PLATE 10 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.
About the TextThe Angel here is presumably Albion's Angel, the eternal king.
The Trumpet is the loud call to War, but the Colonies don't respond.
The second paragraph refers to the Atlantic as the shady hills between
America and England.
Damon 27 "Ariston, king of beauty, anciently built for his stolen bride Anama
a pinnacle, type of mighty emperies. in the forest of God on the Atlantean Hills"
The thirteen angels sat here (this is an eternal drama, not a material one).
About the Image