William Blake. Part I (Poems 1-99)

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    Biographical information
    William Blake. Part I (Poems 1-99)
    William Blake. Part II (Poems 100-123)

  1. A Cradle Song
  2. A Divine Image
  3. A Dream
  4. A Poison Tree
  5. A Song
  6. Ah Sun-Flower
  7. An Imitation Of Spenser
  8. Auguries Of Innocence
  9. Blind Man's Buff
  10. Broken Love
  11. Day
  12. Earth's Answer
  13. Eternity
  14. Evening Star
  15. Fair Elanor
  16. Gwin King Of Norway
  17. Hear The Voice
  18. Holy Thursday: Experience
  19. Holy Thursday: Innocence
  20. How Sweet I Roam'd
  21. I Heard An Angel
  22. I Rose Up At The Dawn Of Day
  23. I Saw A Chapel
  24. Infant Joy
  25. Infant Sorrow
  26. Introduction To The Songs Of Experience
  27. Introduction To The Songs Of Innocence
  28. Laughing Song
  29. London
  30. Love And Harmony
  31. Love's Secret
  32. Mad Son
  33. Memory, Hither Come
  34. Milton: And Did Those Feet In Ancient Time
  35. Milton: But In The Wine-Presses The Human Grapes Sing Not Nor Dance
  36. Milton: England! Awake! Awake! Awake!
  37. Milton: I See The Four-Fold Man
  38. Milton: The Sky Is An Immortal Tent Built By The Sons Of Los
  39. Mock On, Mock On, Voltaire, Rousseau
  40. My Pretty Rose Tree
  41. Never Seek To Tell Thy Love
  42. My Pretty Rose Tree
  43. Never Seek To Tell Thy Love
  44. Night
  45. Now Art Has Lost Its Mental Charms
  46. Nurses Song: Experience
  47. Nurse's Song: Innocence
  48. On Another's Sorrow
  49. Piping Down The Valleys Wild
  50. Preludium To America
  51. Preludium To Europe
  52. Proverbs Of Hell: Excerpt From 'The Marriage of Heaven and Hell'
  53. Reeds Of Innocence
  54. Several Questions Answered
  55. Silent, Silent Night
  56. Sleep! Sleep! Beauty Bright
  57. Song: My silks and fine array
  58. Spring
  59. The Angel
  60. The Birds
  61. The Blossom
  62. The Book Of Thel
  63. The Book Of Urizen: Chapter I
  64. The Book Of Urizen: Chapter II
  65. The Book Of Urizen: Chapter III
  66. The Book Of Urizen: Chapter IV
  67. The Book Of Urizen: Chapter V
  68. The Book Of Urizen: Chapter VI
  69. The Book Of Urizen: Chapter VII
  70. The Book Of Urizen: Chapter VIII
  71. The Book Of Urizen: Chapter IX
  72. The Book Of Urizen: Preludium
  73. The Caverns Of The Grave I've Seen
  74. The Chimney-Sweeper: Experience
  75. The Chimney-Sweeper: Innocence
  76. The Clod & The Pebble
  77. The Divine Image
  78. The Echoing Green
  79. The Everlasting Gospel
  80. The Fly
  81. The Four Zoas (Excerpt)
  82. The Garden Of Love
  83. The Grey Monk
  84. The Human Abstract
  85. The Lamb
  86. The Land Of Dreams
  87. The Lilly
  88. The Little Black Boy
  89. The Little Boy Found
  90. The Little Boy Lost
  91. The Little Girl Found
  92. The Little Girl Lost
  93. The Little Vagabond
  94. The Marriage Of Heaven And Hell (Excerpts)
  95. The Marriage Of Heaven And Hell: The Argument
  96. The New Jerusalem
  97. The Prophets
  98. The School Boy
  99. The Shepherd




    Biographical information

      Name: William Blake
      Place and date of birth: London (England); November 28, 1757
      Place and date of death: London (England); August 12, 1827 (aged 69)

    Up

      A Cradle Song

        Sweet dreams form a shade,
        O'er my lovely infants 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 mothers 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 & earth to peace beguiles.

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      A Divine Image

        Cruelty has a human heart,
        And Jealousy a human face;
        Terror the human form divine,
        And Secresy 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.

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      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, wildered, and forlorn,
        Dark, benighted, travel-worn,
        Over many a tangle spray,
        All heart-broke, I heard her say:

        'Oh 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 dropped 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!'.

      Up

      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 veiled the pole;
        In the morning glad I see
        My foe outstretched beneath the tree.

      Up

      A 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 smile,
        All the livelong night beguile.

        Sweet moans, dovelike sighs,
        Chase not slumber from thine eyes!
        Sweet moan, sweeter smile,
        All the dovelike moans beguile.

        Sleep, sleep, happy child!
        All creation slept and smiled.
        Sleep, sleep, happy sleep,
        While o'er thee doth 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.

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      Ah Sun-Flower

        Ah Sun-flower! weary of time.
        Who countest the steps of the Sun;
        Seeking after that sweet golden clime
        Where the travellers 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 Sun-flower wishes to go.

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      An Imitation Of Spenser

        Thou fair hair'd angel of the evening,
        Now, while 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 when thou drawest the
        Blue curtains, 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 fleece of our flocks are covered with
        Thy sacred dew; Protect them with thine influence.

        Golden Apollo, that thro' heaven wide
        Scatter'st the rays of light, and truth's 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 yields 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 rimes and elegances terse.

        And thou, Mercurius, that with wingиd brow
        Dost mount aloft into the yielding sky,
        And thro' Heav'n'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 t 1000 he 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 lab'ring sense
        That round the circle of the world would fly,
        As the wing'd eagle scorns the tow'ry fence
        Of Alpine hills round his high aлry,
        And searches thro' the corners of the sky,
        Sports in the clouds to hear the thunder's sound,
        And see the wingиd 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,
        Lov'st thou to walk the peaceful solemn grove,
        In solemn gloom of branches interwove?
        Or bear'st thy AEgis 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 heav'nly bosom move?

      Up

      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 redbreast in a cage
        Puts all heaven in a rage.
        A dove-house filled with doves and pigeons
        Shudders hell through all its regions.
        A dog starved at his master's gate
        Predicts the ruin of the state.
        A horse misused 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,
        A cherubim does cease to sing.
        The game-cock clipped and armed for fight
        Does the rising sun affright.
        Every wolf's and lion's howl
        Raises from hell a human soul.
        The wild deer wandering here and there
        Keeps the human soul from care.
        The lamb misused breeds public strife,
        And yet forgives the butcher's knife.
        The bat that flits at close of eve
        Has left the brain that won't believe.
        The owl that calls upon the night
        Speaks the unbeliever's fright.
        He who shall hurt the little wren
        Shall never be beloved by men.
        He who the ox to wrath has moved
        Shall never be by woman loved.
        The wanton boy that kills the fly
        Shall feel the spider's enmity.
        He who torments the chafer's sprite
        Weaves a bower in endless night.
        The caterpillar on the leaf
        Repeats to thee thy mother's grief.
        Kill not the moth nor butterfly,
        For the Last Judgment draweth nigh.
        He who shall train the horse to war
        Shall never pass the polar bar.
        The beggar's dog and widow's cat,
        Feed them, and thou wilt grow fat.
        The gnat that sings his summer's song
        Poison gets from Slander's tongue.
        The poison of the snake and newt
        Is the sweat of Envy's foot.
        The poison of the honey-bee
        Is the artist's jealousy.
        The prince's robes and beggar's rags
        Are toadstools on the miser's bags.
        A truth that's told with bad intent
        Beats all the lies you can invent.
        It is right it should be so:
        Man was made for joy and woe;
        And when this we rightly know
        Through the world we safely go.
        Joy and woe are woven fine,
        A clothing for the soul divine.
        Under every grief and pine
        Runs a joy with silken twine.
        The babe is more than swaddling bands,
        Throughout all these human lands;
        Tools were made and born were hands,
        Every farmer understands.
        Every tear from every eye
        Becomes a babe in eternity;
        This is caught by females bright
        And returned to its own delight.
        The bleat, the bark, bellow, and roar
        Are waves that beat on heaven's shore.
        The babe that weeps the rod beneath
        Writes Revenge! in realms of death.
        The beggar's rags fluttering in air
        Does to rags the heavens tear.
        The soldier armed with sword and gun
        Palsied strikes the summer's sun.
        The poor man's farthing is worth more
        Than all the gold on Afric's shore.
        One mite wrung from the labourer's hands
        Shall buy and sell the miser's lands,
        Or if protected from on high
        Does that whole nation sell and buy.
        He who mocks the infant's faith
        Shall be mocked in age and death.
        He who shall teach the child to doubt
        The rotting grave shall ne'er get out.
        He who respects the infant's faith
        Triumphs over hell and death.
        The child's toys and the old man's 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
        Doth put the light of knowledge out.
        The strongest poison ever known
        Came from Caesar's laurel crown.
        Nought can deform the human race
        Like to the armour's iron brace.
        When gold and gems adorn the plough
        To peaceful arts shall Envy bow.
        A riddle or the cricket's cry
        Is to doubt a fit reply.
        The emmet's inch and eagle's mile
        Make lame philosophy to smile.
        He who doubts from what he sees
        Will ne'er believe, do what you please.
        If the sun and moon should doubt,
        They'd immediately go out.
        To be in a passion you good may do,
        But no good if a passion is in you.
        The whore and gambler, by the state
        Licensed, build that nation's fate.
        The harlot's cry from street to street
        Shall weave old England's winding sheet.
        The winner's shout, the loser's curse,
        Dance before dead England's hearse.
        Every night and every morn
        Some to misery are born.
        Every morn and 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
        When we see not through the eye
        Which was born in a night to perish in a night,
        When the soul slept in beams of light.
        God appears, and God is light
        To those poor souls who dwell in night,
        But does a human form display
        To those who dwell in realms of day.

      Up

      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, tir'd 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 sidelong glance
        At hob-nail Dick, who griev'd the chance.
        But now for Blind man's Buff they call;
        Of each encumbrance 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 titt'ring Kate
        Is penn'd up in the corner straight!
        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 chase,--
        `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 rimes,
        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 a-gone,
        When men were first a nation grown,
        Lawless they liv'd, till wantonness
        A 1000 nd liberty began t' increase,
        And one man lay in another's way;
        Then laws were made to keep fair play.

      Up

      Broken Love

        My spectre around me night and day
        Like a wild beast guards my way;
        My emanation far within
        Weeps incessantly for my sin.

        'A fathomless and boundless deep,
        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,
        Thro' the wintry hail and rain.
        When wilt thou return again?

        'Dost thou not in pride and scorn
        Fill with tempests all my morn,
        And with jealousies and fears
        Fill my pleasant nights with tears?

        'Seven of my sweet loves thy knife
        Has bereavèd of their life.
        Their marble tombs I built with tears,
        And with cold and shuddering fears.

        'Seven more loves weep night and 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
        Crown with wine my mournful head,
        Pitying and forgiving all
        Thy transgressions great and small.

        'When wilt thou return and view
        My loves, and them to life renew?
        When wilt thou return and live?
        When wilt thou pity as I forgive?'.

        'O'er my sins thou sit and moan:
        Hast thou no sins of thy own?
        O’er my sins thou sit and weep,
        And lull thy own sins fast asleep.

        'What transgressions I commit
        Are for thy transgressions fit.
        They thy harlots, thou their slave;
        And my bed becomes their grave.

        'Never, never, I return:
        Still for victory I burn.
        Living, thee alone I’ll have;
        And when dead I’ll be thy grave.

        'Thro' the Heaven and Earth and Hell
        Thou shalt never, quell:
        I will fly and thou pursue:
        Night and morn the flight renew'.

        'Poor, pale, pitiable form
        That I follow in a storm;
        Iron tears and groans of lead
        Bind around my aching head.

        'Till I turn from Female love
        And root up the Infernal Grove,
        I shall never worthy be
        To step into Eternity.

        'And, to end thy cruel mocks,
        Annihilate thee on the rocks,
        And another form create
        To be subservient to my fate.

        'Let us agree to give up love,
        And root up the Infernal Grove;
        Then shall we return and see
        The worlds of happy Eternity.

        'And throughout all Eternity
        I forgive you, you forgive me.
        As our dear Redeemer said:
        'This the Wine, and this the Bread'.

      Up

      Day

        The Sun arises in the East,
        Cloth'd in robes of blood and gold;
        Swords and spears and wrath increast
        All around his bosom roll'd
        Crown'd with warlike fires and raging desires.

      Up

      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're,
        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 plowman in darkness plough?

        'Break this heavy chain,
        That does freeze my bones around!
        Selfish, vain,
        Eternal bane,
        That free love with bondage bound'.

      Up

      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.

      Up

      Evening Star

        Thou fair hair'd angel of the evening,
        Now, while 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 when thou drawest the
        Blue curtains, 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 fleece of our flocks are covered with
        Thy sacred dew; Protect them with thine influence.

      Up

      Fair Elanor

        The bell struck one, and shook the silent tower;
        The graves give up their dead: fair Elenor
        Walk'd by the castle gate, and lookиd in.
        A hollow groan ran thro' the dreary vaults.
        She shriek'd aloud, and sunk upon the steps,
        On the cold stone her pale cheeks. 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;
        Amaz'd, 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
        Wrapp'd 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 Elenor:--
        He's dead, and howling after me for blood!

        `Take this,' he cried; and thrust into her arms
        A wet napkin, wrapp'd about; then rush'd
        Past, howling: she receiv'd 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 arriv'd.

        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, cursиd duke!
        Ah, my dear lord! ah, wretched Elenor!

        `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 flow'r to deck thy horrid temples?

        `My lord was like a star in highest heav'n
        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 Elenor, weak woman, fill'd with woe!'

        Thus having spoke, she raisиd up her head,
        And saw the bloody napkin by her side,
        Which in her arms she brought; and now, tenfold
        More terrifiиd, 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 Elenor, I am thy husband's head,
        Who, sleeping on the stones of yonder tower,
        Was 'reft of life by the accursиd duke!
        A hirиd villain turn'd my sleep to death!

        `O Elenor, beware the cursиd duke;
        O give not him thy hand, now I am dead;
        He seeks thy love; who, coward, in the night,
        Hirиd a villain to bereave my life.'

        She sat with dead cold limbs, stiffen'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.

      Up

      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 humblиd!'

        Gordred the giant rous'd himself
        From sleeping in his cave;
        He shook the hills, and in the clouds
        The troubl'd banners wave.

        Beneath them roll'd, like tempests black,
        The num'rous 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 humblиd,'
        They cry, `and let ten thousand lives
        Pay for the tyrant's head.'

        From tow'r to tow'r 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 rearиd stones around a grave
        They stand around the King;
        Then suddenly each seiz'd 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 b 1000 old
        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 th' 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 heav'ns 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 fev'rous 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 heav'ns;
        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.

      Up

      Hear The Voice

        Hear the voice of the Bard,
        Who present, past, and future, sees;
        Whose ears have heard
        The Holy Word
        That walk'd 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.'

      Up

      Holy Thursday: Experience

        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-e'er the sun does shine.
        And where-e'er the rain does fall:
        Babe can never hunger there,
        Nor poverty the mind appall.

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      Holy Thursday: Innocence

        Twas on a Holy Thursday their innocent faces clean
        The children walking two & two in red & blue & green
        Grey headed beadles walked before with wands as white as snow
        Till into the high dome of Pauls they like Thames waters flow

        O 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 & 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

      Up

      How Sweet I Roam'd

        How sweet I roam'd from field to field,
        And tasted all the summer's pride
        'Til 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 through his garden fair,
        Where all his golden pleasures grow.

        With sweet May dews my wings were wet,
        And Phoebus fir'd 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.

      Up

      I Heard An Angel

        I heard an Angel singing
        When the day was springing,
        'Mercy, Pity, Peace
        Is the world's release'.

        Thus he sung all day
        Over the new mown hay,
        Till the sun went down
        And haycocks looked brown.

        I heard a Devil curse
        Over the heath and the furze,
        '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 down,
        And the heavens gave a frown.

        Down pour'd the heavy rain
        Over the new reap'd grain
        And Miseries' increase
        Is Mercy, Pity, Peace.

      Up

      I Rose Up At The Dawn Of Day

        I rose up at the dawn of day--
        'Get thee away! get thee away!
        Pray'st thou for riches? Away! away!
        This is the Throne of Mammon grey.'

        Said I: This, sure, is very odd;
        I took it to be the Throne of God.
        For everything besides I have:
        It is only for riches that I can crave.

        I have mental joy, and mental health,
        And mental friends, and mental wealth;
        I've a wife I love, and that loves me;
        I've all but riches bodily.

        I am in God's presence night and day,
        And He never turns His face away;
        The accuser of sins by my side doth stand,
        And he holds my money-bag in his hand.

        For my worldly things God makes him pay,
        And he'd pay for more if to him I would pray;
        And so you may do the worst you can do;
        Be assur'd, Mr. Devil, I won't pray to you.

        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,
        If I pray it must be for other people.

        He says, if I do not worship him for a God,
        I shall eat coarser food, and go worse shod;
        So, as I don't value such things as these,
        You must do, Mr. Devil, just as God please.

      Up

      I Saw A Chapel

        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
        The white pillars of the door,
        And he forc'd and forc'd and forc'd,
        Down the golden hinges tore.

        And along the pavement sweet,
        Set with pearls and rubies bright,
        All his slimy length he drew
        Till upon the altar white

        Vomiting his poison out
        On the bread and on the wine.
        So I turn'd into a sty
        And laid me down among the swine.

      Up

      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.

      Up

      Infant Sorrow

        My mother groand! my father wept,
        Into the dangerous world I leapt:
        Helpless, naked, piping loud:
        Like a fiend hid in a cloud.

        Struggling in my fathers hands:
        Striving against my swaddling bands:
        Bound and weary I thought best
        To sulk upon my mother's breast.

      Up

      Introduction To The Songs Of Experience

        Hear the voice of the Bard,
        Who present, past, and future, sees;
        Whose ears have heard
        The Holy Word
        That walked among the ancient tree;

        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,
        Are given thee till the break of day.'

      Up

      Introduction To The Songs Of Innocence

        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 sang 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 stain'd the water clear,
        And I wrote my happy songs
        Every child may joy to hear.

      Up

      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 & be merry and join with me,
        To sing the sweet chorus of Ha, Ha, He.

      Up

      London

        I wander thro' each charter'd street.
        Near where the charter'd Thames does flow
        A mark in every face I meet
        Marks of weakness, marks of woe.

        In every cry of every Man.
        In every Infants cry of fear.
        In every voice; in every ban.
        The mind-forg'd manacles I hear

        How the Chimney-sweepers cry
        Every blackening Church appalls.
        And the hapless Soldiers sigh
        Runs in blood down Palace walls

        But most thro' midnight streets I hear
        How the youthful Harlots curse
        Blasts the new-born Infants tear
        And blights with plagues the Marriage hearse.

      Up

      Love and Harmony

        Love and harmony combine,
        And round 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.

      Up

      Love's Secret

        Never seek to tell thy love,
        Love that never told can be;
        For the gentle wind doth move
        Silently, invisibly.

        I told my love, I told my love,
        I told her all my heart,
        Trembling, cold, in ghastly fears.
        Ah! she did depart!

        Soon after she was gone from me,
        A traveller came by,
        Silently, invisibly:
        He took her with a sigh.

      Up

      Mad Son

        The wild winds weep
        And the night is a-cold;
        Come hither, Sleep,
        And my griefs infold:
        But lo! the morning peeps
        Over the eastern steeps,
        And the rustling birds 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 increas'd;
        For light doth seize my brain
        With frantic pain.

      Up

      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.

      Up

      Milton: And Did Those Feet In Ancient Time

        And did those feet in ancient time
        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?
        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!
        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 and pleasant land.

      Up

      Milton: But In The Wine-Presses The Human Grapes Sing Not Nor Dance

        But in the Wine-presses the human grapes sing not nor dance:
        They howl and writhe in shoals of torment, in fierce flames consuming,
        In chains of iron and in dungeons circled with ceaseless fires,
        In pits and dens and shades of death, in shapes of torment and woe:
        The plates and screws and racks and saws and cords and fires and cisterns
        The cruel joys of Luvah's Daughters, lacerating with knives
        And whips their victims, and the deadly sport of Luvah's Sons.

        They dance around the dying and they drink the howl and groan,
        They catch the shrieks in cups of gold, they hand them to one another:
        These are the sports of love, and these the sweet delights of amorous play,
        Tears of the grape, the death sweat of the cluster, the last sigh
        Of the mild youth who listens to the luring songs of Luvah.

      Up

      Milton: England! Awake! Awake! Awake!

        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 and valleys felt her feet
        Gently upon their bosoms move:
        Thy gates beheld sweet Zion's ways:
        Then was a time of joy and love.

        And now the time returns again:
        Our souls exult, and London's towers
        Receive the Lamb of God to dwell
        In England's green and pleasant bowers.

      Up

      Milton: I See The Four-Fold Man

        I see the Four-fold Man, The Humanity in deadly sleep
        And its fallen Emanation, the Spectre and its cruel Shadow.
        I see the Past, Present and Future existing all at once
        Before me. O Divine Spirit, sustain me on thy wings,
        That I may awake Albion from his long and cold repose;
        For Bacon and Newton, sheath'd 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 and universities of Europe
        And there behold the Loom of Locke, whose Woof rages dire,
        Wash'd by the Water-wheels of Newton: black the cloth
        In heavy wreaths 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,
        Wheel within wheel, in freedom revolve in harmony and peace.

      Up

      Milton: The Sky Is An Immortal Tent Built By The Sons Of Los

        The sky is an immortal tent built by the Sons of Los:
        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 and sets, the clouds bow
        To meet the flat earth and the sea in such an order'd space:
        The starry heavens reach no further, but here bend and set
        On all sides, and the two Poles turn on their valves of gold:
        And if he moves his dwelling-place, his heavens also move
        Where'er he goes, and all his neighbourhood bewail his loss.
        Such are the spaces called Earth and such its dimension.
        As to that false appearance which appears to the reasoner
        As of a globe rolling through 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
        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

      Up

      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 again.
        And every sand becomes a gem
        Reflected in the beams divine;
        Blown back they blind the mocking eye,
        But still in Israel's paths they shine.

        The Atoms of Democritus
        And Newton's Particles of Light
        Are sands upon the Red Sea shore,
        Where Israel's tents do shine so bright.

      Up

      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 turnd away with jealousy:
        And her thorns were my only delight.

      Up

      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.

      Up

      Never Seek To Tell Thy Love

        Never seek 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,
        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
        Silently, invisibly--
        O, was no deny.

      Up

      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, washed in life's river,
        My bright mane for ever
        Shall shine like the gold
        As I guard o'er the fold'.

      Up

      Now Art Has Lost Its Mental Charms

        'Now Art has lost its mental charms
        France shall subdue the world in arms.'
        So spoke an Angel at my birth;
        Then said `Descend thou upon earth,
        Renew the Arts on Britain's shore,
        And France shall fall down and adore.
        With works of art their armies meet
        And War shall sink beneath thy feet.
        But if thy nation Arts refuse,
        And if they scorn the immortal Muse,
        France shall the arts of peace restore
        And save thee from the ungrateful shore.'

        Spirit who lov'st Britannia's Isle
        Round which the fiends of commerce smile --

      Up

      Nurses Song: Experience

        When the voices of children. are heard on the green
        And whisprings 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 & your day. are wasted in play
        And your winter and night in disguise

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      Nurse's Song: Innocence

        When 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 covered 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

      Up

      On Another's Sorrow

        Can I see anothers woe,
        And not be in sorrow too?
        Can I see anothers grief,
        And not seek for kind relief.

        Can I see a falling tear.
        And not feel my sorrows 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 & 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 & 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.

      Up

      Piping Down The Valleys Wild

        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 vanished from my sight,
        And I plucked 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.

      Up

      Preludium To America

        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 and 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 though 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, and 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 chain'd 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 and fro, and 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 seiz'd the panting, struggling womb;
        It joy'd: she put aside her clouds and smiled her first-born smile,
        As when a black cloud shews its lightnings to the silent deep.

        Soon as she saw the terrible boy, then burst the virgin cry:

        'I know thee, I have found thee, and 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
        Endur'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-rending pains I feel! thy fire and my frost
        Mingle in howling pains, in furrows by thy lightnings rent.
        This is eternal death, and this the torment long foretold.

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      Preludium To Europe

        The nameless shadowy female rose from 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 travail,
        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 and first consum'd!
        Consumed and consuming!
        Then why shouldst thou, accursed mother, bring me into life?

        I wrap 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 and devoured, roaming on dark and desolate mountains,
        In forests of eternal death, shrieking in hollow trees.
        Ah mother Enitharmon!
        Stamp not with solid form this vig'rous progeny of fires.

        I bring forth from 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, and I roll inward, and my voice is past.'

        She ceased, and roll'd her shady clouds
        Into the secret place.

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      Proverbs Of Hell: Excerpt From 'The Marriage of Heaven and 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 wholesome food is caught without a net or a trap.
        Bring out number, weight and 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 cloak of knavery.
        Shame is Pride's 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, and the sullen, frowning fool shall be both thought wise, that they may be a rod.
        What is now proved was once only imagin'd.
        The rat, the mouse, the fox, the rabbit 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 believ'd 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 suffer'd 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 fool's 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 receiver 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 caterpiller chooses the fairest leaves to lay 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 and 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.

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      Reeds Of Innocence

        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 stain'd the water clear,
        And I wrote my happy songs
        Every child may joy to hear.

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      Several Questions Answered

        What is it men in women do require?
        The lineaments of Gratified Desire.
        What is it women do in men require?
        The lineaments of Gratified Desire.

        The look of love alarms
        Because 'tis fill'd with fire;
        But the look of soft deceit
        Shall Win the lover's hire.

        Soft Deceit & Idleness,
        These are Beauty's sweetest dress.

        He who binds to himself a joy
        Dot the winged life destroy;
        But he who kisses the joy as it flies
        Lives in Eternity's sunrise.

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      Silent, Silent Night

        Silent, silent night
        Quench the holy light
        Of thy torches bright.

        For possess'd of day
        Thousand spirits stray
        That sweet joys betray.

        Why should joys be sweet
        Used with deceit
        Nor with sorrows meet?

        But an honest joy
        Does itself destroy
        For a harlot coy.

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      Sleep! Sleep! Beauty Bright

        Sleep! sleep! beauty bright,
        Dreaming o'er the joys of night;
        Sleep! sleep! in thy sleep
        Little sorrows sit and 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, and o'er 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
        Then the dreadful lightnings break,

        From thy cheek and from thy eye,
        O'er the youthful harvests nigh.
        Infant wiles and infant smiles
        Heaven and Earth of peace beguiles.

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      Song: My silks and fine array

        My silks and fine array,
        My smiles and languish'd air,
        By love are driv'n away;
        And mournful lean Despair
        Brings me yew to deck my grave;
        Such end true lovers have.

        His face is fair as heav'n
        When springing buds unfold;
        O why to him was't giv'n
        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!

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      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

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      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.

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      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,
        There I live and mourn for thee;
        Morning drinks my silent tear,
        And evening winds my sorrow bear.

        He. O thou summer's harmony,
        I have liv'd and mourn'd for thee;
        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,
        O my Lover and my Friend!

        He. Come, on wings of joy we'll fly
        To where my bower hangs on high;
        Come, and make thy calm retreat
        Among green leaves and blossoms sweet.

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      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.

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      The Book Of Thel

        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?

        I

        The daughters of the 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 and fall?
        Ah! Thel is like a wat'ry 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 infant's face;
        Like the dove's 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 gentle hear the voice
        Of him that walketh in the garden in the evening time."
        The Lily of the valley, breathing in the humble grass,
        Answer'd the lovely maid and said: "I am a wat'ry 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 shalt be clothed in light, and fed with morning manna,
        Till summer's heat melts thee beside the fountains and the springs
        To flourish in eternal vales.' Then why should Thel complain?
        Why should the mistress of the vales of Har utter a sigh?"

        She ceas'd and smil'd in tears, then sat down in her silver shrine.

        Thel answer'd: "O thou little virgin of the peaceful valley,
        Giving to those that cannot crave, the voiceless, the o'ertired;
        Thy breath doth nourish the innocent lamb, he smells thy 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, and 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 answer'd, "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, and hover before the eyes of Thel."

        The Cloud descended, and the Lily bow'd her modest head
        And went to mind her numerous charge among the verdant grass.

        II

        "O little Cloud," the virgin said, "I charge thee tell to me
        Why thou complainest not 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 shew'd his golden head and 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? Look'st 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 thro' 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 woman liv'd,
        Or did she only live to be at death the food of worms?' "

        The Cloud reclin'd upon his airy throne and answer'd 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 for itself. Fear not, and I will call
        The weak worm from its lowly bed, and thou shalt hear its voice,
        Come forth, worm of the silent valley, to thy pensive queen."

        The helpless worm arose, and sat upon the Lily's leaf,
        And the bright Cloud sail'd on, to find his partner in the vale.

        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 Lily's leaf
        Ah! weep not, little voice, thou canst not speak, but thou canst weep.
        Is this a Worm? I see thee lay helpless and naked, weeping,
        And none to answer, none to cherish thee with mother's smiles."
        The Clod of Clay heard the Worm's voice and rais'd her pitying head:
        She bow'd over the weeping infant, and her life exhal'd
        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 complain'd 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 answer'd, "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."

        IV

        The eternal gates' terrific porter lifted the northern bar:
        Thel enter'd in and saw the secrets of the land unknown.
        She saw the couches of the dead, and where the fibrous roots
        Of every heart on earth infixes deep its restless twists:
        A land of sorrows and of tears where never smile was seen.

        She wander'd in the land of clouds thro' valleys dark, list'ning
        Dolours and lamentations; waiting oft beside a dewy grave
        She stood in silence, list'ning to the voices of the ground,
        Till to her own grave plot she came, and 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 glist'ning Eye to the poison of a smile?
        Why are Eyelids stor'd with arrows ready drawn,
        Where a thousand fighting men in ambush lie?
        Or an Eye of gifts and graces show'ring fruits and 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, and 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, and with a shriek
        Fled back unhinder'd till she came into the vales of Har.

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      The 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

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      The 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.

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      The 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

        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.

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      The 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.


        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.

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      The Book Of Urizen: Chapter V

        1. 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
        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;
        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.

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      The 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 seiz'd the infant
        He bathed him in springs of sorrow
        He gave him to Enitharmon.

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      The 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.

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      The 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.

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      The 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
        Discernd 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.

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      The Book Of Urizen: Preludium

        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.

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      The Caverns Of The Grave I've Seen

        The Caverns of the Grave I've seen,
        And these I show'd to England's Queen.
        But now the Caves of Hell I view,
        Who shall I dare to show them to?
        What mighty soul i 362 n Beauty's form
        Shall dauntless view the infernal storm?
        Egremont's Countess can control
        The flames of Hell that round me roll;
        If she refuse, I still go on
        Till the Heavens and Earth are gone,
        Still admir'd by noble minds,
        Follow'd by Envy on the winds,
        Re-engrav'd time after time,
        Ever in their youthful prime,
        My designs unchang'd remain.
        Time may rage, but rage in vain.
        For above Time's troubled fountains,
        On the great Atlantic Mountains,
        In my Golden House on high,
        There they shine eternally.

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      The Chimney-Sweeper: Experience

        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 made up a heaven of our misery.

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      The Chimney-Sweeper: Innocence

        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 & in soot I sleep.

        Theres little Tom Dacre, who cried when his head
        That curled like a lambs 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. & that very night.
        As Tom was a sleeping he had such a sight
        That thousands of sweepers Dick, Joe, Ned, & 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.

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      The Clod & 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 Hells 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 anothers loss of ease.
        And builds a Hell in Heavens despite.

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      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.

      Up

      The Echoing Green

        The Sun does arise,
        And make happy the skies.
        The merry bells ring,
        To welcome the Spring.
        The sky-lark 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.

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      The Everlasting Gospel

        The vision of Christ that thou dost see
        Is my vision’s greatest enemy.
        Thine has a great hook nose like thine;
        Mine has a snub nose like to mine.
        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 Meletus
        Loath’d as a nation’s bitterest curse,
        And Caiaphas was in his own mind
        A benefactor to mankind.
        Both read the Bible day and night,
        But thou read’st black where I read white.

        Was Jesus gentle, or did He
        Give any marks of gentility?
        When twelve years old He ran away,
        And left His parents in dismay.
        When after three days’ sorrow found,
        Loud as Sinai’s trumpet-sound:
        ‘No earthly parents I confess—
        My Heavenly Father’s business!
        Ye understand not what I say,
        And, angry, force Me to obey.
        Obedience is a duty then,
        And favour gains with God and men.’
        John from the wilderness loud cried;
        Satan gloried in his pride.
        ‘Come,’ said Satan, ‘come away,
        I’ll soon see if you’ll obey!
        John for disobedience bled,
        But you can turn the stones to bread.
        God’s high king and God’s high priest
        Shall plant their glories in your breast,
        If Caiaphas you will obey,
        If Herod you with bloody prey
        Feed with the sacrifice, and be
        Obedient, fall down, worship me.’
        Thunders and lightnings broke around,
        And Jesus’ voice in thunders’ sound:
        ‘Thus I seize the spiritual prey.
        Ye smiters with disease, make way.
        I come your King and God to seize,
        Is God a smiter with disease?’
        The God of this world rag’d in vain:
        He bound old Satan in His chain,
        And, bursting forth, His furious ire
        Became a chariot of fire.
        Throughout the land He took His course,
        And trac’d diseases to their source.
        He curs’d the Scribe and Pharisee,
        Trampling down hypocrisy.
        Where’er His chariot took its way,
        There Gates of Death let in the Day,
        Broke down from every chain and bar;
        And Satan in His spiritual war
        Dragg’d at His chariot-wheels: loud howl’d
        The God of this world: louder roll’d
        The chariot-wheels, and louder still
        His voice was heard from Zion’s Hill,
        And in His hand the scourge shone bright;
        He scourg’d the merchant Canaanite
        From out the Temple of His Mind,
        And in his body tight does bind
        Satan and all his hellish crew;
        And thus with wrath He did subdue
        The serpent bulk of Nature’s dross,
        Till He had nail’d it to the Cross.
        He took on sin in the Virgin’s womb
        And put it off on the Cross and tomb
        To be worshipp’d by the Church of Rome.

        Was Jesus humble? or did He
        Give any proofs of humility?
        Boast of high things with humble tone,
        And give with charity a stone?
        When but a child He ran away,
        And left His parents in dismay.
        When they had wander’d three days long
        These were the words upon His tongue:
        ‘No earthly parents I confess:
        I am doing My Father’s business.’
        When the rich learnиd Pharisee
        Came to consult Him secretly,
        Upon his heart with iron pen
        He wrote ‘Ye must be born again.’
        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 and lowly of heart,
        As that is the only way to escape
        The miser’s net and the glutton’s trap.’
        What can be done with such desperate fools
        Who follow after the heathen schools?
        I was standing by when Jesus died;
        What I call’d humility, they call’d pride.
        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’ and Pharisees’ virtuous rules;
        For He acts with honest, triumphant pride,
        And this is the cause that Jesus dies.
        He did not die with Christian ease,
        Asking pardon of His enemies:
        If He had, Caiaphas would forgive;
        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;
        He had soon been bloody Caesar’s elf,
        And at last he would have been Caesar himself,
        Like Dr. Priestly and Bacon and Newton—
        Poor spiritual knowledge is not worth a button
        For thus the Gospel Sir Isaac confutes:
        ‘God can only be known by His attributes;
        And as for the indwelling of the Holy Ghost,
        Or of Christ and His Father, it’s all a boast
        And pride, and vanity of the imagination,
        That disdains to follow this world’s fashion.’
        To teach doubt and 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
        About His Father’s business?
        Or was His wisdom held in scorn
        Before His wrath began to burn
        In miracles throughout the land,
        That quite unnerv’d the Seraph band?
        If He had been Antichrist, Creeping Jesus,
        He’d have done anything to please us;
        Gone sneaking into synagogues,
        And not us’d the Elders and Priests like dogs;
        But humble as a lamb or ass
        Obey’d Himself to Caiaphas.
        God wants not man to humble himself:
        That is the trick of the Ancient Elf.
        This is the race that Jesus ran:
        Humble to God, haughty to man,
        Cursing the Rulers before the people
        Even to the Temple’s highest steeple,
        And when He humbled Himself to God
        Then descended the cruel rod.
        ‘If Thou Humblest Thyself, Thou humblest Me.
        Thou also dwell’st 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,
        And Thy revenge abroad display
        In terrors at the last Judgement Day.
        God’s mercy and long suffering
        Is but the sinner to judgement to bring.
        Thou on the Cross for them shalt pray—
        And take revenge at the Last Day.’
        Jesus replied, and thunders hurl’d:
        ‘I never will pray for the world.
        Once I did so when I pray’d in the Garden;
        I wish’d to take with Me a bodily pardon.’
        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
        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 and moon blot out,
        Rooting over with thorns and stems
        The buried soul and all its gems.
        This life’s five windows of the soul
        Distorts the Heavens from pole to pole,
        And leads you to believe a lie
        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.

        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 born of a Virgin pure
        With narrow soul and looks demure?
        If He intended to take on sin
        The Mother should an harlot been,
        Just such a one as Magdalen,
        With seven devils in her pen.
        Or were Jew virgins still more curs’d,
        And more sucking devils nurs’d?
        Or what was it which He took on
        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?
        Yes, but they say He never fell.
        Ask Caiaphas; for he can tell.—
        ‘He mock’d the Sabbath, and He mock’d
        The Sabbath’s God, and He unlock’d
        The evil spirits from their shrines,
        And turn’d fishermen to divines;
        O’erturn’d the tent of secret sins,
        And its golden cords and pins,
        In the bloody shrine of war
        Pour’d around from star to star,—
        Halls of justice, hating vice,
        Where the Devil combs his lice.
        He turn’d the devils into swine
        That He might tempt the Jews to dine;
        Since which, a pig has got a look
        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 Father’s business.”
        He scorn’d Earth’s parents, scorn’d Earth’s God,
        And mock’d the one and the other’s rod;
        His seventy Disciples sent
        Against Religion and Government—
        They by the sword of Justice fell,
        And Him their cruel murderer tell.
        He left His father’s trade to roam,
        A wand’ring vagrant without home;
        And thus He others’ labour stole,
        That He might live above control.
        The publicans and harlots He
        Selected for His company,
        And from the adulteress turn’d away
        God’s righteous law, that lost its prey.’
        Was Jesus chaste? or did He
        Give any lessons of chastity?
        The Morning blushиd fiery red:
        Mary was found in adulterous bed;
        Earth groan’d beneath, and Heaven above
        Trembled at discovery of Love.
        Jesus was sitting in Moses’ chair.
        They brought the trembling woman there.
        Moses commands she be ston’d to death.
        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.
        The Earth trembling and naked lay
        In secret bed of mortal clay;
        On Sinai felt the Hand Divine
        Pulling back the bloody shrine;
        And she heard the breath of God,
        As she heard by Eden’s flood:
        ‘Good and Evil are no more!
        Sinai’s trumpets cease to roar!
        Cease, finger of God, to write!
        The Heavens are not clean in Thy sight.
        Thou art good, and Thou alone;
        Nor may the sinner cast one stone.
        To be good only, is to be
        A God or else a Pharisee.
        Thou Angel of the Presence Divine,
        That didst create this Body of Mine,
        Wherefore hast thou writ these laws
        And created Hell’s dark jaws?
        My Presence I will take from thee:
        A cold leper thou shalt be.
        Tho’ thou wast so pure and bright
        That Heaven was impure in thy sight,
        Tho’ thy oath turn’d Heaven pale,
        Tho’ thy covenant built Hell’s jail,
        Tho’ thou didst all to chaos roll
        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.
        Hide not from My sight thy sin,
        That forgiveness thou may’st win.
        Has no man condemnиd thee?’
        ‘No man, Lord.’ ‘Then what is he
        Who shall accuse thee? Come ye forth,
        Fallen fiends of heavenly 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;
        And tho’ you cannot love, but hate,
        Shall be beggars at Love’s gate.
        What was thy love? Let Me see it;
        Was it love or dark deceit?’
        ‘Love too long from me has fled;
        ’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 and sin
        Love’s temple that God dwelleth in,
        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,
        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.
        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?
        And canst Thou pity and forgive?’
        Then roll’d the shadowy Man away
        From the limbs of Jesus, to make them His prey,
        An ever devouring appetite,
        Glittering with festering venoms bright;
        Crying ‘Crucify this cause of distress,
        Who don’t keep the secrets of holiness!
        The mental powers by diseases we bind;
        But He heals the deaf, the dumb, and the blind.
        Whom God has afflicted for secret ends,
        He comforts and heals and calls them friends.’
        But, when Jesus was crucified,
        Then was perfected His galling pride.
        In three nights He devour’d His prey,
        And still He devours the body of clay;
        For dust and clay is the Serpent’s meat,
        Which never was made for Man to eat.

        Seeing this False Christ, in fury and passion
        I made my voice heard all over the nation.
        What are those…

        I am sure this Jesus will not do,
        Either for Englishman or Jew.

      Up

      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.

      Up

      The Four Zoas (Excerpt)

        '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,
        And in the wither'd field where the farmer plows for bread in vain.

        It is an easy thing to triumph in the summer's sun
        And in the vintage and 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 raven's cry in wintry season
        When the red blood is fill'd with wine and 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;
        To see a god on every wind and 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, and the sickness that cuts off his children,
        While our olive and vine sing and laugh round our door, and our children bring fruits and flowers.

        Then the groan and the dolor are quite forgotten, and the slave grinding at the mill,
        And the captive in chains, and the poor in the prison, and the soldier in the field
        When the shatter'd 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 and thus rejoice: but it is not so with me.'

        'Compel the poor to live upon a crust of bread, by soft mild arts.
        Smile when they frown, frown when they smile; and when a man looks pale
        With labour and abstinence, say he looks healthy and happy;
        And when his children sicken, let them die; there are enough
        Born, even too many, and our earth will be overrun
        Without these arts. If you would make the poor live with temper,
        With pomp give every crust of bread you give; with gracious cunning
        Magnify small gifts; reduce the man to want a gift, and then give with pomp.
        Say he smiles if you hear him sigh. If pale, say he is ruddy.
        Preach temperance: say he is overgorg'd and drowns his wit
        In strong drink, though you know that bread and water are all
        He can afford. Flatter his wife, pity his children, till we can
        Reduce all to our will, as spaniels are taught with art.'

        The sun has left his blackness and has found a fresher morning,
        And the mild moon rejoices in the clear and cloudless night,
        And Man walks forth from midst of the fires: the evil is all consum'd.
        His eyes behold the Angelic spheres arising night and day;
        The stars consum'd like a lamp blown out, and in their stead, behold
        The expanding eyes of Man behold the depths of wondrous worlds!
        One Earth, one sea beneath; nor erring globes wander, but stars
        Of fire rise up nightly from the ocean; and one sun
        Each morning, like a new born man, issues with songs and joy
        Calling the Plowman to his labour and the Shepherd to his rest.
        He walks upon the Eternal Mountains, raising his heavenly voice,
        Conversing with the animal forms of wisdom night and day,
        That, risen from the sea of fire, renew'd walk o'er the Earth;
        For Tharmas brought his flocks upon the hills, and in the vales
        Around the Eternal Man's bright tent, the little children play
        Among the woolly flocks. The hammer of Urthona sounds
        In the deep caves beneath; his limbs renew'd, his Lions roar
        Around the Furnaces and in evening sport upon the plains.
        They raise their faces from the earth, conversing with the Man:

        'How is it we have walk'd through fires and yet are not consum'd?
        How is it that all things are chang'd, even as in ancient times?'

      Up

      The Garden Of Love

        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 and the wild,
        To the thistles and thorns of the waste;
        And they told me how they were beguiled,
        Driven out, and compelled to the chaste.

        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.

      Up

      The Grey Monk

        "I die, I die!" the Mother said,
        "My children die for lack of bread.
        What more has the merciless Tyrant said?"
        The Monk sat down on the stony bed.

        The blood red ran from the Grey Monk's side,
        His hands and feet were wounded wide,
        His body bent, his arms and knees
        Like to the roots of ancient trees.

        His eye was dry; no tear could flow:
        A hollow groan first spoke his woe.
        He trembled and shudder'd upon the bed;
        At length with a feeble cry he said:

        "When God commanded this hand to write
        In the studious hours of deep midnight,
        He told me the writing I wrote should prove
        The bane of all that on Earth I lov'd.

        My Brother starv'd between two walls,
        His Children's cry my soul appalls;
        I mock'd at the rack and griding chain,
        My bent body mocks their torturing pain.

        Thy father drew his sword in the North,
        With his thousands strong he marched forth;
        Thy Brother has arm'd himself in steel
        To avenge the wrongs thy Children feel.

        But vain the Sword and vain the Bow,
        They never can work War's overthrow.
        The Hermit's prayer and the Widow's tear
        Alone can free the World from fear.

        For a Tear is an intellectual thing,
        And a Sigh is the sword of an Angel King,
        And the bitter groan of the Martyr's woe
        Is an arrow from the Almighty's bow.

        The hand of Vengeance found the bed
        To which the Purple Tyrant fled;
        The iron hand crush'd the Tyrant's head
        And became a Tyrant in his stead."

      Up

      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 Caterpillar 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

      Up

      The Lamb

        Little Lamb, who made thee
        Does 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 woolly bright;
        Gave thee such a tender voice.
        Making all the vales rejoice:
        Little Lamb who made thee
        Does thou know who made thee

        Little Lamb I'll tell thee,
        Little Lamb I'll tell thee;
        He is called by thy name,
        For he calls himself a Lamb:
        He is meek & he is mild,
        He became a little childh
        I a child & thou a lamb,
        We are called by His name,
        Little Lamb God bless thee,
        Little Lamb God bless thee.

      Up

      The Land Of Dreams

        Awake, awake my little Boy!
        Thou wast thy Mother's only joy:
        Why dost thou weep in thy gentle sleep?
        Awake! thy Father does thee keep.

        "O, what land is the Land of Dreams?
        What are its mountains, and what are its streams?
        O Father, I saw my Mother there,
        Among the lillies by waters fair.

        Among the lambs clothed in white
        She walked with her Thomas in sweet delight.
        I wept for joy, like a dove I mourn—
        O when shall I return again?"

        Dear child, I also by pleasant streams
        Have wandered all night in the Land of Dreams;
        But though calm and warm the waters wide,
        I could not get to the other side.

        "Father, O Father, what do we here,
        In this land of unbelief and fear?
        The Land of Dreams is better far
        Above the light of the Morning Star."

      Up

      The Lilly

        The modest Rose puts forth a thorn:
        The humble Sheep. a threatning horn:
        While the Lily white, shall in Love delight,
        Nor a thorn nor a threat stain her beauty bright

      Up

      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 noon day.

        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 sun-burnt 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:

        Ill 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.

      Up

      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,
        Appeared like his father in white.

        He kissed the child & by the hand led
        And to his mother brought,
        Who in sorrow pale. thro' the lonely dale
        Her little boy weeping sought.

      Up

      The 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 siez'd his hair:
        He led him by his little coat:
        And all admir'd 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 strip'd him to his little shirt.
        And bound him in an iron chain.

        And burn'd him in a holy place.
        Where many had been burn'd before:
        The weeping parents wept in vain.
        Are such things done on Albions shore.

      Up

      The Little Girl Found

        All the night in woe,
        Lyca's parents go:
        Over vallies deep.
        While the desarts weep.

        Tired and woe-begone.
        Hoarse with making moan:
        Arm in arm seven days.
        They trac'd the desert ways.

        Seven nights they sleep.
        Among shadows deep:
        And dream they see their child
        Starvdd in desart wild.

        Pale thro' pathless ways
        The fancied image strays.
        Famish'd, weeping, weak
        With hollow piteous shriek

        Rising from unrest,
        The trembling woman prest,
        With feet of weary woe;
        She could no further go.

        In his arms he bore.
        Her arm'd 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 stalk'd around.

        Smelling to his prey,
        But their fears allay,
        When he licks their hands:
        And silent by them stands.

        They look upon his eyes
        Fill'd with deep surprise:
        And wondering behold.
        A spirit arm'd in gold.

        On his head a crown
        On his shoulders down,
        Flow'd 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 tygers wild.

        To this day they dwell
        In a lonely dell
        Nor fear the wolvish howl,
        Nor the lion's growl.

      Up

      The Little Girl Lost

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

        Shall arise and seek
        For her maker meek:
        And the desart wild
        Become a garden mild.

        In the southern clime,
        Where the summers 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 ake.
        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,
        View'd the maid asleep

        The kingly lion stood
        And the virgin view'd:
        Then he gambolled round
        O'er the hallowed ground:

        Leopards, tygers play,
        Round her as she lay;
        While the lion old,
        Bow'd his mane of gold,

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

        While the lioness
        Loos'd her slender dress,
        And naked they convey'd
        To caves the sleeping maid.

      Up

      The Little Vagabond

        Dear Mother, dear Mother, the Church is cold,
        But the Ale-house is healthy & pleasant & warm:
        Besides I can tell where I am use'd 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 live-long day:
        Nor ever once wish from the Church to stray.

        Then the Parson might preach & drink & 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 & give him both drink and apparel.

      Up

      The Marriage Of Heaven And Hell (Excerpts)

        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 wholesome food is caught without a net or a trap.
        Bring out number, weight and 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 cloak of knavery.
        Shame is Pride's 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, and the sullen, frowning fool shall be both thought wise, that they may be a rod.
        What is now proved was once only imagin'd.
        The rat, the mouse, the fox, the rabbit 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 believ'd 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 suffer'd 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 fool's 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 receiver 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 caterpiller chooses the fairest leaves to lay 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 and 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.

      Up

      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.
        ____________________________________________

        PLATE 3

        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 & 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.

        PLATE 4
        The voice of the Devil


        All Bibles or sacred codes. have been the causes of the
        following Errors.

        That Man has two real existing principles Viz: a Body & a
        Soul.
        That Energy. calld Evil. is alone from the Body. & that
        Reason. calld Good. is alone from the Soul.
        That God will torment Man in Eternity for following his
        Energies.

        But the following Contraries to these are True

        Man has no Body distinct from his Soul for that calld Body is
        a portion of Soul discernd by the five Senses. the chief inlets
        of Soul in this age
        Energy is the only life and is from the Body and Reason is
        the bound or outward circumference of Energy.
        Energy is Eternal Delight
        _______________________________________

        PLATE 5

        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 restraind 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
        call'd Sin & Death
        But in the Book of Job Miltons Messiah is call'd 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 Messi[PL 6]ah fell. & formed a heaven
        of what he stole from the Abyss
        This is shewn 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 Devils 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
        the sayings used in a nation, mark its character, so the Proverbs
        of Hell, shew the nature of Infernal wisdom better than any
        description 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 cor[PL 7]roding fires he wrote the following sentence now
        percieved 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.


        PLATE 8

        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 imagin'd.
        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 believ'd is an image of truth.

        The eagle never lost so much time, as when he submitted to learn
        of the crow.


        PLATE 9

        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 sufferd 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 bad 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 lay 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!


        PLATE 10

        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



        PLATE 11

        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 percieve.
        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.


        PLATE 12
        A Memorable Fancy.

        The Prophets Isaiah and Ezekiel dined with me, and I asked
        them how they dared so roundly to assert. that God spake 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 a finite
        organical perception; but my senses discover'd the infinite in
        every thing, and as I was then perswaded. & 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 perswasion that a thing is so, make
        it so?
        He replied. All poets believe that it does, & in ages of
        imagination this firm perswasion removed mountains; but many are not capable of a firm perswasion 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 all the others merely derivative, which was the
        cause of our despising the Priests & Philosophers of other
        countries, and prophecying that all Gods [PL 13] 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 we so 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 perswasions, 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 the North American tribes
        practise. & is he honest who resists his genius or conscience.
        only for the sake of present ease or gratification?
        _______________________________________________

        PLATE 14

        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 the tree of life, and when he does, the whole
        creation will be consumed, and appear infinite. and holy whereas
        it now 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, till he sees all things thro'
        narrow chinks of his cavern.


        PLATE 15
        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.
        ____________________________________________________

        PLATE 16

        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 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 [PL 17] 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
        them, 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 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 appeard
        beneath 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 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 remaind with him sitting in the twisted [PL 18] 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 the 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 [PL 19] 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 [PL 20] 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 devourd, 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
        of 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 upon 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.

        Opposition is true Friendship.

        PLATE 21

        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 from 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 conciev'd himself as
        much wiser than seven men. It is so with Swedenborg; he shews the
        folly of churches & exposes hypocrites, till he imagines that all
        are religious. & himself the single [PL 22] 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 falshoods.
        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 Shakespear, 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 [PL 23] 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 not his folly 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 his 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 them shake off the dust of their feet against such as refused to
        lodge them? I tell you, no virtue can exis without breaking these
        ten commandments: Jesus was all virtue and acted from im[PL 24]pulse:
        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


        PLATE 25
        A Song of Liberty

        The Eternal Female groand! it was heard over all the Earth:
        Albions coast is sick silent; the American meadows faint!
        Shadows of Prophecy shiver along by the lakes and the rivers
        and mutter across the ocean! France rend down thy dungeon;
        Golden Spain burst the barriers of old Rome;
        Cast thy keys O Rome into the deep down falling, even to
        eternity down falling,
        And weep!
        In her trembling hands she took the new, born terror howling;
        On those infinite mountains of light now barr'd out by the
        atlantic sea, the new born fire stood before the starry king!
        Flag'd with grey brow'd snows and thunderous visages the
        jealous wings wav'd over the deep.
        The speary hand burned aloft, unbuckled was the shield,
        forth went the hand of jealousy among the flaming hair, and
        [PL 26]hurl'd the new born wonder thro' the starry night.
        The fire, the fire, is falling!
        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.)
        The fiery limbs, the flaming hair, shot like the sinking sun
        into the western sea.
        Wak'd from his eternal sleep, the hoary, element roaring
        fled away:
        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,
        Falling, rushing, ruining! buried in the ruins, on Urthona's
        dens.
        All night beneath the ruins, then their sullen flames faded
        emerge round the gloomy king,
        With thunder and fire: leading his starry hosts thro' the
        waste wilderness [PL 27]he promulgates his ten commands,
        glancing his beamy eyelids over the deep in dark dismay,
        Where the son of fire in his eastern cloud, while the
        morning plumes her golden breast,
        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.

      Up

      The New Jerusalem

        And did those feet in ancient time
        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?
        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!
        Bring me my charriot 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 and pleasant land.

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      The Prophets

        The Prophets describe what they saw in vision
        With their imaginativa and immortal organs
        A spirit and a vision are not,
        As the modern philosophy suposes,
        A cloudy vapour or a nothing:
        They are organized and minutely articulated
        Beyond all the mortal and perishing nature can produce.
        He who does not imagine in a stronger and better light
        Than his perishing and mortal eye can see,
        Does not imagine at all.

      Up

      The School Boy

        I love to rise in a summer morn,
        When the birds sing on every tree;
        The distant huntsman winds his horn,
        And the sky-lark 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 learnings bower,
        Worn thro' 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 & mother. if buds are nip'd,
        And blossoms blown away,
        And if the tender plants are strip'd
        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.

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      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 lambs innocent call,
        And he hears the ewes tender reply,
        He is watchful while they are in peace,
        For they know when their Shepherd is nigh.

      Up

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