The Complete Poems

by William Blake

  ‘The law and gospel from fire and air, and eternal reason and science

  ‘From the deep and the solid, and man lay his faded head down on the rock

  ‘Of eternity, where the eternal lion and eagle remain to devour?

  ‘This to prevent, urg’d by cries in day, and prophetic dreams hovering in night,

  ‘To enrich the lean earth that craves, furrow’d with plows; whose seed is departing from her;

  100 ‘Thy Nobles have gather’d thy starry hosts round this rebellious city

  ‘To rouze up the ancient forests of Europe, with clarions of [loud] breathing war;

  ‘To hear the horse neigh to the drum and trumpet, and the trumpet and war shout reply;

  ‘Stretch the hand that beckons the eagles of heaven; they cry over Paris, and wait

  ‘Till Fayette point his finger to Versailles; the eagles of heaven must have their prey.’

  The King lean’d on his mountains, then lifted his head and look’d on his armies, that shone

  Through heaven, tinging morning with beams of blood, then turning to Burgundy troubled:

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  ‘Burgundy, thou wast born a lion! My soul is o’ergrown with distress

  ‘For the Nobles of France, and dark mists roll round me and blot the writing of God

  ‘Written in my bosom. Necker rise, leave the kingdom, thy life is surrounded with snares;

  110 ‘We have call’d an Assembly, but not to destroy; we have given gifts, not to the weak;

  ‘I hear rushing of muskets, and bright’ning of swords, and visages redd’ning with war,

  ‘Frowning and looking up from brooding villages and every dark’ning city;

  ‘Ancient wonders frown over the kingdom, and cries of women and babes are heard,

  ‘And tempests of doubt roll around me, and fierce sorrows, because of the Nobles of France;

  ‘Depart, answer not, for the tempest must fall, as in years that are passed away.’

  He ceas’d, and burn’d silent, red clouds roll round Necker, a weeping is heard o’er the palace;

  Like a dark cloud Necker paus’d, and like thunder on the just man’s burial day he paus’d;

  Silent sit the winds, silent the meadows, while the husbandman and woman of weakness

  And bright children look after him into the grave, and water his clay with love,

  120 Then turn towards pensive fields; so Necker paus’d, and his visage was cover’d with clouds.

  Dropping a tear the old man his place left, and when he was gone out

  He set his face toward Geneva to flee, and the women and children of the city

  Kneel’d round him and kissed his garments and wept; he stood a short space in the street,

  Then fled; and the whole city knew he was fled to Geneva, and the Senate heard it.

  But the Nobles burn’d wrathful at Necker’s departure, and wreath’d their clouds and waters

  In dismal volumes; as risen from beneath the Archbishop of Paris arose,

  In the rushing of scales and hissing of flames and rolling of sulphurous smoke.

  ‘Hearken, Monarch of France, to the terrors of heaven, and let thy soul drink of my counsel;

  ‘Sleeping at midnight in my golden tower, the repose of the labours of men

  130 ‘Wav’d its solemn cloud over my head. I awoke; a cold hand passed over my limbs, and behold

  ‘An aged form, white as snow, hov’ring in mist, weeping in the uncertain light,

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  ‘Dim the form almost faded, tears fell down the shady cheeks; at his feet many cloth’d

  ‘In white robes, strewn in air censers and harps, silent they lay prostrated;

  ‘Beneath, in the awful void, myriads descending and weeping thro’ dismal winds,

  ‘Endless the shady train shiv’ring descended, from the gloom where the aged form wept.

  ‘At length, trembling, the vision sighing, in a low voice, like the voice of the grasshopper whisper’d:

  ‘“My groaning is heard in the abbeys, and God, so long worshipp’d, departs as a lamp

  ‘“Without oil; for a curse is heard hoarse thro’ the land, from a godless race

  ‘“Descending to beasts; they look downward and labour and forget my holy law;

  140 ‘“The sound of prayer fails from lips of flesh, and the holy hymn from thicken’d tongues:

  ‘“For the bars of Chaos are burst; her millions prepare their fiery way

  ‘“Thro’ the orbed abode of the holy dead, to root up and pull down and remove,

  ‘“And Nobles and Clergy shall fail from before me, and my cloud and vision be no more;

  ‘“The mitre become black, the crown vanish, and the scepter and ivory staff

  ‘“Of the ruler wither among bones of death; they shall consume from the thistly field,

  ‘“And the sound of the bell, and voice of the sabbath, and singing of the holy choir,

  ‘“Is turn’d into songs of the harlot in day, and cries of the virgin in night.

  ‘“They shall drop at the plow and faint at the harrow, unredeem’d, unconfess’d, unpardon’d;

  ‘“The priest rot in his surplice by the lawless lover, the holy beside the accursed,

  150 ‘“The King, frowning in purple, beside the grey plowman, and their worms embrace together.”

  ‘The voice ceas’d, a groan shook my chamber; I slept, for the cloud of repose returned,

  ‘But morning dawn’d heavy upon me. I rose to bring my Prince heaven utter’d counsel.

  ‘Hear my counsel, O King, and send forth thy Generals, the command of Heaven is upon thee;

  ‘Then do thou command, O King, to shut up this Assembly in their final home;

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  ‘Let thy soldiers possess this city of rebels, that threaten to bathe their feet

  ‘In the blood of Nobility; trampling the heart and the head; let the Bastile devour

  ‘These rebellious seditious; seal them up, O Anointed, in everlasting chains.’

  He sat down, a damp cold pervaded the Nobles, and monsters of worlds unknown

  Swam round them, watching to be delivered; When Aumont, whose chaos-born soul

  160 Eternally wand’ring a Comet and swift-falling fire, pale enter’d the chamber;

  Before the red Council he stood, like a man that returns from hollow graves.

  ‘Awe surrounded, alone thro’ the army a fear and a with’ring blight blown by the north;

  ‘The Abbe de S[i]eyes from the Nation’s Assembly. O Princes and Generals of France,

  ‘Unquestioned, unhindered, awe-struck are the soldiers; a dark shadowy man in the form

  ‘Of King Henry the Fourth walks before him in fires, the captains like men bound in chains

  ‘Stood still as he pass’d, he is come to the Louvre, O King, with a message to thee;

  ‘The strong soldiers tremble, the horses their manes bow, and the guards of thy palace are fled.’

  Up rose awful in his majestic beams Bourbon’s strong Duke; his proud sword from his thigh

  Drawn, he threw on the Earth! the Duke of Bretagne and the Earl of Borgogne

  170 Rose inflam’d, to and fro in the chamber, like thunder-clouds ready to burst.

  ‘What, damp all our fires, O spectre of Henry,’ said Bourbon; ‘and rend the flames

  ‘From the head of our King! Rise, Monarch of France; command me, and I will lead

  ‘This army of superstition at large, that the ardor of noble souls quenchless,

  ‘May yet burn in France, nor our shoulders be plow’d with the furrows of poverty.’

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  Then Orleans generous as mountains arose, and unfolded his robe, and put forth

  His benevolent hand, looking on the Archbishop, who changed as pale as lead;

  Would have risen but could not, his voice issued harsh grating; instead of words harsh hissings

  Shook the chamber; he ceas’d abash’d. Then Orleans spoke, all was silent,
<
br />   He breath’d on them, and said, ‘O princes of fire, whose flames are for growth not consuming,

  180 ‘Fear not dreams, fear not visions, nor be you dismay’d with sorrows which flee at the morning;

  ‘Can the fires of Nobility ever be quench’d, or the stars by a stormy night?

  ‘Is the body diseas’d when the members are healthful? can the man be bound in sorrow

  ‘Whose ev’ry function is fill’d with its fiery desire? can the soul whose brain and heart

  ‘Cast their rivers in equal tides thro’ the great Paradise, languish because the feet

  ‘Hands, head, bosom, and parts of love, follow their high breathing joy?

  ‘And can Nobles be bound when the people are free, or God weep when his children are happy?

  ‘Have you never seen Fayette’s forehead, or Mirabeau’s eyes, or the shoulders of Target,

  ‘Or Bailly the strong foot of France, or Clermont the terrible voice, and your robes

  ‘Still retain their own crimson? mine never yet faded, for fire delights in its form.

  190 ‘But go, merciless man! enter into the infinite labyrinth of another’s brain

  ‘Ere thou measure the circle that he shall run. Go, thou cold recluse, into the fires

  ‘Of another’s high flaming rich bosom, and return unconsum’d, and write laws.

  ‘If thou can’st not do this, doubt thy theories, learn to consider all men as thy equals,

  ‘Thy brethern, and not as thy foot or thy hand, unless thou first fearest to hurt them.’

  The Monarch stood up, the strong Duke his sword to its golden scabbard return’d,

  The Nobles sat round like clouds on the mountains, when the storm is passing away.

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  ‘Let the Nation’s Ambassador come among Nobles, like incense of the valley.’

  Aumont went out and stood in the hollow porch, his ivory wand in his hand;

  A cold orb of disdain revolv’d round him, and covered his soul with snows eternal.

  200 Great Henry’s soul shuddered, a whirlwind and fire tore furious from his angry bosom;

  He indignant departed on horses of heav’n. Then the Abbe de S[i]eyes rais’d his feet

  On the steps of the Louvre, like a voice of God following a storm, the Abbe follow’d

  The pale fires of Aumont into the chamber, as a father that bows to his son;

  Whose rich fields inheriting spread their old glory, so the voice of the people bowed

  Before the ancient seat of the kingdom and mountains to be renewed.

  ‘Hear, O Heavens of France, the voice of the people, arising from valley and hill,

  ‘O’erclouded with power. Hear the voice of vallies, the voice of meek cities,

  ‘Mourning oppressed on village and field, till the village and field is a waste.

  ‘For the husbandman weeps at blights of the fife, and blasting of trumpets consume

  210 ‘The souls of mild France; the pale mother nourishes her child to the deadly slaughter.

  ‘When the heavens were seal’d with a stone, and the terrible sun clos’d in an orb, and the moon

  ‘Rent from the nations, and each star appointed for watchers of night,

  ‘The millions of spirits immortal were bound in the ruins of sulphur heaven

  ‘To wander inslav’d; black, deprest in dark ignorance, kept in awe with the whip,

  ‘To worship terrors, bred from the blood of revenge and breath of desire,

  ‘In beastial forms; or more terrible men, till the dawn of our peaceful morning,

  ‘Till dawn, till morning, till the breaking of clouds, and swelling of winds, and the universal voice,

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  ‘Till man raise his darken’d limbs out of the caves of night, his eyes and his heart

  ‘Expand: where is space! where O Sun is thy dwelling! where thy tent, O faint slumb’rous Moon.

  220 ‘Then the valleys of France shall cry to the soldier, “throw down thy sword and musket,

  ‘“And run and embrace the meek peasant.” Her Nobles shall hear and shall weep, and put off

  ‘The red robe of terror, the crown of oppression, the shoes of contempt, and unbuckle

  ‘The girdle of war from the desolate earth; then the Priest in his thund’rous cloud

  ‘Shall weep, bending to earth embracing the valleys, and putting his hand to the plow,

  ‘Shall say, “No more I curse thee; but now I will bless thee: No more in deadly black

  ‘“Devour thy labour; nor lift up a cloud in thy heavens, O laborious plow,

  ‘“That the wild raging millions, that wander in forests, and howl in law blasted wastes,

  ‘“Strength madden’d with slavery, honesty, bound in the dens of superstition,

  ‘“May sing in the village, and shout in the harvest, and woo in pleasant gardens,

  230 ‘“Their once savage loves, now beaming with knowledge, with gentle awe adorned;

  ‘“And the saw, and the hammer, the chisel, the pencil, the pen, and the instruments

  ‘“Of heavenly song sound in the wilds once forbidden, to teach the laborious plowman

  ‘“And shepherd deliver’d from clouds of war, from pestilence, from night-fear, from murder,

  ‘“From falling, from stifling, from hunger, from cold, from slander, discontent and sloth;

  ‘“That walk in beasts and birds of night, driven back by the sandy desart

  ‘“Like pestilent fogs round cities of men: and the happy earth sing in its course,

  ‘“The mild peaceable nations be opened to heav’n, and men walk with their fathers in bliss.”

  ‘Then hear the first voice of the morning: “Depart, O clouds of night, and no more

  ‘“Return; be withdrawn cloudy war, troops of warriors depart, nor around our peaceable city

  240 ‘“Breathe fires, but ten miles from Paris, let all be peace, nor a soldier be seen!”

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  He ended; the wind of contention arose and the clouds cast their shadows, the Princes

  Like the mountains of France, whose aged trees utter an awful voice, and their branches

  Are shatter’d, till gradual a murmur is heard descending into the valley,

  Like a voice in the vineyards of Burgundy, when grapes are shaken on grass;

  Like the low voice of the labouring man, instead of the shout of joy;

  And the palace appear’d like a cloud driven abroad; blood ran down the ancient pillars,

  Thro’ the cloud a deep thunder, the Duke of Burgundy, delivers the King’s command.

  ‘Seest thou yonder dark castle, that moated around, keeps this city of Paris in awe.

  ‘Go command yonder tower, saying, “Bastile depart, and take thy shadowy course.

  250 ‘“Overstep the dark river, thou terrible tower, and get thee up into the country ten miles.

  ‘“And thou black southern prison, move along the dusky road to Versailles; there

  ‘“Frown on the gardens”, and if it obey and depart, then the King will disband

  ‘This war-breathing army; but if it refuse, let the Nation’s Assembly thence learn,

  ‘That this army of terrors, that prison of horrors, are the bands of the murmuring kingdom.’

  Like the morning star arising above the black waves, when a shipwreck’d soul sighs for morning,

  Thro’ the ranks, silent, walk’d the Ambassador back to the Nation’s Assembly, and told

  The unwelcome message; silent they heard; then a thunder roll’d round loud and louder,

  Like pillars of ancient halls, and ruins of times remote they sat.

  Like a voice from the dim pillars Mirabeau rose; the thunders subsided away;

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  260 A rushing of wings around him was heard as he brighten’d, and cried out aloud,

  ‘Where is the General of the Nation?’ the walls reecho’d: ‘Where is the General of the Nation?’

  Sudden as the bullet wrapp�
��d in his fire, when brazen cannons rage in the field,

  Fayette sprung from his seat saying, Ready! then bowing like clouds, man toward man, the Assembly

  Like a council of ardors seated in clouds, bending over the cities of men,

  And over the armies of strife, where their children are marshall’d together to battle;

  They murmuring divide, while the wind sleeps beneath, and the numbers are counted in silence,

  While they vote the removal of War, and the pestilence weighs his red wings in the sky.

  So Fayette stood silent among the Assembly, and the votes were given and the numbers numb’red;

  And the vote was, that Fayette should order the army to remove ten miles from Paris.

  270 The aged sun rises appall’d from dark mountains, and gleams a dusky beam

  On Fayette, but on the whole army a shadow, for a cloud on the eastern hills

  Hover’d, and stretch’d across the city and across the army, and across the Louvre,

  Like a flame of fire he stood before dark ranks, and before expecting captains

  On pestilent vapours around him flow frequent spectres of religious men weeping

  In winds driven out of the abbeys, their naked souls shiver in keen open air,

  Driven out by the fiery cloud of Voltaire, and thund’rous rocks of Rousseau,

  They dash like foam against the ridges of the army, uttering a faint feeble cry.

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  Gleams of fire streak the heavens, and of sulphur the earth, from Fayette as he lifted his hand;

  But silent he stood, till all the officers rush round him like waves

  280 Round the shore of France, in day of the British flag, when heavy cannons

  Affright the coasts, and the peasant looks over the sea and wipes a tear;

  Over his head the soul of Voltaire shone fiery, and over the army Rousseau his white cloud

  Unfolded, on souls of war-living terrors silent list’ning toward Fayette,

  His voice loud inspir’d by liberty, and by spirits of the dead, thus thunder’d.

  ‘The Nation’s Assembly command, that the Army remove ten miles from Paris;

  ‘Nor a soldier be seen in road or in field, till the Nation command return.’

  Rushing along iron ranks glittering the officers each to his station

  Depart, and the stern captain strokes his proud steed, and in front of his solid ranks

  Waits the sound of trumpet; captains of foot stand each by his cloudy drum;