Chapter IV

I give you the end of a golden string,
Only wind it into a ball:
It will lead you in at Heaven's gate,
Built in Jerusalem's wall.

I stood among my valleys of the south,
And saw a flame of fire, even as a Wheel
Of fire surrounding all the heavens: it went
From west to east against the current of
Creation, and devour'd all things in its loud
Fury & thundering course round heaven & earth.

By it the Sun was roll'd into an orb:
By it the Moon faded into a globe,
Travelling thro the night; for from its dire
And restless fury Man himself shrunk up
Into a little root a fathom long.

And I asked a Watcher & a Holy-One
Its Name? he answered: It is the Wheel of Religion.
I wept & said: Is this the law of Jesus,
This terrible devouring sword turning every way?

He answer'd: Jesus died because he strove
Against the current of this Wheel: its Name
Is Caiaphas, the dark Preacher of Death,
Of sin, of sorrow, & of punishment:
Opposing Nature! It is Natural Religion.

But Jesus is the bright Preacher of Life,
Creating Nature from this fiery Law,
By self-denial & forgiveness of Sin.
Go therefore, cast out devils in Christ's name,
Heal thou the sick of spiritual disease,
Pity the evil, for thou art not sent
To smite with terror & with punishments
Those that are sick, like to the Pharisees,
Crucifying, & encompassing sea & land
For proselytes to tyranny & wrath.
But to the Publicans & Harlots go!
Teach them True Happiness, but let no curse
Go forth out of thy mouth to blight their peace.
For Hell is open'd to Heaven: thine eyes beheld
The dungeons burst & the Prisoners set free.

England! awake! awake! awake!
Jerusalem thy Sister calls!
Why wilt thou sleep the sleep of death,
And close her from thy ancient walls?

Thy hills & valleys felt her feet,
Gently upon their bosoms move:
Thy gates beheld sweet Zion's ways:
Then was a time of joy and love.

And now the time returns again:
Our souls exult, & London's towers
Recieve the Lamb of God to dwell
In England's green & pleasant bowers.

THE Spectres of Albion's Twelve Sons revolve mightily
Over the Tomb & over the Body: rav'ning to devour
The Sleeping Humanity. Los with his mace of iron
Walks round: loud his threats, loud his blows fall
On the rocky Spectres, as the Potter breaks his potsherds:
Dashing in pieces Self-righteousnesses, driving them from Albion's
Cliffs: dividing them into Male & Female forms in his Furnaces
And on his Anvils: lest they destroy the Feminine Affections,
They are broken. Loud howl the Spectres in his iron Furnace.

While Los laments at his dire labours, viewing Jerusalem,
Sitting before his Furnaces clothed in sackcloth of hair;
Albion's Twelve Sons surround the Forty-two Gates of Erin,
In terrible armour, raging against the Lamb & against Jerusalem,
Surrounding them with armies to destroy the Lamb of God.
They took their Mother Vala, and they crown'd her with gold:
They nam'd her Rahab, & gave her power over the Earth,
The Concave Earth round Golgonooza in Entuthan Benython,
Even to the stars exalting her Throne, to build beyond the Throne
Of God and the Lamb, to destroy the Lamb & usurp the Throne of God,
Drawing their Ulro Voidness round the Four-fold Humanity.

Naked Jerusalem lay before the Gates upon Mount Zion,
The Hill of Giants, all her foundations levell'd with the dust:

Her Twelve Gates thrown down: her children carried into captivity:
Herself in chains: this from within was seen in a dismal night
Outside, unknown before in Beulah, & the twelve gates were fill'd
With blood: from Japan, eastward, to the Giants causway, west,
In Erin's Continent: and Jerusalem wept upon Euphrates' banks
Disorganiz'd: an evanescent shade, scarce seen or heard among
Her children's Druid Temples, dropping with blood, wander'd weeping!
And thus her voice went forth in the darkness of Philisthea.

My brother & my father are no more! God hath forsaken me!
The arrows of the Almighty pour upon me & my children!
I have sinned and am an outcast from the Divine Presence!

MY tents are fall'n! my pillars are in ruins! my children dash'd
Upon Egypt's iron floors, & the marble pavements of Assyria!
I melt my soul in reasonings among the towers of Heshbon:
Mount Zion is become a cruel rock, & no more dew
Nor rain: no more the spring of the rock appears: but cold,
Hard & obdurate are the furrows of the mountain of wine & oil;
The mountain of blessing is itself a curse & an astonishment:
The hills of Judah are fallen with me into the deepest hell,
Away from the Nations of the Earth, & from the Cities of the Nations;
I walk to Ephraim, I seek for Shiloh; I walk like a lost sheep
Among precipices of despair: in Goshen I seek for light
In vain: and in Gilead for a physician and a comforter.
Goshen hath follow'd Philistea: Gilead hath join'd with Og:
They are become narrow places in a little and dark land:
How distant far from Albion! his hills & his valleys no more
Recieve the feet of Jerusalem: they have cast me quite away:
And Albion is himself shrunk to a narrow rock in the midst of the sea!
The plains of Sussex & Surrey, their hills of flocks & herds,
No more seek to Jerusalem nor to the sound of my Holy-ones.
The Fifty-two Counties of England are harden'd against me
As if I was not their Mother, they despise me & cast me out.
London cover'd the whole Earth, England encompass'd the Nations,
And all the Nations of the Earth were seen in the Cities of Albion.
My pillars reach'd from sea to sea; London beheld me come
From my east & from my west, he blessed me and gave
His children to my breasts, his sons & daughters to my knees.
His aged parents sought me out in every city & village:
They discern'd my countenance with joy; they shew'd me to their sons,
Saying, Lo Jerusalem is here! she sitteth in our secret chambers.
Levi and Judah & Issachar: Ephram, Manasseh, Gad and Dan
Are seen in our hills & valleys: they keep our flocks & herds:
They watch them in the night; and the Lamb of God appears among us.
The river Severn stay'd his course at my command:
Thames poured his waters into my basons and baths:
Medway mingled with Kishon: Thames reciev'd the heavenly Jordan.
Albion gave me to the whole Earth to walk up & down; to pour
Joy upon every mountain, to teach songs to the shepherd & plowman.
I taught the ships of the sea to sing the songs of Zion.
Italy saw me, in sublime astonishment: France was wholly mine,
As my garden & as my secret bath: Spain was my heavenly couch,
I slept in his golden hills; the Lamb of God met me there,
There we walked as in our secret chamber among our little ones.
They looked upon our loves with joy: they beheld our secret joys:
With holy raptures of adoration rap'd sublime in the visions of God.
Germany, Poland & the North wooed my footsteps, they found
My gates in all their mountains & my curtains in all their vales:
The furniture of their houses was the furniture of my chamber.
Turkey & Grecia saw my instruments of music, they arose,
They siez'd the harp, the flute, the mellow horn of Jerusalem's joy,
They sounded thanksgivings in my courts: Egypt & Lybia heard,
The swarthy sons of Ethiopia stood round the Lamb of God
Enquiring for Jerusalem: he led them up my steps to my altar.
And thou, America! I once beheld thee but now behold no more
Thy golden mountains where my Cherubim & Seraphim rejoic'd
Together among my little-ones. But now, my Altars run with blood,
My fires are corrupt, my incense is a cloudy pestilence
Of seven diseases! Once a continual cloud of salvation rose
From all my myriads: once the Four-fold World rejoic'd among
The pillars of Jerusalem, between my winged Cherubim:
But now I am clos'd out from them in the narrow passages
Of the valleys of destruction, into a dark land of pitch & bitumen,
From Albion's Tomb afar and from the four-fold wonders of God,
Shrunk to a narrow doleful form in the dark land of Cabul;
There is Reuben & Gad & Joseph & Judah & Levi, clos'd up
In narrow vales; I walk & count the bones of my beloveds
Along the Valley of Destruction, among these Druid Temples
Which overspread all the Earth in patriarchal pomp & cruel pride.
Tell me, O Vala, thy purposes; tell me wherefore thy shuttles
Drop with the gore of the slain; why Euphrates is red with blood;
Wherefore in dreadful majesty & beauty outside appears
Thy Masculine from thy Feminine, hardening against the heavens
To devour the Human! Why dost thou weep upon the wind among
These cruel Druid Temples? O Vala! Humanity is far above
Sexual organization, & the Visions of the Night of Beulah,
Where Sexes wander in dreams of bliss among the Emanations,
Where the Masculine & Feminine are nurs'd into Youth & Maiden
By the tears and smiles of Beulah's Daughters till the time of Sleep is past:
Wherefore then do you realize these nets of beauty & delusion
In open day to draw the souls of the Dead into the light,
Till Albion is shut out from every Nation under Heaven?

ENCOMPASS'D by the frozen Net and by the rooted Tree
I walk weeping in pangs of a Mother's torment for her Children.
I walk in affliction: I am a worm, and no living soul!
A worm going to eternal torment: rais'd up in a night
To an eternal night of pain, lost! lost! lost! forever!
Beside her Vala howl'd upon the winds in pride of beauty,
Lamenting among the timbrels of the Warriors, among the Captives
In cruel holiness: and her lamenting songs were from Arnon
And Jordan to Euphrates. Jerusalem follow'd trembling
Her children in captivity, listening to Vala's lamentation
In the thick cloud & darkness, & the voice went forth from
The cloud. O rent in sunder from Jerusalem the Harlot daughter!
In an eternal condemnation, in fierce burning flames
Of torment unendurable: and if once a Delusion be found
Woman must perish & the Heavens of Heavens remain no more.

My Father gave to me command to murder Albion
In unreviving Death: my Love, my Luvah order'd me in night
To murder Albion, the King of Men: he fought in battles fierce,
He conquer'd Luvah my beloved: he took me and my Father,
He slew them: I revived them to life in my warm bosom.
He saw them issue from my bosom, dark in Jealousy
He burn'd before me; Luvah fram'd the Knife & Luvah gave
The Knife into his daughter's hand; such thing was never known
Before in Albion's land, that one should die a death never to be reviv'd!
For in our battles we the Slain men view with pity and love,
We soon revive them in the secret of our tabernacles.
But I Vala, Luvah's daughter, keep his body embalm'd in moral laws,
With spices of sweet odours of lovely jealous stupefaction,
Within my bosom, lest he arise to life & slay my Luvah.
Pity me then O Lamb of God! O Jesus pity me!
Come into Luvah's Tents and seek not to revive the Dead!

So sang she: and the Spindle turn'd furious as she sang:
The Children of Jerusalem, the Souls of those who sleep,
Were caught into the flax of her Distaff, & in her Cloud,
To weave Jerusalem a body according to her will,
A Dragon form on Zion Hill's most ancient promontory.

The Spindle turn'd in blood & fire: loud sound the trumpets
Of war: the cymbals play loud before the Captains,
With Cambel & Gwendolen in dance and solemn song.
The Cloud of Rahab vibrating with the Daughters of Albion,
Los saw terrified, melted with pity & divided in wrath:
He sent them over the narrow seas in pity and love
Among the Four Forests of Albion which overspread all the Earth.
They go forth & return swift as a flash of lightning,
Among the tribes of warriors, among the Stones of power:
Against Jerusalem they rage thro' all the Nations of Europe,
Thro" Italy & Grecia, to Lebanon & Persia & India.

The Serpent Temples thro' the Earth, from the wide Plain, of Salisbury,
Resound with cries of Victims, shouts & songs & dying groans
And flames of dusky fire, to Amalek, Canaan and Moab.
And Rahab like a dismal and indefinite hovering Cloud
Refus'd to take a definite form, she hover'd over all the Earth
Calling the definite, sin, defacing every definite form:
Invisible or Visible, stretch'd out in length or spread in breadth
Over the Temples, drinking groans of victims weeping in pity,
And joying in the pity, howling over Jerusalem's walls.

Hand slept on Skiddaw's tops, drawn by the love of beautiful
Cambel: his bright beaming Counterpart, divided from him.
And her delusive light beam'd fierce above the Mountain,
Soft, invisible, drinking his sighs in sweet intoxication:
Drawing out fibre by fibre, returning to Albion's Tree
At night, and in the morning to Skiddaw: she sent him over
Mountainous Wales into the Loom of Cathedron fibre by fibre:
He ran in tender nerves across Europe to Jerusalem's Shade,
To weave Jerusalem a Body repugnant to the Lamb.

Hyle on East Moor, in rocky Derbyshire, rav'd to the Moon
For Gwendolen: she took up in bitter tears his anguish'd heart,
That apparent to all in Eternity glows like the Sun in the breast:
She hid it in his ribs & back: she hid his tongue with teeth
In terrible convulsions, pitying & gratified, drunk with pity,
Glowing with loveliness before him, becoming apparent
According to his changes: she roll'd his kidneys round
Into two irregular forms: and looking on Albion's dread Tree,
She wove two vessels of seed, beautiful as Skiddaw's snow,
Giving them bends of self interest & selfish natural virtue:

She hid them in his loins; raving he ran among the rocks,
Compell'd into a shape of Moral Virtue against the Lamb,
The invisible lovely one giving him a form according to
His Law, a form against the Lamb of God, oppos'd to Mercy,
And playing in the thunderous Loom in sweet intoxication:
Filling cups of silver & crystal with shrieks & cries, with groans
And dolorous sobs: the wine of lovers in the Wine-press of Luvah.

O sister Cambel, said Gwendolen, as their long beaming light
Mingled above the Mountain, what shall we do to keep
These awful forms in our soft bands: distracted with trembling
I HAVE mock'd those who refused cruelty, & I have admired
The cruel Warrior, I have refused to give love to Merlin the piteous.
He brings to me the Images of his Love & I reject in chastity
And turn them out into the streets for Harlots, to be food
To the stern Warrior. I am become perfect in beauty over my Warrior,
For Men are caught by Love: Woman is caught by Pride,
That Love may only be obtain'd in the passages of Death.

Let us look: let us examine: is the Cruel become an Infant
Or is he still a cruel Warrior? look Sisters, look! O piteous!
I have destroy'd Wand'ring Reuben who strove to bind my Will,
I have strip'd off Joseph's beautiful integument for my Beloved,
The Cruel-one of Albion, to clothe him in gems of my Zone.
I have named him Jehovah of Hosts. Humanity is become
A weeping Infant in ruin'd lovely Jerusalem's folding Cloud!
In Heaven Love begets Love: but Fear is the Parent of Earthly Love!
And he who will not bend to Love must be subdu'd by Fear.

I HAVE heard Jerusalem's groans; from Vala's cries & lamentations
I gather our eternal fate, Outcasts from life and love:
Unless we find a way to bind these awful Forms to our
Embrace we shall perish annihilate, discover'd our Delusions.
Look! I have wrought without delusion: Look! I have wept:
And given soft milk mingled together with the spirits of flocks
Of lambs and doves, mingled together in cups and dishes
Of painted clay; the mighty Hyle is become a weeping infant:
Soon shall the Spectres of the Dead follow my weaving threads.

The Twelve Daughters of Albion attentive listen in secret shades
On Cambridge and Oxford beaming soft, uniting with Rahab's cloud,
While Gwendolen spoke to Cambel, turning soft the spinning reel:
Or throwing the wing'd shuttle: or drawing the cords with softest songs.
The golden cords of the Looms animate beneath their touches soft,
Along the Island white, among the Druid Temples, while Gwendolen
Spoke to the Daughters of Albion standing on Skiddaw's top.

So saying she took a Falshood & hid it in her left hand:
To entice her Sisters away to Babylon on Euphrates.
And thus she closed her left hand and utter'd her Falshood:
Forgetting that Falshood is prophetic, she hid her hand behind her,
Upon her back behind her loins & thus utter'd her Deceit.

I heard Enitharmon say to Los: Let the Daughters of Albion
Be scatter'd abroad and let the name of Albion be forgotten:
Divide them into three; name them Amalek, Canaan & Moab.
Let Albion remain a desolation without an inhabitant:
And let the Looms of Enitharmon & the Furnaces of Los
Create Jerusalem, & Babylon & Egypt & Moab & Amalek,
And Helle & Hesperia & Hindostan & China & Japan:
But hide America, for a Curse, an Altar of Victims & a Holy Place.
See Sisters, Canaan is pleasant, Egypt is as the Garden of Eden:
Babylon is our chief desire, Moab our bath in summer:
Let us lead the stems of this Tree, let us plant it before Jerusalem,
To judge the Friend of Sinners to death without the Veil:
To cut her off from America, to close up her secret Ark:
And the fury of Man exhaust in War, Woman permanent remain.
See how the fires of our loins point eastward to Babylon!
Look, Hyle is become an infant Love! look! behold! see him lie
Upon my bosom, look! here is the lovely wayward form
That gave me sweet delight by his torments beneath my Veil!
By the fruit of Albion's Tree I have fed him with sweet milk,
By contentions of the mighty for Sacrifice of Captives:
Humanity, the Great Delusion, is chang'd to War & Sacrifice:
I have nail'd his hands on Beth Rabbim & his hands on Heshbon's Wall:
O that I could live in his sight: O that I could bind him to my arm.
So saying, She drew aside her Veil from Mam-Tor to Dovedale,
Discovering her own perfect beauty to the Daughters of Albion
And Hyle a winding Worm beneath
and not a weeping Infant.
Trembling & pitying she scream'd & fled upon the wind:
Hyle was a winding Worm and herself perfect in beauty:
The desarts tremble at his wrath, they shrink themselves in fear.

Cambel trembled with jealousy: she trembled! she envied!
The envy ran thro' Cathedron's Looms into the Heart
Of mild Jerusalem, to destroy the Lamb of God. Jerusalem
Languish'd upon Mount Olivet, East of mild Zion's Hill.

Los saw the envious blight above his Seventh Furnace,
On London's Tower on the Thames: he drew Cambel in wrath
Into his thundering Bellows, heaving it for a loud blast:
And with the blast of his Furnace upon fishy Billingsgate,
Beneath Albion's fatal Tree, before the Gate of Los,
Shew'd her the fibres of her beloved to ameliorate
The envy: loud she labour'd in the Furnace of fire,
To form the mighty form of Hand according to her will.
In the Furnaces of Los & in the Wine-press treading day & night,
Naked among the human clusters: bringing wine of anguish
To feed the afflicted in the Furnaces: she minded not
The raging flames, tho' she return'd
instead of beauty
Deformity: she gave her beauty to another: bearing abroad
Her struggling torment in her iron arms: and like a chain,
Binding his wrists & ankles with the iron arms of love.

Gwendolen saw the Infant in her sister's arms: she howl'd
Over the forests with bitter tears, and over the winding Worm,
Repentant: and she also in the eddying wind of Los's Bellows
Began her dolorous task of love in the Wine-press of Luvah,
To form the Worm into a form of love by tears & pain.
The Sisters saw: trembling ran thro' their Looms, softening mild
Towards London: then they saw the Furnaces open'd, & in tears
Began to give their souls away in the Furnaces of affliction.

Los saw & was comforted at his Furnaces, uttering thus his voice.

I know I am Urthona, keeper of the Gates of Heaven,
So And that I can at will expatiate in the Gardens of bliss;
But pangs of love draw me down to my loins, which are
Become a fountain of veiny pipes: O Albion! my brother!

CORRUPTABILITY appears upon thy limbs, and never more
Can I arise and leave thy side, but labour here incessant
Till thy awaking: yet alas, I shall forget Eternity!
Against the Patriarchal pomp and cruelty labouring incessant
I shall become an Infant horror. Enion! Tharmas! friends!
Absorb me not in such dire grief: O Albion, my brother!
Jerusalem hungers in the desart; affection to her children!
The scorn'd and contemn'd youthful girl, where shall she fly?
Sussex shuts up her Villages. Hants, Devon & Wilts,
Surrounded with masses of stone in order'd forms, determine then
A form for Vala and a form for Luvah, here on the Thames,
Where the Victim nightly howls beneath the Druid's knife:
A Form of Vegetation, nail them down on the stems of Mystery.
O when shall the Saxon return with the English his redeemed brother?
O when shall the Lamb of God descend among the Reprobate?
I woo to Amalek to protect my fugitives, Amalek trembles:
I call to Canaan & Moab in my night watches, they mourn:
They listen not to my cry, they rejoice among their warriors.
Woden and Thor and Friga wholly consume my Saxons,
On their enormous Altars built in the terrible north.
From Ireland's rocks to Scandinavia, Persia and Tartary,
From the Atlantic Sea to the universal Erythrean,
Found ye London! enormous City! weeps thy River?
Upon his parent bosom lay thy little ones, O Land
Forsaken. Surrey and Sussex are Enitharmon's Chamber,
Where I will build her a Couch of repose & my pillars
Shall surround her in beautiful labyrinths: Oothoon?
Where hides my child? in Oxford hidest thou with Antamon?
In graceful hidings of error, in merciful deceit,
Lest Hand the terrible destroy his Affection, thou hidest her:
In chaste appearances for sweet deceits of love & modesty,
Immingled, interwoven, glistening to the sickening sight.
Let Cambel and her Sisters sit within the Mundane Shell:
Forming the fluctuating Globe according to their will,
According as they weave the little embryon nerves & veins,
The Eye, the little Nostrils, & the delicate Tongue & Ears
Of labyrinthine intricacy: so shall they fold the World,
That whatever is seen upon the Mundane shell, the same
Be seen upon the Fluctuating Earth woven by the Sisters.

And sometimes the Earth shall roll in the Abyss & sometimes
Stand in the Center & sometimes stretch flat in the Expanse,
According to the will of the lovely Daughters of Albion,
Sometimes it shall assimilate with mighty Golgonooza,
Touching its summits: & sometimes divided roll apart.
As a beautiful Veil so these Females shall fold & unfold
According to their will the outside surface of the Earth,
An outside shadowy Surface superadded to the real Surface:
Which is unchangeable for ever & ever. Amen: so be it!
Separate Albion's Sons gently from their Emanations,
Weaving powers of delight on the current of infant Thames
Where the old Parent still retains his youth, as I, alas!
Retain my youth eight thousand and five hundred years.
The labourer of ages in the Valleys of Despair!
The land is mark'd for desolation & unless we plant
The seeds of Cities & of Villages in the Human bosom
Albion must be a rock of blood: mark ye the points
Where Cities shall remain, & where Villages: for the rest,
It must lie in confusion till Albany's time of awaking.
Place the Tribes of Llewellyn in America for a hiding place,
Till sweet Jerusalem emanates again into Eternity.
The night falls thick: I go upon my watch: be attentive:
The Sons of Albion go forth; I follow from my Furnaces,
That they return no more: that a place be prepared on Euphrates.
Listen to your Watchmans voice: sleep not before the Furnaces:
Eternal Death stands at the door. O God, pity our labours.

So Los spoke to the Daughters of Beulah, while his Emanation
Like a faint rainbow waved before him in the awful gloom
Of London City on the Thames from Surrey Hills to Highgate:
Swift turn the silver spindles, & the golden weights play soft
And lulling harmonies beneath the Looms, from Caithness in the north
To Lizard-point & Dover in the south: his Emanation
Joy'd in the many weaving threads in bright Cathedron's Dome,
Weaving the Web of life for Jerusalem: the Web of life
Down flowing into Entuthon's Vales glistens with soft affections.

While Los arose upon his Watch, and down from Golgonooza,
Putting on his golden sandals to walk from mountain to mountain,
He takes his way, girding himself with gold & in his hand
Holding his iron mace: The Spectre remains attentive.
Alternate they watch in night; alternate labour in day,
Before the Furnaces labouring, while Los all night watches
The stars rising & setting, & the meteors & terrors of night.
With him went down the Dogs of Leutha at his feet,
They lap the water of the trembling Thames, then follow swift.
And thus he heard the voice of Albion's daughters on Euphrates.

Our Father Albion's land: O, it was a lovely land! & the Daughters of Beulah
Walked up and down in its green mountains; but Hand is fled
Away, & mighty Hyle; & after them Jerusalem is gone: Awake
HIGHGATE'S heights & Hampstead's, to Poplar, Hackney & Bow;
To Islington & Paddington & the Brook of Albion's River.
We builded Jerusalem as a City & a Temple; from Lambeth
We began our Foundations; lovely Lambeth, O lovely Hills
Of Camberwell, we shall behold you no more in glory & pride,
For Jerusalem lies in ruins & the Furnaces of Los are builded there:
You are now shrunk up to a narrow Rock in the midst of the Sea.
But here we build Babylon on Euphrates, compell'd to build
And to inhabit, our Little-ones to clothe in armour of the gold
Of Jerusalem's Cherubims & to forge them swords of her Altars.
I see London blind & age bent begging thro' the Streets
Of Babylon, led by a child, his tears run down his beard.
The voice of Wandering Reuben ecchoes from street to street,
In all the Cities of the Nations, Paris, Madrid, Amsterdam.
The Corner of Broad Street weeps; Poland Street languishes
To Great Queen Street & Lincoln's Inn: all is distress & woe.
The night falls thick: Hand comes from Albion in his strength:
He combines into a Mighty-one, the Double Molech & Chemosh,
Marching thro' Egypt in his fury: the East is pale at his course:
The Nations of India, the Wild Tartar that never knew Man,
Starts from his lofty places & casts down his tents & flees away.
But we woo him all the night in songs. O Los come forth, O Los
Divide us from these terrors & give us power them to subdue.
Arise upon thy Watches, let us see thy Globe of fire
On Albion's Rocks & let thy voice be heard upon Euphrates.

Thus sang the Daughters in lamentation, uniting into One
With Rahab as she turn'd the iron Spindle of destruction.
Terrified at the Sons of Albion they took the Falshood which
Gwendolen hid in her left hand, it grew & grew till it
BECAME a Space & an Allegory around the Winding Worm:
They nam'd it Canaan & built for it a tender Moon.
Los smil'd with joy, thinking on Enitharmon, & he brought
Reuben from his twelvefold wand'rings & led him into it,
Planting the Seeds of the Twelve Tribes & Moses & David:
And gave a Time & Revolution to the Space, Six Thousand Years.
He call'd it Divine Analogy, for in Beulah the Feminine
Emanations Create Space, the Masculine Create Time, & plant
The Seeds of beauty in the Space: list'ning to their lamentation

Los walks upon his ancient Mountains in the deadly darkness,
Among his Furnaces directing his laborious Myriads, watchful
Looking to the East: & his voice is heard over the whole Earth
As he watches the Furnaces by night, & directs the labourers.

And thus Los replies upon his Watch: the Valleys listen silent,
The Stars stand still to hear: Jerusalem & Vala cease to mourn:
His voice is heard from Albion: the Alps & Appenines
Listen: Hermon & Lebanon bow their crowned heads:
Babel & Shinar look toward the Western Gate, they sit down
Silent at his voice; they view the red Globe of fire in Los's hand,
As he walks from Furnace to Furnace directing the labourers.
And this is the Song of Los, the Song that he sings on his Watch.

O lovely mild Jerusalem! O Shiloh of Mount Ephraim!
I see thy Gates of precious stones; thy Walls of gold & silver.
Thou art the soft reflected Image of the Sleeping Man,
Who stretch'd on Albion's rocks reposes amidst his Twenty-eight
Cities; where Beulah lovely terminates, in the hills & valleys of Albion.
Cities not yet embodied in Time and Space: plant ye
The Seeds, O Sisters, in the bosom of Time & Space's womb
To spring up for Jerusalem: lovely Shadow of Sleeping Albion.
Why wilt thou rend thyself apart & build an Earthly Kingdom,
To reign in pride & to opress & to mix the Cup of Delusion,
O thou that dwellest with Babylon! Come forth, O lovely-one!

I SEE thy Form, O lovely mild Jerusalem, Wing'd with Six Wings
In the opacous Bosom of the Sleeper, lovely Three fold
In Head & Heart & Reins, three Universes of love & beauty.
Thy forehead bright: Holiness to the Lord: with Gates of pearl
Reflects Eternity beneath thy azure wings of feathery down,
Ribb'd delicate & cloth'd with feather'd gold & azure & purple,
From thy white shoulders shadowing, purity in holiness!
Thence feather'd with soft crimson of the ruby bright as fire
Spreading into the azure Wings which like a canopy
Bends over thy immortal Head, in which Eternity dwells.
Albion, beloved Land! I see thy mountains & thy hills
And valleys & thy pleasant Cities, Holiness to the Lord.
I see the Spectres of thy Dead, O Emanation of Albion.

Thy Bosom white, translucent, cover'd with immortal gems,
A sublime ornament not obscuring the outlines of beauty,
Terrible to behold for thy extreme beauty & perfection:
Twelve-fold, here all the Tribes of Israel I behold
Upon the Holy Land: I see the River of Life & Tree of Life,
I see the New Jerusalem descending out of Heaven

Between thy Wings of gold & silver feather'd, immortal,
Clear as the rainbow, as the cloud of the Sun's tabernacle.

Thy Reins cover'd with Wings translucent, sometimes covering
And sometimes spread abroad, reveal the flames of holiness,
Which like a robe covers, & like a Veil of Seraphim
In flaming fire unceasing burns from Eternity to Eternity.
Twelvefold I there behold Israel in her Tents.
A Pillar of a Cloud by day: a Pillar of fire by night
Guides them: there I behold Moab & Ammon & Amalek.
There Bells of silver round thy knees living articulate
Comforting sounds of love & harmony, & on thy feet
Sandals of gold & pearl, & Egypt & Assyria before me,
The Isles of Javan, Philistea, Tyre & Lebanon.

Thus Los sings upon his Watch, walking from Furnace to Furnace.
He siezes his Hammer every hour: flames surround him as
He beats; seas roll beneath his feet, tempests muster
Around his head, the thick hail stones stand ready to obey
His voice in the black cloud, his Sons labour in thunders
At his Furnaces; his Daughters at their Looms sing woes.
His Emanation separates in milky fibres agonizing
Among the golden Looms of Cathedron, sending fibres of love
From Golgonooza with sweet visions for Jerusalem, wanderer.

Nor can any consummate bliss without being Generated
On Earth, of those whose Emanations weave the loves
Of Beulah for Jerusalem & Shiloh, in immortal Golgonooza,
Concentering in the majestic form of Erin in eternal tears,
Viewing the Winding Worm on the Desarts of Great Tartary,
Viewing Los in his shudderings, pouring balm on his sorrows:
So dread is Los's fury, that none dare him to approach
Without becoming his Children in the Furnaces of affliction.

And Enitharmon like a faint rainbow waved before him,
Filling with Fibres from his loins which redden'd with desire
Into a Globe of blood beneath his bosom, trembling in darkness
Of Albion's clouds: he fed it, with his tears & bitter groans
Hiding his Spectre in invisibility from the timorous Shade
Till it became a separated cloud of beauty, grace & love,
Among the darkness of his Furnaces dividing asunder till
She separated stood before him, a lovely Female weeping,
Even Enitharmon separated outside, & his Loins closed
And heal'd after the separation: his pains he soon forgot,
Lured by her beauty outside of himself in shadowy grief.
Two Wills they had: Two Intellects: & not as in times of old.

Silent they wander'd hand in hand like two Infants wand'ring
From Enion in the desarts, terrified at each others beauty,
Envying each other yet desiring, in all devouring Love.

REPELLING weeping Enion, blind & age-bent, into the fourfold
Desarts, Los first broke silence & began to utter his love.

O lovely Enitharmon! I behold thy graceful forms
Moving beside me till, intoxicated with the woven labyrinth
Of beauty & perfection, my wild fibres shoot in veins
Of blood thro' all my nervous limbs: soon overgrown in roots
I shall be closed from thy sight, sieze therefore in thy hand
The small fibres as they shoot around me: draw out in pity
And let them run on the winds of thy bosom: I will fix them
With pulsations, we will divide them into Sons & Daughters,
To live in thy Bosom's translucence as in an eternal morning.

Enitharmon answer'd. No! I will sieze thy fibres & weave
Them, not as thou wilt but as I will, for I will Create
A round Womb beneath my bosom, lest I also be over woven
With Love; be thou assured I never will be thy slave.
Let Man's delight be Love; but Woman's delight be Pride.
In Eden our Loves were the same, here they are opposite.
I have Loves of my own, I will weave them in Albion's Spectre.
Cast thou in Jerusalem's shadows thy Loves; silk of liquid
Rubies, Jacinths, Crysolites, issuing from thy Furnaces. While
Jerusalem divides thy care, while thou carest for Jerusalem,
Know that I never will be thine: also thou hidest Vala:
From her these fibres shoot to shut me in a Grave.
You are Albion's Victim, he has set his Daughter in your path.

LOS answer'd, sighing like the Bellows of his Furnaces.

I care not! the swing of my Hammer shall measure the starry round.
When in Eternity Man converses with Man they enter
Into each others Bosom (which are Universes of delight)
In mutual interchange, and first their Emanations meet
Surrounded by their Children: if they embrace & comingle
The Human Four-fold Forms mingle also in thunders of Intellect.
But if the Emanations mingle not: with storms & agitations
Of earthquakes & consuming fires they roll apart in fear.
For Man cannot unite with Man but by their Emanations,
Which stand both Male & Female at the Gates of each Humanity.
How then can I ever again be united as Man with Man
While thou, my Emanation, refusest my Fibres of dominion?
When Souls mingle & join thro' all the Fibres of Brotherhood
Can there be any secret joy on Earth greater than this?
Enitharmon answer'd: This is Woman's World, nor need she any
Spectre to defend her from Man. I will Create secret places,
And the masculine names of the places, Merlin & Arthur.
A triple Female Tabernacle for Moral Law I weave
That he who loves Jesus may loathe terrified Female love,
Till God himself become a Male subservient to the Female.

She spoke in scorn & jealousy, alternate torments; and
So speaking she sat down on Sussex shore, singing lulling
Cadences, & playing in sweet intoxication among the glistening
Fibres of Los: sending them over the Ocean eastward into
The realms of dark death; O perverse to thyself, contrarious
To thy own purposes! for when she began to weave,
Shooting out in sweet pleasure, her bosom in milky Love
Flow'd into the aching fibres of Los, yet contending against him,
In pride send(ind)ing his Fibres over to her objects of jealousy,
In the little lovely Allegoric Night of Albion's Daughters
Which stretch'd abroad, expanding east & west & north & south,
Thro' all the World of Erin & of Los & all their Children.

A sullen smile broke from the Spectre in mockery & scorn:
Knowing himself the author of their divisions & shrinkings, gratified
At their contentions, he wiped his tears, he wash'd his visage.

The Man who respects Woman shall be despised by Woman:
And deadly cunning, & mean abjectness only, shall enjoy them.
For I will make their places of joy & love, excrementitious,
Continually building, continually destroying in Family feuds.
While you are under the dominion of a jealous Female,
Unpermanent for ever because of love & jealousy,
You shall want all the Minute Particulars of Life.

Thus joy'd the Spectre in the dusky fires of Los's Forge, eyeing
Enitharmon who at her shining Looms sings lulling cadences,
While Los stood at his Anvil in wrath, the victim of their love
And hate: dividing the Space of Love with brazen Compasses
In Golgonooza & in Udan-Adan & in Entuthon of Urizen.
The blow of his Hammer is Justice, the swing of his Hammer Mercy,
The force of Los's Hammer is eternal Forgiveness; but
His rage or his mildness were vain, she scatter'd his love on the wind
Eastward into her own Center, creating the Female Womb
In mild Jerusalem around the Lamb of God. Loud howl
The Furnaces of Los! loud roll the Wheels of Enitharmon!
The Four Zoas in all their faded majesty burst out in fury
And fire. Jerusalem took the Cup which foam'd in Vala's hand,
Like the red Sun upon the mountains in the bloody day,
Upon the Hermaphroditic Wine-presses of Love & Wrath.

THO' divided by the Cross & Nails & Thorns & Spear,
In cruelties of Rahab & Tirzah permanent endure
A terrible indefinite Hermaphroditic form:
A Wine-press of Love & Wrath, double, Hermaphroditic,
Twelvefold in Allegoric pomp, in selfish holiness:
The Pharisaion, the Grammateis, the Presbuterion,
The Archiereus, the Iereus, the Saddusaion, double
Each withoutside of the other, covering eastern heaven.

Thus was the Covering Cherub reveal'd, majestic image
Of Selfhood, Body put off, the Antichrist accursed,
Cover'd with precious stones, a "Human Dragon terrible
And bright, stretch'd over Europe & Asia gorgeous.
In three nights he devour'd the rejected corse of death.

His Head dark, deadly, in its Brain incloses a reflexion
Of Eden all perverted: Egypt on the Gihon, many tongued
And many mouth'd: Ethiopia, Lybia, the Sea of Rephaim.
Minute Particulars in slavery I behold among the brick-kilns
Disorganiz'd, & there is Pharoh in his iron Court:
And the Dragon of the River & the Furnaces of iron.
Outwoven from Thames & Tweed & Severn, awful streams,
Twelve ridges of Stone frown over all the Earth in tyrant pride,
Frown over each River, stupendous Works of Albion's Druid Sons
And Albion's Forests of Oaks cover'd the Earth from Pole to Pole.

His Bosom wide reflects Moab & Ammon on the River
Pison, since call'd Arnon, there is Heshbon beautiful,
The Rocks of Rabbath on the Arnon & the Fish-pools of Heshbon
Whose currents flow into the Dead Sea by Sodom & Gomorra.
Above his Head high arching Wings, black, fill'd with Eyes,
Spring upon iron sinews from the Scapulas & Os Humeri.
There Israel in bondage to his Generalizing Gods,
Molech & Chemosh, & in his left breast is Philistea
In Druid Temples over the whole Earth with Victim's Sacrifice,
From Gaza to Damascus, Tyre & Sidon & the Gods
Of Javan, thro' the Isles of Grecia & all Europe's Kings,
Where Hiddekel pursues his course among the rocks.
Two Wings spring from his ribs of brass, starry, black as night,
But translucent their blackness as the dazling of gems.

His Loins inclose Babylon on Euphrates beautiful,
And Rome in sweet Hesperia, there Israel scatter'd abroad
In martyrdoms & slavery I behold: ah vision of sorrow!
Inclosed by eyeless Wings, glowing with fire as the iron
Heated in the Smith's forge, but cold the wind of their dread Fury.

But in the midst of a devouring Stomach, Jerusalem
Hidden within the Covering Cherub as in a Tabernacle
Of threefold workmanship, in allegoric delusion & woe.
There the Seven Kings of Canaan & Five Baalim of Philistea,
Sihon & Og, the Anakim & Emim, Nephilim & Gibborim,
From Babylon to Rome: & the Wings spread from Japan,
Where the Red Sea terminates the World of Generation & Death,
To Irelands farthest rocks where Giants builded their Causeway
Into the Sea of Rephaim, but the Sea o'erwhelm'd them all.

A Double Female now appear'd within the Tabernacle,
Religion hid in War, a Dragon red & hidden Harlot,
Each within other, but without a Warlike Mighty-one,
Of dreadful power, sitting upon Horeb pondering dire
And mighty preparations, mustering multitudes innumerable
Of warlike sons among the sands of Midian & Aram.
For multitudes of those who sleep in Alia descend,
Lured by his warlike symphonies of tabret pipe & harp,
Burst the bottoms of the Graves & Funeral Arks of Beulah:
Wandering in that unknown Night beyond the silent Grave
They became One with the Antichrist & are absorb'd in him.

THE Feminine separates from the Masculine & both from Man,
Ceasing to be His Emanations, Life to Themselves assuming:
And while they circumscribe his Brain, & while they circumscribe
His Heart, & while they circumscribe his Loins: a Veil & Net
Of Veins of red Blood grows around them like a scarlet robe,
Covering them from the sight of Man like the woven Veil of Sleep,
Such as the Flowers of Beulah weave to be their Funeral Mantles:
But dark, opake, tender to touch, & painful: & agonizing
To the embrace of love, & to the mingling of soft fibres
Of tender affection, that no more the Masculine mingles
With the Feminine, but the sublime is shut out from the Pathos
In howling torment, to build stone walls of separation, compelling
The Pathos to weave curtains of hiding secrecy from the torment.

Bowen & Conwenna stood on Skiddaw cutting the Fibres
Of Benjamin from Chester's River: loud the River, loud, the Mersey
And the Ribble, thunder into the Irish sea, as the Twelve Sons
Of Albion drank & imbibed the Life & eternal Form of Luvah.
Cheshire & Lancashire & Westmoreland groan in anguish.
As they cut the fibres from the Rivers he sears them with hot
Iron of his Forge, & fixes them into Bones of chalk & Rock.
Conwenna sat above: with solemn cadences she drew
Fibres of life out from the Bones into her golden Loom.
Hand had his Furnace on Highgate's heights & it reach'd

To Brockley Hills across the Thames; he with double Boadicea
In cruel pride cut Reuben apart from the Hills of Surrey,
Comingling with Luvah & with the Sepulcher of Luvah.
For the Male is a Furnace of beryll: the Female is a golden Loom.

Los cries: No Individual ought to appropriate to Himself
Or to his Emanation, any of the Universal Characteristics
Of David or of Eve, of the Woman, or of the Lord,
Of Reuben or of Benjamin, of Joseph or Judah or Levi.
Those who dare appropriate to themselves Universal Attributes
Are the Blasphemous Selfhoods & must be broken asunder.
A Vegetated Christ & a Virgin Eve, are the Hermaphroditic
Blasphemy: by his Maternal Birth he is that Evil-One
And his Maternal Humanity must be put off Eternally,
Lest the Sexual Generation swallow up Regeneration:
Come Lord Jesus, take on thee the Satanic Body of Holiness!

So Los cried in the Valleys of Middlesex in the Spirit of Prophecy,
While in Selfhood Hand & Hyle & Bowen & Skofeld appropriate
The Divine Names: seeking to Vegetate the Divine Vision
In a corporeal & ever dying Vegetation & Corruption:
Mingling with Luvah in One, they become One Great Satan.

Loud scream the Daughters of Albion beneath the Tongs & Hammer,
Dolorous are their lamentations in the burning Forge:
They drink Reuben & Benjamin as the iron drinks the fire:
They are red hot with cruelty: raving along the Banks of Thames
And on Tyburn's Brook, among the howling Victims in loveliness.
While Hand & Hyle condense the Little-ones & erect them into
A mighty Temple even to the stars: but they Vegetate
Beneath Los's Hammer, that Life may not be blotted out.

For Los said: When the Individual appropriates Universality
He divides into Male & Female: & when the Male & Female
Appropriate Individuality, they become an Eternal Death.
Hermaphroditic worshippers of a God of cruelty & law!
Your Slaves & Captives you compell to worship a God of Mercy.
These are the Demonstrations of Los & the blows of my mighty Hammer.

So Los spoke. And the Giants of Albion terrified & ashamed
With Los's thunderous Words, began to build trembling rocking Stones,
For his Words roll in thunders & lightnings among the Temples,
Terrified rocking to & fro upon the earth, & sometimes
Resting in a Circle in Maiden or in Straithness or Dura,
Plotting to devour Albion & Los the friend of Albion.
Denying in private, mocking God & Eternal Life: & in Public
Collusion, calling themselves Deists, Worshipping the Maternal
Humanity: calling it Nature, and Natural Religion.

But still the thunder of Los peals loud & thus the thunders cry:

These beautiful Witchcrafts of Albion, are gratifyd by Cruelty.

IT is easier to forgive an Enemy than to forgive a Friend!
The man who permits you to injure him, deserves your vengeance:
He also will recieve it: go Spectre! obey my most secret desire,
Which thou knowest without my speaking; Go to these Fiends of Righteousness,
Tell them to obey their Humanities, & not pretend Holiness,
When they are murderers: as far as my Hammer & Anvil permit.
Go, tell them that the Worship of God, is honouring his gifts
In other men: & loving the greatest men best, each according
To his Genius, which is the Holy Ghost in Man; there is no other
God, than that God who is the intellectual fountain of Humanity.
He who envies or calumniates, which is murder & cruelty,
Murders the Holy-one; Go tell them this & overthrow their cup,
Their bread, their altar-table, their incense & their oath;
Their marriage & their baptism, their burial & consecration.
I have tried to make friends by corporeal gifts but have only
Made enemies: I never made friends but by spiritual gifts,
By severe contentions of friendship & the burning fire of thought.
He who would see the Divinity must see him in his Children,
One first, in friendship & love: then a Divine Family, & in the midst
Jesus will appear; so he who wishes to see a Vision, a perfect Whole,
Must see it in its Minute Particulars: Organized, & not as thou,
O Fiend of Righteousness, pretendest: thine is a Disorganized
And snowy cloud, brooder of tempests & destructive War.
You smile with pomp & rigor: you talk of benevolence & virtue;
I act with benevolence & Virtue & get murder'd time after time.
You accumulate Particulars, & murder by analyzing, that you
May take the aggregate: & you call the aggregate Moral Law:
And you call that swell'd & bloated Form a Minute Particular.
But General Forms have their vitality in Particulars: & every
Particular is a Man: a Divine Member of the Divine Jesus.

So Los cried at his Anvil in the horrible darkness weeping.

The Spectre builded stupendous Works, taking the Starry Heavens
Like to a curtain & folding them according to his will,
Repeating the Smaragdine Table of Hermes to draw Los down
Into the Indefinite, refusing to believe without demonstration.
Los reads the Stars of Albion! the Spectre reads the Voids
Between the Stars: among the arches of Albion's Tomb sublime
Rolling the Sea in rocky paths: forming Leviathan
And Behemoth; the War by Sea enormous & the War
By Land astounding: erecting pillars in the deepest Hell,
To reach the heavenly arches; Los beheld undaunted, furious,

His heav'd Hammer: he swung it round & at one blow,
In unpitying ruin driving down the pyramids of pride,
Smiting the Spectre on his Anvil & the integuments of his Eye
And Ear unbinding in dire pain, with many blows,
Of strict severity self-subduing, & with many tears labouring.

Then he sent forth the Spectre: all his pyramids were grains
Of sand & his pillars, dust on the fly's wing: & his starry
Heavens, a moth of gold & silver mocking his anxious grasp.
Thus Los alter'd his Spectre, & every Ratio of his Reason
He alter'd time after time, with dire pain & many tears,
Till he had completely divided him into a separate space.

Terrified Los sat to behold, trembling & weeping & howling.
I care not whether a Man is Good or Evil; all that I care
Is whether he is a Wise Man or a Fool. Go, put off Holiness
And put on Intellect: or my thund'rous Hammer shall drive thee
To wrath which thou condemnest: till thou obey my voice.

So Los terrified cries; trembling & weeping & howling: Beholding.

WHAT do I see! The Briton, Saxon, Roman, Norman amalgamating
In my Furnaces into One Nation, the English: & taking refuge
In the Loins of Albion. The Canaanite united with the fugitive
Hebrew, whom she divided into Twelve, & sold into Egypt,
Then scatter'd the Egyptian & Hebrew to the four Winds:
This sinful Nation Created in our Furnaces & Looms is Albion.

So Los spoke. Enitharmon answer'd in great terror in Lambeth's Vale

The Poet's Song draws to its period & Enitharmon is no more.
For if he be that Albion I can never weave him in my Looms,
But when he touches the first fibrous thread, like filmy dew
My Looms will be no more & I annihilate vanish for ever.
Then thou wilt Create another Female according to thy Will.

Los answer'd, swift as the shuttle of gold. Sexes must vanish & cease
To be, when Albion arises from his dread repose, O lovely Enitharmon;
When all their Crimes, their Punishments their Accusations of Sin,
All their Jealousies, Revenges, Murders, hidings of Cruelty in Deceit,
Appear only in the Outward Spheres of Visionary Space and Time,
In the shadows of Possibility by Mutual Forgiveness for evermore,
And in the Vision & in the Prophecy, that we may Foresee & Avoid
The terrors of Creation & Redemption & Judgment. Beholding them
Display 'd in the Emanative Visions of Canaan, in Jerusalem & in Shiloh,
And in the Shadows of Remembrance, & in the Chaos of the Spectre,
Amalek, Edom, Egypt, Moab, Ammon, Asshur, Philistea, around Jerusalem:

Where the Druids rear'd their Rocky Circles to make permanent Remembrance
Of Sin, & the Tree of Good & Evil sprang from the Rocky Circle & Snake
Of the Druid, along the Valley of Rephaim from Camberwell to Golgotha,
And framed the Mundane Shell Cavernous in Length, Breadth & Highth.

ENITHARMON heard. She rais'd her head like the mild Moon.

O Rintrah! O Palamabron! What are your dire & awful purposes?
Enitharmon's name is nothing before you: you forget all my Love,
The Mother's love of obedience is forgotten, & you seek a Love
Of the pride of dominion, that will Divorce Ocalythron & Elynittria,
Upon East Moor in Derbyshire & along the Valleys of Cheviot.
Could you Love me, Rintrah, if you Pride not in my Love,
As Reuben found Mandrakes in the field & gave them to his Mother.
Pride meets with Pride upon the Mountains in the stormy day
In that terrible Day of Rintrah's Plow & of Satan's driving the Team.
Ah! then I heard my little ones weeping along the Valley:
Ah! then I saw my beloved ones fleeing from my Tent.
Merlin was like thee Rintrah among the Giants of Albion,
Judah was like Palamabron: O Simeon! O Levi! ye fled away!
How can I hear my little ones weeping along the Valley,
Or how upon the distant Hills see my beloveds' Tents.

Then Los again took up his speech as Enitharmon ceas't.

Fear not, my Sons, this Waking Death, he is become One with me.
Behold him here! We shall not Die! we shall be united in Jesus.
Will you suffer this Satan, this Body of Doubt that Seems but Is Not,
To occupy the very threshold of Eternal Life, if Bacon, Newton, Locke,

Deny a Conscience in Man & the Communion of Saints & Angels;
Contemning the Divine Vision & Fruition, Worshipping the Deus
Of the Heathen, The God of This World, & the Goddess Nature,
Mystery, Babylon the Great, The Druid Dragon & hidden Harlot.
Is it not that Signal of the Morning which was told us in the Beginning?

Thus they converse upon Mam-Tor, the Graves thunder under their feet.

ALBION cold lays on his Rock: storms & snows beat round him,
Beneath the Furnaces & the starry Wheels & the Immortal Tomb.
Howling winds cover him: roaring seas dash furious against him:
In the deep darkness broad lightnings glare, long thunders roll.

The weeds of Death inwrap his hands & feet, blown incessant
And wash'd incessant by the for-ever restless sea-waves, foaming abroad
Upon the white Rock. England, a Female Shadow, as deadly damps
Of the Mines of Cornwall & Derbyshire lays upon his bosom heavy,
Moved by the wind in volumes of thick cloud, returning, folding round
His loins & bosom, unremovable by swelling storms & loud rending
Of enraged thunders. Around them the Starry Wheels of their Giant Sons
Revolve: & over them the Furnaces of Los & the Immortal Tomb around:
Erin sitting in the Tomb, to watch them unceasing night and day:
And the Body of Albion was closed apart from all Nations.

Over them the famish'd Eagle screams on boney Wings, and around
Them howls the Wolf of famine, deep heaves the Ocean black, thundering
Around the wormy Garments of Albion: then pausing in deathlike silence.

Time was Finished! The Breath Divine Breathed over Albion
Beneath the Furnaces & starry Wheels and in the Immortal Tomb,
And England who is Brittannia awoke from Death on Albion's bosom:
She awoke pale & cold, she fainted seven times on the Body of Albion.

O piteous Sleep, O piteous Dream! O God, O God, awake! I have slain,
In Dreams of Chastity & Moral Law I have Murdered Albion! Ah!
In Stone-henge & on London Stone & in the Oak Groves of Maiden
I have Slain him in my Sleep, with the Knife of the Druid. O England,
O all ye Nations of the Earth behold ye the Jealous Wife!
The Eagle & the Wolf & Monkey & Owl & the King & Priest were there!

HER voice pierc'd Albion's clay cold ear, he moved upon the Rock:
The Breath Divine went forth upon the morning hills, Albion mov'd

Upon the Rock, he open'd his eyelids in pain; in pain he mov'd
His stony members, he saw England. Ah! shall the Dead live again?

The Breath Divine went forth over the morning hills, Albion rose
In anger: the wrath of God breaking bright, flaming on all sides around
His awful limbs; into the Heavens he walked, clothed in flames
Loud thund'ring, with broad flashes of flaming lightning & pillars
Of fire, speaking the Words of Eternity in Human Forms, in direful
Revolutions of Action & Passion, thro' the Four Elements on all sides
Surrounding his awful Members. Thou seest the Sun in heavy clouds
Struggling to rise above the Mountains, in his burning hand
He takes his Bow, then chooses out his arrows of flaming gold.
Murmuring the Bowstring breathes with ardor! clouds roll round the
Horns of the wide Bow, loud sounding winds sport on the mountain brows;
Compelling Urizen to his Furrow, & Tharmas to his Sheepfold,
And Luvah to his Loom; Urthona he beheld mighty labouring at
His Anvil, in the Great Spectre Los unwearied labouring & weeping.
Therefore the Sons of Eden praise Urthona's Spectre in songs,
Because he kept the Divine Vision in time of trouble.

As the Sun & Moon lead forward the Visions of Heaven & Earth
England, who is Brittannia, enter'd Albion's bosom rejoicing,
Rejoicing in his indignation, adoring his wrathful rebuke.
She who adores not your frowns will only loathe your smiles.

AS the Sun & Moon lead forward the Visions of Heaven & Earth
England, who is Brittannia, entered Albion's bosom rejoicing.

Then Jesus appeared standing by Albion, as the Good Shepherd
By the lost Sheep that he hath found, & Albion knew that it
Was the Lord, the Universal Humanity, & Albion saw his Form
A Man, & they conversed as Man with Man, in Ages of Eternity.
And the Divine Appearance was the likeness & similitude of Los.

Albion said. O Lord what can I do: my Selfhood cruel
Marches against thee, deceitful, from Sinai & from Edom
Into the Wilderness of Judah to meet thee in his pride.
I behold the Visions of my deadly Sleep of Six Thousand Years,
Dazling around thy skirts like a Serpent of precious stones & gold:
I know it is my Self: O my Divine Creator & Redeemer.

Jesus replied. Fear not Albion: unless I die thou canst not live:
But if I die I shall arise again & thou with me.
This is Friendship & Brotherhood: without it Man Is Not.

So Jesus spoke: the Covering Cherub coming on in darkness
Overshadow'd them & Jesus said. Thus do Men in Eternity,
One for another to put off, by forgiveness, every sin.

Albion reply'd. Cannot Man exist without Mysterious
Offering of Self for Another: is this Friendship & Brotherhood?
I see thee in the likeness & similitude of Los my Friend.

Jesus said. Wouldest thou love one who never died
For thee, or ever die for one who had not died for thee.
And if God dieth not for Man & giveth not himself
Eternally for Man, Man could not exist, for Man is Love,
As God is Love: every kindness to another is a little Death
In the Divine Image, nor can Man exist but by Brotherhood.

So saying the Cloud overshadowing divided them asunder.
Albion stood in terror: not for himself but for his Friend
Divine, & Self was lost in the contemplation of faith
And wonder at the Divine Mercy & at Los's sublime honour.

Do I sleep amidst danger to Friends! O my Cities & Counties
Do you sleep! rouze up, rouze up, Eternal Death is abroad!

So Albion spoke, & threw himself into the Furnaces of affliction.
All was a Vision, all a Dream: the Furnaces became
Fountains of Living Waters, flowing from the Humanity Divine.
And all the Cities of Albion rose from their Slumbers, and All
The Sons & Daughters of Albion on soft clouds, Waking from Sleep.
Soon all around remote the Heavens burnt with flaming fires,
And Urizen & Luvah & Tharmas & Urthona arose into
Albion's Bosom: Then Albion stood before Jesus in the Clouds
Of Heaven, Fourfold among the Visions of God in Eternity.

AWAKE, Awake, Jerusalem! O lovely Emanation of Albion,
Awake, and overspread all Nations as in Ancient Time.
For lo! the Night of Death is past and the Eternal Day
Appears upon our Hills: Awake, Jerusalem, and come away!

So spake the Vision of Albion, & in him so spake in my hearing
The Universal Father. Then Albion stretch'd his hand into Infinitude,
And took his Bow. Fourfold the Vision, for bright beaming Urizen
Lay'd his hand on the South & took a breathing Bow of carved Gold,
Luvah his hand stretch'd to the East & bore a Silver Bow bright shining,
Tharmas Westward a Bow of Brass pure flaming richly wrought,
Urthona Northward in thick storms a Bow of Iron terrible thundering.

And the Bow is a Male & Female, & the Quiver of the Arrows of Love
Are the Children of his Bow; a Bow of Mercy & Loving-kindness, laying
Open the hidden Heart in Wars of mutual Benevolence, Wars of Love:
And the Hand of Man grasps firm between the Male & Female Loves.
And he Clothed himself in Bow & Arrows in awful state, Fourfold,
In the midst of his Twenty-eight Cities, each with his Bow breathing.

THEN each an Arrow flaming from his Quiver fitted carefully:
They drew fourfold the unreprovable String, bending thro' the wide Heavens
The horned Bow Fourfold, loud sounding flew the flaming Arrow fourfold.

Murmuring the Bowstring breathes with ardor. Clouds roll round the horns
Of the wide Bow, loud sounding Winds sport on the Mountains' brows:
The Druid Spectre was Annihilate, loud thund'ring, rejoicing terrific, vanishing,
Fourfold Annihilation, & at the clangor of the Arrows of Intellect
The innumerable Chariots of the Almighty appear 'd in Heaven,
And Bacon & Newton & Locke, & Milton & Shakspear & Chaucer.
A Sun of blood red wrath surrounding heaven on all sides around,
Glorious, incomprehensible by Mortal Man, & each Chariot was Sexual Twofold.

And every Man stood Fourfold, each Four Faces had, One to the West,
One toward the East, One to the South, One to the North, the Horses Fourfold.
And the dim Chaos brighten'd beneath, above, around! Eyed as the Peacock
According to the Human Nerves of Sensation, the Four Rivers of the Water of Life.

South stood the Nerves of the Eye, East in Rivers of bliss the Nerves of the
Expansive Nostrils, West flow'd the Parent Sense, the Tongue, North stood
The labyrinthine Ear: Circumscribing & Circumcising the excrementitious
Husk & Covering into Vacuum evaporating, revealing the lineaments of Man,
Driving outward the Body of Death in an Eternal Death & Resurrection,
Awaking it to Life among the Flowers of Beulah, rejoicing in Unity
In the Four Senses, in the Outline, the Circumference & Form, for ever
In Forgiveness of Sins which is Self Annihilation, it is the Covenant of Jehovah.

The Four Living Creatures, Chariots of Humanity, Divine, Incomprehensible,
In beautiful Paradises expand. These are the Four Rivers of Paradise,
And the Four Faces of Humanity fronting the Four Cardinal Points
Of Heaven, going forward, forward irresistible from Eternity to Eternity.

And they conversed together in Visionary forms dramatic, which bright
Redounded from their Tongues in thunderous majesty, in Visions,

In new Expanses, creating exemplars of Memory and of Intellect:
Creating Space, Creating Time according to the wonders Divine
Of Human Imagination, throughout all the Three Regions immense
Of Childhood, Manhood & Old Age: & the all tremendous unfathomable Non Ens
Of Death was seen in regeneration terrific or complacent, varying
According to the subject of discourse, & every Word & every Character
Was Human according to the Expansion or Contraction, the Translucence or
Opakeness of Nervous fibres: such was the variation of Time & Space,
Which vary according as the Organs of Perception vary: & they walked
To & fro in Eternity as One Man, reflecting each in each & clearly seen
And seeing: according to fitness & order. And I heard Jehovah speak
Terrific from his Holy Place, & saw the Words of the Mutual Covenant Divine
On Chariots of gold & jewels with Living Creatures, starry & flaming
With every Colour. Lion, Tyger, Horse, Elephant, Eagle, Dove, Fly, Worm,
And the all wondrous Serpent clothed in gems & rich array, Humanize
In the Forgiveness of Sins according to thy Covenant, Jehovah! They Cry:

Where is the Covenant of Priam, the Moral Virtues of the Heathen?
Where is the Tree of Good & Evil that rooted beneath the cruel heel
Of Albion's Spectre, the Patriarch Druid! where are all his Human Sacrifices
For Sin, in War & in the Druid Temples of the Accuser of Sin; beneath
The Oak Groves of Albion that cover'd the whole Earth beneath his Spectre?
Where are the Kingdoms of the World & all their glory that grew on Desolation,
The Fruit of Albion's Poverty Tree, when the Triple Headed Gog-Magog Giant
Of Albion Taxed the Nations into Desolation, & then gave the Spectrous Oath?

Such is the Cry from all the Earth, from the Living Creatures of the Earth,
And from the great City of Golgonooza in the Shadowy Generation,
And from the Thirty-two Nations of the Earth among the Living Creatures.

ALL Human Forms identified, even Tree, Metal, Earth & Stone, all
Human Forms identified, living, going forth, & returning wearied
Into the Planetary lives of Years, Months, Days & Hours, reposing
And then Awaking into his Bosom in the Life of Immortality.

And I heard the Name of their Emanations: they are named Jerusalem.