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      ³́ ́ (. William Blake; 28.11.1757, 12.08.1827) -. : ϳ (1789); ϳ (1794); (1790); (1791); (1794) . 䳿, , 㳿 볿. , .
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CHAPTER II:   
FROM  THE ROSSETTI MANUSCRIPT





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Never seek to tell thy love,Love that never told can be;For the gentle wind does moveSilently, invisibly.
I told my love, I told my love,
I told her all my heart;
Trembling, cold, in ghastly tears,
Ah! she doth depart.

Soon as she was gone from me,
A traveller came by,
Silently, invisibly:
He took her with a sigh.

                  
I saw a Chapel all of gold
That none did dare to enter in,
And many weeping stood without,
Weeping, mourning, worshipping.

I saw a Serpent rise between
The white pillars of the door,
And he forcd and forcd and forcd;
Down the golden hinges tore,

And along the pavement sweet,
Set with pearls and rubies bright,
All his shining length he drew,
Till upon the altar white

Vomiting his poison out
On the Bread and on the Wine.
So I turnd into a sty,
And laid me down among the swine.

                      
I asked a thief to steal me a peach.
He turned up his eyes.
I askd a lithe lady to lie her down:
Holy and meek, she cries.

As soon as I went
An Angel came:
He winkd at the thief,
And smild at the dame;

And without one word said
Had a peach from the tree,
And still as a maid
Enjoyd the lady.

                
I heard an Angel singing
When the day was springing:
Mercy, Pity, Peace
Is the worlds release.

Thus he sang all day
Over the new-mown hay,
Till the sun went down,
And haycocks looked brown.

I heard a Devil curse
Over the heath and the furze:
Mercy could be no more
If there was nobody poor,

And Pity no more could be,
If all were as happy as we.
At his curse the sun went down,
And the heavens gave a frown.

Down pourd the heavy rain
Over the new reapd grain;
And Miserys increase
Is Mercy, Pity, Peace.

A CRADLE SONG
Sleep! sleep! beauty bright,
Dreaming oer the joys of night;
Sleep! sleep! in thy sleep
Little sorrows sit and weep.

Sweet Babe, in thy face
Soft desires I can trace,
Secret joys and secret smiles,
Little pretty infant wiles.

As thy softest limbs I feel,
Smiles as of the morning steal
Oer thy cheek, and oer thy breast
Where thy little heart does rest.

O! the cunning wiles that creep
In thy little heart asleep.
When thy little heart does wake
Then the dreadful lightnings break,

From thy cheek and from thy eye,
Oer the youthful harvests nigh.
Infant wiles and infant smiles
Heaven and Earth of peace beguiles.

                    
 I feard the fury of my wind
Would blight all blossoms fair and true;
And my sun it shind and shind,
And my wind it never blew.

But a blossom fair or true
Was not found on any tree;
For all blossoms grew and grew
Fruitless, false, tho fair to see.

INFANT SORROW
My mother groand, my father wept;
Into the dangerous world I leapt,
Helpless, naked, piping loud,
Like a fiend hid in a cloud.

Struggling in my fathers hands,
Striving against my swaddling-bands,
Bound and weary, I thought best
To sulk upon my mothers breast,

When I saw that rage was vain,
And to sulk would nothing gain,
Turning many a trick and wile
I began to soothe and smile,

And I soothd day after day,
Till upon the ground I stray;
And I smild night after night,
Seeking only for delight,

And I saw before me shine
Clusters of the wandring vine;
And, beyond, a Myrtle-tree
Stretchd its blossoms out to me.

But a Priest with holy look,
In his hands a holy book,
Pronounced curses on his head
Who the fruits or blossoms shed

I beheld the Priest by night;
He embracd my Myrtle bright:
I beheld the Priest by day,
Where beneath my vines he lay.

Like a serpent in the day
Underneath my vines he lay:
Like a serpent in the night
He embracd my Myrtle bright.

So I smote him, and his gore
Staind the roots my Myrtle bore;
But the time of youth is fled,
And grey hairs are on my head.

                
Thou hast a lap full of seed,
And this is a fine country.
Why dost thou not cast thy seed,
And live in it merrily?

Shall I cast it on the sand
And turn it into fruitful land?
For on no other ground
Can I sow my seed,
Without tearing up
Some stinking weed.

IN A MIRTLE SHADE
Why should I be bound to thee,
my lovely mirtle tree?
Love, free love, cannot be bound
To any tree that grows on ground.

O, how sick & weary I
Underneath my mirtle lie,
Like to dung upon the ground
Underneath my mirtle bound.

Oft my mirtle signd in vain
To behold my heavy chain;
Oft my father saw us sigh,
And laughd at our simplicity.

So I smote him & his gore
Staind the roots my mirtle bore.
But the time of youth is fled,
And grey hairs are on my head.

TO NOBODADDY
Why art thou silent and invisible,
Father of Jealousy?
Why dost thou hide thyself in clouds
From every searching eye?

Why darkness and obscurity
In all thy words and laws,
That none dare eat the fruit but from
The wily Serpents jaws?
Or is it because secrecy gains females loud applause?

THE WILD FLOWERS SONG
As I wanderd the forest,
The green leaves among,
I heard a Wild Flower
Singing a song.

I slept in the earth
In the silent night,
I murmurd my fears
And I felt delight.

In the morning I went,
As rosy as morn,
To seek for new joy;
But I met with scorn.

                
lapwing! thou fliest around the heath,
Nor seest the net that is spread beneath.
Why dost thou not fly among the corn fields?
They cannot spread nets where a harvest yields.

SOFT SNOW
I walked abroad on a snowy day:
I askd the soft Snow with me to play:
She playd and she melted in all her prime;
And the Winter calld it a dreadful crime.

MERLINS PROPHECY
The harvest shall flourish in wintry weather
When two Virginities meet together:
The king and the priest must be tied in a tether
Before two Virgins can meet together.

DAY
The sun arises in the East,
Clothd in robes of blood and gold;
Swords and spears and wrath increasd
All around his bosom rolld,
Crownd with warlike fires and raging desires.

                  
Why should I care for the men of Thames,
Or the cheating waves of charterd streams;
Or shrink at the little blasts of fear
That the hireling blows into my ear?

Tho born on the cheating banks of Thames,
Tho his waters bathed my infant limbs,
The Ohio shall wash his stains from me:
I was born a slave, but I go to be free.
          
                       
Abstinence sows sand all over
The ruddy limbs and flaming hair,
But Desire gratified
Plants fruits of life and beauty there.

                 
If you trap the moment before its ripe,
The tears of repentence youll certainly wipe;
But if once you let the ripe moment go
You can never wipe off the tears of woe.

              
He who bends to himself a Joy
Doth the winged life destroy;
But he who kisses the Joy as it flies
Lives in Eternitys sunrise.

RICHES
The countless gold of a merry heart,
The rubies and pearls of a loving eye,
The indolent never can bring to the mart,
Nor the secret hoard up in his treasury.

AN ANSWER TO THE PARSON
Why of the sheep do you not learn peace?
Because I dont want you to shear my fleece.

           
Soft deceit & idleness
These are beauties sweetest dress.

         
 "Let the Brothels of Paris be opened
With many an alluring dance
To awake the Pestilence thro the city,"
Said the beautiful Queen of France.

The King awoke on his couch of gold,
As soon as he heard these tidings told:
"Arise & come, both fife & drum,
And the Famine shall eat both crust & crumb."

Then he swore a great & solemn Oath:
"To kill the people I am loth,
But if they rebel, they must go to hell:
They shall have a Priest & a passing bell."

Then old Nobodaddy aloft
Farted & belchd & coughd,
And said, "I love hanging & drawing & quartering
Every bit as well as war & slaughtering.
Damn praying & singing,
Unless they will bring in
The blood of ten thousand by fighting or swinging."

The Queen of France just touched this Globe,
And the Pestilence darted from her robe;
But our good Queen quite grows to the ground,
And a great many suckers grow all around.

Fayette beside King Lewis stood;
He saw him sign his hand;
And soon he saw the famine rage
About the fruitful land.

Fayette beheld the Queen to smile
And wink her lovely eye;
And soon he saw the pestilence
From street to street to fly.

Fayette beheld the King & Queen
In tears & iron bound;
But mute Fayette wept tear for tear,
And guarded them around.

Fayette, Fayette, thourt bought & sold,
And sold is thy happy morrow;
Thou gavest the tears of Pity away
In exchange for the tears of sorrow.

Who will exchange his own fire side
For the steps of anothers door?
Who will exchange his wheaten loaf
For the links of a dungeon floor?

O, who would smile on the wintry seas,
& Pity the stormy roar?
Or who will exchange his new born child
For the dog at the wintry door?
         
                
My Spectre around me night and day
Like a wild beast guards my way;
My Emanation far within
Weeps incessantly for my sin.

A fathomless and boundless deep,
There we wander, there we weep;
On the hungry craving wind
My Spectre follows thee behind.

He scents thy footsteps in the snow,
Wheresoever thou dost go,
Thro the wintry hail and rain.
When wilt thou return again?

Dost thou not in pride and scorn
Fill with tempests all my morn,
And with jealousies and fears
Fill my pleasant nights with tears?

Seven of my sweet loves thy knife
Has bereaved of their life.
Their marble tombs I built with tears,
And with cold and shuddering fears.

Seven more loves weep night and day
Round the tombs where my loves lay,
And seven more loves attend each night
Around my couch with torches bright.

And seven more loves in my bed
Crown with wine my mournful head,
Pitying and forgiving all
Thy transgressions great and small.

When wilt thou return and view
My loves, and them to life renew?
When wilt thou return and live?
When wilt thou pity as I forgive?

Oer my sins thou sit and moan:
Hast thou no sins of thy own?
Oer my sins thou sit and weep,
And lull thy own sins fast asleep.

What transgressions I commit
Are for thy transgressions fit.
They thy harlots, thou their slave;
And my bed becomes their grave.

Never, never, I return:
Still for victory I burn.
Living, thee alone Ill have;
And when dead Ill be thy grave.

Thro the Heaven and Earth and Hell
Thou shalt never, never quell:
I will fly and thou pursue:
Night and morn the flight renew.

Poor, pale, pitiable form
That I follow in a storm;
Iron tears and groans of lead
Bind around my aching head.

Till I turn from Female love
And root up the Infernal Grove,
I shall never worthy be
To step into Eternity.

And, to end thy cruel mocks,
Annihilate thee on the rocks,
And another form create
To be subservient to my fate.

Let us agree to give up love,
And root up the Infernal Grove;
Then shall we return and see
The worlds of happy Eternity.

And throughout all Eternity
I forgive you, you forgive me.
As our dear Redeemer said:
"This the Wine, and this the Bread."

                
When Klopstock England defied,
Uprose William Blake in his pride;
For old Nobodaddy aloft
...and belchd and coughd;
Then swore a great oath that made Heaven quake,
And calld aloud to English Blake.
Blake was giving his body ease,
At Lambeth beneath the poplar trees.
From his seat then started he
And turnd him round three times three.
The moon at that sight blushd scarlet red,
The stars threw down their cups and fled,
And all the devils that were in hell,
Answered with a ninefold yell.
Klopstock felt the intripled turn,
And all his bowels began to churn,
And his bowels turnd round three times three,
And lockd in his soul with a ninefold key...
Then again old Nobodaddy swore
He neer had seen such a thing before,
Since Noah was shut in the ark,
Since Eve first chose her hellfire spark,
Since twas the fashion to go naked,
Since the old Anything was created...

                
Mock on, mock on, Voltaire, Rousseau:
Mock on, mock on; its all in vain!
You throw the sand against the wind,
And the wind blows it back again.

And every sand becomes a gem
Reflected in the beams divine;
Blown back they blind the mocking eye,
But still in Israels paths they shine.

The Atoms of Democritus
And Newtons Particles of Light
Are sands upon the Red Sea shore,
Where Israels tents do shine so bright.

                
When a man has married a wife, he finds out whether
Her knees and elbows are only glued together.

ON THE VIRGINITY OF THE VIRGIN MARY AND JOHANNA SOUTHCOTT
Whateer is done to her she cannot know,
And if youll ask her she will swear it so.
Whether tis good or evil nones to blame:
No one can take the pride, no one the shame.

MORNING
To find the Western path,
Right thro the Gates of Wrath
I urge my way;
Sweet Mercy leads me on
With soft repentant moan:
I see the break of day.

The war of swords and spears,
Melted by dewy tears,
Exhales on high;
The Sun is freed from fears,
And with soft grateful tears
Ascends the sky.

                
Now Art has lost its mental charms
France shall subdue the world in arms.
So spoke an Angel at my birth;
Then said Descend thou upon earth;
Renew the Arts on Britains shore,
And France shall fall down and adore.
With works of art their armies meet
And War shall sink beneath thy feet.
But if thy nation Arts refuse,
And if they scorn the immortal Muse,
France shall the arts of peace restore
And save thee from the ungrateful shore.
Spirit who lovst Britannias Isle
Round which the fiends of commerce smile.

TO FLAXMAN
I mock thee not, though I by thee am mocked;
Thou callst me madman, but I call thee blockhead.

                
 Here lies John Trot, the friend of all mankind:
He has not left one enemy behind.
Friends were quite hard to find, old authors say;
But now they stand in everybodys way.

                
I was buried near this dyke,
That my friends may weep as much as they like.

                
My title as a genius thus is provd:
Not praisd by Hayley, nor by Flaxman lovd.
                
               
Grown old in Love from Seven till Seven times Seven
I oft have wishd for Hell, for Ease from Heaven.

                
All pictures thats panted with sense and with thought
Are panted by madmen, as sure as a groat;
For the greater the fool is the pencil more blest,
As when they are drunk they always pant best.
They never can Raphael it, Fuseli it, nor Blake it;
If they cant see an outline, pray how can they make it?
When men will draw outlines begin you to jaw them;
Madmen see outlines and therefore they draw them.

                
Why was Cupid a boy,
And why a boy was he?
He should have been a girl,
For aught that I can see.

For he shoots with his bow,
And the girl shoots with her eye,
And they both are merry and glad,
And laugh when we do cry.

And to make Cupid a boy
Was the Cupid girls mocking plan;
For a boy cant interpret the thing
Till he is become a man.

And then hes so piercd with cares,
And wounded with arrowy smarts,
That the whole business of his life
Is to pick out the heads of the darts.

Twas the Greeks love of war
Turnd Love into a boy,
And woman into a statue of stone -
And away fled every joy.

                
I asked my dear friend Orator Prig:
Whats the first part of oratory? He said: A great wig.
And what is the second? Then, dancing a jig
And bowing profoundly, he said: A great wig.
And what is the third? Then he snored like a pig,
And, puffing his cheeks out, replied: A great wig.
So if a great panter with questions you push,
Whats the first part of panting? hell say A pant-brush.
And what is the second? with most modest blush,
Hell smile like a cherub, and say: A pant-brush.
And what is the third? hell bow like a rush,
With a leer in his eye, hell reply: A pant-brush.
Perhaps this is all a panter can want:
But, look yonder-that house is this house of Rembrandt!
 
                
Having given great offence by writing in prose,
Ill write in verse as soft as Bartoloze.
Some blush at what others can see no crime in;
But nobody sees any harm in riming.
Dryden, in rime, cries Milton only plannd:
Every fool shook his bells throughout the land.
Tom Cooke cut Hogarth down with his clean graving:
Thousands of connoisseurs with joy ran raving.
Thus, Hayley on his toilette seeing the soap,
Cries, Homer is very much improvd by Pope.
Some say Ive given great provision to my foes,
And that now I lead my false friends by the nose.
Flaxman and Stothard, smelling a sweet savour,
Cry Blakified drawing spoils painter and engraver;
While I, looking up to my umbrella,
Resolvd to be a very contrary fellow,
Cry, looking quite from skumference to centre:
No one can finish so high as the original Inventor.
Thus poor Schiavonetti died of the Cromek-
A thing thats tied around the Examiners neck!

This is my sweet apology to my friends,
That I may put them in mind of their latter ends.
If men will act like a maid smiling over a churn,
They ought not, when it comes to anothers turn,
To grow sour at what a friend may utter,
Knowing and feeling that we all have need of butter.
False friends, fie! fie! Our friendship you shant sever;
In spite we will be greater friends than ever.

                
Some people admire the work of a fool,
For its sure to keep your judgement cool;
It does not reproach you with want of wit;
It is not like a lawyer serving a writ.

                
Since all the riches of this world
May be gifts from the Devil and earthly kings,
I should suspect that I worshippd the Devil
If I thankd my God for worldly things.

                
I rose up at the dawn of day -
Get thee away! get thee away!
Prayst thou for riches? Away! away!
This is the Throne of Mammon grey.

Said I: This, sure, is very odd;
I took it to be the Throne of God.
For everything besides I have:
It is only for riches that I can crave.

I have mental joy, and mental health,
And mental friends, and mental wealth;
Ive a wife I love, and that loves me;
Ive all but riches bodily.

I am in Gods presence night and day,
And He never turns His face away;
The accuser of sins by my side doth stand,
And he holds my money-bag in his hand.

For my worldly things God makes him pay,
And hed pay for more if to him I would pray;
And so you may do the worst you can do;
Be assurd, Mr. Devil, I wont pray to you.

Then if for riches I must not pray,
God knows, I little of prayers need say;
So, as a church is known by its steeple,
If I pray it must be for other people.

He says, if I do not worship him for a God,
I shall eat coarser food, and go worse shod;
So, as I dont value such things as these,
You must do, Mr. Devil, just as God please.

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