William Blake - The Greatest Works of William Blake (With Complete Original Illustrations)

America is darkned; and my punishing Demons terrified

Crouch howling before their caverns deep like skins dry’d in the wind.

They cannot smite the wheat, nor quench the fatness of the earth.

They cannot smite with sorrows, nor subdue the plow and spade.

They cannot wall the city, nor moat round the castle of princes.

They cannot bring the stubbed oak to overgrow the hills.

For terrible men stand on the shores, & in their robes I see

Children take shelter from the lightnings, there stands Washington

And Paine and Warren with their foreheads reard toward the east

But clouds obscure my aged sight. A vision from afar!

Sound! sound! my loud war-trumpets & alarm my thirteen Angels:

Ah vision from afar! Ah rebel form that rent the ancient

Heavens; Eternal Viper self-renew’d, rolling in clouds

I see thee in thick clouds and darkness on America’s shore.

Writhing in pangs of abhorred birth; red flames the crest rebellious

And eyes of death; the harlot womb oft opened in vain

Heaves in enormous circles, now the times are return’d upon thee,

Devourer of thy parent, now thy unutterable torment renews.

Sound! sound! my loud war trumpets & alarm my thirteen Angels!

Ah terrible birth! a young one bursting! where is the weeping mouth?

And where the mothers milk? instead those ever-hissing jaws

And parched lips drop with fresh gore; now roll thou in the clouds

Thy mother lays her length outstretch’d upon the shore beneath.

Sound! sound! my loud war-trumpets & alarm my thirteen Angels!

Loud howls the eternal Wolf: the eternal Lion lashes his tail!

Thus wept the Angel voice & as he wept the terrible blasts

Of trumpets, blew a loud alarm across the Atlantic deep.

No trumpets answer; no reply of clarions or of fifes,

Silent the Colonies remain and refuse the loud alarm.

On those vast shady hills between America & Albions shore;

Now barr’d out by the Atlantic sea: call’d Atlantean hills:

Because from their bright summits you may pass to the Golden world

An ancient palace, archetype of mighty Emperies,

Rears its immortal pinnacles, built in the forest of God

By Ariston the king of beauty for his stolen bride,

Here on their magic seats the thirteen Angels sat perturb’d

For clouds from the Atlantic hover o’er the solemn roof.

Fiery the Angels rose, & as they rose deep thunder roll’d

Around their shores: indignant burning with the fires of Orc

And Bostons Angel cried aloud as they flew thro’ the dark night.

He cried: Why trembles honesty and like a murderer,

Why seeks he refuge from the frowns of his immortal station!

Must the generous tremble & leave his joy, to the idle: to the pestilence!

That mock him? who commanded this? what God? what Angel!

To keep the gen’rous from experience till the ungenerous

Are unrestraind performers of the energies of nature;

Till pity is become a trade, and generosity a science,

That men get rich by, & the sandy desart is giv’n to the strong

What God is he, writes laws of peace, & clothes him in a tempest

What pitying Angel lusts for tears, and fans himself with sighs

What crawling villain preaches abstinence & wraps himself

In fat of lambs? no more I follow, no more obedience pay.

So cried he, rending off his robe & throwing down his scepter.

In sight of Albions Guardian, and all the thirteen Angels

Rent off their robes to the hungry wind, & threw their golden scepters

Down on the land of America. indignant they descended

Headlong from out their heav’nly heights, descending swift as fires

Over the land; naked & flaming are their lineaments seen

In the deep gloom, by Washington & Paine & Warren they stood

And the flame folded roaring fierce within the pitchy night

Before the Demon red, who burnt towards America,

In black smoke thunders and loud winds rejoicing in its terror

Breaking in smoky wreaths from the wild deep, & gath’ring thick

In flames as of a furnace on the land from North to South

What time the thirteen Governors that England sent convene

In Bernards house; the flames coverd the land, they rouze they cry

Shaking their mental chains they rush in fury to the sea

To quench their anguish; at the feet of Washington down fall’n

They grovel on the sand and writhing lie, while all

The British soldiers thro’ the thirteen states sent up a howl

Of anguish: threw their swords & muskets to the earth & ran

From their encampments and dark castles seeking where to hide

From the grim flames; and from the visions of Orc; in sight

Of Albions Angel; who enrag’d his secret clouds open’d

From north to south, and burnt outstretchd on wings of wrath cov’ring

The eastern sky, spreading his awful wings across the heavens;

Beneath him roll’d his num’rous hosts, all Albions Angels camp’d

Darkend the Atlantic mountains & their trumpets shook the valleys

Arm’d with diseases of the earth to cast upon the Abyss,

Their numbers forty millions, must’ring in the eastern sky.

In the flames stood & view’d the armies drawn out in the sky

Washington Franklin Paine & Warren Allen Gates & Lee:

And heard the voice of Albions Angel give the thunderous command:

His plagues obedient to his voice flew forth out of their clouds

Falling upon America, as a storm to cut them off

As a blight cuts the tender corn when it begins to appear.

Dark is the heaven above, & cold & hard the earth beneath;

And as a plague wind fill’d with insects cuts off man & beast;

And as a sea o’erwhelms a land in the day of an earthquake;

Fury! rage! madness! in a wind swept through America

And the red flames of Orc that folded roaring fierce around

The angry shores, and the fierce rushing of th’inhabitants together:

The citizens of New-York close their books & lock their chests;

The mariners of Boston drop their anchors and unlade;

The scribe of Pensylvania casts his pen upon the earth;

The builder of Virginia throws his hammer down in fear.

Then had America been lost, o’erwhelm’d by the Atlantic,

And Earth had lost another portion of the infinite,

But all rush together in the night in wrath and raging fire

The red fires rag’d! the plagues recoil’d! then rolld they back with fury

On Albions Angels; then the Pestilence began in streaks of red

Across the limbs of Albions Guardian, the spotted plague smote Bristols

And the Leprosy Londons Spirit, sickening all their bands:

The millions sent up a howl of anguish and threw off their hammerd mail,

And cast their swords & spears to earth, & stood a naked multitude.

Albions Guardian writhed in torment on the eastern sky

Pale quivring toward the brain his glimmering eyes, teeth chattering

Howling & shuddering his legs quivering; convuls’d each muscle & sinew

Sick’ning lay Londons Guardian, and the ancient miter’d York

Their heads on snowy hills, their ensigns sick’ning in the sky

The plagues creep on the burning winds driven by flames of Orc,

And by the fierce Americans rushing together in the night

Driven o’er the Guardians of Ireland and Scotland and Wales

They spotted with plagues forsook the frontiers & their banners seard

With fires of hell, deform their ancient heavens with shame & woe.

Hid in his caves the Bard of Albion felt the enormous plagues.

And a cowl of flesh grew o’er his head & scales on his back & ribs;

And rough with black scales all his Angels fright their ancient heavens

The doors of marriage are open, and the Priests in rustling scales