Europe 12

The Text

PLATE 12
And the clouds & fires pale rolld round in the night of
     Enitharmon
Round Albions cliffs & Londons walls; still Enitharmon slept!
Rolling volumes of grey mist involve Churches, Palaces, Towers:
For Urizen unclaspd his Book: feeding his soul with pity
The youth of England hid in gloom curse the paind heavens;
     compell'd         
Into the deadly night to see the form of Albions Angel
Their parents brought them forth & aged ignorance preaches
     canting,
On a vast rock, perciev'd by those senses that are clos'd from
     thought:
Bleak, dark, abrupt, it stands & overshadows London city
They saw his boney feet on the rock, the flesh consum'd in
     flames:        
They saw the Serpent temple lifted above, shadowing the Island
     white:
They heard the voice of Albions Angel howling in flames of Orc, 

Seeking the trump of the last doom 
Above the rest the howl was heard from Westminster louder &
     louder:
The Guardian of the secret codes forsook his ancient mansion,    
Driven out by the flames of Orc; his furr'd robes & false locks
Adhered and grew one with his flesh, and nerves & veins shot
thro' them
With dismal torment sick hanging upon the wind: he fled
Groveling along Great George Street thro' the Park gate; all the
soldiers
Fled from his sight; he drag'd his torments to the wilderness.   

Thus was the howl thro Europe!
For Orc rejoic'd to hear the howling shadows
But Palamabron shot his lightnings trenching down his wide back
And Rintrah hung with all his legions in the nether deep
Enitharmon laugh'd in her sleep to see (O womans triumph)        
Every house a den, every man bound; the shadows are filld
With spectres, and the windows wove over with curses of iron:
Over the doors Thou shalt not; & over the chimneys Fear is
     written:
With bands of iron round their necks fasten'd into the walls
The citizens: in leaden gyves the inhabitants of suburbs         
Walk heavy: soft and bent are the bones of villagers

Between the clouds of Urizen the flames of Orc roll heavy
Around the limbs of Albions Guardian, his flesh consuming.
Howlings & hissings, shrieks & groans, & voices of despair
Arise around him in the cloudy                                 y   
Heavens of Albion, Furious

About the Text

From Night of Enitharmon (Wikipedia)

"Enitharmon's Joy, often referred as The Triple Hecate or simplyHecate, is a 1795 work of art by English artist and poet William Blake, which depicts Enitharmon, a female character in his mythology, or Hecate, a chthonic Greco-Roman goddess of magic and the underworld. The work presents a nightmarish scene with fantastic creatures."

They heard the voice of Albions Angel howling in 
flames of Orc, Seeking the trump of the last doom

The 'flames of Orc' are Revolution
Seeking the trump of the last doom: who is seeking it? Albion's Angel or Orc?

About the Image

This is quite a composite image. The upper text is infringed upon on the right side by part of a net that expands to divide the upper and lower part of the text.

The net is filled with insects, among which are about five spiders.  (We might recognize this immediately as the Web of Religion or the Net of Religion.)

Here is a passage in The Book of Urizen:
"6. Cold he wander'd on high, over their cities              

In weeping & pain & woe!
And where-ever he wanderd in sorrows
Upon the aged heavens
A cold shadow follow'd behind him
Like a spiders web, moist, cold, & dim                      
Drawing out from his sorrowing soul
The dungeon-like heaven dividing.
Where ever the footsteps of Urizen
Walk'd over the cities in sorrow.

7. Till a Web dark & cold, throughout all                   
The tormented element stretch'd
From the sorrows of Urizens soul
And the Web is a Female in embrio                               t
None could break the Web, no wings of fire.

8. So twisted the cords, & so knotted                       
The meshes: twisted like to the human brain

9. And all calld it, The Net of Religion."