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

7. In her trembling hands she took the new, born terror howling; 8. On those infinite mountains of light now barr’d out by the atlantic sea, the new born fire stood before the starry king!

9. Flag’d with grey brow’d snows and thunderous visages the jealous wings wav’d over the deep.

10. The speary hand burned aloft, unbuckled was the shield, forth went the hand of jealousy among the flaming hair, and hurl’d the new born wonder thro’ the starry night.

11. The fire, the fire, is falling!

12. Look up! look up! O citizen of London. enlarge thy countenance; O Jew, leave counting gold! return to thy oil and wine; O African! black African! (go. winged thought widen his forehead.) 13. The fiery limbs, the flaming hair,shot like the sinking sun into the western sea.

14. Wak’d from his eternal sleep, the hoary, element roaring fled away: 15. Down rushd beating his wings in vain the jealous king: his grey brow’d councellors, thunderous warriors, curl’d veterans, among helms, and shields, and chariots horses, elephants: banners, castles, slings and rocks,

16. Falling, rushing, ruining! buried in the ruins, on Urthona’s dens.

17. All night beneath the ruins, then their sullen flames faded emerge round the gloomy king,

18. With thunder and fire: leading his starry hosts thro’ the waste wilderness he promulgates his ten commands,

glancing his beamy eyelids over the deep in dark dismay,

19. Where the son of fire in his eastern cloud, while the morning plumes her golden breast,

20. Spurning the clouds written with curses, stamps the stony law to dust, loosing the eternal horses from the dens of night, crying

Empire is no more! and now the lion & wolf shall cease.

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.

Table of Contents

Table of Contents

Table of Contents

I loved Theotormon

And I was not ashamed

I trembled in my virgin fears

And I hid in Leutha’s vale!

I plucked Leutha’s flower,

And I rose up from the vale;

But the terrible thunders tore

My virgin mantle in twain.

ENSLAV’D, the Daughters of Albion weep: a trembling lamentation

Upon their mountains; in their valleys. sighs toward America.

For the soft soul of America, Oothoon wanderd in woe,

Along the vales of Leutha seeking flowers to comfort her;

And thus she spoke to the bright Marygold of Leutha’s vale

Art thou a flower! art thou a nymph! I see thee now a flower;

Now a nymph! I dare not pluck thee from thy dewy bed!

The Golden nymph replied; pluck thou my flower Oothoon the mild

Another flower shall spring, because the soul of sweet delight

Can never pass away. she ceas’d & closd her golden shrine.

Then Oothoon pluck’d the flower saying, I pluck thee from thy bed

Sweet flower. and put thee here to glow between my breasts

And thus I turn my face to where my whole soul seeks.

Over the waves she went in wing’d exulting swift delight;

And over Theotormons reign, took her impetuous course.

Bromion rent her with his thunders. on his stormy bed

Lay the faint maid, and soon her woes appalld his thunders hoarse

Bromion spoke. behold this harlot here on Bromions bed,

And let the jealous dolphins sport around the lovely maid;

Thy soft American plains are mine, and mine thy north & south:

Stampt with my signet are the swarthy children of the sun:

They are obedient, they resist not, they obey the scourge:

Their daughters worship terrors and obey the violent:

Now thou maist marry Bromions harlot, and protect the child

Of Bromions rage, that Oothoon shall put forth in nine moons time

Then storms rent Theotormons limbs; he rolld his waves around.

And folded his black jealous waters round the adulterate pair

Bound back to back in Bromions caves terror & meekness dwell

At entrance Theotormon sits wearing the threshold hard

With secret tears; beneath him sound like waves on a desart shore

The voice of slaves beneath the sun, and children bought with money.

That shiver in religious caves beneath the burning fires

Of lust, that belch incessant from the summits of the earth

Oothoon weeps not: she cannot weep! her tears are locked up;

But she can howl incessant writhing her soft snowy limbs.

And calling Theotormons Eagles to prey upon her flesh.

I call with holy voice! kings of the sounding air,

Rend away this defiled bosom that I may reflect.

The image of Theotormon on my pure transparent breast.

The Eagles at her call descend & rend their bleeding prey;

Theotormon severely smiles. her soul reflects the smile;

As the clear spring mudded with feet of beasts grows pure & smiles.

The Daughters of Albion hear her woes. & eccho back her sighs.

Why does my Theotormon sit weeping upon the threshold;

And Oothoon hovers by his side, perswading him in vain:

I cry arise O Theotormon for the village dog

Barks at the breaking day. the nightingale has done lamenting.

The lark does rustle in the ripe corn, and the Eagle returns