them to the Knight as the person who would be likely to commence their task of each telling a tale in their order. After the Host follow the Shipman, the Haberdasher, the Dyer, the Franklin, the Physician, the Ploughman, the Lawyer, the Poor Parson, the Merchant, the Wife of Bath, the Miller, the Cook, the Oxford Scholar, Chaucer himself; and the Reeve comes as Chaucer has described, —
‘And ever he rode hinderest of the rout.’</poem>
These last are issuing from the gateway of the Inn; the Cook and the Wife of Bath are both taking their morning’s draught of comfort. Spectators stand at the gateway of the Inn, and are composed of an old Man, a Woman, and Children.
The Landscape is an eastward view of the country, from the Tabarde Inn in Southwark, as it may be supposed to have appeared in Chaucer’s time; interspersed with cottages and villages. The first beams of the Sun are seen above the horizon: some buildings and spires indicate the situation of the Great City. The Inn is a Gothic building, which Thynne in his Glossary says was the lodging of the Abbot of Hyde, by Winchester. On the Inn is inscribed its title, and a proper advantage is taken of this circumstance to describe the subject of the Picture. The words written over the gateway of the Inn are as follow: ‘The Tabarde Inn, by Henry Baillie, the lodgynge-house for Pilgrims who journey to St. Thomas’s Shrine at Canterbury.’
The characters of Chaucer’s Pilgrims are the characters which compose all ages and nations. As one age falls, another rises, different to mortal sight, but to immortals only the same; for we see the same characters repeated again and again, in animals, vegetables, minerals, and in men. Nothing new occurs in identical existence; Accident ever varies, Substance can never suffer change nor decay.
Of Chaucer’s characters, as described in his Canterbury Tales, some of the names or titles are altered by time, but the characters themselves for ever remain unaltered; and consequently they are the physiognomies or lineaments of universal human life, beyond which Nature never steps. Names alter, things never alter. I have known multitudes of those who would have been monks in the age of monkery, who in this deistical age are deists. As Newton numbered the stars, and as Linnæus numbered the plants, so Chaucer numbered the classes of men.
The Painter has consequently varied the heads and forms of his personages into all Nature’s varieties; the Horses he has also varied to accord to their Riders: the Costume is correct according to authentic monuments.
The Knight and Squire with the Squire’s Yeoman lead the procession, as Chaucer has also placed them first in his prologue. The Knight is a true Hero, a good, great, and wise man; his whole-length portrait on horseback, as written by Chaucer, cannot be surpassed. He has spent his life in the field, has ever been a conqueror, and is that species of character which in every age stands as the guardian of man against the oppressor. His son is like him, with the germ of perhaps greater perfection still, as he blends literature and the arts with his warlike studies. Their dress and their horses are of the first rate, without ostentation, and with all the true grandeur that unaffected simplicity, when in high rank, always displays. The Squire’s Yeoman is also a great character, a man perfectly knowing in his profession:
‘And in his hand he bare a mighty bow.’
Chaucer describes here a mighty man, one who in war is the worthy attendant on noble heroes.
The Prioress follows these with her female chaplain:
‘Another Nonne also with her had she,
That was her Chapelaine, and Priestes three.’
This Lady is described also as of the first rank, rich and honoured. She has certain peculiarities and little delicate affectations, not unbecoming in her, being accompanied with what is truly grand and really polite; her person and face Chaucer has described with minuteness; it is very elegant, and was the beauty of our ancestors till after Elizabeth’s time, when voluptuousness and folly began to be accounted beautiful.
Her companion and her three priests were no doubt all perfectly delineated in those parts of Chaucer’s work which are now lost; we ought to suppose them suitable attendants on rank and fashion.
The Monk follows these with the Friar. The Painter has also grouped with these the Pardoner and the Sompnour and the Manciple, and has here also introduced one of the rich citizens of London; — characters likely to ride in company, all being above the common rank in life, or attendants on those who were so.
For the Monk is described, by Chaucer, as a man of the first rank in society, noble, rich, and expensively attended: he is a leader of the age, with certain humorous accompaniments in his character, that do not degrade, but render him an object of dignified mirth, but also with other accompaniments not so respectable.
The Friar is a character also of a mixed kind:
‘A friar there was, a wanton and a merry;’
but in his office he is said to be a ‘full solemn man:’ eloquent, amorous, witty, and satirical; young, handsome, and rich; he is a complete rogue; with constitutional gaiety enough to make him a master of all the pleasures of the world:
‘His neck was white as the fleur de lis,
Thereto strong he was as a champioun.’
It is necessary here to speak of Chaucer’s own character, that I may set certain mistaken critics right in their conception of the humour and fun that occur on the journey. Chaucer is himself the great poetical observer of men, who in every age is born to record and eternize its acts. This he does as a master, as a father and superior, who looks down on their little follies from the Emperor to the Miller: sometimes with severity, oftener with joke and sport.
Accordingly Chaucer has made his Monk a great tragedian, one who studied poetical art. So much so that the generous Knight is, in the compassionate dictates of his soul, compelled to cry out:
missing illustration
‘Ho,’ quoth the Knyght, ‘good Sir, no more of this;
That ye have said is right ynough, I wis,
And mokell more; for little heaviness
Is right enough for much folk, as I guess.
I say, for me, it is a great disease,
Whereas men have been in wealth and ease,
To heare of their sudden fall, alas!
And the contrary is joy and solas.’
The Monk’s definition of tragedy in the proem to his tale is worth repeating:
‘Tragedy is to tell a certain story,
As olde books us maken memory.
Of them that stood in great prosperity.
And be fallen out of high degree,
Into misery, and ended wretchedly.’
Though a man of luxury, pride, and pleasure, he is a master of art and learning, though affecting to despise it. Those who can think that the proud Huntsman and noble Housekeeper, Chaucer’s Monk, is intended for a buffoon or burlesque character, know little of Chaucer.
For the Host who follows this group, and holds the centre of the cavalcade, is a first-rate character, and his jokes are no trifles; they are always, though uttered with audacity, equally free with the Lord and the Peasant; they are always substantially and weightily expressive of knowledge and experience; Henry Baillie, the keeper of the greatest Inn of the greatest City; for such was the Tabarde Inn in Southwark, near London: our Host was also a leader of the age.
By way of illustration, I instance Shakspeare’s Witches in Macbeth. Those who dress them for the stage, consider them as wretched old women, and not, as Shakspeare intended, the Goddesses of Destiny; this shows how Chaucer has been misunderstood in his sublime work. Shakspeare’s Fairies also are the rulers of the vegetable world, and so are Chaucer’s; let them be so considered, and then the poet will be understood, and not else.
But I have omitted to speak of a very prominent character, the Pardoner, the Age’s Knave, who always commands and domineers over the high and low vulgar. This man is sent in every age for a rod and scourge and for a blight, for a trial of men, to divide the classes of men; he is in the most holy sanctuary, and he is suffered by Providence for wise ends, and has also his great use, and his grand leading destiny.
His companion the Sompnour is also a Devil of the first magnitude, grand, terrific, rich, and honoured in the rank of which he holds the destiny. The uses to society are perhaps equal of the Devil and of the Angel; their sublimity, who can dispute?
‘In daunger had he at his owne guise,
The younge girles of his diocese,
And he knew well their counsel, &c.’
The principal figure in the next group is the Good Parson: an Apostle, a real Messenger of Heaven, sent in every age for its light and its warmth. This man is beloved and venerated by all, and neglected by all: he serves all, and is served by none. He is, according to Christ’s definition, the greatest of his age: yet he is a Poor Parson of a town. Read Chaucer’s description of the Good Parson, and bow the head and the knee to Him, Who, in every age, sends us such a burning and a shining light. Search, O ye rich and powerful, for these men and obey their counsel; then shall the golden age return. But alas! you will not easily distinguish him from the Friar or the Pardoner; they also are ‘full solemn men,’ and their counsel you will continue to follow.
I have placed by his side the Sergeant-at-Lawe, who appears delighted to ride in his company, and between him and his brother the Ploughman; as I wish men of Law would always ride with them, and take their counsel, especially in all difficult points. Chaucer’s Lawyer is a character of great venerableness, a Judge, and a real master of the jurisprudence of his age.
The Doctor of Physic is in this group, and the Franklin, the voluptuous country gentleman; contrasted with the Physician, and, on his other hand, with two Citizens of London. Chaucer’s characters live age after age. Every age is a Canterbury Pilgrimage; we all pass on, each sustaining one or other of these characters; nor can a child be born who is not one of these characters of Chaucer. The Doctor of Physic is described as the first of his profession: perfect, learned, completely Master and Doctor in his art. Thus the reader will observe that Chaucer makes every one of his characters perfect in his kind; every one is an Antique Statue, the image of a class, and not of an imperfect individual.
This group also would furnish substantial matter, on which volumes might be written. The Franklin is one who keeps open table, who is the genius of eating and drinking, the Bacchus; as the Doctor of Physic is the Æsculapius, the Host is the Silenus, the Squire is the Apollo, the Miller is the Hercules, &c. Chaucer’s characters are a description of the eternal Principles that exist in all ages. The Franklin is voluptuousness itself most nobly portrayed:
‘It snewèd in his house of meat and drink.’
The Ploughman is simplicity itself, with wisdom and strength for its stamina. Chaucer has divided the ancient character of Hercules between his Miller and his Ploughman. Benevolence is the Ploughman’s great characteristic; he is thin with excessive labour, and not with old age, as some have supposed:
‘He woulde thresh, and thereto dike and delve,
For Christe’s sake, for every poore wight,
Withouten hire, if it lay in his might.’
Visions of these eternal principles or characters of human life appear to poets in all ages; the Grecian gods were the ancient Cherubim of Phœnicia; but the Greeks, and since them the Moderns, have neglected to subdue the gods of Priam. These Gods are visions of the eternal attributes, or divine names, which, when erected into gods, become destructive to humanity. They ought to be the servants, and not the masters, of man or of society. They ought to be made to sacrifice to Man, and not man compelled to sacrifice to them; for, when separated from man or humanity, who is Jesus the Saviour, the vine of eternity? They are thieves and rebels, they are destroyers.
The Ploughman of Chaucer is Hercules in his supreme eternal state, divested of his spectrous shadow; which is the Miller, a terrible fellow, such as exists in all times and places, for the trial of men, to astonish every neighbourhood with brutal strength and courage, to get rich and powerful, to curb the pride of Man.
The Reeve and the Manciple are two characters of the most consummate worldly wisdom. The Shipman, or Sailor, is a similar genius of Ulyssean art, but with the highest courage superadded.
The Citizens and their Cook are each leaders of a class. Chaucer has been somehow made to number four citizens, which would make his whole company, himself included, thirty-one. But he says there were but nine-and-twenty in his company:
‘Full nine-and-twenty in a company.’
The Webbe, or Weaver, and the Tapiser, or Tapestry Weaver, appear to me to be the same person; but this is only an opinion, for full nine-and-twenty may signify one more or less. But I daresay that Chaucer wrote ‘A Webbe Dyer,’ that is a Cloth Dyer:
‘A Webbe Dyer and a Tapiser.’</poem>
The Merchant cannot be one of the Three Citizens, as his dress is different, and his character is more marked, whereas Chaucer says of his rich citizens:
‘All were yclothèd in one liverie.’
The characters of Women Chaucer has divided into two classes, the Lady Prioress and the Wife of Bath. Are not these leaders of the ages of men? The Lady Prioress in some ages predominates, and in some the Wife of Bath, in whose character Chaucer has been equally minute and exact; because she is also a scourge and a blight I shall say no more of her, nor expose what Chaucer has left hidden; let the young reader study what he has said of her: it is useful as a scarecrow. There are of such characters born too many for the peace of the world.
I come at length to the Clerk of Oxenford. This character varies from that of Chaucer, as the contemplative philosopher varies from the poetical genius. There are always these two classes of learned sages, the poetical and the philosophical. The Painter has put them side by side, as if the youthful clerk had put himself under the tuition of the mature poet. Let the Philosopher always be the servant and scholar of Inspiration, and all will be happy.
Such are the characters that compose this Picture, which was painted in self-defence against the insolent and envious imputation of unfitness for finished and scientific art, and this imputation most artfully and industriously endeavoured to be propagated among the public by ignorant hirelings. The Painter courts comparison with his competitors, who, having received fourteen hundred guineas and more from the profits of his designs in that well-known work, Designs for Blair’s Grave, have left him to shift for himself; while others, more obedient to an employer’s opinions and directions, are employed, at a great expense, to produce works in succession to his by which they acquired public patronage. This has hitherto been his lot — to get patronage for others and then to be left and neglected, and his work, which gained that patronage, cried down as eccentricity and madness — as unfinished and neglected by the artist’s violent temper: he is sure the works now exhibited will give the lie to such aspersions.
Those who say that men are led by interest are knaves. A knavish character will often say, Of what interest is it to me to do so and so? I answer, of none at all, but the contrary, as you well know. It is of malice and envy that you have done this; hence I am aware of you, because I know that you act not from interest but from malice, even to your own destruction. It is therefore become a duty which Mr. B. owes to the Public, who have always recognised him and patronised him, however hidden by artifices, that he should not suffer such things to be done, or be hindered from the public Exhibition of his finished productions by any calumnies in future.
The character and expression in this Picture could never have been produced with Rubens’ light and shadow, or with Rembrandt’s, or anything Venetian or Flemish. The Venetian and Flemish practice is broken lines, broken masses, and broken colours: Mr. B.’s practice is unbroken lines, unbroken masses, and unbroken colours. Their art is to lose form; his art is to find form, and to keep it. His arts are opposite to theirs in all things.
As there is a class of men whose whole delight is in the destruction of men, so there is a class of artists whose whole art and science is fabricated for the purpose of destroying Art. Who these are is soon known: ‘by their works ye shall know them.’ All who endeavour to raise up a style against Raphael, Michael Angelo, and the Antique; those who separate Painting from Drawing; who look if a picture is well Drawn, and, if it is, immediately cry out that it cannot be well Coloured — those are the men.
But to show the stupidity of this class of men, nothing need be done but to examine my rival’s prospectus.
The two first characters in Chaucer, the Knight and the Squire, he has put among his rabble; and indeed his prospectus calls the Squire ‘the fop of Chaucer’s age.’ Now hear Chaucer:
‘Of his Stature, he was of even length,
And wonderly deliver, and of great strength;
And he had been sometime in chivauchy,
In Flanders, in Artois, and in Picardy,
And borne him well as of so litele space.’
Was this a fop?
‘Well could he sit a horse, and faire ride,
He could songs make, and ekè well indite,
Joust, and eke dancè, portray, and well write.’
Was this a fop?
‘Curteis he was, and meek, and serviceable;
And kerft before his fader at the table.’
Was this a fop?
It is the same with all his characters; he has done all by chance, or perhaps his fortune, money, money. According to his prospectus he has Three Monks; these he cannot find in Chaucer, who has only One Monk, and that no vulgar character, as he has endeavoured to make him. When men cannot read, they should not pretend to paint. To be sure Chaucer is a little difficult to him who has only blundered over novels and catch-penny trifles of booksellers; yet a little pains ought to be taken, even by the ignorant and weak. He has put the Reeve, a vulgar fellow, between his Knight and Squire, as if he was resolved to go contrary in everything to Chaucer, who says of the Reeve —
‘And ever he rode hinderest of the rout.’
In this manner he has jumbled his dumb dollies together, and is praised by his equals for it; for both himself and his friend are equally masters of Chaucer’s language. They both think that the Wife of Bath is a young beautiful blooming damsel; and H — — says, that she is the ‘Fair Wife of Bath,’ and that ‘the Spring appears in her cheeks.’ Now hear what Chaucer has made her say of herself, who is no modest one:
‘But Lord! when it remembereth me
Upon my youth and on my jollity,
It tickleth me about the hearte root.
Unto this day it doth my hearte boot
That I have had my world as in my time;
But age, alas, that all will envenime,
Hath me bireft, my beauty and my pith
Let go; farewell! the devil go therewith!
The flour is gone, there is no more to tell:
The bran, as best I can, I now mote sell;
And yet, to be right merry, will I fond
Now forth to telle of my fourth husbond.’
She has had four husbands, a fit subject for this painter; yet the painter ought to be very much offended with his friend H — — , who has called his ‘a common scene,’ and ‘very ordinary forms;’ which is the truest part of all, for it is so, and very wretchedly so indeed. What merit can there be in a picture of which such words are spoken with truth?
But the prospectus says that the Painter has represented Chaucer himself as a knave who thrusts himself among honest people to make game of and laugh at them; though I must do justice to the Painter, and say that he has made him look more like a fool than a knave. But it appears in all the writings of Chaucer, and particularly in his Canterbury Tales, that he was very devout, and paid respect to true enthusiastic superstition. He has laughed at his knaves and fools as I do now. But he has respected his True Pilgrims, who are a majority of his company, and are not thrown together in the random manner that Mr. S — — has done. Chaucer has nowhere called the Ploughman old, worn out with ‘age and labour,’ as the prospectus has represented him, and says that the picture has done so too. He is worn down with labour, but not with age. How spots of brown and yellow, smeared about at random, can be either young or old, I cannot see. It may be an old man; it may be a young one; it may be anything that a prospectus pleases. But I know that where there are no lineaments there can be no character. And what connoisseurs call touch, I know by experience, must be the destruction of all character and expression, as it is of every lineament.
The scene of Mr. S — — ’s Picture is by Dulwich Hills, which was not the way to Canterbury; but perhaps the Painter thought he would give them a ride round about, because they were a burlesque set of scarecrows, not worth any man’s respect or care.
But the Painter’s thoughts being always upon gold, he has introduced a character that Chaucer has not — namely, a Goldsmith, for so the prospectus tells us. Why he has introduced a Goldsmith, and what is the wit of it, the prospectus does not explain. But it takes care to mention the reserve and modesty of the Painter; this makes a good epigram enough:
‘The fox, the mole, the beetle, and the bat,
By sweet reserve and modesty get fat.’
But the prospectus tells us that the Painter has introduced a ‘Sea Captain;’ Chaucer has a Shipman, a Sailor, a Trading Master of a Vessel, called by courtesy Captain, as every master of a boat is; but this does not make him a Sea Captain. Chaucer has purposely omitted such a personage, as it only exists in certain periods: it is the soldier by sea. He who would be a soldier in inland nations is a sea-captain in commercial nations.
All is misconceived, and its mis-execution is equal to its misconception. I have no objection to Rubens and Rembrandt being employed, or even to their living in a palace; but it shall not be at the expense of Raphael and Michael Angelo living in a cottage, and in contempt and derision. I have been scorned long enough by these fellows, who owe to me all that they have; it shall be so no longer:
I found them blind, I taught them how to see;
And now they know neither themselves nor me.
NUMBER IV.
The Bard, from Gray.
On a rock, whose haughty brow
Frown’d o’er old Conway’s foaming flood,
Robed in the sable garb of woe.
With haggard eyes the Poet stood:
Loose his beard and hoary hair
Stream’d like a meteor to the troubled air.
Weave the warp, and weave the woof,
The winding-sheet of Edward’s race.
Weaving the winding-sheet of Edward’s race by means of sounds of spiritual music, and its accompanying expressions of articulate speech, is a bold, and daring, and most masterly conception, that the public have embraced and approved with avidity. Poetry consists in these conceptions; and shall Painting be confined to the sordid drudgery of fac-simile representations of merely mortal and perishing substances, and not be, as poetry and music are, elevated into its own proper sphere of invention and visionary conception? No, it shall not be so! Painting, as well as poetry and music, exists and exults in immortal thoughts. If Mr. B.’s Canterbury Pilgrims had been done by any other power than that of the poetic visionary, it would have been as dull as his adversary’s.
The Spirits of the murdered bards assist in weaving the deadly woof:
With me in dreadful harmony they join,
And weave, with bloody hands, the tissue of thy line.
The connoisseurs and artists who have made objections to Mr. B.’s mode of representing spirits with real bodies would do well to consider that the Venus, the Minerva, the Jupiter, the Apollo, which they admire in Greek statues, are all of them representations of spiritual existences, of Gods immortal, to the mortal perishing organ of sight; and yet they are embodied and organised in solid marble. Mr. B. requires the same latitude, and all is well. The Prophets describe what they saw in Vision as real and existing men whom they saw with their imaginative and immortal organs; the Apostles the same; the clearer the organ the more distinct the object. A Spirit and a Vision are not, as the modern philosophy supposes, a cloudy vapour or a nothing: they are organised and minutely articulated beyond all that the mortal and perishing nature can produce. He who does not imagine in stronger and better lineaments, and in stronger and better light, than his perishing and mortal eye can see, does not imagine at all. The painter of this work asserts that all his imaginations appear to him infinitely more perfect and more minutely organised than anything seen by his mortal eye. Spirits are organised men: Moderns wish to draw figures without lines, and with great and heavy shadows; are not shadows more unmeaning than lines, and more heavy? Oh, who can doubt this?
King Edward and his Queen Eleanor are prostrated, with their horses, at the foot of a rock on which the Bard stands; prostrated by the terrors of his harp, on the margin of the River Conway, whose waves bear up a corse of a slaughtered bard at the foot of the rock. The armies of Edward are seen winding among the mountains:
‘He wound with toilsome march his long array.’
Mortimer and Gloucester lie spell-bound behind their king.
The execution of this Picture is also in Water-colours, or Fresco.
NUMBER V.
The Ancient Britons.
In the last Battle of King Arthur only Three Britons escaped; these were the Strongest Man, the Beautifullest Man, and the Ugliest Man: these three marched through the field unsubdued, as Gods, and the Sun of Britain set, but shall arise again with tenfold splendour when Arthur shall awake from sleep, and resume his dominion over earth and ocean.
The three general classes of men who are represented by the most Beautiful, the most Strong, and the most Ugly, could not be represented by any historical facts but those of our own country, the Ancient Britons, without violating costume. The Britons (say historians) were naked civilized men, learned, studious, abstruse in thought and contemplation; naked, simple, plain, in their acts and manners; wiser than after-ages. They were overwhelmed by brutal arms, all but a small remnant; Strength, Beauty, and Ugliness escaped the wreck, and remain for ever unsubdued, age after age.
The British Antiquities are now in the Artist’s hands; all his visionary contemplations relating to his own country and its ancient glory, when it was, as it again shall be, the source of learning and inspiration — (Arthur was a name for the constellation Arcturus, or Boötes, the Keeper of the North Pole); and all the fables of Arthur and his Round Table; of the warlike naked Britons; of Merlin; of Arthur’s conquest of the whole world; of his death, or sleep, and promise to return again; of the Druid monuments, or temples; of the pavement of Watling-street; of London stone; of the Caverns in Cornwall, Wales, Derbyshire, and Scotland; of the Giants of Ireland and Britain; of the elemental beings, called by us by the general name of Fairies; and of these three who escaped, namely. Beauty, Strength, and Ugliness. Mr. B. has in his hands poems of the highest antiquity. Adam was a Druid, and Noah; also Abraham was called to succeed the Druidical age, which began to turn allegoric and mental signification into corporeal command, whereby human sacrifice would have depopulated the earth. All these things are written in Eden. The Artist is an inhabitant of that happy country: and if everything goes on as it has begun, the world of vegetation and generation may expect to be opened again to Heaven, through Eden, as it was in the beginning.
The Strong Man represents the human sublime; the Beautiful Man represents the human pathetic, which was in the wars of Eden divided into male and female; the Ugly Man represents the human reason. They were originally one man, who was fourfold; he was self-divided, and his real humanity slain on the stems of generation, and the form of the fourth was like the Son of God. How he became divided is a subject of great sublimity and pathos. The Artist has written it under inspiration, and will, if God please, publish it; it is voluminous, and contains the ancient history of Britain, and the world of Satan and of Adam.
In the meantime he has painted this Picture, which supposes that in the reign of that British Prince, who lived in the fifth century, there were remains of those naked Heroes in the Welch Mountains; they are there now — Gray saw them in the person of his Bard on Snowdon; there they dwell in naked simplicity; happy is he who can see and converse with them above the shadows of generation and death. The Giant Albion was Patriarch of the Atlantic; he is the Atlas of the Greeks, one of those the Greeks called Titans. The stories of Arthur are the acts of Albion, applied to a Prince of the fifth century, who conquered Europe, and held the empire of the world in the dark age, which the Romans never again recovered. In this Picture, believing with Milton the ancient British History, Mr. B. has done as all the ancients did, and as all the moderns who are worthy of fame — given the historical fact in its poetical vigour, so as it always happens, and not in that dull way that some Historians pretend, who, being weakly organised themselves, cannot see either miracle or prodigy: all is to them a dull round of probabilities and possibilities; but the history of all times and places is nothing else but improbabilities and impossibilities — what we should say was impossible if we did not see it always before our eyes.
The antiquities of every Nation under Heaven are no less sacred than those of the Jews. They are the same thing; as Jacob Bryant and all antiquaries have proved. How other antiquities came to be neglected and disbelieved, while those of the Jews are collected and arranged, is an inquiry worthy of both the Antiquarian and the Divine. All had originally one language, and one religion; this was the religion of Jesus, the everlasting Gospel. Antiquity preaches the Gospel of Jesus. The reasoning historian, turner and twister of causes and consequences — such as Hume, Gibbon, and Voltaire — cannot, with all his artifice, turn or twist one fact or disarrange self-evident action and reality. Reasons and opinions concerning acts are not history; acts themselves alone are history, and these are not the exclusive property of either Hume, Gibbon, or Voltaire, Echard, Rapin, Plutarch, or Herodotus. Tell me the Acts, O historian, and leave me to reason upon them as I please; away with your reasoning and your rubbish! All that is not action is not worth reading. Tell me the What; I do not want you to tell me the Why and the How; I can find that out myself, as well as you can, and I will not be fooled by you into opinions, that you please to impose, to disbelieve what you think improbable or impossible. His opinion who does not see spiritual agency is not worth any man’s reading; he who rejects a fact because it is improbable must reject all History, and retain doubts only.
It has been said to the Artist, Take the Apollo for the model of your Beautiful Man, and the Hercules for your Strong Man, and the Dancing Faun for your Ugly Man. Now he comes to his trial. He knows that what he does is not inferior to the grandest Antiques. Superior it cannot be, for human power cannot go beyond either what he does, or what they have done; it is the gift of God, it is inspiration and vision. He had resolved to emulate those precious remains of antiquity; he has done so, and the result you behold; his ideas of strength and beauty have not been greatly different. Poetry as it exists now on earth, in the various remains of ancient authors, Music as it exists in old tunes or melodies. Painting and Sculpture as they exist in the remains of Antiquity and in the works of more modern genius — each is Inspiration, and cannot be surpassed; it is perfect and eternal. Milton, Shakspeare, Michael Angelo, Raphael, the finest specimens of Ancient Sculpture and Painting and Architecture, Gothic, Grecian, Hindoo, and Egyptian, are the extent of the human mind. The human mind cannot go beyond the gift of God, the Holy Ghost. To suppose that Art can go beyond the finest specimens of Art that are now in the world is not knowing what Art is; it is being blind to the gifts of the Spirit.
It will be necessary for the Painter to say something concerning his ideas of Beauty, Strength, and Ugliness.
The Beauty that is annexed and appended to folly, is a lamentable accident and error of the mortal and perishing life; it does but seldom happen; but with this unnatural mixture the sublime Artist can have nothing to do; it is fit for the burlesque. The Beauty proper for sublime art is lineaments, or forms and features, that are capable of being the receptacles of intellect; accordingly the Painter has given, in his Beautiful Man, his own idea of intellectual Beauty. The face and limbs that deviate or alter least, from infancy to old age, are the face and limbs of greatest Beauty and perfection.
The Ugly likewise, when accompanied and annexed to imbecility and disease, is a subject for burlesque and not for historical grandeur; the Artist has imagined his Ugly Man; — one approaching to the beast in features and form, his forehead small without frontals, his jaws large, his nose high on the ridge, and narrow, his chest and the stamina of his make comparatively little, and his joints and his extremities large; his eyes with scarce any whites, narrow and cunning, and everything tending toward what is truly Ugly — the incapability of intellect.
The Artist has considered his Strong Man as a receptacle of Wisdom, a sublime energiser; his features and limbs do not spindle out into length without strength, nor are they too large and unwieldy or his brain or bosom. Strength consists in accumulation of power to the principal seat, and from thence a regular gradation and subordination; strength is compactness, not extent nor bulk.
The Strong Man acts from conscious superiority, and marches on in fearless dependence on the divine decrees, raging with the inspirations of a prophetic mind. The Beautiful Man acts from duty, and anxious solicitude for the fates of those for whom he combats. The Ugly Man acts from love of carnage, and delight in the savage barbarities of war, rushing with sportive precipitation into the very teeth of the affrighted enemy.
The Roman Soldiers, rolled together in a heap before them, ‘like the rolling thing before the whirlwind,’ show each a different character, and a different expression of fear, or revenge, or envy, or blank horror or amazement, or devout wonder and unresisting awe.
The dead and the dying, Britons naked, mingled with armed Romans, strew the field beneath. Among these, the last of the Bards who was capable of attending warlike deeds is seen falling, outstretched among the dead and the dying, singing to his harp in the pains of death.
Distant among the mountains are Druid Temples, similar to Stonehenge. The Sun sets behind the mountains, bloody with the day of battle.
The flush of health in flesh, exposed to the open air, nourished by the spirits of forests and floods, in that ancient happy period which history has recorded, cannot be like the sickly daubs of Titian or Rubens. Where will the copier of nature, as it now is, find a civilized man who has been accustomed to go naked? Imagination only can furnish us with colouring appropriate, such as is found in the Frescoes of Raphael and Michael Angelo: the disposition of forms always directs colouring in works of true art. As to a modern Man stripped from his load of clothing, he is like a dead corpse. Hence Rubens, Titian, Correggio, and all of that class, are like leather and chalk; their men are like leather and their women like chalk, for the disposition of their forms will not admit of grand colouring; in Mr. B.’s Britons, the blood is seen to circulate in their limbs; he defies competition in colouring.
NUMBER VI.
‘A Spirit vaulting from a Cloud to turn and wind a fiery Pegasus’ — Shakspeare. The Horse of Intellect is leaping from the Cliffs of Memory and Reasoning; it is a barren Rock: it is also called the Barren Waste of Locke and Newton.
This Picture was done many years ago, and was one of the first Mr. B. ever did in Fresco; fortunately, or rather providentially, he left it unblotted and unblurred, although molested continually by blotting and blurring demons; but he was also compelled to leave it unfinished for reasons that will be shown in the following.
NUMBER VII.
The Goats, an experiment Picture.
The subject is taken from the Missionary Voyage, and varied from the literal fact for the sake of picturesque scenery. The savage girls had dressed themselves with vine-leaves, and some goats on board the missionary ship stripped them off presently. This Picture was painted at intervals, for experiment with the colours, and is laboured to a superabundant blackness; it has however that about it which may be worthy the attention of the Artist and Connoisseur for reasons that follow.
NUMBER VIII.
The spiritual Preceptor, an experiment Picture.
This subject is taken from the Visions of Emanuel Swedenborg (Universal Theology, No. 623). The Learned, who strive to ascend into Heaven by means of learning, appear to Children like dead horses, when repelled by the celestial spheres. The works of this visionary are well worthy the attention of Painters and Poets; they are foundations for grand things; the reason they have not been more attended to is, because corporeal demons have gained a predominance; who the leaders of these are, will be shown below. Unworthy Men, who gain fame among Men, continue to govern mankind after death, and, in their spiritual bodies, oppose the spirits of those who worthily are famous; and, as Swedenborg observes, by entering into disease and excrement, drunkenness and concupiscence, they possess themselves of the bodies of mortal men, and shut the doors of mind and of thought, by placing Learning above Inspiration. O Artist! you may disbelieve all this, but it shall be at your own peril.
NUMBER IX.
Satan calling up his Legions, from Milton’s Paradise Lost; a composition for a more perfect Picture afterward executed for a Lady of high rank. An experiment Picture.
This Picture was likewise painted at intervals, for experiment on colours, without any oily vehicle; it may be worthy of attention, not only on account of its composition, but of the great labour which has been bestowed on it; that is, three or four times as much as would have finished a more perfect Picture. The labour has destroyed the lineaments: it was with difficulty brought back again to a certain effect, which it had at first, when all the lineaments were perfect.
These Pictures, among numerous others painted for experiment, were the result of temptations and perturbations, labouring to destroy Imaginative power, by means of that infernal machine, called Chiaro Oscuro, in the hands of Venetian and Flemish Demons; whose enmity to the Painter himself, and to all Artists who study in the Florentine and Roman Schools, may be removed by an exhibition and exposure of their vile tricks. They cause that everything in art shall become a Machine. They cause that the execution shall be all blocked up with brown shadows. They put the original Artist in fear and doubt of his own original conception. The spirit of Titian was particularly active in raising doubts concerning the possibility of executing without a model; and, when once he had raised the doubt, it became easy for him to snatch away the vision time after time; for when the Artist took his pencil, to execute his ideas, his power of imagination weakened so much, and darkened, that memory of nature and of Pictures of the various Schools possessed his mind, instead of appropriate execution, resulting from the inventions; like walking in another man’s style, or speaking or looking in another man’s style and manner, unappropriate and repugnant to your own individual character; tormenting the true Artist, till he leaves the Florentine, and adopts the Venetian practice, or does as Mr. B. has done — has the courage to suffer poverty and disgrace, till he ultimately conquers.
Rubens is a most outrageous demon, and by infusing the remembrances of his Pictures, and style of execution, hinders all power of individual thought: so that the man who is possessed by this demon loses all admiration of any other Artist but Rubens, and those who were his imitators and journeymen. He causes to the Florentine and Roman Artist fear to execute; and, though the original conception was all fire and animation, he loads it with hellish brownness, and blocks up all its gates of light, except one, and that one he closes with iron bars, till the victim is obliged to give up the Florentine and Roman practice, and adopt the Venetian and Flemish.
Correggio is a soft and effeminate and consequently a most cruel demon, whose whole delight is to cause endless labour to whoever suffers him to enter his mind. The story that is told in all Lives of the Painters, about Correggio being poor and but badly paid for his Pictures, is altogether false; he was a petty Prince, in Italy, and employed numerous Journeymen in manufacturing (as Rubens and Titian did) the Pictures that go under his name. The manual labour in these Pictures of Correggio is immense, and was paid for originally at the immense prices that those who keep manufactories of art always charge to their employers, while they themselves pay their journeymen little enough. But, though Correggio was not poor, he will make any true artist so, who permits him to enter his mind and take possession of his affections; he infuses a love of soft and even tints without boundaries, and of endless reflected lights, that confuse one another, and hinder all correct drawing from appearing to be correct; for if one of Raphael’s or Michael Angelo’s figures was to be traced, and Correggio’s reflections and refractions to be added to it, there would soon be an end of proportion and strength, and it would be weak, and pappy, and lumbering, and thick-headed, like his own works; but then it would have softness and evenness, by a twelvemonth’s labour, where a month would with judgment have finished it better and higher; and the poor wretch who executed it would be the Correggio that the Life-writers have written of — a drudge and a miserable man, compelled to softness by poverty. I say again, O Artist! you may disbelieve all this, but it shall be at your own peril.
Note. — These experiment Pictures have been bruised and knocked about, without mercy, to try all experiments.
NUMBER X.
The Bramins. — A Drawing.
The subject is, Mr. Wilkin translating the Geeta; an ideal design, suggested by the first publication of that part of the Hindoo Scriptures translated by Mr. Wilkin. I understand that my Costume is incorrect; but in this I plead the authority of the ancients, who often deviated from the Habits, to preserve the Manners, as in the instance of Laocoon, who, though a priest, is represented naked.
NUMBER XI.
The Body of Abel found by Adam and Eve; Cain, who was about to bury it, fleeing from the face of his Parents. — A Drawing.
NUMBER XII.
The Soldiers casting Lots for Christ’s Garment. — A Drawing.
NUMBER XIII.
Jacob’s Ladder. — A Drawing.
NUMBER XIV.
The Angels hovering over the Body of Jesus in the Sepulchre. — A Drawing.
The above four drawings the Artist wishes were in Fresco, on an enlarged scale, to ornament the altars of churches, and to make England, like Italy, respected by respectable men of other countries on account of Art. It is not the want of genius that can hereafter be laid to our charge; the Artist who has done these Pictures and Drawings will take care of that; let those who govern the Nation take care of the other. The times require that every one should speak out boldly; England expects that every man should do his duty, in Arts, as well as in Arms or in the Senate.
NUMBER XV.
Ruth. — A Drawing.
This Design is taken from that most pathetic passage in the Book of Ruth where Naomi, having taken leave of her daughters-in-law, with intent to return to her own country, Ruth cannot leave her, but says, ‘Whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God: where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried: God do so to me, and more also, if aught but death part thee and me.’
The distinction that is made in modern times between a Painting and a Drawing proceeds from ignorance of art. The merit of a Picture is the same as the merit of a Drawing. The dauber daubs his Drawings; he who draws his Drawings draws his Pictures. There is no difference between Raphael’s Cartoons and his Frescoes, or Pictures, except that the Frescoes, or Pictures, are more finished. When Mr. B. formerly painted in oil colours, his Pictures were shown to certain painters and connoisseurs, who said that they were very admirable Drawings on canvas, but not Pictures; but they said the same of Raphael’s Pictures. Mr. B. thought this the greatest of compliments, though it was meant otherwise. If losing and obliterating the outline constitutes a Picture, Mr. B. will never be so foolish as to do one. Such art of losing the outlines is the art of Venice and Flanders; it loses all character, and leaves what some people call expression: but this is a false notion of expression; expression cannot exist without character as its stamina; and neither character nor expression can exist without firm and determinate outline. Fresco Painting is susceptible of higher finishing than Drawing on Paper, or than any other method of Painting, But he must have a strange organisation of sight who does not prefer a Drawing on Paper to a Daubing in Oil by the same master, supposing both to be done with equal care.
The great and golden rule of art, as well as of life, is this: That the more distinct, sharp, and wiry the bounding line, the more perfect the work of art; and the less keen and sharp, the greater is the evidence of weak imitation, plagiarism, and bungling. Great inventors, in all ages, knew this: Protogenes and Apelles knew each other by this line. Raphael and Michael Angelo, and Albert Dürer, are known by this and this alone. The want of this determinate and bounding form evidences the idea of want in the artist’s mind, and the pretence of the plagiary in all its branches. How do we distinguish the oak from the beech, the horse from the ox, but by the bounding outline? How do we distinguish one face or countenance from another, but by the bounding line and its infinite inflexions and movements? What is it that builds a house and plants a garden, but the definite and determinate? What is it that distinguishes honesty from knavery, but the hard and wiry line of rectitude and certainty in the actions and intentions? Leave out this line and you leave out life itself; all is chaos again, and the line of the Almighty must be drawn out upon it before man or beast can exist. Talk no more then of Correggio or Rembrandt, or any other of those plagiaries of Venice or Flanders. They were but the lame imitators of lies drawn by their predecessors, and their works prove themselves contemptible disarranged imitations, and blundering misapplied copies.
NUMBER XVI.
The Penance of Jane Shore in St. Pauls Church. — A Drawing.
This Drawing was done above Thirty Years ago, and proves to the Author, and he thinks will prove to any discerning eye, that the productions of our youth and of our maturer age are equal in all essential points. If a man is master of his profession, he cannot be ignorant that he is so; and, if he is not employed by those who pretend to encourage art, he will employ himself, and laugh in secret at the pretences of the ignorant, while he has every night dropped into his shoe — as soon as he puts it off, and puts out the candle, and gets into bed — a reward for the labours of the day, such as the world cannot give; and patience and time await to give him all that the world can give.
PUBLIC ADDRESS
Intended to accompany Blake’s Engraving of the Canterbury Pilgrimage.
The originality of this production makes it necessary to say a few words.
In this plate Mr. Blake has resumed the style with which he set out in life, of which Heath and Stothard were the awkward imitators at that time. It is the style of Albert Dürer and the old engravers, which cannot be imitated by any one who does not understand drawing, and which, according to Heath, and Stothard, Flaxman, and even Romney, spoils an engraver; for each of these men has repeatedly asserted this absurdity to me, in condemnation of my work, and approbation of Heath’s lame imitation; Stothard being such a fool as to suppose that his blundering blurs can be made out and delineated by any engraver who knows how to cut dots and lozenges, equally well with those little prints which I engraved after him four-and-twenty years ago, and by which he got his reputation as a draughtsman.
If men of weak capacities have alone the power of execution in art, Mr. Blake has now put to the test. If to invent and to draw well hinders the executive power in art, and his strokes are still to be condemned because they are unlike those of artists who are unacquainted with drawing, is now to be decided by the public. Mr. Blake’s inventive powers, and his scientific knowledge of drawing, are on all hands acknowledged; it only remains to be certified whether physiognomic strength and power are to give place to imbecility. In a work of art it is not fine tints that are required, but fine forms; fine tints without fine forms are always the subterfuge of the blockhead.
I account it a public duty respectfully to address myself to the Chalcographic Society, and to express to them my opinion (the result of the expert practice and experience of many years), that engraving as an art is lost to England, owing to an artfully propagated opinion that drawing spoils an engraver. I request the Society to inspect my print, of which drawing is the foundation, and indeed the superstructure: it is drawing on copper, as painting ought to be drawing on canvas or any other surface, and nothing else. I request, likewise, that the Society will compare the prints of Bartolozzi, Woollett, Strange, &c., with the old English portraits; that is, compare the modern art with the art as it existed previous to the entrance of Vandyck and Rubens into the country, since which event engraving is lost; and I am sure the result of the comparison will be that the Society must be of my opinion, that engraving, by losing drawing, has lost all character and all expression, without which the art is lost.
There is not, because there cannot be, any difference of effect in the pictures of Rubens and Rembrandt: when you have seen one of their pictures, you have seen all. It is not so with Raphael, Giulio Romano, Albert Dürer, Michael Angelo; every picture of theirs has a different and appropriate effect. What man of sense will lay out his money upon the life’s labours of imbecility and imbecility’s journeymen, or think to educate a fool how to build a universe with farthing balls. The contemptible idiots who have been called great men of late years ought to rouse the public indignation of men of sense in all professions. Yet I do not shrink from the comparison in either relief or strength of colour with either Rembrandt or Rubens; on the contrary, I court the comparison, and fear not the result, — but not in a dark corner. Their effects are, in every picture, the same; mine are in every picture different. That vulgar epigram in art, Rembrandt’s Hundred Guelders has entirely put an end to all genuine and appropriate effect: all, both morning and night, is now a dark cavern; it is the fashion.
I hope my countrymen will excuse me if I tell them a wholesome truth. Most Englishmen, when they look at pictures, immediately set about searching for points of light, and clap the picture into a dark corner. This, when done by grand works, is like looking for epigrams in Homer. A point of light is a witticism: many are destructive of all art; one is an epigram only, and no good work can have them. Raphael, Michael Angelo, Albert Dürer, Giulio Romano, are accounted ignorant of that epigrammatic wit in art, because they avoid it as a destructive machine, as it is.
Mr. Blake repeats that there is not one character or expression in this print which could be produced with the execution of Titian, Rubens, Correggio, Rembrandt, or any of that class. Character and expression can only be expressed by those who feel them. Even Hogarth’s execution cannot be copied or improved. Gentlemen of fortune, who give great prices for pictures, should consider the following: When you view a collection of pictures, painted since Venetian art was the fashion, or go into a modern exhibition, with a very few exceptions every picture has the same effect — a piece of machinery of points of light to be put into a dark hole.
Rubens’s ‘Luxembourg Gallery’ is confessed on all hands to be the work of a blockhead; it bears this evidence in its face. How can its execution be any other than the work of a blockhead? Bloated gods, Mercury, Juno, Venus, and the rattletraps of mythology, and the lumber of an awkward French palace, are thrown together around clumsy and rickety princes and princesses, higgledy-piggledy. On the contrary, Giulio Romano’s ‘Palace of T. at Mantua’ is allowed on all hands to be the production of a man of the most profound sense and genius; and yet his execution is pronounced by English connoisseurs (and Reynolds their doll) to be unfit for the study of the painter. Can I speak with too great contempt of such contemptible fellows? If all the princes in Europe, like Louis XIV. and Charles I., were to patronise such blockheads, I, William Blake, a mental prince, would decollate and hang their souls as guilty of mental high-treason. He who could represent Christ uniformly like a drayman must have queer conceptions — consequently his execution must have been as queer: and those must be queer fellows who give great sums for such nonsense and think it fine art. Who that has eyes cannot see that Rubens and Correggio must have been very weak and vulgar fellows? And we are to imitate their execution! This is like what Sir Francis Bacon says: that a healthy child should be taught and compelled to walk like a cripple, while the cripple must be taught to walk like healthy people. Oh rare wisdom!
The wretched state of the arts in this country and in Europe, originating in the wretched state of political science (which is the science of sciences), demands a firm and determinate conduct on the part of artists, to resist the contemptible counter-arts, established by such contemptible politicians as Louis XIV., and originally set on foot by Venetian picture-traders, music-traders, and rhyme-traders, to the destruction of all true art, as it is this day. To recover art has been the business of my life to the Florentine original, and if possible, to go beyond that original: this I thought the only pursuit worthy of a man. To imitate I abhor: I obstinately adhere to the true style of art, such as Michael Angelo, Raphael, Giulio Romano, Albert Dürer, left it. I demand, therefore, of the amateurs of art the encouragement which is my due; if they continue to refuse, theirs is the loss, not mine, and theirs is the contempt of posterity. I have enough in the approbation of fellow-labourers: this is my glory and exceeding great reward. I go on, and nothing can hinder my course.
While the works of Pope and Dryden are looked upon as the same art with those of Shakespeare and Milton, while the works of Strange and Woollett are looked upon as the same art with those of Raphael and Albert Dürer, there can be no art in a nation but such as is subservient to the interest of the monopolising trader. Englishmen! rouse yourselves from the fatal slumber into which booksellers and trading dealers have thrown you, under the artfully propagated pretence that a translation or a copy of any kind can be as honourable to a nation as an original, belieing the English character in that well-known saying, Englishmen improve what others invent. This even Hogarth’s works prove a detestable falsehood. No man can improve an original invention, nor can an original invention exist without execution organised, delineated, and articulated either by God or man: I do not mean smoothed up and niggled and poco-pen’d, and all the beauties paled out, blurred, and blotted; but drawn with a firm and decided hand at once, like Michael Angelo, Shakespeare and Milton. I have heard many people say: ‘Give me the ideas — it is no matter what words you put them into;’ and others say: ‘Give me the design, it is no matter for the execution.’ These people knew enough of artifice, but nothing of art. Ideas cannot be given but in their minutely appropriate words, nor can a design be made without its minutely appropriate execution. The unorganised blots and blurs of Rubens and Titian are not art, nor can their method ever express ideas or imaginations, any more than Pope’s metaphysical jargon of rhyming. Unappropriate execution is the most nauseous of all affectation and foppery. He who copies does not execute — he only imitates what is already executed. Execution is only the result of invention.
I do not condemn Rubens, Rembrandt, or Titian, because they did not understand drawing, but because they did not understand colouring; how long shall I be forced to beat this into men’s ears? I do not condemn Strange or Woollett because they did not understand drawing, but because they did not understand engraving. I do not condemn Pope or Dryden because they did not understand imagination, but because they did not understand verse. Their colouring, graving, and verse, can never be applied to art: that is not either colouring, graving, or verse, which is inappropriate to the subject. He who makes a design must know the effect and colouring proper to be put to that design, and will never take that of Rubens, Rembrandt, or Titian, to turn that which is soul and life into a mill or machine.
They say there is no straight line in nature. This is a lie, like all that they say, for there is every line in nature. But I will tell them what there is not in nature. An even tint is not in nature — it produces heaviness. Nature’s shadows are ever varying, and a ruled sky that is quite even never can produce a natural sky. The same with every object in a picture — its spots are its beauties. Now, gentlemen critics, how do you like this? You may rage; but what I say I will prove by such practice (and have already done so) that you will rage to your own destruction. Woollett I knew very intimately by his intimacy with Basire, and I knew him to be one of the most ignorant fellows that I ever knew. A machine is not a man nor a work of art; it is destructive of humanity and of art. Woollett, I know, did not know how to grind his graver; I know this. He has often proved his ignorance before me at Basire’s, by laughing at Basire’s knife-tools, and ridiculing the forms of Basire’s other gravers, till Basire was quite dashed and out of conceit with what he himself knew. But his impudence had a contrary effect on me.
A certain portrait-painter said to me in a boasting way: ‘Since I have practised painting, I have lost all idea of drawing.’ Such a man must know that I looked upon him with contempt. He did not care for this any more than West did, who hesitated and equivocated with me upon the same subject; at which time he asserted that Woollett’s prints were superior to Basire’s, because they had more labour and care. Now this is contrary to the truth. Woollett did not know how to put so much labour into a head or foot as Basire did; he did not know how to draw the leaf of a tree. All his study was clean strokes and mossy tints; how then should he be able to make use of either labour or care, unless the labour and care of imbecility? The life’s labour of mental weakness scarcely equals one hour of the labour of ordinary capacity, like the full gallop of the gouty man to the ordinary walk of youth and health. I allow that there is such a thing as high-finished ignorance, as there may be a fool or a knave in an embroidered coat; but I say that the embroidery of the ignorant finisher is not like a coat made by another, but is an emanation from ignorance itself, and its finishing is like its master — the life’s labour of five hundred idiots, for he never does the work himself.
What is called the English style of engraving, such as it proceeded from the toilets of Woollett and Strange (for theirs were Fribble’s toilets) can never produce character and expression. I knew the men intimately from their intimacy with Basire, my master, and knew them both to be heavy lumps of cunning and ignorance, as their works show to all the Continent, who laugh at the contemptible pretences of Englishmen to improve art before they even know the first beginnings of art. I hope this print will redeem my country from this coxcomb situation, and show that it is only some Englishmen, and not all, who are thus ridiculous in their pretences. Advertisements in newspapers are no proofs of popular approbation, but often the contrary. A man who pretends to improve fine art does not know what fine art is. Ye English engravers must come down from your high flights; ye must condescend to study Marc Antonio and Albert Dürer; ye must begin before you attempt to finish or improve: and when you have begun, you will know better than to think of improving what cannot be improved. It is very true what you have said for these thirty-two years: I am mad, or else you are so. Both of us cannot be in our right senses. Posterity will judge by our works. Woollett’s and Strange’s works are like those of Titian and Correggio, the life’s labour of ignorant journeymen, suited to the purposes of commerce, no doubt, for commerce cannot endure individual merit; its insatiable maw must be fed by what all can do equally well; at least it is so in England, as I have found to my cost these forty years. Commerce is so far from being beneficial to arts or to empires that it is destructive of both, as all their history shows, for the above reason of individual merit being its great hatred. Empires flourish till they become commercial, and then they are scattered abroad to the four winds.
Woollett’s best works were etched by Jack Browne; Woollett etched very ill himself. The Cottagers, and Jocund Peasants, the Views in Kew Garden, Foot’s-Cray, and Diana and Actæon, and, in short, all that are called Woollett’s, were etched by Jack Browne; and in Woollett’s works the etching is all, though even in these a single leaf of a tree is never correct. Strange’s prints were, when I knew him, all done by Aliamet and his French journeymen, whose names I forget. I also knew something of John Cooke, who engraved after Hogarth. Cooke wished to give Hogarth what he could take from Raphael, that is, outline, and mass, and colour; but he could not. Such prints as Woollett and Strange produce will do for those who choose to purchase the life’s labour of ignorance and imbecility in preference to the inspired monuments of genius and inspiration.
In this manner the English public have been imposed upon for many years, under the impression that engraving and painting are somewhat else besides drawing. Painting is drawing on canvas, and engraving is drawing on copper, and nothing else; and he who pretends to be either painter or engraver without being a master of drawing, is an impostor. We may be clever as pugilists, but as artists, we are, and have long been, the contempt of the Continent. Gravelot once said to my master Basire: ‘De English may be very clever in deir own opinions, but dey do not draw de draw.’
Whoever looks at any of the great and expensive works of engraving that have been published by English traders must feel a loathing and disgust; and accordingly most Englishmen have a contempt for art, which is the greatest curse that can fall upon a nation.
The modern chalcographic connoisseurs and amateurs admire only the work of the journeyman picking out of whites and blacks in what are called tints. They despise drawing, which despises them in return. They see only whether everything is toned down but one spot of light. Mr. Blake submits to a more severe tribunal: he invites the admirers of old English portraits to look at his print.
An example of these contrary arts is given us in the characters of Milton and Dryden, as they are written in a poem signed with the name of Nat Lee, which perhaps he never wrote and perhaps he wrote in a paroxysm of insanity; in which it is said that Milton’s poem is a rough unfinished piece, and that Dryden has finished it. Now let Dryden’s Fall and Milton’s Paradise be read, and I will assert that everybody of understanding must cry out shame on such niggling and poco-pen as Dryden has degraded Milton with. But at the same time I will allow that stupidity will prefer Dryden, because it is in rhyme and monotonous sing-song, sing-song from beginning to end. Such are Bartolozzi, Woollett, and Strange.
Men think that they can copy nature as correctly as I copy imagination. This they will find impossible: and all the copies, or pretended copies, of nature, from Rembrandt to Reynolds, prove that nature becomes to its victim nothing but blots and blurs. Why are copies of nature incorrect, while copies of imagination are correct? This is manifest to all. The English artist may be assured that he is doing an injury and injustice to his country while he studies and imitates the effects of nature. England will never rival Italy while we servilely copy what the wise Italians, Raphael and Michael Angelo, scorned, nay abhorred, as Vasari tells us. What kind of intellect must he have who sees only the colours of things, and not the forms of things? No man of sense can think that an imitation of the objects of nature is the art of painting, or that such imitation (which any one may easily perform) is worthy of notice — much less that such an art should be the glory and pride of a nation. The Italians laugh at the English connoisseurs, who are (most of them) such silly fellows as to believe this.
A man sets himself down with colours, and with all the articles of painting; he puts a model before him, and he copies that so neat as to make it a deception. Now, let any man of sense ask himself one question: Is this art? Can it be worthy of admiration to anybody of understanding? Who could not do this? What man, who has eyes and an ordinary share of patience, cannot do this neatly? Is this art, or is it glorious to a nation to produce such contemptible copies? Countrymen, countrymen, do not suffer yourselves to be disgraced!
No man of sense ever supposes that copying from nature is the art of painting; if the art is no more than this, it is no better than any other manual labour: anybody may do it, and the fool often will do it best, as it is a work of no mind. A jockey that is anything of a jockey, will never buy a horse by the colour; and a man who has got any brains will never buy a picture by the colour.
When I tell any truth, it is not for the sake of convincing those who do not know it, but for the sake of defending those who do.
It is nonsense for noblemen and gentlemen to offer premiums for the encouragement of art, when such pictures as these can be done without premiums. Let them encourage what exists already, and not endeavour to counteract by tricks. Let it no more be said that empires encourage arts, for it is arts that encourage empires. Arts and artists are spiritual, and laugh at mortal contingencies. Let us teach Buonaparte, and whomsoever else it may concern, that it is not arts that follow and attend upon empire, but empire that attends upon and follows the arts. It is in their power to hinder instruction but not to instruct; just as it is in their power to murder a man, but not to make a man.
I do not pretend to paint better than Raphael or Michael Angelo, or Giulio Romano, or Albert Dürer; but I do pretend to paint finer than Rubens, or Rembrandt, or Correggio, or Titian. I do not pretend to engrave finer than Albert Dürer; but I do pretend to engrave finer than Strange, Woollett, Hall, or Bartolozzi; and all because I understand drawing, which they understood not. Englishmen have been so used to journeymen’s undecided bungling, that they cannot bear the firmness of a master’s touch. Every line is the line of beauty; it is only fumble and bungle which cannot draw a line. This only is ugliness. That is not a line which doubts and hesitates in the midst of its course.
I know my execution is not like anybody else’s. I do not intend it should be so. None but blockheads copy one another. My conception and invention are, on all hands, allowed to be superior; my execution will be found so too. To what is it that gentlemen of the first rank both in genius and fortune have subscribed their names? To my inventions. The executive part they never disputed.
The painters of England are unemployed in public works, while the sculptors have continual and superabundant employment. Our churches and our abbeys are treasures of their producing for ages back, while painting is excluded. Painting, the principal art, has no place among our almost only public works. Yet it is more adapted to solemn ornament than marble can be, as it is capable of being placed in any height, and, indeed, would make a noble finish, placed above the great public monuments in Westminster, St. Paul’s, and other cathedrals. To the Society for the Encouragement of Art I address myself with respectful duty, requesting their consideration of my plan as a great public means of advancing fine art in Protestant communities. Monuments to the dead painters by historical and poetical artists, like Barry and Mortimer (I forbear to name living artists, though equally worthy) — I say, monuments to painters — must make England what Italy is, an envied storehouse of intellectual riches.
It has been said of late years, the English public have no taste for painting. This is a falsehood. The English are as good judges of painting as of poetry, and they prove it in their contempt for great collections of all the rubbish of the Continent, brought here by ignorant picture-dealers. An Englishman may well say ‘I am no judge of painting,’ when he is shown these smears and daubs, at an immense price, and told that such is the art of painting. I say the English public are true encouragers of real art, while they discourage and look with contempt on false art.
Resentment for personal injuries has had some share in this public address, but love for my art, and zeal for my country, a much greater.
I do not know whether Homer is a liar and that there is no such thing as generous contention. I know that all those with whom I have contended in art have striven, not to excel, but to starve me out by calumny and the arts of trading competition. The manner in which my character has been blasted these thirty years both as an artist and a man may be seen particularly in a Sunday paper called The Examiner, published in Beaufort’s Buildings (we all know that editors of newspapers trouble their heads very little about art and science, and that they are always paid for what they put in upon these ungracious subjects): and the manner in which I have rooted out the nest of villains will be seen in a poem concerning my three years’ herculean labours at Felpham which I shall soon publish. Secret calumny and open professions of friendship are common enough all the world over, but have never been so good an occasion of poetic imagery. When a base man means to be your enemy, he always begins with being your friend. Flaxman cannot deny that one of the very first monuments he did I gratuitously designed for him; at the same time he was blasting my character as an artist to Macklin, my employer, as Macklin told me at the time, and posterity will know. Many people are so foolish as to think they can wound Mr. Fuseli over my shoulder: they will find themselves mistaken; they could not wound even Mr. Barry so.
In a commercial nation, impostors are abroad in all professions; these are the greatest enemies of genius. In the art of painting these impostors sedulously propagate an opinion that great inventors cannot execute. This opinion is as destructive of the true artist as it is false by all experience. Even Hogarth cannot be either copied or improved. Can Anglus never discern perfection but in a journeyman labourer?
P.S. — I do not believe that this absurd opinion ever was set on foot till, in my outset into life, it was artfully published, both in whispers and in print, by certain persons whose robberies from me made it necessary to them that I should be hid in a corner. It never was supposed that a copy could be better than an original, or near so good, till, a few years ago, it became the interest of certain knaves. The lavish praise I have received from all quarters for invention and drawing has generally been accompanied by this: ‘He can conceive, but he cannot execute.’ This absurd assertion has done me, and may still do me, the greatest mischief. I call for public protection against these villains. I am, like others, just equal in invention and in execution, as my works show. I, in my own defence, challenge a competition with the finest engravings, and defy the most critical judge to make the comparison honestly: asserting, in my own defence, that this print is the finest that has been done, or is likely to be done, in England, where drawing, the foundation, is condemned, and absurd nonsense about dots and lozenges and clean strokes made to occupy the attention to the neglect of all real art. I defy any man to cut cleaner strokes than I do, or rougher, when I please; and assert, that he who thinks he can engrave or paint either, without being a master of drawing, is a fool. Painting is drawing on canvas, and engraving is drawing on copper, and nothing else. Drawing is execution and nothing else; and he who draws best must be the best artist. And to this I subscribe my name as a public duty.
William Blake.
NOTE.
[In an early part of the same book from which has been gathered the foregoing Public Address, occur three memoranda having reference to the methods by which Blake engraved some of his designs.
These receipts are written immediately under two very curious entries: — ’Tuesday, Jan. 20, 1807, Between two and seven in the evening. Despair.’ And — ’I say I shan’t live five years; and if I live one it will be a wonder. June 1793.’ The last-quoted entry is in pencil, and pretty evidently made before the subjoined.]
Memorandum.
To engrave on pewter: Let there be first a drawing made correctly with black-lead pencil; let nothing be to seek. Then rub it off on the plate, covered with white wax; or perhaps pass it through press. This will produce certain and determined forms on the plate, and time will not be wasted in seeking them afterwards.
Memorandum.
To wood-cut on pewter: Lay a ground on the plate, and smoke it as for etching. Then trace your outlines, and, beginning with the spots of light on each object, with an oval-pointed needle, scrape off the ground, as a direction for your graver. Then proceed to graving, with the ground on the plate; being as careful as possible not to hurt the ground, because it, being black, will show perfectly what is wanted.
Memorandum.
To wood-cut on copper: Lay a ground as for etching; trace, &c., and, instead of etching the blacks, etch the whites, and bite it in.
SIBYLLINE LEAVES.
On Homer’s Poetry.
Every poem must necessarily be a perfect Unity, but why Homer’s is peculiarly so I cannot tell: he has told the story of Bellerophon, and omitted the Judgment of Paris, which is not only a part, but a principal part, of Homer’s subject. But when a work has unity, it is as much so in a part as in the whole. The torso is as much a unity as the Laocoon. As unity is the cloak of folly, so goodness is the cloak of knavery. Those who will have unity exclusively in Homer come out with a moral like a sting in the tail. Aristotle says characters are either good or bad: now, goodness or badness has nothing to do with character. An apple-tree, a pear-tree, a horse, a lion, are characters; but a good apple-tree or a bad is an apple-tree still. A horse is not more a lion for being a bad horse — that is its character: its goodness or badness is another consideration.
It is the same with the moral of a whole poem as with the moral goodness of its parts. Unity and morality are secondary considerations, and belong to Philosophy, and not to Poetry — to exception, and not to rule — to accident, and not to substance. The ancients called it eating of the Tree of Good and Evil.
The Classics it is, the Classics, and not Goths or monks, that desolate Europe with wars.
On Virgil.
Sacred truth has pronounced that Greece and Rome, as Babylon and Egypt, so far from being parents of Arts and Sciences, as they pretend, were destroyers of all Art. Homer, Virgil, and Ovid, confirm this, and make us reverence the Word of God, the only light of Antiquity that remains unperverted by war. Virgil, in the Eneid, Book VI. line 848, says: ‘Let others study Art. Rome has somewhat better to do — namely, War and Dominion.’
Rome and Greece swept art into their maw, and destroyed it. A warlike State never can produce art. It will rob and plunder, and accumulate into one place, and translate, and copy, and buy and sell, and criticise, but not make. Grecian is mathematic form. Mathematic form is eternal in the reasoning memory. Living form is eternal existence. Gothic is living form.
A VISION OF THE LAST JUDGMENT
This world of Imagination is the World of Eternity; it is the divine bosom into which we shall go after the death of the Vegetated body. This World of Imagination is Infinity & Eternal, whereas the world of Generation or Vegetation is Finite & Temporal. There exist in the Eternal World the Permanent Realities of Every Thing which we see reflected in this Vegetable Glass of Nature.
All Things are comprehended in their Eternal Forms in the Divine body of the Saviour, the True Vine of Eternity, The Human Imagination, who appear’d to Me as Coming to Judgment among his Saints & throwing off the Temporal that the Eternal might be Establish’d.
* * *
Men are admitted into Heaven not because they have curbed & govern’d their Passion or have No Passions, but because they have Cultivated their Understandings. The Treasures of Heaven are not Negations of Passion but Realities of Intellect, from which all the Passions Emanate Uncurbed in their Eternal Glory. The Fool shall not enter into heaven let him be ever so Holy. Holiness is not The Price of Enterance into Heaven. Those who are cast out are All Those who, having no Passions of their own because No Intellect, Have spent their lives in Curbing & Governing other People’s by the Various arts of Poverty & Cruelty of all kinds. Wo, Wo, Wo to you Hypocrites. Even Murder, the Courts of Justice, more merciful than the Church, are compell’d to allow is not done in Passion, but in Cool Blooded design & Intention.
The Modern Chruch Crucifies Christ with the head Downwards.
* * *
The Last Judgment is an Overwhelming of Bad Art & Science. Mental Things are alone Real; what is call’d Corporeal, Nobody Knows of its Dwelling Place: it is in Fallacy & its Existence an Imposture. Where is the Existence Out of Mind or Thought? Where is it but in the Mind of a Fool? Some People flatter themselves that there will be No Last Judgment & that Bad Art will be adopted & mixed with Good Art, that Error or Experiment will make a Part of Truth, & they Boast that it is its Foundation; these People flatter themselves. I will not Flatter them. Error is Created; Truth is Eternal. Error or Creation will be Burned up, & then & not till Then, Truth or Eternity will appear. It is Burnt up the Moment Men cease to behold it. I assert for My self that I do not behold the Outward Creation & that to me it is hindrance & not Action; it is as the Dirt upon my feet, No part of Me. ‘What’, it will be Question’d, ‘When the sun rises do you not see a round Disk of fire somewhat like a Guinea?’ O no, no, I see an Innumerable company of the Heavenly host crying ‘Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord God Almighty.’ I question not my Corporeal or Vegetative Eye any more than I would Question a Window concerning a Sight. I look through it & not with it.
THE EVERLASTING GOSPEL
There is not one Moral Virtue that Jesus Inculcated but Plato & Cicero did Inculcate before him what then did Christ Inculcate. Forgiveness of Sins This alone is the Gospel & this is the Life & Immortality brought to light by Jesus. Even the Covenant of Jehovah, which is This If you forgive one another your Trespasses so shall Jehovah forgive you That he himself may dwell among you but if you Avenge you Murder the Divine Image & he cannot dwell among you [by his] because you Murder him he arises Again & you deny that he is Arisen & are blind to Spirit
What can this Gospel of Jesus be
What Life Immortality
What was [It]<it> that he brought to Light
That Plato & Cicero did not write
5 <The Heathen Deities wrote them all
These Moral Virtues great & small
What is the Accusation of Sin
But Moral Virtues deadly Gin>
The Moral Virtues in their Pride
10 Did [ove[r]]<oer> the World triumphant ride
In Wars & Sacrifice for Sin
And Souls to Hell ran trooping in
The Accuser Holy God of All
This Pharisaic Worldly Ball
15 Amidst them in his Glory Beams
Upon the Rivers & the Streams
Then Jesus rose & said to [men]<Me>
Thy Sins are all forgiven thee
Loud Pilate Howld loud Caiphas Yelld
20 When they the Gospel Light beheld
[Jerusalem he said to me]
It was when Jesus said to Me
Thy Sins are all forgiven thee
The Christian trumpets loud proclaim
Thro all the World in Jesus name
25 Mutual forgiveness of each Vice
And oped the Gates of Paradise
The Moral Virtues in Great fear
Formed the Cross & Nails & Spear
And the Accuser standing by
30 Cried out Crucify Crucify
Our Moral Virtues neer can be
Nor Warlike pomp & Majesty
For Moral Virtues all begin
In the Accusations of Sin
35 <And [Moral]<all the Heroic> Virtues [all]<End>
In destroying the Sinners Friend>
Am I not Lucifer the Great
And you my daughters in Great State
The fruit of my Myster[i]ous Tree
40 Of Good & Evil & Misery
And Death & Hell which now begin
On every one who Forgives Sin
If Moral Virtue was Christianity
Christs Pretensions were all Vanity
And Caiphas & Pilate Men
[Of Moral]<Praise Worthy> & the Lions Den
5 And not the Sheepfold Allegories
Of God & Heaven & their Glories
The Moral Christian is the Cause
Of the Unbeliever & his Laws
The Roman Virtues Warlike Fame
10 Take Jesus & Jehovahs Name.
For what is Antichrist but those
Who against Sinners Heaven close
With Iron bars in Virtuous State
And Rhadamanthus at the Gate
Was Jesus Born of a Virgin Pure
With narrow Soul & looks demure
If he intended to take on Sin
The Mother should an Harlot been
5 Just such a one as Magdalen
With seven devils in her Pen
<Or were Jew Virgins still more Curst
And more sucking devils nurst>
Or what was it which he took on
10 That he might bring Salvation
A Body subject to be Tempted
From neither pain nor grief Exempted
Or such a body as might not feel
The passions that with Sinners deal
15 Yes but they say he never fell
Ask Caiaphas for he can tell
He mockd the Sabbath & he mockd
The Sabbaths God & he unlocked
The Evil spirits from their Shrines
20 And turnd Fishermen to Divines
[End(ed)]<Oerturnd> the Tent of Secret Sins
& its Golden cords & Pins
Tis the Bloody Shrine of War
Pinnd around from Star to Star
25 Halls of Justice hating Vice
Where the Devil Combs his Lice
He turnd the devils into Swine
That he might tempt the Jews to Dine
Since which a Pig has got a look
30 That for a Jew may be mistook
Obey your Parents what says he
Woman what have I to do with thee
No Earthly Parents I confess
I am doing my Fathers Business
35 He scornd [his]<Earths> Parents scornd [his]<Earths> God
And mockd the one & the others, Rod
His Seventy Disciples sent
Against Religion & Government
They by the Sword of Justice fell
40 And him their Cruel Murderer tell
He left his Fathers trade to roam
A wandring Vagrant without Home
And thus he others labour stole
That he might live above Controll
45 The Publicans & Harlots he
Selected for his Company
And from the Adulteress turnd away
Gods righteous Law that lost its Prey
The Vision of Christ that thou dost see
Is my Visions Greatest Enemy
Thine has a great hook nose like thine
Mine has a snub nose like to mine
5 Thine is the Friend of All Mankind
Mine speaks in parables to the Blind
Thine loves the same world that mine hates
Thy Heaven doors are my Hell Gates
Socrates taught what Melitus
10 Loathd as a Nations bitterest Curse
And Caiphas was in his own Mind
A benefactor of Mankind
Both read the Bible day & night
But thou readst black where I read white
Was Jesus Chaste or did he
Give any Lessons of Chastity
The morning blushd fiery red
Mary was found in Adulterous bed
5 Earth groand beneath & Heaven above
Trembled at discovery of Love
Jesus was sitting in Moses Chair
They brought the trembling Woman There
Moses commands she be stoned to Death
10 What was the sound of Jesus breath
He laid his hand on Moses Law
The Ancient Heavens in Silent Awe
Writ with Curses from Pole to Pole
All away began to roll
15 The Earth trembling & Naked lay
In secret bed of Mortal Clay
On Sinai felt the hand Divine
Putting back the bloody shrine
And she heard the breath of God
20 As she heard by Edens flood
Good & Evil are no more
Sinais trumpets cease to roar
Cease finger of God to Write
The Heavens are not clean in thy Sight
25 Thou art Good & thou Alone 25
Nor may the sinner cast one stone
To be Good only is to be
A Devil or else a Pharisee
Thou Angel of the Presence Divine
30 That didst create this Body of Mine 30
Wherefore has[t] thou writ these Laws
And Created Hells dark jaws
My Presence I will take from thee
A Cold Leper thou shalt be
35 Tho thou wast so pure & bright
That Heaven was Impure in thy Sightt
Tho thy Oath turnd Heaven Pale
Tho thy Covenant built Hells Jail
Tho thou didst all to Chaos roll
40 With the Serpent for its soul
Still the breath Divine does move
And the breath Divine is Love
Mary Fear Not Let me see
The Seven Devils that torment thee
45 Hide not from my Sight thy Sin
That forgiveness thou maist win
Has no Man Condemned thee
No Man Lord! then what is he
Who shall Accuse thee. Come Ye forth
50 Fallen Fiends of Heavnly birth
That have forgot your Ancient love
And driven away my trembling Dove
You shall bow before her feet
You shall lick the dust for Meat
55 And tho you cannot Love but Hate
Shall be beggars at Loves Gate
What was thy love Let me see it
Was it love or Dark Deceit
Love too long from Me has fled.
60 Twas dark deceit to Earn my bread
Twas Covet or twas Custom or
Some trifle not worth caring for
That they may call a shame & Sin
Loves Temple that God dwelleth in
65 And hide in secret hidden Shrine
The Naked Human form divine
And render that a Lawless thing
On which the Soul Expands its wing
But this O Lord this was my Sin
70 When first I let these Devils in
In dark pretence to Chastity
Blaspheming Love blaspheming thee
Thence Rose Secret Adulteries
And thence did Covet also rise
75 My Sin thou hast forgiven me
Canst thou forgive my Blasphemy
Canst thou return to this dark Hell
And in my burning bosom dwell
And canst thou Die that I may live
80 And canst thou Pity & forgive
Then Rolld the shadowy Man away
From the Limbs of Jesus to make them his prey
An Ever devo[u]ring appetite
Glittering with festering Venoms bright
85 Crying Crucify this cause of distress
Who dont keep the secrets of Holiness
All Mental Powers by Diseases we bind
But he heals the Deaf & the Dumb & the Blind
Whom God has afflicted for Secret Ends
90 He comforts & Heals & calls them Friends
But when Jesus was Crucified
Then was perfected his glittring pride
In three Nights he devourd his prey
And still he devours the Body of Clay
95 For Dust & Clay is the Serpents meat
Which never was made for Man to Eat
Seeing this False Christ In fury & Passion
I made my Voice heard all over the Nation
What are those &c
THIS WAS SPOKE BY MY SPECTRE TO VOLTAIRE BACON &C
Did Jesus teach Doubt or did he
Give any lessons of Philosophy
Charge Visionaries with Deceiving
Or call Men wise for not Believing
Was Jesus gentle or did he
Give any marks of Gentility
When twelve years old he ran away
And left his Parents in dismay
5 When after three days sorrow found
Loud as Sinai’s trumpet sound
No Earthly Parents I confess
My Heavenly Fathers business
Ye understand not what I say
10 And angry force me to obey
Obedience is a duty then
And favour gains with God & Men
John from the Wilderness loud cried
Satan gloried in his Pride
15 Come said Satan come away
Ill soon see if youll obey
John for disobedience bled
But you can turn the stones to bread
Gods high king & Gods high Priest
20 Shall Plant their Glories in your breast
If Caiaphas you will obey
If Herod you with bloody Prey
Feed with the Sacrifice & be
Obedient fall down worship me
25 Thunders & lightnings broke around
And Jesus voice in thunders sound
Thus I sieze the Spiritual Prey
Ye smiters with disease make way
I come Your King & God to sieze
30 Is God a Smiter with disease
The God of this World raged in vain
He bound Old Satan in his Chain
And bursting forth his furious ire
Became a Chariot of fire
35 Throughout the land he took his course
And traced Diseases to their Source
He cursd the Scribe & Pharisee
Trampling down Hipocrisy
Where eer his Chariot took its way
40 There Gates of Death let in the Day
Broke down from every Chain & Bar
And Satan in his Spiritual War
Dragd at his Chariot wheels loud howld
The God of this World louder rolld
45 The Chariot Wheels & louder still
His voice was heard from Zions hill
And in his hand the Scourge shone bright
He scourgd the Merchant Canaanite
From out the Temple of his Mind
50 And in his Body tight does bind
Satan & all his Hellish Crew
And thus with wrath he did subdue
The Serpent Bulk of Natures dross
Till he had naild it to the Cross
55 He took on Sin in the Virgins Womb
And put it off on the Cross & Tomb
To be Worshipd by the Church of Rome
(50) Do what you will this Lifes a Fiction
And is made up [o] of Contradiction
The Everlasting Gospelt
Was Jesus Humble or did he
Give any Proofs of Humility
Boast of high Things with Humble tone
And give with Charity a Stone
5 When but a Child he ran away
And left his Parents in Dismay
When they had wanderd three days long
These were the words upon his tongue
No Earthly Parents I confess
10 I am doing my Fathers business
When the rich learned Pharisee
Came to consult him secretly
Upon his heart with Iron pen
He wrote Ye must be born again
15 He was too proud to take a bribe
He spoke with authority not like a Scribe
He says with most consummate Art
Follow me I am meek & lowly of heart
As that is the only way to escape
20 The Misers net & the Gluttons trap
He who loves his Enemies betrays his Friends
This surely is not what Jesus intends
But the sneaking Pride of Heroic Schools
And the Scribes & Pharisees Virtuous Rules
25 For he acts with honest triumphant Pride
And this is the cause that Jesus died
He did not die with Christian Ease
Asking Pardon of his Enemies
If he had Caiphas would forgive
30 Sneaking submission can always live
He had only to say that God was the devil
And the devil was God like a Christian Civil
Mild Christian regrets to the devil confess
For affronting him thrice in the Wilderness
35 He had soon been bloody Caesars Elf
And at last he would have been Caesar himself
Like dr Priestly & Bacon & Newton
Poor Spiritual Knowledge is not worth a button
For thus the Gospel Sr Isaac confutes
40 God can only be known by his Attributes
And as for the Indwelling of the Holy Ghost
Or of Christ & his Father its all a boast
And Pride & Vanity of Imagination
That disdains to follow this Worlds Fashion
45 To teach doubt & Experiment
Certainly was not what Christ meant
What was he doing all that time
From twelve years old to manly prime
Was he then Idle or the Less
50 About his Fathers business
Or was his wisdom held in scorn
Before his wrath began to burn
In Miracles throughout the Land
That quite unnervd Lord Caiaphas hand
55 If he had been Antichrist Creeping Jesus
Hed have done any thing to please us
Gone sneaking into Synagogues
And not usd the Elders & Priests like dogs
But Humble as a Lamb or Ass
60 Obeyd himself to Caiaphas
God wants not Man to Humble himself
This is the trick of the ancient Elf
This is the Race that Jesus ran
Humble to God Haughty to Man
65 Cursing the Rulers before the People
Even to the temples highest Steeple
And when he Humbled himself to God
Then descended the Cruel Rod
If thou humblest thyself thou humblest met
70 Thou also dwellst in Eternity
Thou art a Man God is no more
Thy own humanity learn to adore
For that is my Spirit of Life
Awake arise to Spiritual Strife
75 And thy Revenge abroad display
In terrors at the Last Judgment day
Gods Mercy & Long Suffering
Is but the Sinner to Judgment to bring
Thou on the Cross for them shalt pray
80 And take Revenge at the Last Day
Jesus replied & thunders hurld
I never will Pray for the World
Once [I] did so when I prayd ill the Garden
I wishd to take with me a Bodily Pardon
85 Can that which was of Woman born
In the absence of the Morn
When the Soul fell into Sleep
And Archangels round it weep
Shooting out against the Light
90 Fibres of a deadly night
Reasoning upon its own Dark Fiction
In Doubt which is Self Contradiction
Humility is only Doubt
And does the Sun & Moon blot out
95 Rooting over with thorns & stems
The buried Soul & all its Gems
This Lifes dim Windows of the Soul
Distorts the Heavens from Pole to Pole
And leads you to Believe a Lie
100 When you see with not thro the Eye
That was born in a night to perish in a night
When the Soul slept in the beams of Light.
I am sure This Jesus will not do
Either for Englishman or Jew
I will tell you what Joseph of Arimathea
Said to my Fairy was not it very queer
Pliny & Trajan what are You here
Come listen to Joseph of Arimathea
5 Listen patient & when Joseph has done
Twill make a fool laugh & a Fairy Fun
What can be done with such desperate Fools
Who follow after the Heathen Schools
I was standing by when Jesus died
(10) What I calld Humility they calld Pride
LETTERS OF WILLIAM BLAKE
1 [To Willey Reveley]
[On or after 18 October 1791]
Mr Blakes Compts to M r Reveley tho full of work [as Mr R said he should be by then [tho] the plates were put in hand] he is glad to embrace the offer of engraving such beautiful things. & will do what he can by the end of January
2 [To] G[eorge] Cumberland Esqr, Bishopsgate near Egham, Surrey
Lambeth, 6 Decembr 1795 [Postmark: 10 December]
Dear Sir I congratulate you not on any atchievement. because I know. that the Genius that produces. these Designs can execute them in any manner. notwithstanding the pretended Philosophy which teaches that Execution is the power of One & Invention of Another--Locke says it i[s the] same faculty that Invents Judges, & I say he who can Invent can Execute.
[Begin Page 700] As to laying on the Wax it is as follows
Take a cake of Virgins wax <([if it can be found][if such be]< I dont know what animal produces it>)> & stroke it regularly over the surface of a warm Plate. (the Plate must be warm enough to melt the Wax as it passes over) then immediately draw a feather over it & you will get all even surface which when cold will recieve any impression minutely
Note The danger is in not covering the Plate All over
Now You will I hope shew all the family of Antique Borers, that Peace & Plenty & Domestic Happiness is the Source of Sublime Art, & prove to the Abstract Philosophers--that Enjoyment & not Abstinence is the food of Intellect.
Yours sincerely WILL BLAKE
Health to Mrs Cumberland & Family
The pressure necessary to roll off the lines is the same as when you print, or not quite so great. I have not been able to send a proof of the bath tho I have done the corrections. my paper not being in order.
3 [To George Cumberland]
Lambeth 23 Decembr 1796 a Merry Christmas Dear Cumberland
I have lately had some pricks of conscience on account of not acknowledging your friendship to me [before] immediately on the reciet of your. beautiful book. I have likewise had by me all the summer 6 Plates which you desired me to get made for you. they have laid on my shelf. without speaking to tell me whose they were or that they were [ there] at all & it was some time (when I found them) before I could divine whence they came or whither they were bound or whether they were to lie there to eternity. I have now sent them to you to be transmuted, thou real Alchymist!
Go on Go on. such works as yours Nature & Providence the Eternal Parents demand from their children how few produce them in such perfection how Nature smiles on them. how Providence rewards them. How all your Brethren say, The sound of his harp & his flute heard from his secret forest chears us to the labours of life. & we plow & reap forgetting our labour
Let us see you sometimes as well as sometimes hear from you & let us often See your Works
Compliments to Mr Cumberland & Family
Yours in head & heart WILL BLAKE
4 [To The Revd. Dr. Trusler]
Hercules Buildgs Lambeth
Augst 16. 1799
Revd Sir I find more & more that my Style of Designing is a Species by itself. & in this which I send you have been compelld by my Genius or Angel to follow where he led if I were to act otherwise it would not fulfill the purpose for which alone I live. which is in conjunction with such men as my friend Cumberland to renew the lost Art of the Greeks
I attempted every morning for a fortnight together to follow your Dictate. but when I found my attempts were in vain. resolvd to shew an independence which I know will please an Author better than slavishly following the track of another however admirable that track may be At any rate my Excuse must be: I could not do otherwise, it was out of my power!
I know I begged of you to give me your Ideas & promised to build on them here I counted without my host I now find my mistake
The Design I have Sent. Is
A Father taking leave of his Wife & Child. Is watchd by Two Fiends incarnate. with intention that when his back is turned they will murder the mother & her infant--If this is not Malevolence with a vengeance I have never seen it on Earth. & if you approve of this I have no doubt of giving you Benevolence with Equal Vigor. as also Pride & Humility. but cannot previ- ously describe in words what I mean to Design for fear I should Evaporate [some of m] the Spirit of my Invention. But I hope that none of my Designs will be destitute of Infinite Particulars which will present themselves to the Contemplator. And tho I call them Mine I know that they are not Mine being of the same opinion with Milton when he says That the Muse visits his Slumbers & awakes & governs his Song when Morn purples The East. & being also in the predicament of that prophet who says I cannot go beyond the command of the Lord to speak good or bad
If you approve of my Manner & it is agreeable to you. I would rather Paint Pictures in oil of the same dimensions than make Drawings. & on the same terms. by this means you will have a number of Cabinet pictures. which I flatter myself will not be unworthy of a Scholar of Rembrant & Teniers. whom I have Studied no less than Rafael & Michael angelo--Please to send me your orders respecting this & In my next Effort I promise more Expedition
I am Revd Sir Your very humble servt WILL m BLAKE
ODE ON THE DEATH OF A FAVOURITE CAT, DROWNED IN A TUB OF GOLD FISHES (AS ILLUSTRATOR ONLY)
Ode
on the Death of a
Favourite Cat,
Drowned in a Tub of Gold Fishes
Twas on a lofty vase’s side,
Where China’s gayest art had dyed
The azure flowers that blow;
Demurest of the tabby kind,
The pensive Selima, reclined,
Gazed on the lake below.
Her conscious tail her joy declared;
The fair round face, the snowy beard,
The velvet of her paws,
Her coat, that with the tortoise vies,
Her ears of jet, and emerald eyes,
She saw: and purred applause.
Still had she gazed; but ‘midst the tide
Two angel forms were seen to glide,
The Genii of the stream;
Their scaly armour’s Tyrian hue
Thro’ richest purple to the view
Betrayed a golden gleam.
The hapless nymph with wonder saw:
A whisker first and then a claw,
With many an ardent wish,
She stretched in vain to reach the prize.
What female heart can gold despise?
What cat’s averse to fish?
Presumptuous maid! with looks intent
Again she stretched, again she bent,
Nor knew the gulf between.
(Malignant Fate sat by, and smiled)
The slippery verge her feet beguiled,
She tumbled headlong in.
Eight times emerging from the flood
She mewed to every watery god,
Some speedy aid to send.
No Dolphin came, no Nereid stirred;
Nor cruel Tom, nor Susan heard.
A favorite has no friend!
From hence, ye beauties, undeceived,
Know, one false step is ne’er retrieved,
And be with caution bold.
Not all that tempts your wandering eyes
And heedless hearts is lawful prize,
Nor all, that glisters, gold.
A FATHER’S MEMOIRS OF HIS CHILD.
Great loss to all that ever him did see;
Great loss to all, but greatest loss to me.
Astrophel.
TO
THOMAS JOHNES,
OF HAFOD, ESQ. M. P.
LORD LIEUTENANT OF THE COUNTY OF CARDIGAN,
&C. &C. &C.
MY DEAR FRIEND,
I have been influenced by several motives, in prefixing your name to the following pages. My pen seems destined to owe its employment, in some shape or other, to Hafod.
When I first traversed your mountains, it was without the most distant thought of engaging a set of readers as the companions or followers of my journey. The fever of authorship never preyed upon my better sense, till your magic creation in the wilds of Cardiganshire gave vent to its fury. The singular combinations of beauty and grandeur, the contrast of wildness and improvement, to be found within the circuit of your estate, first disposed me to extend my excursion through the remaining counties of South Wales, and to attempt a description of its picturesque scenes. Your kind offer to facilitate the historical and antiquarian objects of my enquiry, on my second tour, furnished me with my original introduction to your domestic circle: and it was principally to suggestions there enforced, that this volume owes its appearance. Its first duties should therefore be paid, where they so naturally belong.
You may perhaps recollect, that while I was staying with you last summer, our conversations were nearly as rambling and as various, as our rides over your new mountain-farms, or as the subject matter of these preliminary remarks seems likely to be. We were naturally carried forward, from the rugged sublimity of nature, interspersed here with the opening promise, and there with the thriving luxuriance of judicious cultivation; — from the forest and the field before us, into the track of human life, implicated as it is with pleasures which blossom but for a season, and pains which are indigenous, and grow rank and wanton in the soil. On these occasions, it was impossible for me not to dwell on an event, which had drawn a deep furrow over the level of my happiness. It would have been unnatural, to have concealed the mark of an afflicting dispensation, in society so capable of consoling the survivor, and appreciating the merit of the departed. In the interchange of our thoughts on this subject, the task of furnishing the public with the following facts was urged upon me, at once as a tribute to the latter, and a relief to the feelings of the former.
This had been repeatedly mentioned by others; but I as often declined it, at least in detail. Yet, that I might not altogether oppose the wishes of my friends, I transmitted a short sketch of this little life, to be inserted in a periodical publication, and meant with that to have closed the subject on my part for ever. Though I thought to have acquitted myself of every claim by this account, there were some persons so far interested in it, as to express through the same channel a desire, to receive the original documents from my hands. They represented with sufficient reason, that a character of such high, yet vague pretensions, required the sanction of some avowed authority to confirm its truth, and of some particular and as it were tangible facts, to exemplify its general justice.
Still I felt a reluctance, especially at that early period, to so melancholy and hazardous an office. I strengthened my previous determination by considering, how differently the world estimates the effusions which give pleasure by the family fire-side. At home, they derive a mixed value from intrinsic merit, from the partiality of kindred, and from the evanescent circumstances of local application. Add to this, that an editor or biographer is likely to be perpetually verging towards extravagance, where his feelings are awakened and his discretion laid asleep, by personal ties and recent events. With these arguments, which had hitherto satisfied myself, I again resisted your attack. It would be impertinent, to enter further into them here. Suffice it to say, that they were silenced by those, to whose judgment I must surrender, and whose sincerity I have always found superior to compliment or dissimulation.
But I have other inducements for addressing you in the present case. Our circumstances, opinions, and conduct, have not been altogether dissimilar. We have both of us felt, I hope we may say duly, the importance of the office, which nature and society have entrusted to our care. We have both met with the best materials to work upon. In this principally do we seem to differ, that your task is now accomplished: mine, as far as the subject of these memoirs is concerned, was prematurely closed. At my first acquaintance with Hafod, it seemed as if I saw, allowing for sex and contingent varieties, the consummation of what I had myself hoped and planned. It was neither in your character nor mine, to consider in a light and fantastic point of view, the duty of forming a tender mind. Elegant and tasteful accomplishments, though highly desirable as appendages to a liberal education, are the garnish, and not the food of life. The music-room and the drawing-academy, the circles of rank and of refinement, may each be allowed their attraction and their interest. The manners of the polite world are chiefly satirised by those, who have been foiled in their endeavours to insinuate themselves within its sphere. But there is a still higher ambition, of founding on the basis of useful and reputable attainments, a rational and equable constitution of the mind: a sense of human instability, to keep down the pride of condition; and sentiments of personal honour, to support its dignity. These, as well as all the secondary objects, you have pursued with undeviating perseverance, and with correspondent success. I could point out more particularly the immediate bearing of these remarks: but my young friend, who at the age of thirteen, received from a man, distinctively and most honourably known to the public as Linnean Smith, the tribute of a commendatory and affectionate dedication, prefixed to one of his learned and magnificent works, would draw no additional honour from my public incense.
There is still another motive for this dedication, and that a selfish one. I am apprehensive, lest so unusual an appeal to public attention should, though you anticipate the contrary, bring down a severe censure on my temerity. Supposing my fears to prove true, I shall hope, as you were instrumental towards my offence, to implicate you in some share of my condemnation, and thus alleviate its weight by partnership.
Grainger, speaking of Tibullus’s infancy, has the following remark. “The human mind does not always blossom at the same period; and it by no means follows that his childhood must have flourished, whose maturer age has produced fair fruits of science. Perhaps too, details of early excellence are less useful than is commonly imagined, as they often dispirit those who would otherwise in due time have expanded into an extensive reputation.”
If it had been of little use, to have traced the juvenile proficiency of Tibullus, an elegant writer of the Augustan age, and as a man remarkable, contrary to the bias of contemporary poets, for his inflexible adherence to the principles of liberty and of the commonwealth, what excuse is to be made for dwelling on the abortive efforts of a genius, which was not suffered to hold on its course to the completion of the seventh year? Neither courts nor factions had solicited its accession to their party: the muses had not yet admitted it to their toilet, nor philosophy enrolled it among her priests. Yet it gratifies curiosity, if it yield no profit more substantial, to be informed on what plan the preceptors of an ingenuous and enterprising youth have conducted his studies. That a prominent example should dispirit others, seems contrary to that almost instinctive emulation, which sometimes electrifies the indolent and kindles up even the dull, in the well-contested rivalships of our public schools. Where the results of a system, as in the present case, are denied to our enquiry, the argumentative application of insulated facts and fortuitous remarks is precluded. We are not to assume, that because the bud, which was cut off in spring, was fair, the fruit, had it been spared, must have been rich in autumn. Nor does it follow on the other hand, that the autumnal fruit must have put forth and germinated, with the first warm breezes of the season. But we are not to hold as nothing, what has not corresponded with our most sanguine hopes. The blossom, which was too short-lived to pamper the palate, or invigorate the habit with its full grown and concocted substance, was still grateful in its odour and its blush. Remembrance is most sweet, and sympathy most endearing, to those whom mutual privations have brought together. Should this book beguile, but for an hour, the sorrows of a single parent, brooding over a similar loss, I shall not repent having put it together, though critics should disapprove, or my bookseller shake his head at the account.
Yet there was with me a doubt of a different nature, which took its rise from a prevailing folly of the time. The passion for infantine and puerile exhibitions, so far from having been a motive for taking advantage of the popular caprice, had almost weighed upon my mind, to defer or abandon the project, and set your friendly wishes at defiance. This town has of late been in a fever of precocious admiration; ready to catch at whatever might administer food to the rage for novelty and the surprising. The most approved models of just recitation, of impressive eloquence, of passionate expression, have been laid on the shelf for inarticulate lispings, or at best for a parrot-taught monotony, the effect of premature and master-ridden study. The powers of music have been called in, to inspire the fatuity of childhood. Memory has been loaded with all the lumber of misplaced erudition. But these are not instances of a powerful and overtopping mind. They may be evidences of parts, but not of genius. Were I soliciting praise for a happy knack at any art, or for the mere talent of imitation, I should expect my pretensions to be treated with contempt. But surely here is something to delineate, which I could never have taught: the result of natural ability, not of laboured acquisition . something which art could never have manufactured, nor neglect have utterly destroyed. It seemed to have been the growth of the climate, unfolded and improved by culture, but not dependent on it for existence or support. On this view of my subject, have I been emboldened to proceed; and I am not afraid, lest the hero of my tale should be confounded with the common mass and vulgar rabble of prodigies. But could it be supposed for a moment, that I brought forward the present, as a parallel or rival case, with that of the Roscii, the Rosciæ, or the Rosciusculi, I should feel nothing but disgust; and were it really so, I should deserve nothing but shame.
On mentioning my design to some of my friends, they expressed their regret, that I had not determined on it sooner. It might perhaps have been more acceptable to those whose feelings were then more immediately awakened by vicinity and personal acquaintance. The moment for complying with such temporary interest is indeed gone by. It would however have been much more proper, for these memoirs to have slept in oblivion, unless they were to carry with them their own passport, at whatever distance of time they might chance to be produced. In every other respect, but that of catching attention while the object is still before the eye, the interval must be considered as an advantage. Under the influence of a calamity not yet overpast, the mind must either have lost its spring, or have been wound up to the opposite extreme of wild and hyperbolical enthusiasm. In either case, the writer would have been disqualified from discharging his memory faithfully, or executing his censorial functions with any tolerable impartial.
Judging however by a question, which has been put to me more than once, there are probably those, who may treat the exercise of such a discretion, even at the distance of more than three years, as the mark of a cold temperament and indifferent heart. I have been asked, “How could you get over such a loss?” I need not say, that this was not your question, for you could never have found it on the list of possible interrogatories: and to you, for that very reason, will I answer it.
I got over this great loss, by considering at once what I had left; how unavailing the lengthened and excessive indulgence of grief would have been to myself, and how useless it would have rendered me to others. Why should I have locked my breast against the return of its accustomed tranquillity, when so many others wisely reconcile themselves to breaches of domestic union, irreparable in kind as well as in degree? Have you never been threatened with a calamity, which, had it befallen you in your only hope, would have pressed more heavily than even mine on me? Yet you would have triumphed, though after many and painful efforts, over the tyranny of despair. When the first agonies of childless destitution had subsided into melancholy, but resigned and contemplative thought, you would have reflected that these are the trials, which constitute the tenure of human life, even on its brightest and most attractive side. Your groves would indeed have lost their music to your ears, and their enchantment to your eyes. The rush of your mountain torrents would have been aggravated into horror. The voice of your tenantry, breaking in as it did with unprecedented importunity on the performance of divine service at the opening of your church, had it not been heard with favour, would have sounded like the knell of all that was worth living for. Yet their necessities, their sorrow, their loss, would at length have roused you from your stupor, and taught you to find your own relief, in the habitual employment of administering to their wants.
Besides this comparison of my own, with the probable or actual circumstances of others, I bore my disappointment the better for the recollection, that personal regards are selfish. If my thoughts were disposed to dwell on the mortifying idea, that society might have lost an ornament derived to it through me, they were soon checked, and ashamed of their presumption. Topics of private bewailing or condolence, of whatever magnitude they may appear to the individual, can never be modestly transferred to general interest. But it was my principal consolation, that the change to him must have been for the better. Supposing the opinion to have been rational and probable, that the promise of this child would have ripened into something more than fair capacity and marketable talent, the prolongation of life was to himself perhaps the less desirable on that very account. It rarely happens, that the world affords even the ordinary allowance of happiness to men of transcendent faculties. Their merits are too frequently denied the protection and encouragement, to which they feel themselves entitled, from the private intimations of their own scrutinizing spirit. When they are most successful, the composure of their minds does not always keep pace with the prosperity of their fortunes. They necessarily have but few companions; few, who are capable of appreciating their high endowments, and entering into the grandeur of their conceptions. Of these few, those who come the nearest to their own rank and standard those who might be the associates of their inmost thoughts, and the partners of their dearest interests, are too often envious of their fame. It is a common remark, that great men are not gregarious. This is but too just; and so much of man’s happiness depends upon society, that the comparative solitude, to which a commanding genius condemns its possessor, detracts considerably from the sum of his personal enjoyment.
While I am on this subject, I cannot forbear enlarging somewhat on an instance the more apposite, as being casually connected with the subsequent pages. Hitherto, it has confirmed the observation just hazarded, on the probable fate of stubborn originality in human life. There seems now indeed some prospect, that the current will turn: and I shall be eager, on the evidence of the very first deponent, to disencumber myself of an opinion, which pays so ill a compliment to our nature. In the mean time, I am confident that you, and my other readers of taste and feeling, will readily forgive my travelling a little out of the record, for the purpose of descanting on merit, which ought to be more conspicuous, and which must have become so long since, but for opinions and habits of an eccentric kind.
It is, I hope, unnecessary to call your attention to the ornamental device, round the portrait in this book; but I cannot so easily refrain from introducing to you the designer.
Mr. William Blake, very early in life, had the ordinary opportunities of seeing pictures in the houses of noblemen and gentlemen, and in the king’s palaces. He soon improved such casual occasions of study, by attending sales at Langford’s, Christie’s, and other auction-rooms. At ten years of age he was put to Mr. Pars’s drawing-school in the Strand, where he soon attained the art of drawing from casts in plaster of the various antiques. His father bought for him the Gladiator, the Hercules, the Venus of Medicis, and various heads, hands, and feet. The same indulgent parent soon supplied him with money to buy prints; when he immediately began his collection, frequenting the shops of the print-dealers, and the sales of the auctioneers. Langford called him his little connoisseur; and often knocked down to him a cheap lot, with friendly precipitation. He copied Raphael and Michael Angelo, Martin Hemskerck and Albert Durer, Julio Romano, and the rest of the historic class, neglecting to buy any other prints, however celebrated. His choice was for the most part contemned by his youthful companions, who were accustomed to laugh at what they called his mechanical taste. At the age of fourteen, he fixed on the engraver of Stuart’s Athens and West’s Pylades and Orestes for his master, to whom he served seven years apprenticeship. Basire, whose taste was like his own, approved of what he did. Two years passed over smoothly enough, till two other apprentices were added to the establishment, who completely destroyed its harmony. Blake, not chusing to take part with his master against his fellow apprentices, was sent out to make drawings. This circumstance he always mentions with gratitude to Basire, who said that he was too simple and they too cunning.
He was employed in making drawings from old buildings and monuments, and occasionally, especially in winter, in engraving from those drawings. This occupation led him to an acquaintance with those neglected works of art, called Gothic monuments. There he found a treasure, which he knew how to value. He saw the simple and plain road to the style of art at which he aimed, unentangled in the intricate windings of modern practice. The monuments of Kings and Queens in Westminster Abbey, which surround the chapel of Edward the Confessor, particularly that of King Henry the Third, the beautiful monument and figure of Queen Elinor, Queen Philippa, King Edward the Third, King Richard the Second and his Queen, were among his first studies. All these he drew in every point he could catch, frequently standing on the monument, and viewing the figures from the top. The heads he considered as portraits; and all the ornaments appeared as miracles of art, to his Gothicised imagination. He then drew Aymer de Valence’s monument, with his fine figure on the top. Those exquisite little figures which surround it, though dreadfully mutilated, are still models for the study of drapery. But I do not mean to enumerate all his drawings, since they would lead me over all the old monuments in Westminster Abbey, as well as over other churches in and about London.
Such was his employment at Basire’s. As soon as he was out of his time, he began to engrave two designs from the History of England, after drawings which he had made in the holiday hours of his apprenticeship. They were selected from a great number of historical compositions, the fruits of his fancy. He continued making designs for his own amusement, whenever he could steal a moment from the routine of business; and began a course of study at the Royal Academy, under the eye of Mr. Moser. Here he drew with great care, perhaps all, or certainly nearly all the noble antique figures in various views. But now his peculiar notions began to intercept him in his career. He professes drawing from life always to have been hateful to him; and speaks of it as looking more like death, or smelling of mortality. Yet still he drew a good deal from life, both at the academy and at home. In this manner has he managed his talents, till he is himself almost become a Gothic monument. On a view of his whole life, he still thinks himself authorized to pronounce, that practice and opportunity very soon teach the language of art: but its spirit and poetry, which are seated in the imagination alone, never can be taught; and these make an artist.
Mr. Blake has long been known to the order of men among whom he ranks; and is highly esteemed by those, who can distinguish excellence under the disguise of singularity. Enthusiastic and high flown notions on the subject of religion have hitherto, as they usually do, prevented his general reception, as a son of taste and of the muses. The sceptic and the rational believer, uniting their forces against the visionary, pursue and scare a warm and brilliant imagination, with the hue and cry of madness. Not contented with bringing down the reasonings of the mystical philosopher, as they well may, to this degraded level, they apply the test of cold calculation and mathematical proof to departments of the mind, which are privileged to appeal from so narrow and rigorous a tribunal. They criticise the representations of corporeal beauty, and the allegoric emblems of mental perfections; the image of the visible world, which appeals to the senses for a testimony to its truth, or the type of futurity and the immortal soul, which identifies itself with our hopes and with our hearts, as if they were syllogisms or theorems, demonstrable propositions or consecutive corollaries. By them have the higher powers of this artist been kept from public notice, and his genius tied down, as far as possible, to the mechanical department of his profession. By them, in short, has he been stigmatised as an engraver, who might do tolerably well, if he was not mad. But men, whose names will bear them out, in what they affirm, have now taken up his cause. On occasion of Mr. Blake engaging to illustrate the poem of The Grave, some of the first artists in this country have stept forward, and liberally given the sanction of ardent and encomiastic applause. Mr. Fuseli, with a mind far superior to that jealousy above described, has written some introductory remarks in the Prospectus of the work. To these he has lent all the penetration of his understanding, with all the energy and descriptive power characteristic of his style. Mr. Hope and Mr. Locke have pledged their character as connoisseurs, by approving and patronising these designs. Had I been furnished with an opportunity of shewing them to you, I should, on Mr. Blake’s behalf, have requested your concurring testimony, which you would not have refused me, had you viewed them in the same light.
Neither is the capacity of this untutored proficient limited to his professional occupation. He has made several irregular and unfinished attempts at poetry. He has dared to venture on the ancient simplicity; and feeling it in his own character and manners, has succeeded better than those, who have only seen it through a glass. His genius in this line assimilates more with the bold and careless freedom, peculiar to our writers at the latter end of the sixteenth, and former part of the seventeenth century, than with the polished phraseology, and just, but subdued thought of the eighteenth. As the public have hitherto had no opportunity of passing sentence on his poetical powers, I shall trespass on your patience, while I introduce a few specimens from a collection, circulated only among the author’s friends, and richly embellished by his pencil.
LAUGHING SONG.
When the green woods laugh with the voice of joy,
And the dimpling stream runs laughing by,
When the air does laugh with our merry wit,
And the green hill laughs with the noise of it,
When the meadows laugh with lively green,
And the grasshopper laughs in this merry scene,
When Mary and Susan and Emily,
With their sweet round mouths, sing Ha, ha, he!
When the painted birds laugh in the shade,
Where our table with cherries and nuts is spread,
Come live and be merry and join with me,
To sing the sweet chorus of Ha, ha, he!
The Fairy Glee of Oberon, which Stevens’s exquisite music has familiarised to modern ears, will immediately occur to the reader of these laughing stanzas. We may also trace another less obvious resemblance to Jonson, in an ode gratulatory to the Right Honourable Hierome, Lord Weston, for his return from his embassy, in the year 1632. The accord is to be found, not in the words nor in the subject; for either would betray imitation: but in the style of thought, and, if I may so term it, the date of the expression.
Such pleasure as the teeming earth
Doth take in easy nature’s birth,
When she puts forth the life of every thing:
And in a dew of sweetest rain,
She lies delivered without pain,
Of the prime beauty of the year, the spring.
The rivers in their shores do run,
The clouds rack clear before the sun,
The rudest winds obey the calmest air:
Rare plants from every bank do rise,
And every plant the sense surprise,
Because the order of the whole is fair!
The very verdure of her nest,
Wherein she sits so richly drest,
As all the wealth of season there was spread;
Doth show the graces and the hours
Have multiplied their arts and powers.
In making soft her aromatic bed.
Such joys, such sweets, doth your return
Bring all your friends, fair lord, that burn
With love, to hear your modesty relate
The bus’ness of your blooming wit,
With all the fruit shall follow it,
Both to the honour of the king and state.
The following poem of Blake is in a different character. It expresses with majesty and pathos, the feelings of a benevolent mind, on being present at a sublime display of national munificence and charity.
HOLY THURSDAY.
‘Twas on a Holy Thursday, their innocent faces clean,
The children walking two and two, in red and blue and green;
Grey-headed beadles walked before, with wands as white as snow,
Till into the high dome of Paul’s, they, like Thames’ waters, flow.
Oh! What a multitude they seemed, these flowers of London town!
Seated in companies they sit, with radiance all their own!
The hum of multitudes was there, but multitudes of lambs;
Thousands of little boys and girls, raising their innocent hands.
Now like a mighty wind they raise to heaven the voice of song,
Or like harmonious thunderings, the seats of heaven among!
Beneath them sit the aged men, wise guardians of the poor:
Then cherish pity, lest you drive an angel from your door.
The book of Revelation, which may well be supposed to engross much of Mr. Blake’s study, seems to have directed him, in common with Milton, to some of the foregoing images. “And I heard as it were the voice of a great multitude, and as the voice of many waters, and as the voice of mighty thunderings, saying, Alleluia: for the Lord God omnipotent reigneth.” Milton comprises the mighty thunderings in the epithet “loud,” and adopts the comparison of many waters, which image our poet, having in the first stanza appropriated differently, to their flow rather than to their sound, exchanges in the last for that of a mighty wind.
He ended; and the heav’nly audience loud
Sung hallelujah, as the sound of seas,
Through multitude that sung.
Paradise Lost, Book x. 641.
It may be worth a moment’s consideration, whether Dr. Johnson’s remarks on devotional poetry, though strictly just where he applies them, to the artificial compositions of Waller and Watts, are universally and necessarily true. Watts seldom rose above the level of a mere versifier. Waller, though entitled to the higher appellation of poet, had formed himself rather to elegance and delicacy, than to passionate emotions or a lofty and dignified deportment. The devotional pieces of the Hebrew bards are clothed in that simple language, to which Johnson with justice ascribes the character of sublimity. There is no reason therefore, why the poets of other nations should not be equally successful, if they think with the same purity, and express themselves in the same unaffected terms. He says indeed with truth, that “Repentance trembling in the presence of the judge, is not at leisure for cadences and epithets.” But though we should exclude the severer topics from our catalogue, mercy and benevolence may be treated poetically, because they are in unison with the mild spirit of poetry. They are seldom treated successfully; but the fault is not in the subject. The mind of the poet is too often at leisure for the mechanical prettinesses of cadence and epithet, when it ought to be engrossed by higher thoughts. Words and numbers present themselves unbidden, when the soul is inspired by sentiment, elevated by enthusiasm, or ravished by devotion. I leave it to the reader to determine, whether the following stanzas have any tendency to vindicate this species of poetry; and whether their simplicity and sentiment at all make amends for their inartificial and unassuming construction.
THE DIVINE IMAGE.
To Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love,
All pray in their distress,
And to these virtues of delight
Return their thankfulness.
For Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love,
Is God our Father dear:
And Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love,
Is man, his child and care.
For Mercy has a human heart;
Pity, a human face;
And Love, the human form divine,
And Peace, the human dress.
Then every man, of every clime,
That prays in his distress,
Prays to the human form divine,
Love, Mercy, Pity, Peace.
And all must love the human form,
In Heathen, Turk, or Jew!
Where Mercy, Love, and Pity dwell,
There God is dwelling too.
Shakspeare’s Venus and Adonis, Tarquin and Lucrece, and his Sonnets, occasioned it to be said by a contemporary, that, “As the soul of Euphorbus was thought to live in Pythagoras, so the sweet witty soul of Ovid lives in mellifluous honey-tongued Shakespeare.” These poems, now little read, were favourite studies of Mr. Blake’s early days. So were Jonson’s Underwoods and Miscellanies, and he seems to me to have caught his manner, more than that of Shakspeare in his trifles. The following song is a good deal in the spirit of the Hue and Cry after Cupid, in the Masque on Lord Haddington’s marriage. It was written before the age of fourteen, in the heat of youthful fancy, unchastised by judgment. The poet, as such, takes the very strong liberty of equipping himself with wings, and thus appropriates his metaphorical costume to his corporeal fashion and seeming. The conceit is not unclassical; but Pindar and the ancient lyrics arrogated to themselves the bodies of swans for their august residence. Our Gothic songster is content to be encaged by Cupid; and submits, like a young lady’s favourite, to all the vagaries of giddy curiosity and tormenting fondness.
How sweet I roamed from field to field,
And tasted all the summer’s pride,
Till I the prince of love beheld,
Who in the sunny beams did glide!
He shewed me lilies for my hair,
And blushing roses for my brow;
He led me through his gardens fair,
Where all his golden pleasures grow.
With sweet May dews my wings were wet,
And Phœbus fired my vocal rage;
He caught me in his silken net,
And shut me in his golden cage.
He loves to sit and hear me sing,
Then, laughing, sports and plays with me
Then stretches out my golden wing,
And mocks my loss of liberty.
The playful character ascribed to the prince of love, and especially his wanton and fantastic action while sporting with his captive, in the two last stanzas, render it probable that the author had read the Hue and Cry after Cupid. If so, it had made its impression; but the lines could scarcely have been remembered at the time of writing or the resemblance would have been closer. The stanzas, to which I especially allude, are these.
Wings he hath, which though ye clip,
He will leap from lip to lip,
Over liver, lights, and heart,
But not stay in any part;
And, if chance his arrow misses,
He will shoot himself, in kisses.
Idle minutes are his reign;
Then the straggler makes his gain,
By presenting maids with toys,
And would have ye think ‘em joys:
’Tis th’ ambition of the elf,
To have all childish as himself.
The two following little pieces are added, as well by way of contrast, as for the sake of their respective merits. In the first, there is a simple and pastoral gaiety, which the poets of a refined age have generally found much more difficult of attainment, than the glitter of wit, or the affectation of antithesis. The second rises with the subject. It wears that garb of grandeur, which the idea of creation communicates to a mind of the higher order. Our bard, having brought the topic he descants on from warmer latitudes than his own, is justified in adopting an imagery, of almost oriental feature and complection.
SONG.
I love the jocund dance,
The softly breathing song,
Where innocent eyes do glance,
And where lisps the maiden’s tongue.
I love the laughing gale,
I love the echoing hill,
Where mirth does never fail,
And the jolly swain laughs his fill.
I love the pleasant cot,
I love the innocent bower,
Where white and brown is our lot,
Or fruit in the mid-day hour.
I love the oaken seat.
Beneath the oaken tree,
Where all the old villagers meet,
And laugh our sports to see.
I love our neighbours all,
But, Kitty, I better love thee;
And love them I ever shall;
But thou art all to me.
THE TIGER.
Tiger, Tiger, burning bright,
In the forest of the night!
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies,
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?
And what shoulder, and what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
When thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand forged thy dread feet?
What the hammer? What the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? What dread grasp
Dared its deadly terrors clasp?
When the stars threw down their spears,
And watered heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he, who made the lamb, make thee?
Tiger, tiger, burning bright,
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
Besides these lyric compositions, Mr. Blake has given several specimens of blank verse. Here, as might be expected, his personifications are bold, his thoughts original, and his style of writing altogether epic in its structure. The unrestrained measure, however, which should warn the poet to restrain himself, has not unfrequently betrayed him into so wild a pursuit of fancy, as to leave harmony unregarded, and to pass the line prescribed by criticism to the career of imagination.
But I have been leading you beside our subject, into a labyrinth of poetical comment, with as little method or ceremony, as if we were to have no witness of our correspondence. It is time we should return from the masquing regions of poetry, to the business with which we set out. Donne, in his Anatomy of the World, remarks the Egyptians to have acted wisely, in bestowing more cost upon their tombs than on their houses. This example he adduces, to justify his own Funeral Elegies: and I may perhaps be allowed to adopt it, as an additional plea, should my former be of no avail, for coming forward with this piece of almost infantine biography. If it be a custom, handed down from high antiquity, to enshrine the breathless clay of honourable men in brass or marble; — if poetry and the arts jointly present their offerings at the obsequies of princes, patriots, or heroes, why may not the frailty of our hopes in private life be moralised, or the sorrows of a family consecrated, by the pen of the father or the friend? The eye, which looks through the magnifying tube of interest or vanity in the public panegyric, may be deceived in the private by affection. In either case, the good is sure to be doubled, and what is amiss to be thrown at a distance. There is however little room for my intellectual vision to be thus deluded. Partiality is the standing reproach of biographers: nor are we disposed to pass a harsh sentence against an error on the side of candour. It is natural to conceal those spots in a beloved character, which we lament; and to extinguish private vices in a radiance of public glory. But I have neither motive nor means for practising such a deception, venial as in some cases it may be. My office is of a far more humble order; yet it has soothed and rewarded me in the performance, as you predicted that it would. I had to relate, from plain and authentic documents, the early progress of a mind, too lately come into the world, to be corrupted by it. In such a mind the springs of action were all single and simple; the virtues were just beginning to move and act under the hand of him who contrived and disposed them, without being crossed as yet by contrary forces or attractions; the love of knowledge moved forward to its object and its end, without the mercenary bias, which often draws it from its proper and more honourable course in later life. I hope to be found, neither to have mistaken the nature of my task, nor to have made too much of it. After all, it is perhaps easier to perceive than to avoid the difficulties, which lie between so modest a delineation, as would deprive the picture of its interest, and so high a varnish and finishing, as might rather bespeak the confidence of the workman, than the excellence of his subject or materials.
I regret, my dear friend, that it was not in my power to furnish you and my readers with a portrait of a later date. We had often talked of allowing ourselves that indulgence; but we were not privy to the event, which was to have communicated to it an incalculable value. The engraving here given, though it might well be taken to represent a much older child, is from a very beautiful miniature, painted by Paye, when Thomas was not quite two years old. He then was only beginning to speak; but there was even at that early period an intelligence in his eye, and an expression about his mouth, which are, I hope, sufficiently characterised in the delineation, to afford no inadequate idea of his physiognomy.
There is a circumstance, to which I cannot but allude, and need do no more. The trick of converting confidential correspondence, private history, or domestic events, to marketable purposes, has been practised of late years with little remorse, and in open defiance of all prejudice on the side of decency. Yet to drag the privacy of a wife or a child into day-light, and expose to an inquisitive world scenes which were never meant to meet the public eye, may be entered in the day-book of the literary trade, among its meanest arts. Without affecting to despise the pecuniary reward, which the labours of the pen may fairly covet and proudly enjoy, I could not but feel repugnant, in the present very peculiar case, to the idea of deriving immediately to myself any casual advantage, from setting the accomplishments of a deceased child to sale. But there is a purpose, which may be honourably promoted by such a contingency. To make some little addition to the library of the young survivors, or to their other means of instruction, beyond what else it might be thought expedient for a moderate fortune to supply, will be an appropriation strictly conformable with the turn and spirit of the departed.
With so very confined an aim, I am not solicitous that this production should circulate extensively; but I do wish, with more anxiety than I am accustomed to experience, that it may prove acceptable among those, whom either personal knowledge or the natural warmth of human kindness may interest in the subject. Should it stagger the sceptical, or disgust the supercilious, I shall easily reconcile myself to the loss of their suffrage. Neither my measure of parental duty, nor my share of satisfaction in its performance, are to be computed by such a standard. I have waited till my passions are cooled: I have exercised the best of my memory and my judgment, without venturing further on the dangerous province of appreciation, than seemed to be warranted by the papers before me. Yet I am still aware that I write as a father; and am consequently liable to indulge myself in a more partial strain, than may meet the approbation and consent of indifferent persons. I have, however, done all I could to be temperate: if I have occasionally forgotten myself, I desire to plead before a jury of fathers, and entrust my fate to their decision.
At all events, this work, though it should escape censure, can rank no higher than a trifle. What apology must I make for addressing it to a fellow-labourer, who has accomplished the serious and difficult task of giving an English dress to Froissart? I think it was Gray, who denominated your venerable original the Herodotus of a barbarous age. But surely that age is entitled to a more respectful epithet, when France could boast its Froissart, Italy its Petrarch, England its Wickliffe, the father of our reformation, and Chaucer, the father of our poetry. If I might slightly alter the designation of so complete a critic, I would prefer calling this simple and genuine historian, the Herodotus of chivalry. But by whatever title we are to greet him, the interesting minuteness of his recital, affording a strong pledge of its fidelity, the lively delineation of manners, and the charm of unadulterated language, all conspire to place him in the first rank of early writers. The public begin to revolt from that spirit of philosophizing on the most common occasions, in consequence of which our modern historians seem to be more ingenious in assigning causes and motives, than assiduous to ascertain facts. We are returning home to plain tales and first-hand authorities; and you will share the honour of pointing out the way. Froissart, hitherto inaccessible to English readers in general, from the obsolete garb both of the French and of Lord Berners’s translation, may now be read in such a form, as to unite the peculiar thought and turn of the ancient with the intelligible phraseology of modern times. With my best congratulations on your success, and my earnest request to be forgiven for thus intruding on your leisure, believe me to be,
My dear friend,
Faithfully yours,
B. H. MALKIN.