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To one of thóse tower-gates, approached my feet.
And thronged great ghostly multitude in thereat.
Whereas soul-wardens mány-eyed, saw I sit.
Immortal keepers áre they of that Port:
Which révolved mighty Registers in their hands;
Nor suffered any Souls therein to trace;
Whose names not written, in Great Book-of-Light.
Seemed those, thus busied, not to heed my steps.
I entered thús Dream-Citys Liberties.
But somewhile stood, where parted several streets;
In doubt which way to take: not daring yet;
Where rumour none of wains, nor echoing tread
Of man or beast; in my souls solitude:
Of wight, and should there any pass, to ask.
Where seemed some human concourse, I made forth;
Supposing such should be a market-street:

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And house-rows, thresholds, open doorways passed;
Of unlike Nations' building-wise and height.
Souls saw I enter pillared halls, and courts;
And issue as many forth.
I walked, únmarked,
Through to Dream-Citys great thronged marketplace:
Large as some ántique Stadium, marble-flagged.
Three sides were cloistered round, the fourth side flanked,
A stately marble Guildhalls mullioned front.
Dream-souls, of Tribes and Families of the World;
To common profit, congregate there to trade;
Which make a joint exchange of their minds' wares.
Like to a fair, were booths and stalls set up:
Whereon was store displayed of merchandise.
And published, running up and down, loud Criers;
Might each one take of all, whatso he would,
And give like good again!
I only in part
Might survey, so World-thronged wide Market-space;
Where Nations hanselled, with much cónfused noise.
And drew nigh where, made judgment by their looks;

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Regardful citizen-throngs, mongst thém conversed:
Hoping hear somewhat unto mine intent:
Since later Time hath made of slender worth;
Much that erewhile contented human thought:
Of tongues was given me, an understanding mind.)
Nor few old saws, now newly weighed, are found;
To be, as many esteem, of less account;
Or else past use, as orchard boughs bemossed;
Whereof none longer looketh to taste fruit.
Or walls once steadfast, whereon hanged men hopes,
For days to come; which lean now to their fall.
With One, me happed, a chapman, fall in talk;
Who trafficked to far Countries, East and West:
And knew the mind of Nations, of unlike
Both hew and hearts; and more than gold in purse,
Had gotten Knowledge.
Lay a mouldered heap,
In corner of those porches, where we walked;
Which seemed wind-driven leaves of ancient books.
Engrossed with pride of scriveners' characters;
The initials purple-royal and broad gilt;
With precious portraitures, many a page adorned.
Unto a learned Licenciáte, who then passed;

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And took some up, at our request thereof;
Such showed to be, for all their outward glance;
Old Gropers' still-born labours, in Worlds dark:
Yielding to mens, new hungry and thirsting spirit;
Scant more than should lean diet of flinty dust;
And Autumns withered leaves, to living flesh.
My Friend methought well spake, saying, More than such;
Today is profitable right human worth.
Nigh to that place, I saw a stall set forth;
Whereat there solemn long-gowned ancients sate;
Whose foreheads rimpled were, as ashen rind;
Reputed men of knowledge. Vent those made;
Of far-fetcht drugs, in basons, bowls and trays,
Whereon the cryptic signs, I saw expressed;
Helped not as I might understand a whit,
To any certain end: to bodys health,
Or to allay mans' souls solicitudes.
I many citizens saw to them resort.
But when rose sudden hubbub, stir of spirits;
Thick thronging from nigh streets, tumultuous Press:
Their table it was, of word-wise merchandise;
I saw, midst justling souls, first overset.

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Of that commotion cause and eddying feet,
Great Mansoul Himself was; this night returned,
From ghostly Underworld, to living ground.
Great-statured, but now plainly of human mould,
He entered thus, mongst Dream-Towns citizens;
That, like to swarming bees, round him contend.
Mounted upon staged scaffold, he made sign,
That he would speak. Disquietly he dispaced,
A little while. Anon souls' concourse husht:
Opened Mansoul his mouth. Praised be the Gods!
(He quoth,) I, O citizens, únto living light,
Am now returned, from sunless Underworld
And dust of death: I, in só dread, dark great Voyage;
Have, ín much trembling, traversed hundred paths.
Wisdom and Knowledge of Worlds ages past:
Sooth I enquired throughout, in míne unrest.
But all spake darkness: prisoned hád been each,
In blind compácture of a corruptible flesh:
Whence, one and all, might little they unfold.
Each from eyehole, of hís small tenement
Of clay, gazed forth. The Rest, past reasons reach,
Man taketh, as finding naught better, upón Trust.
I again, since I returned above, have sought

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With fervent súpplication, to be taught:
Seeing lurks, in every átomy of thís Worlds dross;
Though void of sénsible life, an íntimate force:
Attractions ánd repulsions, not unlike
To perturbations, ín Mans jelly-flesh:
But vainly.
And díligéntly I gave ear;
If háply I, in Rhýthm, óf the Universe;
Some súper-élemental Voice might hear.
But tó no purpose! Far as eye might reach;
All-that-is, éver hangs in á vast flux:
Whereín there seemeth to sóund, aye manifest Note,
Of Imperfection! Though mine every sense,
I bent to the úttermost, ánd continued thus:
I naught at áll perceived of human import.
Yet those be the Dumb Powers, from whence derive,
Untó this day, the actívities of our lives.
What though I tread continually áll lives' paths:
The múrmur of áll waters cannot teach;
Nor Winds blind breath, which substance of all speech,
Instruct my spirit. I furthermore besought,
The Intelligéncies óf the lofty air.
But none inclined, (and there be any such,)

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Unto mine instant prayer, with singleness
Of heart, breathed forth; a favourable Ear.
Too slender, brief, mens lives, tóo fugitive are;
We mostly apply, to thíngs of mean account:
Where daily Opínion veereth ás a vane:
The whiles we toy, on án abysmal brink.
Child of the Sky and Earth, and featured thus;
Even he who móst is happy and fortunate:
Fleets, líke some garish búbble, in trembling-stream;
To, unto nothingness, be resolved anon.