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The Poetry and Prose of William Blake

Edited by David V. Erdman: Commentary by Harold Bloom

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XIII [INSCRIPTIONS AND NOTES ON OR FOR PICTURES]
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660

XIII
[INSCRIPTIONS AND NOTES ON OR FOR PICTURES]


663

[Descriptions of Illustrations to Milton's L'Allegro and Il Penseroso]

1

Heart easing Mirth.
Haste thee Nymph & bring with thee
Jest & Youthful Jollity
Quips & Cranks & Wanton Wiles
Nods & Becks & wreathed smiles
Sport that wrinkled Care derides
And Laughter holding both his Sides
Come & trip it as you go
On the light phantastic toe
And in thy right hand lead with thee
The Mountain Nymph Sweet Liberty

2

To hear the Lark begin his flight
And singing startle the dull Night
From his Watch Tower in the Skies
Till the dappled Dawn does rise

3

Sometime walking not unseen
By hedgerow Elms on Hillocks green
Right against the Eastern Gate
When the Great Sun begins his state

664

Robed in Flames & amber Light
The Clouds in thousand Liveries dight
While the Plowman near at hand
Whistles o'er the Furrow'd Land
And the Milkmaid singeth blithe
And the Mower whets his Scythe
And every Shepherd tells his Tale
Under the Hawthorn in the Dale

4

Sometimes with secure delight
The upland Hamlets will invite
When the merry Bells ring round
And the jocund Rebecks Sound
To many a Youth & many a Maid
Dancing in the chequerd Shade
And Young & Old come forth to play
On a Sunshine Holiday
Mountains on whose barren breast
The Labring Clouds do often rest

5

Then to the Spicy Nut brown Ale
With Stories told of many a Treat
How Fairy Mab the junkets eat
She was pinchd & pulld she said
And he by Friars Lantern led
Tells how the drudging Goblin sweat
To earn his Cream Bowl duly set
When in one Night e'er glimpse of Morn
His shadowy Flail had threshd the Corn
That ten day labourers could not end
Then crop-full out of door he flings
E'er the first Cock his Matin rings

6

There let Hymen oft appear
In Saffron Robe with Taper clear
With Mask & Antique Pageantry
Such sights as Youthful Poets dream

665

On Summers Eve by haunted Stream
Then lo the well trod Stage anon
If Johnsons learned Sock be on
Or Sweetest Shakespeare Fancys Child
Warble his native wood notes wild

7

Come pensive Nun devout & pure
Sober stedfast & demure
All in Robe of darkest grain
Flowing with majestic train
Come but keep thy wonted state
With even step & musing gait
And looks commercing with the Skies
And join with thee calm Peace & Quiet
Spare Fast who oft with Gods doth diet
And hears the Muses in a ring
Ay. round about Joves altar sing
And add to these retired Leisure
Who in trim Gardens takes his pleasure
But first & Chiefest with thee bring
Him who yon soars on golden Wing
Guiding the Fiery wheeled Throne
The Cherub Contemplation
Less Philomel will deign a song
In her sweetest saddest plight
Smoothing the rugged Brow of Night
While Cynthia Checks her dragon yoke
Gently o'er the accustomd Oak

8

To behold the wandring Moon
Riding near her highest Noon
Like one that has been led astray
Thro the heavens wide pathless way
And oft as if her head she bowd
Stooping thro' a fleecy Cloud
Oft on a plat of rising ground
I hear the far off Curfew sound
Over some wide waterd shore
Swinging slow with sullen roar

666

9

Where I may oft outwatch the Bear
With thrice great Hermes or unsphear
The Spirit of Plato to unfold
What Worlds or what vast regions hold
The Immortal Mind that has forsook
Its Mansion in this Fleshly nook
And of those Spirits that are found
In Fire. Air. Flood. & Underground

10

And when the Sun begins to fling
His flaring Beams me Goddess bring
To arched walks of twilight Groves
And Shadows brown that Sylvan Coves

11

There in close Covert by some Brook
Where no profaner Eye may look
With such concert as they keep
Entice the dewy featherd Sleep
And let some strange mysterous Dream
Wave on his Wings in airy stream
Of liveliest Portraiture displayd
On my Sleeping eyelids laid
And as I wake sweet Music breathe
Above; about: or underneath:
Sent by some Spirit to Mortals good
Or the unseen Genius of the Wood

12

And may at last my weary Age
Find out the peaceful Hermitage
The hairy Gown the mossy Cell
Where I may sit & rightly spell
Of every Star that heavn doth shew
And every Herb that sips the dew
Till old Experience do attain
To somewhat like Prophetic strain