The Poetry and Prose of William Blake Edited by David V. Erdman: Commentary by Harold Bloom |
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The Poetry and Prose of William Blake | ||
PLATE 13
The red limb'd Angel siez'd, in horror and torment;
The Trump of the last doom; but he could not blow the iron tube!
Thrice he assay'd presumptuous to awake the dead to Judgment.
The Trump of the last doom; but he could not blow the iron tube!
Thrice he assay'd presumptuous to awake the dead to Judgment.
A mighty Spirit leap'd from the land of Albion,
Nam'd Newton; he siez'd the Trump, & blow'd the enormous blast!
Yellow as leaves of Autumn the myriads of Angelic hosts,
Fell thro' the wintry skies seeking their graves;
Rattling their hollow bones in howling and lamentation.
Nam'd Newton; he siez'd the Trump, & blow'd the enormous blast!
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Fell thro' the wintry skies seeking their graves;
Rattling their hollow bones in howling and lamentation.
Then Enitharmon woke, nor knew that she had slept
And eighteen hundred years were fled
As if they had not been
She calld her sons & daughters
To the sports of night,
Within her crystal house;
And thus her song proceeds.
And eighteen hundred years were fled
As if they had not been
She calld her sons & daughters
To the sports of night,
Within her crystal house;
And thus her song proceeds.
Arise Ethinthus! tho' the earth-worm call;
Let him call in vain;
Till the night of holy shadows
And human solitude is past!
Let him call in vain;
Till the night of holy shadows
And human solitude is past!
The Poetry and Prose of William Blake | ||