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The Complete Poems

Page 41

by William Blake


  And Pearl & Crystal shining bright

  And within it opens into a World

  And a little lovely Moony Night

  Another England there I saw

  10 Another London with its Tower

  Another Thames & other Hills

  And another pleasant Surrey Bower

  Another Maiden like herself

  Translucent lovely shining clear

  Threefold each in the other closd

  O what a pleasant trembling fear

  O what a smile a threefold Smile

  Filld me that like a flame I burnd

  I bent to Kiss the lovely Maid

  20 And found a Threefold Kiss returnd

  I strove to sieze the inmost Form

  With ardor fierce & hands of flame

  But burst the Crystal Cabinet

  And like a Weeping Babe became

  A weeping Babe upon the wild

  And Weeping Woman pale reclind

  And in the outward air again

  I filld with woes the passing Wind

  THE GREY MONK

  I die I die the Mother said

  My Children die for lack of Bread

  What more has the merciless Tyrant said

  The Monk sat down on the Stony Bed

  The blood red ran from the Grey Monks side

  His hands & feet were wounded wide

  His Body bent his arms & knees

  Like to the roots of ancient trees

  His eye was dry no tear could flow

  10 A hollow groan first spoke his woe

  He trembled & shudderd 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 lovd

  My Brother starvd between two Walls

  His Childrens Cry my Soul appalls

  I mockd at the wrack & griding chain

  20 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 armd himself in Steel

  To avenge the wrongs thy Children feel

  But vain the Sword & vain the Bow

  They never can work Wars overthrow

  The Hermits Prayer & the Widows tear

  Alone can free the World from fear

  For a Tear is an Intellectual Thing

  30 And a Sigh is the Sword of an Angel King

  And the bitter groan of the Martyrs woe

  Is an Arrow from the Almighties Bow

  The hand of Vengeance found the Bed

  To which the Purple Tyrant fled

  The iron hand crushd the Tyrants head

  And became a Tyrant in his stead

  AUGURIES OF INNOCENCE

  To see a World in a Grain of Sand

  And a Heaven in a Wild Flower

  Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand

  And Eternity in an hour

  A Robin Red breast in a Cage

  Puts all Heaven in a Rage

  A dove house filld with doves & Pigeons

  Shudders Hell thro all its regions

  A dog starvd at his Masters Gate

  10 Predicts the ruin of the State

  A Horse misusd upon the Road

  Calls to Heaven for Human blood

  Each outcry of the hunted Hare

  A fibre from the Brain does tear

  A Skylark wounded in the wing

  A Cherubim does cease to sing

  The Game Cock clipd & armd for fight

  Does the Rising Sun affright

  Every Wolfs & Lions howl

  20 Raises from Hell a Human Soul

  The wild deer wandring here & there

  Keeps the Human Soul from Care

  The Lamb misusd breeds Public strife

  And yet forgives the Butchers Knife

  The Bat that flits at close of Eve

  Has left the Brain that wont Believe

  The Owl that calls upon the Night

  Speaks the Unbelievers fright

  He who shall hurt the little Wren

  30 Shall never be belovd by Men

  He who the Ox to wrath has movd

  Shall never be by Woman lovd

  The wanton Boy that kills the Fly

  Shall feel the Spiders enmity

  He who torments the Chafers sprite

  Weaves a Bower in endless Night

  The Catterpiller on the Leaf

  Repeats to thee thy Mothers grief

  Kill not the Moth nor Butterfly

  40 For the Last Judgment draweth nigh

  He who shall train the Horse to War

  Shall never pass the Polar Bar

  The Beggers Dog & Widows Cat

  Feed them & thou wilt grow fat

  The Gnat that sings his Summers song

  Poison gets from Slanders tongue

  The poison of the Snake & Newt

  Is the sweat of Envys Foot

  The Poison of the Honey Bee

  50 Is the Artists Jealousy

  The Princes Robes & Beggars Rags

  Are Toadstools on the Misers Bags

  A truth thats told with bad intent

  Beats all the Lies you can invent

  It is right it should be so

  Man was made for Joy & Woe

  And when this we rightly know

  Thro the World we safely go

  Joy & Woe are woven fine

  60 A Clothing for the Soul divine

  Under every grief & pine

  Runs a joy with silken twine

  The Babe is more than swadling Bands

  Throughout all these Human Lands

  Tools were made & Born were hands

  Every Farmer Understands

  Every Tear from Every Eye

  Becomes a Babe in Eternity

  This is caught by Females bright

  70 And returnd to its own delight

  The Bleat the Bark Bellow & Roar

  Are Waves that Beat on Heavens Shore

  The Babe that weeps the Rod beneath

  Writes Revenge in realms of death

  The Beggars Rags fluttering in Air

  Does to Rags the Heavens tear

  The Soldier armd with Sword & Gun

  Palsied strikes the Summers Sun

  The poor Mans Farthing is worth more

  80 Than all the Gold on Africs Shore

  One Mite wrung from the Labrers hands

  Shall buy & sell the Misers Lands

  Or if protected from on high

  Does that whole Nation sell & buy

  He who mocks the Infants Faith

  Shall be mock’d in Age & Death

  He who shall teach the Child to Doubt

  The rotting Grave shall neer get out

  He who respects the Infants faith

  90 Triumphs over Hell & Death

  The Childs Toys & the Old Mans Reasons

  Are the Fruits of the Two seasons

  The Questioner who sits so sly

  Shall never know how to Reply

  He who replies to words of Doubt

  Doth put the Light of Knowledge out

  The Strongest Poison ever known

  Came from Caesars Laurel Crown

  Nought can deform the Human Race

  100 Like to the Armours iron brace

  When Gold & Gems adorn the Plow

  To peaceful Arts shall Envy Bow

  A Riddle or the Crickets Cry

  Is to Doubt a fit Reply

  The Emmets Inch & Eagles Mile

  Make Lame Philosophy to smile

  He who Doubts from what he sees

  Will neer Believe do what you Please

  If the Sun & Moon should doubt

  110 Theyd immediately Go out

  To be in a Passion you Good may do

  But no Good if a Passion
is in you

  The Whore & Gambler by the State

  Licencd build that Nations Fate

  The Harlots cry from Street to Street

  Shall weave Old Englands winding Sheet

  The Winners Shout the Losers Curse

  Dance before dead Englands Hearse

  Every Night & every Morn

  120 Some to Misery are Born

  Every Morn & every Night

  Some are Born to sweet delight

  Some are Born to sweet delight

  Some are Born to Endless Night

  We are led to Believe a Lie

  When we see [with] not Thro the Eye

  Which was Born in a Night to perish in a Night

  When the Soul Slept in Beams of Light

  God Appears & God is Light

  130 To those poor Souls who dwell in Night

  But does a Human Form Display

  To those who Dwell in Realms of day

  LONG JOHN BROWN & LITTLE MARY BELL

  [Pretty] Little Mary Bell had a Fairy in a Nut

  [Young] Long John Brown had the Devil in his Gut

  [Young] Long John Brown lovd [Pretty] Little Mary Bell

  And the Fairy drew the Devil into the Nut-shell

  Her Fairy skipd out & her Fairy skipd in

  He laughd at the devil saying Love is a Sin

  The devil he raged & the devil he was wroth

  And the devil enterd into the Young Mans broth

  He was soon in the Gut of the loving Young Swain

  10 For John eat & drank to drive away Loves pain

  But all he could do he grew thinner & thinner

  Tho he eat & drank as much as ten Men for his dinner

  Some said he had a Wolf in his stomach day & night

  Some said he had the devil & they guessd right

  The fairy skipd about in his glory Joy & Pride

  And he laughd at the devil till poor John Brown died

  Then the Fairy skipd out of the old Nut shell

  And woe & alack for Pretty Mary Bell

  For the Devil crept in when the Fairy skipd out

  20 And there goes Miss Bell with her fusty old Nut

  WILLIAM BOND

  I wonder whether the Girls are mad

  And I wonder whether they mean to kill

  And I wonder if William Bond will die

  For assuredly he is very ill

  He went to Church in a May morning

  Attended by Fairies one two & three

  But the Angels of Providence drove them away

  And he returnd home in Misery

  He went not out to the Field nor Fold

  10 He went not out to the Village nor Town

  But he came home in a black black Cloud

  And took to his Bed & there lay down

  And an Angel of Providence at his Feet

  And an Angel of Providence at his Head

  And in the midst a Black Black Cloud

  And in the midst the Sick Man on his Bed

  And on his Right hand was Mary Green

  And on his Left hand was his Sister Jane

  And their tears fell thro the black black Cloud

  20 To drive away the sick mans pain

  O William if thou dost another Love

  Dost another Love better than poor Mary

  Go & take that other to be thy Wife

  And Mary Green shall her Servant be

  Yes Mary I do another Love

  Another I Love far better than thee

  And Another I will have for my Wife

  Then what have I to do with thee

  For thou art Melancholy Pale

  30 And on thy Head is the cold Moons shine

  But she is ruddy & bright as day

  And the sun beams dazzle from her eyne

  Mary trembled & Mary chilld

  And Mary fell down on the right hand floor

  That William Bond & his Sister Jane

  Scarce could recover Mary more

  When Mary woke & found her Laid

  On the Right hand of her William dear

  On the Right hand of his loved Bed

  40 And saw her William Bond so near

  The Fairies that fled from William Bond

  Danced around her Shining Head

  They danced over the Pillow white

  And the Angels of Providence left the Bed

  I thought Love livd in the hot sun shine

  But O he lives in the Moony light

  I thought to find Love in the heat of day

  But sweet Love is the Comforter of Night

  Seek Love in the Pity of others Woe

  50 In the gentle relief of anothers care

  In the darkness of night & the winters snow

  In the naked & outcast Seek Love there

  MILTON

  a Poem in 2 Books

  To Justify the Ways of God to Men

  PLATE 1

  PREFACE

  The Stolen and Perverted Writings of Homer & Ovid: of Plato & Cicero. which all Men ought to contemn: are set up by artifice against the Sublime of the Bible. but when the New Age is at leisure to Pronounce: all will be set right: & those Grand Works of the more ancient & consciously & professedly Inspired Men, will hold their proper rank, & the Daughters of Memory shall become the Daughters of Inspiration. Shakspeare & Milton were both curbd by the general malady & infection from the

  10 silly Greek & Latin slaves of the Sword.

  Rouze up O Young Men of the New Age! set your foreheads against the ignorant Hirelings! For we have Hirelings in the Camp, the Court & the University: who would if they could, for ever depress Mental & prolong Corporeal War. Painters! on you I call! Sculptors! Architects! Suffer not the fash[i]onable Fools to depress your powers by the prices they pretend to give for contemptible works or the expensive advertizing boasts that they make of such works; believe Christ & his Apostles that there is a Class of Men whose whole delight is in Destroying.

  20 We do not want either Greek or Roman Models if we are but just & true

  to our own Imaginations, those Worlds of Eternity in which we shall live for ever; in Jesus our Lord.

  And did those feet in ancient time.

  Walk upon Englands mountains green:

  And was the holy Lamb of God,

  On Englands 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:

  10 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 Englands green & pleasant Land.

  Would to God that all the Lords people were Prophets.

  Numbers XI. ch 29 v.

  PLATE 2

  MILTON

  BOOK THE FIRST

  Daughters of Beulah! Muses who inspire the Poets Song

  Record the journey of immortal Milton thro’ your Realms

  Of terror & mild moony lustre, in soft sexual delusions

  Of varied beauty, to delight the wanderer and repose

  His burning thirst & freezing hunger! Come into my hand

  By your mild power; descending down the Nerves of my right arm

  From out the Portals of my Brain, where by your ministry

  The Eternal Great Humanity Divine, planted his Paradise,

  And in it caus’d the Spectres of the Dead to take sweet forms

  10 In likeness of himself. Tell also of the False Tongue! vegetated

  Beneath your land of shadows: of its sacrifices. and

  Its offerings; even till Jesus, the image of the Invisible God

  Became its prey; a curse, an offering, and an atonement,

  For Death Et
ernal in the heavens of Albion, & before the Gates

  Of Jerusalem his Emanation, in the heavens beneath Beulah

  Say first! what mov’d Milton, who walkd about in Eternity

  One hundred years, pondring the intricate mazes of Providence

  Unhappy tho in heav’n, he obey’d, he murmur’d not. he was silent

  Viewing his Sixfold Emanation scatter’d thro’ the deep

  20 In torment! To go into the deep her to redeem & himself perish?

  What cause at length mov’d Milton to this unexampled deed?

  A Bards prophetic Song! for sitting at eternal tables, Terrific among the Sons of Albion in chorus solemn & loud

  A Bard broke forth! all sat attentive to the awful man.

  Mark well my words! they are of your eternal salvation:

  Three Classes are Created by the Hammer of Los, & Woven

  PLATE 3

  By Enitharmons Looms when Albion was slain upon his Mountains

  And in his Tent, thro envy of Living Form, even of the Divine Vision

  And of the sports of Wisdom in the Human Imagination

  Which is the Divine Body of the Lord Jesus. blessed for ever.

  Mark well my words. they are of your eternal salvation:

  Urizen lay in darkness & solitude, in chains of the mind lock’d up

  Los siezd his Hammer & Tongs; he labourd at his resolute Anvil

  Among indefinite Druid rocks & snows of doubt & reasoning.

  Refusing all Definite Form, the Abstract Horror roofd. stony hard

  10 And a first Age passed over & a State of dismal woe:

  Down sunk with fright a red round Globe hot burning. deep

  Deep down into the Abyss. panting: conglobing: trembling

  And a second Age passed over & a State of dismal woe.

  Rolling round into two little Orbs & closed in two little Caves

  The Eyes beheld the Abyss: lest bones of solidness freeze over all

  And a third Age passed over & a State of dismal woe.

  From beneath his Orbs of Vision, Two Ears in close volutions

  Shot spiring out in the deep darkness & petrified as they grew

  And a fourth Age passed over & a State of dismal woe.

  20 Hanging upon the wind, Two Nostrils bent down into the Deep

  And a fifth Age passed over & a State of dismal woe.

  In ghastly torment sick, a Tongue of hunger & thirst flamed out

  And a sixth Age passed over & a State of dismal woe.

  Enraged & stifled without & within: in terror & woe, he threw his

  Right Arm to the north, his left Arm to the south, & his Feet

  Stampd the nether Abyss in trembling & howling & dismay

  And a seventh Age passed over & a State of dismal woe

 

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