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The Book of Thel
Does the Eagle know what is in the pit?
Or wilt thou go ask the Mole?
Can Wisdom be put in a silver rod?
Or Love in a golden bowl?
I
. The daughters of the Seraphim led round their sunny flocks,
. All but the youngest: she in paleness sought the secret air,
. To fade away like morning beauty from her mortal day:
. Down by the river of Adona her soft voice is heard,
. And thus her gentle lamentation falls like morning dew:
. 'O life of this our spring! why fades the lotus of the water,
. Why fade these children of the spring, born but to smile and fall?
. Ah! Thel is like a wat'ry bow, and like a parting cloud;
. Like a reflection in a glass; like shadows in the water;
. Like dreams of infants, like a smile upon an infant's face;
. Like the dove's voice; like transient day; like music in the air.
. Ah! gentle may I lay me down, and gentle rest my head,
. And gentle sleep the sleep of death, and gentle hear the voice
. Of him that walketh in the garden in the evening time.'
. The Lily of the valley, breathing in the humble grass,
. Answer'd the lovely maid and said: 'I am a wat'ry weed,
. And I am very small and love to dwell in lowly vales;
. So weak, the gilded butterfly scarce perches on my head.
. Yet I am visited from heaven, and he that smiles on all
. Walks in the valley and each morn over me spreads his hand,
. Saying, 'Rejoice, thou humble grass, thou new-born lily-flower,
. Thou gentle maid of silent valleys and of modest brooks;
. For thou shalt be clothed in light, and fed with morning manna,
. Till summer's heat melts thee beside the fountains and the springs
. To flourish in eternal vales.' Then why should Thel complain?
. Why should the mistress of the vales of Har utter a sigh?'
. She ceas'd and smil'd in tears, then sat down in her silver shrine.
. Thel answer'd: 'O thou little virgin of the peaceful valley,
. Giving to those that cannot crave, the voiceless, the o'ertired;
. Thy breath doth nourish the innocent lamb, he smells thy milky garments,
. He crops thy flowers while thou sittest smiling in his face,
. Wiping his mild and meekin mouth from all contagious taints.
. Thy wine doth purify the golden honey; thy perfume,
. Which thou dost scatter on every little blade of grass that springs,
. Revives the milked cow, and tames the fire-breathing steed.
. But Thel is like a faint cloud kindled at the rising sun:
. I vanish from my pearly throne, and who shall find my place?'
. 'Queen of the vales,' the Lily answer'd, 'ask the tender cloud,
. And it shall tell thee why it glitters in the morning sky,
. And why it scatters its bright beauty thro' the humid air.
. Descend, O little Cloud, and hover before the eyes of Thel.'


. The Cloud descended, and the Lily bow'd her modest head
. And went to mind her numerous charge among the verdant grass.
II
. 'O little Cloud,' the virgin said, 'I charge thee tell to me
. Why thou complainest not when in one hour thou fade away:
. Then we shall seek thee, but not find. Ah! Thel is like to thee:
. I pass away: yet I complain, and no one hears my voice.'
. The Cloud then shew'd his golden head and his bright form emerg'd,
. Hovering and glittering on the air before the face of Thel.
. 'O virgin, know'st thou not our steeds drink of the golden springs
. Where Luvah doth renew his horses? Look'st thou on my youth,
. And fearest thou, because I vanish and am seen no more,
. Nothing remains? O maid, I tell thee, when I pass away
. It is to tenfold life, to love, to peace and raptures holy:
. Unseen descending, weigh my light wings upon balmy flowers,
. And court the fair-eyed dew to take me to her shining tent:
. The weeping virgin trembling kneels before the risen sun,
. Till we arise link'd in a golden band and never part,
. But walk united, bearing food to all our tender flowers.'
. 'Dost thou, O little Cloud? I fear that I am not like thee,
. For I walk thro' the vales of Har, and smell the sweetest flowers,
. But I feed not the little flowers; I hear the warbling birds,
. But I feed not the warbling birds; they fly and seek their food:
. But Thel delights in these no more, because I fade away;
. And all shall say, 'Without a use this shining woman liv'd,
. Or did she only live to be at death the food of worms?' '
. The Cloud reclin'd upon his airy throne and answer'd thus:
. 'Then if thou art the food of worms, O virgin of the skies,
. How great thy use, how great thy blessing! Every thing that lives
. Lives not alone nor for itself. Fear not, and I will call
. The weak worm from its lowly bed, and thou shalt hear its voice,
. Come forth, worm of the silent valley, to thy pensive queen.'
. The helpless worm arose, and sat upon the Lily's leaf,
. And the bright Cloud sail'd on, to find his partner in the vale.
III
. Then Thel astonish'd view'd the Worm upon its dewy bed.
. 'Art thou a Worm? Image of weakness, art thou but a Worm?
. I see thee like an infant wrapped in the Lily's leaf
. Ah! weep not, little voice, thou canst not speak, but thou canst weep.
. Is this a Worm? I see thee lay helpless and naked, weeping,


. And none to answer, none to cherish thee with mother's smiles.'
. The Clod of Clay heard the Worm's voice and rais'd her pitying head:
. She bow'd over the weeping infant, and her life exhal'd
. In milky fondness: then on Thel she fix'd her humble eyes.
. 'O beauty of the vales of Har! we live not for ourselves.
. Thou seest me the meanest thing, and so I am indeed.
. My bosom of itself is cold, and of itself is dark;
. But he, that loves the lowly, pours his oil upon my head,
. And kisses me, and binds his nuptial bands around my breast,
. And says: 'Thou mother of my children, I have loved thee
. And I have given thee a crown that none can take away.'
. But how this is, sweet maid, I know not, and I cannot know;
. I ponder, and I cannot ponder; yet I live and love.'
. The daughter of beauty wip'd her pitying tears with her white veil,
. And said: 'Alas! I knew not this, and therefore did I weep.
. That God would love a Worm I knew, and punish the evil foot
. That wilful bruis'd its helpless form; but that he cherish'd it
. With milk and oil I never knew, and therefore did I weep;
. And I complain'd in the mild air, because I fade away,
. And lay me down in thy cold bed, and leave my shining lot.'
. 'Queen of the vales,' the matron Clay answer'd, 'I heard thy sighs,
. And all thy moans flew o'er my roof, but I have call'd them down.
. Wilt thou, O Queen, enter my house? 'Tis given thee to enter
. And to return: fear nothing, enter with thy virgin feet.'
IV
. The eternal gates' terrific porter lifted the northern bar:
. Thel enter'd in and saw the secrets of the land unknown.
. She saw the couches of the dead, and where the fibrous roots
. Of every heart on earth infixes deep its restless twists:
. A land of sorrows and of tears where never smile was seen.
. She wander'd in the land of clouds thro' valleys dark, list'ning
. Dolours and lamentations; waiting oft beside a dewy grave
. She stood in silence, list'ning to the voices of the ground,
. Till to her own grave plot she came, and there she sat down,
. And heard this voice of sorrow breathed from the hollow pit.
. 'Why cannot the Ear be closed to its own destruction?
. Or the glist'ning Eye to the poison of a smile?
. Why are Eyelids stor'd with arrows ready drawn,
. Where a thousand fighting men in ambush lie?
. Or an Eye of gifts and graces show'ring fruits and coined gold?
. Why a Tongue impress'd with honey from every wind?
. Why an Ear, a whirlpool fierce to draw creations in?
. Why a Nostril wide inhaling terror, trembling, and affright?
. Why a tender curb upon the youthful burning boy?
. Why a little curtain of flesh on the bed of our desire?'


. The Virgin started from her seat, and with a shriek
. Fled back unhinder'd till she came into the vales of Har.

The Angel
I dreamt a dream! What can it mean?
And that I was a maiden Queen
Guarded by an Angel mild:
Witless woe was ne'er beguiled!
And I wept both night and day,
And he wiped my tears away;
And I wept both day and night,
And hid from him my heart's delight.
So he took his wings, and fled;
Then the morn blushed rosy red.
I dried my tears, and armed my fears
With ten-thousand shields and spears.
Soon my Angel came again;
I was armed, he came in vain;
For the time of youth was fled,
And grey hairs were on my head.

Songs Of Innocence: Introduction
Piping down the valleys wild
Piping songs of pleasant glee
On a cloud I saw a child.
And he laughing said to me.
Pipe a song about a Lamb:
So I piped with merry chear,
Piper, pipe that song again--
So I piped, he wept to hear.
Drop thy pipe thy happy pipe
Sing thy songs of happy chear,
So I sung the same again
While he wept with joy to hear
Piper sit thee down and write
In a book that all may read--
So he vanished from my sight
And I pluck'd a hollow reed.
And I made a rural pen,
And I stained the water clear,
And I wrote my happy songs,
Every child may joy to hear.

Songs Of Innocence: Introduction
Piping down the valleys wild
Piping songs of pleasant glee
On a cloud I saw a child.
And he laughing said to me.
Pipe a song about a Lamb:
So I piped with merry chear,
Piper, pipe that song again--
So I piped, he wept to hear.
Drop thy pipe thy happy pipe
Sing thy songs of happy chear,
So I sung the same again
While he wept with joy to hear
Piper sit thee down and write
In a book that all may read--
So he vanished from my sight
And I pluck'd a hollow reed.
And I made a rural pen,
And I stained the water clear,
And I wrote my happy songs,
Every child may joy to hear.

Song: Memory, hither come
Memory, hither come,
And tune your merry notes;
And, while upon the wind
Your music floats,
I'll pore upon the stream
Where sighing lovers dream,
And fish for fancies as they pass
Within the watery glass.
I'll drink of the clear stream,
And hear the linnet's song;
And there I'll lie and dream
The day along:
And, when night comes, I'll go
To places fit for woe,
Walking along the darken'd valley
With silent Melancholy.

Sleep! Sleep! Beauty Bright
Sleep! sleep! beauty bright,
Dreaming o'er 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
O'er thy cheek, and o'er 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,
O'er the youthful harvests nigh.
Infant wiles and infant smiles
Heaven and Earth of peace beguiles.

Sick Rose, The
O Rose, thou art sick!
The invisible worm
That flies in the night,
In the howling storm,
Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy:
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy.

Reeds of Innocence
Piping down the valleys wild,
Piping songs of pleasant glee,
On a cloud I saw a child,
And he laughing said to me:
'Pipe a song about a Lamb!'
So I piped with merry cheer.
'Piper, pipe that song again;'
So I piped: he wept to hear.
'Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe;
Sing thy songs of happy cheer!'
So I sung the same again,
While he wept with joy to hear.
'Piper, sit thee down and write
In a book that all may read.'
So he vanish'd from my sight;
And I pluck'd a hollow reed,
And I made a rural pen,
And I stain'd the water clear,
And I wrote my happy songs
Every child may joy to hear.

Reeds of Innocence
Piping down the valleys wild,
Piping songs of pleasant glee,
On a cloud I saw a child,
And he laughing said to me:
'Pipe a song about a Lamb!'
So I piped with merry cheer.
'Piper, pipe that song again;'
So I piped: he wept to hear.
'Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe;
Sing thy songs of happy cheer!'
So I sung the same again,
While he wept with joy to hear.
'Piper, sit thee down and write
In a book that all may read.'
So he vanish'd from my sight;
And I pluck'd a hollow reed,
And I made a rural pen,
And I stain'd the water clear,
And I wrote my happy songs
Every child may joy to hear.

Proverbs of Hell (Excerpt from The Marriage of Heaven and H
In seed time learn, in harvest teach, in winter enjoy.
Drive your cart and your plow over the bones of the dead.
The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom.
Prudence is a rich, ugly old maid courted by Incapacity.
He who desires but acts not, breeds pestilence.
The cut worm forgives the plow.
Dip him in the river who loves water.
A fool sees not the same tree that a wise man sees.
He whose face gives no light, shall never become a star.
Eternity is in love with the productions of time.
The busy bee has no time for sorrow.
The hours of folly are measur'd by the clock; but of wisdom, no clock can measure.
All wholesome food is caught without a net or a trap.
Bring out number, weight and measure in a year of dearth.
No bird soars too high, if he soars with his own wings.
A dead body revenges not injuries.
The most sublime act is to set another before you.
If the fool would persist in his folly he would become wise.
Folly is the cloak of knavery.
Shame is Pride's cloke.
Prisons are built with stones of law, brothels with bricks of religion.
The pride of the peacock is the glory of God.
The lust of the goat is the bounty of God.
The wrath of the lion is the wisdom of God.
The nakedness of woman is the work of God.
Excess of sorrow laughs. Excess of joy weeps.
The roaring of lions, the howling of wolves, the raging of the stormy sea, and the
destructive sword, are portions of eternity, too great for the eye of man.
The fox condemns the trap, not himself.
Joys impregnate. Sorrows bring forth.
Let man wear the fell of the lion, woman the fleece of the sheep.
The bird a nest, the spider a web, man friendship.
The selfish, smiling fool, and the sullen, frowning fool shall be both thought wise, that
they may be a rod.
What is now proved was once only imagin'd.
The rat, the mouse, the fox, the rabbit watch the roots; the lion, the tyger, the horse,
the elephant watch the fruits.
The cistern contains: the fountain overflows.
One thought fills immensity.
Always be ready to speak your mind, and a base man will avoid you.
Every thing possible to be believ'd is an image of truth.
The eagle never lost so much time as when he submitted to learn of the crow.
The fox provides for himself, but God provides for the lion.
Think in the morning. Act in the noon. Eat in the evening. Sleep in the night.
He who has suffer'd you to impose on him, knows you.
As the plow follows words, so God rewards prayers.
The tygers of wrath are wiser than the horses of instruction.
Expect poison from the standing water.
You never know what is enough unless you know what is more than enough.
Listen to the fool's reproach! it is a kingly title!
The eyes of fire, the nostrils of air, the mouth of water, the beard of earth.
The weak in courage is strong in cunning.


The apple tree never asks the beech how he shall grow; nor the lion, the horse, how
he shall take his prey.
The thankful receiver bears a plentiful harvest.
If others had not been foolish, we should be so.
The soul of sweet delight can never be defil'd.
When thou seest an eagle, thou seest a portion of genius; lift up thy head!
As the caterpiller chooses the fairest leaves to lay her eggs on, so the priest lays his
curse on the fairest joys.
To create a little flower is the labour of ages.
Damn braces. Bless relaxes.
The best wine is the oldest, the best water the newest.
Prayers plow not! Praises reap not!
Joys laugh not! Sorrows weep not!
The head Sublime, the heart Pathos, the genitals Beauty, the hands and feet
Proportion.
As the air to a bird or the sea to a fish, so is contempt to the contemptible.
The crow wish'd every thing was black, the owl that every thing was white.
Exuberance is Beauty.
If the lion was advised by the fox, he would be cunning.
Improvement makes strait roads; but the crooked roads without improvement are
roads of genius.
Sooner murder an infant in its cradle than nurse unacted desires.
Where man is not, nature is barren.
Truth can never be told so as to be understood, and not be believ'd.
Enough! or too much.

Preludium to America
The shadowy Daughter of Urthona stood before red Orc,
When fourteen suns had faintly journey'd o'er his dark abode:
His food she brought in iron baskets, his drink in cups of iron:
Crown'd with a helmet and dark hair the nameless female stood;
A quiver with its burning stores, a bow like that of night,
When pestilence is shot from heaven: no other arms she need!
Invulnerable though naked, save where clouds roll round her loins
Their awful folds in the dark air: silent she stood as night;
For never from her iron tongue could voice or sound arise,
But dumb till that dread day when Orc assay'd his fierce embrace.
'Dark Virgin,' said the hairy youth, 'thy father stern, abhorr'd,
Rivets my tenfold chains while still on high my spirit soars;
Sometimes an Eagle screaming in the sky, sometimes a Lion
Stalking upon the mountains, and sometimes a Whale, I lash
The raging fathomless abyss; anon a Serpent folding
Around the pillars of Urthona, and round thy dark limbs
On the Canadian wilds I fold; feeble my spirit folds,
For chain'd beneath I rend these caverns: when thou bringest food
I howl my joy, and my red eyes seek to behold thy face--
In vain! these clouds roll to and fro, and hide thee from my sight.'
Silent as despairing love, and strong as jealousy,
The hairy shoulders rend the links; free are the wrists of fire;
Round the terrific loins he seiz'd the panting, struggling womb;
It joy'd: she put aside her clouds and smiled her first-born smile,
As when a black cloud shews its lightnings to the silent deep.
Soon as she saw the terrible boy, then burst the virgin cry:
'I know thee, I have found thee, and I will not let thee go:
Thou art the image of God who dwells in darkness of Africa,
And thou art fall'n to give me life in regions of dark death.
On my American plains I feel the struggling afflictions
Endur'd by roots that writhe their arms into the nether deep.
I see a Serpent in Canada who courts me to his love,
In Mexico an Eagle, and a Lion in Peru;
I see a Whale in the south-sea, drinking my soul away.
O what limb-rending pains I feel! thy fire and my frost
Mingle in howling pains, in furrows by thy lightnings rent.
This is eternal death, and this the torment long foretold.'

My Spectre Around Me
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
Through 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.

Mad Song
The wild winds weep
And the night is a-cold;
Come hither, Sleep,
And my griefs infold:
But lo! the morning peeps
Over the eastern steeps,
And the rustling birds of dawn
The earth do scorn.
Lo! to the vault
Of paved heaven,
With sorrow fraught
My notes are driven:
They strike the ear of night,
Make weep the eyes of day;
They make mad the roaring winds,
And with tempests play.
Like a fiend in a cloud,
With howling woe,
After night I do crowd,
And with night will go;
I turn my back to the east,
From whence comforts have increas'd;
For light doth seize my brain
With frantic pain.

Love and Harmony
Love and harmony combine,
And round our souls entwine
While thy branches mix with mine,
And our roots together join.
Joys upon our branches sit,
Chirping loud and singing sweet;
Like gentle streams beneath our feet
Innocence and virtue meet.
Thou the golden fruit dost bear,
I am clad in flowers fair;
Thy sweet boughs perfume the air,
And the turtle buildeth there.
There she sits and feeds her young,
Sweet I hear her mournful song;
And thy lovely leaves among,
There is love, I hear his tongue.
There his charming nest doth lay,
There he sleeps the night away;
There he sports along the day,
And doth among our branches play.

Little Boy Found, The
The little boy lost in the lonely fen,
Led by the wandering light,
Began to cry, but God, ever nigh,
Appeared like his father, in white.
He kissed the child, and by the hand led,
And to his mother brought,
Who in sorrow pale, through the lonely dale,
The little boy weeping sought.

Land of Dreams, The
Awake, awake, my little boy!
Thou wast thy mother's only joy;
Why dost thou weep in thy gentle sleep?
Awake! thy father does thee keep.
"O, what land is the Land of Dreams?
What are its mountains, and what are its streams?
O father! I saw my mother there,
Among the lilies by waters fair.
"Among the lambs, cloth?d in white,
She walk'd with her Thomas in sweet delight.
I wept for joy, like a dove I mourn;
O! when shall I again return?"
Dear child, I also by pleasant streams
Have wander'd all night in the Land of Dreams;
But tho' calm and warm the waters wide,
I could not get to the other side.
"Father, O father! what do we here
In this land of unbelief and fear?
The Land of Dreams is better far
Above the light of the morning star."

Lily, The
The modest Rose puts forth a thorn,
The humble sheep a threat'ning horn:
While the Lily white shall in love delight,
Nor a thorn nor a threat stain her beauty bright.

Jerusalem: I see the Four-fold Man, The Humanity in deadly sleep
I see the Four-fold Man, The Humanity in deadly sleep
And its fallen Emanation, the Spectre and its cruel Shadow.
I see the Past, Present and Future existing all at once
Before me. O Divine Spirit, sustain me on thy wings,
That I may awake Albion from his long and cold repose;
For Bacon and Newton, sheath'd in dismal steel, their terrors hang
Like iron scourges over Albion: reasonings like vast serpents
Infold around my limbs, bruising my minute articulations.
I turn my eyes to the schools and universities of Europe
And there behold the Loom of Locke, whose Woof rages dire,
Wash'd by the Water-wheels of Newton: black the cloth
In heavy wreaths folds over every nation: cruel works
Of many Wheels I view, wheel without wheel, with cogs tyrannic
Moving by compulsion each other, not as those in Eden, which,
Wheel within wheel, in freedom revolve in harmony and peace.

Introduction to Songs of Experience
Hear the voice of the Bard,
Who present, past, and future, sees;
Whose ears have heard
The Holy Word
That walk'd among the ancient trees;
Calling the lapsèd soul,
And weeping in the evening dew;
That might control
The starry pole,
And fallen, fallen light renew!
'O Earth, O Earth, return!
Arise from out the dewy grass!
Night is worn,
And the morn
Rises from the slumbrous mass.
'Turn away no more;
Why wilt thou turn away?
The starry floor,
The watery shore,
Is given thee till the break of day.'

If It Is True What the Prophets Write
If it is true, what the Prophets write,
That the heathen gods are all stocks and stones,
Shall we, for the sake of being polite,
Feed them with the juice of our marrow-bones?
And if Bezaleel and Aholiab drew
What the finger of God pointed to their view,
Shall we suffer the Roman and Grecian rods
To compel us to worship them as gods?
They stole them from the temple of the Lord
And worshipp'd them that they might make inspirèd art abhorr'd;
The wood and stone were call'd the holy things,
And their sublime intent given to their kings.
All the atonements of Jehovah spurn'd,
And criminals to sacrifices turn'd.

Holy Thursday
'Twas on a Holy Thursday, their innocent faces clean,
Came children walking two and two, in read, and blue, and green:
Grey-headed beadles walked before, with wands as white as snow,
Till into the high dome of Paul's they like Thames waters flow.
Oh what a multitude they seemed, these flowers of London town!
Seated in companies they sit, with radiance all their own.
The hum of multitudes was there, but multitudes of lambs,
Thousands of little boys and girls raising their innocent hands.
Now like a mighty wild they raise to heaven the voice of song,
Or like harmonious thunderings the seats of heaven among:
Beneath them sit the aged man, wise guardians of the poor.
Then cherish pity, lest you drive an angel from your door.

Hear the Voice
HEAR the voice of the Bard,
Who present, past, and future, sees;
Whose ears have heard
The Holy Word
That walk'd among the ancient trees;
Calling the lapsed soul,
And weeping in the evening dew;
That might control
The starry pole,
And fallen, fallen light renew!
'O Earth, O Earth, return!
Arise from out the dewy grass!
Night is worn,
And the morn
Rises from the slumbrous mass.
'Turn away no more;
Why wilt thou turn away?
The starry floor,
The watery shore,
Is given thee till the break of day.'

From Milton: And did those feet
And did those feet in ancient time
Walk upon England's mountains green?
And was the holy Lamb of God
On England's pleasant pastures seen?
And did the Countenance Divine
Shine forth upon our clouded hills?
And was Jerusalem builded here,
Among these dark Satanic Mills?
Bring me my Bow of burning gold:
Bring me my Arrows of desire:
Bring me my Spear:O clouds unfold!
Bring me my Chariot of fire!
I will not cease from Mental Fight,
Nor shall my Sword sleep in my hand,
Till we have built Jerusalem
In England's green & pleasant Land.

Grey Monk, The
"I die, I die!" the Mother said,
"My children die for lack of bread.
What more has the merciless Tyrant said?"
The Monk sat down on the stony bed.
The blood red ran from the Grey Monk's side,
His hands and feet were wounded wide,
His body bent, his arms and knees
Like to the roots of ancient trees.
His eye was dry; no tear could flow:
A hollow groan first spoke his woe.
He trembled and shudder'd upon the bed;
At length with a feeble cry he said:
"When God commanded this hand to write
In the studious hours of deep midnight,
He told me the writing I wrote should prove
The bane of all that on Earth I lov'd.
My Brother starv'd between two walls,
His Children's cry my soul appalls;
I mock'd at the rack and griding chain,
My bent body mocks their torturing pain.
Thy father drew his sword in the North,
With his thousands strong he marched forth;
Thy Brother has arm'd himself in steel
To avenge the wrongs thy Children feel.
But vain the Sword and vain the Bow,
They never can work War's overthrow.
The Hermit's prayer and the Widow's tear
Alone can free the World from fear.
For a Tear is an intellectual thing,
And a Sigh is the sword of an Angel King,
And the bitter groan of the Martyr's woe
Is an arrow from the Almighty's bow.
The hand of Vengeance found the bed
To which the Purple Tyrant fled;
The iron hand crush'd the Tyrant's head
And became a Tyrant in his stead."