In thunders ends the voice. Then Albions
Angel wrathful burnt Beside the Stone of
Night; and like the Eternal Lions howl
In famine & war, reply'd. Art thou not
Orc, who serpent-form'dStands at the gate
of Enitharmon to devour her children;
Blasphemous Demon, Antichrist, hater of
Dignities.
PLATE 8 The terror answerd: I am Orc,
wreath'd round the accursed tree: The
times are ended; shadows pass the
morning gins to break; The fiery joy,
that Urizen perverted to ten commands,
What night he led the starry hosts thro'
the wide wilderness: That stony law I stamp
to dust: and scatter religion abroad To the
four winds as a torn book, & none shall
gather the leaves; But they shall rot on
desart sands, & consume in bottomless deeps;
To make the desarts blossom, & the deeps
shrink to their fountains, And to renew the
fiery joy, and burst the stony roof. That
pale religious letchery, seeking Virginity,
May find it in a harlot, and in coarse-clad honesty The undefil'd tho'
ravish'd in her cradle night and morn: For every thing that
lives is holy, life delights in life; Because the soul of sweet delight
can never be defil'd. Fires inwrap the earthly globe, yet man is not
consumd; Amidst the lustful fires he walks: his feet become like brass,
His knees and thighs like silver, & his breast and head like gold.
PLATE 9 Sound! sound! my loud war-trumpets &
alarm my Thirteen Angels! Loud howls the
eternal Wolf! the eternal Lion lashes his tail!
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 ebellious And eves 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!
Here you may meet William Blake, join hands in a discussion, ask questions. This is your Blake Commentary. Please visit Larry's Blake Primer
Sunday, October 09, 2011
America Summary Section III
Plate 7:
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