Night the Seventh

Then Urizen arose. The spectre fled, and Tharmas fled;

The darkening spectre of Urthona hid beneath a rock.

Tharmas threw his impetuous flight through the deeps of immensity
Revolving round in whirlpools fierce all round the caverned worlds.

But Urizen went silent, down to caves of Orc, and saw
A caverned universe of fire. The horses of Urizen
Here bound to fiery mangers, furious dash their golden hoofs,
Striking fierce sparkles from their golden fetters. Fierce his lions
Howl in the burning dens; his tigers roam on redounding smoke
In forests of affliction. The adamantine scales of justice
Consuming in the raging lamps of mercy poured in rivers.
The holy oil rages through all the caverned rocks. Fierce flames
Dance on the rivers and the rocks, howling and drunk with fury.
The plough of ages and the golden harrow wade through fields
Of gory blood. The immortal seed is nourished for the slaughter.
The bulls of Luvah, breathing fire, bellow on burning pastures
Round howling Orc, whose awful limbs cast forth red smoke and fire,
That Urizen approached not near but took his seat on a rock
And ranged his books around him, brooding envious over Orc.

Howling and rending his dark caves the awful demon lay:
Pulse after pulse beat on his fetters, pulse after pulse his spirit
Dashed and dashed higher and higher to the shrine of Enitharmon,
As when the thunder folds himself in robe of thickest clouds,
The watery nations couch and hide in the profoundest deeps,
Then bursting from his head, with dreadful face and flaming hair,
His swift-winged daughters sweep across the vast blue ocean.

Los felt the envy in his limbs, like to a blighted tree;

For Urizen fixed in envy sat brooding and covered with snow,
His book of iron on his knees. He traced the dreadful letters
While his snows fell and his storms beat to cool the flames of Orc,
Age after age, till underneath his heel a deadly root
Struck through the rock, — the root of Mystery, accursed, shooting up
Branches into the heaven of Los, then pipe-formed bending down
Take root again where'er they touch, and, again branching forth
In intricate labyrinths overspreading many a grizzly deep.

Amazed started Urizen, finding him compassed round
And high roofed over with the trees. He arose, but now the stems
Stood so thick, he with difficulty and with great pain brought
The books out of the dismal shade, — all but the book of iron.

Again he took his seat, again he ranged his books around
On a rock of iron frowning over the foaming fires of Orc.
And Urizen hung over Orc and viewed his terrible wrath,
Sitting upon an iron crag. At length his words broke forth:

Image of dread, whence art thou? Whence is thy most woeful place?

Whence these fierce fires, but from thyself? No other living thing
In all the chasm I behold. No other living thing
Dare my most terrible wrath abide, bound here to waste in pain.
Thy vital substance in these fires that issue new and new
Around thee. Sometimes like a flood, and sometimes like a rock
Of living pangs, thy horrible bed glowing with ceaseless fires
Beneath thee and around. Above, a shower of fire now beats
Moulded to globes and arrowed wedges, rending thy bleeding limbs.
And now a whirling pillar of burning sand to overwhelm thee,
Steeping thy wounds in salts infernal and in bitter anguish.

And now a rock moves on the surface of this lake of fire
To bear thee down beneath the waves in stifling despair.
Pity for thee moved me to break my dark and long repose,
And to reveal myself before thee in a form of wisdom.
Yet thou dost laugh at all these tortures, and this horrible place,
Yet throwest these fires abroad, that back return upon thee now,
While thou reposest, throwing rage on rage, feeding thyself
With visions of sweet bliss far other than this burning clime.
Sure thou art bathed in rivers of delight on verdant fields,
Walking in joy in bright expanses, sleeping on bright clouds,
With visions of delight so lovely that they urge thy rage
Tenfold with fierce desire to rend thy chains and howl in fury,
And dire oblivion of all woe and desperate repose, —

Or is thy joy founded on torment that others bear for thee?

Orc answered: Curse thy hoary brows, what dost thou in this deep?

Thy pity I contemn. Go forth, scatter thy snows elsewhere.

I rage in the deep, my feet and hands are nailed to the burning rock,
Yet my fierce fires are better than thy snows. Shuddering thou sitt'st.
Thou art not chained. Why should'st thou sit, cold, grovelling demon of woe,
In torture of dire coldness? Now a lake of water deep
Sweeps over thee, freezing to solid. Still thou sitt'st, closed up
In that transparent rock as if in joy of thy bright prison,
Till, overburdened with its weight, down through immensity,
With a crash breaking clear across, the horrid mass comes down,
Thundering, and hail and frozen iron hailed from the element,
Rend thy white hair. Yet thou dost, fixed, obdurate, brooding, sit
Writing thy books. Anon a cloud, filled with a waste of snow,
Covers thee. Obdurate still, resolved still, and writing still,
Though rocks roll o'er thee, though floods pour, though winds black as the sea
Cut thee in gashes, though the blood pour down around thy ancles,
Freezing thy feet to the hard rock. Still thy pen obdurate
Traces the wonders of Futurity in horrible fear of the future.
I rage here furious in the deep: my feet and hands are nailed
To the hard rock, or thou should'st feel my enmity and hate
In all diseases falling on thy grey accursed front.

Urizen answered: Read my books, explore my constellations,
Enquire of my sons and they shall teach thee how to war.
Enquire of my daughters, who, accursed in the dark deeps,
Knead bread of sorrow by my stern command, for I am god
Of all this ruin. Rise, oh daughters, at my stern command.

Bending the rocks, Eleth and Uvith rose, and Ona rose,
Terrific with their iron vessels, driving them across
In the dim air. They locked the book of iron, and placed above
On clouds of death, and sang their songs, kneading the bread of Orc.

Orc listened to the song, compelled, hungering on the cold wind
That swagged heavy with the accursed dough. The hoar frost raged
Through Ona's sieve. The torrent rain poured from the iron pail
Of Eleth, and the icy hands of Uvith kneaded bread.

The heavens bow with terror underneath these iron hands,
Singing at their dire work the words of Urizen's book of iron,
While the enormous scrolls rolled dreadful in the heavens above;
And still the burden of their song in tears was poured forth.
The bread is kneaded, let us rest, oh cruel father of children!

But Urizen remitted not their labours on his rock,
And Urizen read on his book of brass in sounding tones:
Listen, oh daughters, to my voice; listen to the words of wisdom.
To bring the shadow of Enitharmon beneath our wondrous tree,
That Los evaporate away like smoke, and be no more.
Draw Enitharmon down unto the spectre of Urthona,
And let him have dominion over Los, the terrible shade.

Compel the poor to live upon a crust with soft mild arts,
So shall you govern over all. Let duty tune your tongue,
And be your hearts far harder than the nether millstone is.
Smile when they frown, frown when they smile, and when a man looks pale
With labour and abstinence, then say healthy and glad he seems,
And when his children sicken let them die. There are enough
Born, even too many, and our earth will soon be overrun
Without these arts. If you would make the poor with temper live,
With pomp give every crust of bread you give; by gracious cunning
Magnify gifts; reduce the man to want, then give with pomp.
Say, if you hear him sigh, he smiles; if pale, say he is ruddy.

Preach temperance: say that he is overgorged, and drowns his wit
In strong drink, though you know that bread and water must be all
He can afford. Flatter his wife, pity his children, till
We can reduce all to our will, like spaniels taught with art.

Lo! how the heart and brain are formed in the breeding womb
Of Enitharmon. How it breeds with life and forms the bones,
The little heart, the liver, the red blood in labyrinths,
By gratified desire, devouring appetite, she fills
Los with ambitious fury that his race shall all devour.

Then Orc cried: Curse thy cold hypocrisy! Around thy tree
In scales that shine with gold and rubies, thou beginn'st to weaken
My divided spirit. Like a worm I rise in peace, unbound
From wrath. Now when I rage my fetters bind me more.
Oh, torment! oh, torment! A worm compelled! Am I a worm?

Is it in strong deceit that man is born? In strong deceit
Thou dost restrain my fury that the worm may bind the tree.
Avaunt, cold hypocrite! Thou could'st not use me thus unchained.
The Man shall rage, bound with this chain, the worm in silence creep.
Thou wilt not cease from rage. Grey demon, silence all thy storms,
Give me example of thy mildness. King of furious hail,
Art thou the cold, attractive power that holds me in this chain?
I well remember how I stole thy light and it became fire,
Consuming. Now thou knowest me, Urizen, Prince of Light,
And I know thee. Is this the triumph? This the golden state
That lies beyond the bounds of science on the grey obscure?

Terrified Urizen heard Orc, now certain that he was Luvah.
And creeping Orc began to organize a serpent-body,
Despising Urizen's light and turning it to flaming fire,
Receiving as a poisoned cup receives the heavenly wine,
And turning affliction into fury, thought into abstraction, —
A self-consuming, dark devourer, raging into the heavens.

Urizen, envying, brooding, sat and saw the secret terror
Flame high in pride and laugh to scorn the source of his deceit,
Nor knew the source of his own, but thought himself the author sole
Of all his wandering experiments on the horrible abyss.
He knew that weakness stretches out in length and breadth, and knew
That wisdom reaches high and deep; and therefore he made Orc
In serpent form compelled to stretch out and up the mysterious tree.
He suffered him to climb that he might draw all human forms
Unto submission to his will, nor knew the dread result.

Los sat in showers of Urizen watching cold Enitharmon.
His broodings rush down to his feet, producing eggs that hatching
Burst forth upon the winds above the tree of Mystery.
Enitharmon lay on his knees. Urizen traced his verses.
In the dark deep the dark tree grew. Her shadow was drawn down,
Down to the roots; it wept o'er Orc, — the shadow of Enitharmon.

Los saw her stretched, the image of death, upon his withered valleys;
Her shadow went forth and returned. Now she was pale as snow,
When the mountains and hills are covered, and the paths of men shut up.

But when her spirit returned, as ruddy as morning when
The ripe fruit blushes into joy in heaven's eternal halls,
Sorrow shot through him from his feet and shot up to his head,
Like a cold night that nips the roots and scatters all the leaves.
Silent he stood o'er Enitharmon, watching her pale face.
He spoke not, he was silent, till he felt the cold disease.
Then Los mourned on the dismal wind in his jealous lamentation.

Why cannot I enjoy thy beauty, lovely Enitharmon?

When I return from clouds of grief in the wandering elements,
When thou in thrilling joy, in beaming summer loveliness,
Delectable reposest, ruddy in my absence, flaming with beauty,
Cold, pale in sorrow at my approach, trembling at my terrific
Forehead and eyes thy lips decay like roses in the spring.
How art thou shrunk! Thy grapes that burst in summer's ripe excess
Shut up in little purple covering faintly bud and die.

Thy olive-trees that poured down oil upon a thousand hills
Sickly look forth and scarcely stretch their branches to the plain.
Thy roses that expanded in the face of glowing morn
Hid in a little silken veil scarce breathe and faintly shine.
Thy lilies that gave light what time the morning looked forth
Hid in the vales, faintly lament, and no one hears their voice.
All things beside the woeful Los enjoy delights of beauty!
Once how I sang and called the beasts and birds to their delight,
Nor knew that I alone, exempted from the joys of love,
Must war with secret monsters of the animating worlds.

Oh, that I had not seen the day! Then should I be at rest!
Nor felt the strivings of desire, nor longings after life,
For life is sweet to Los the wretched. To his winged woes
Is given a craving cry: they sit at night on barren rocks,
And whet their beaks and snuff the air, and watch the opening dawn,
And shriek till at the smell of blood they stretch their bony wings,
And cut the winds like arrows shot by troops of destiny.

Thus Los lamented in the night, unheard by Enitharmon.
Her shadow descended down the tree of mystery.
The spectre saw the shadow shivering o'er his gloomy rocks
Beneath the tree of mystery, which in the dismal abyss
Began to blossom in fierce pain, shooting its writhing buds
In throes of birth, and now, the blossoms falling, shining fruit
Appeared, of many colours and of poisonous qualities.
Of plagues, hidden in shining globes that grew on the living tree,
The spectre of Urthona saw the shadow of Enitharmon
Beneath the tree of Mystery among the leaves and fruit,
Reddening the demon strong prepared the poison of sweet love,
He turned from side to side in tears. He wept and he embraced
The fleeting image, and in whispers mild woo'd the faint shade.

Loveliest delight of men; oh! Enitharmon, shady, hiding
In secret places where no eye can trace thy watery way,
Have I found thee? Have I found thee? Tremblest thou in fear?
Because of Orc? Because he rent his loud discordant way
From thy sweet loins of bliss? Red flow'd thy blood on that dread day,
Pale grew thy face. Around the thundering horror lightnings played
Over thee, and the terrible Orc, and rent his discordant way,
But the next joy of thine shall be in sweet delusion,
Its birth in faintings and in sleep, delusions sweet of Vala.

The shadow of Enitharmon answered, Art thou, terrible shade,
Set over this sweet boy of mine to guard him lest he rend
His mother to the winds of heaven, intoxicated with fruit
Of this delightful tree? Behold, I cannot flee away
From thy embrace, else be assured so horrible a form
Should never in my arms repose. Now listen, I will tell
The secrets of Eternity which ne'er before unlocked
My golden lips, nor took the bar from Enitharmon's breast;
Among the flowers of Beulah walked th' Eternal Man, and saw
Vala, the lily of the desert. Melting in high noon
Upon her bosom in sweet bliss he fainted. Wonder seized
All heaven, for they saw him dark. They built a golden wall
Round Beulah. There he revelled in delight among the flowers.
Vala was pregnant and brought forth Urizen, Prince of Light,
First-born of generation. Then a wonder to the eyes
Of the now fallen man, a double form Vala appeared, a male
And female shuddering. Pale at sight the fallen man recoiled,
And calling the Enormity, Luvah and Vala, turned
Down vales to find his way back into heaven, but found none.
For his frail eyes were faded, and his ears heavy and dull.

Urizen grew up in the plains of Beulah. Many sons
And many daughters flourished round the holy tent of man
Till he forgot Eternity, delighted in his sweet joy,
Among his family, his flocks and herds, and tents and fields.

But Luvah close conferred with Urizen in darksome night
To bind the father and enslave the brethren. Nought he knew
Of sweet Eternity. The blood flow'd round the holy tent and river;
All Beulah from its hinges fell, uttering its final groan
In dark confusion. Meantime Los was born and Enitharmon,
But how, I know not. Then forgetfulness quite wrapped me up
A period, nor do I more remember, till I stood
Beside Los in the cave, enslaved to vegetative forms
According to the will of Luvah, who assumed the place
Of the Eternal Man and smote him. But thou, Spectre dark,
Must find a way to punish Vala in the fiery south,
To bring her down subjected to the rage of my fierce boy.

The Spectre said, Thou lovely vision, this delightful tree
Is given us for a shelter from the storms of void and solid,
Till once again the morn of ages shall renew on us,
To re-unite in those mild fields of happy Eternity,
Where thou and I in undivided essence walked abroad
Imbodied, — thou my garden of delight, and I the spirit
Mutual dwelt in one another, mutual joy revolving.
Eternal days with Tharmas mild and Luvah sweet, melodious,
Upon our waters; thou rememberest, Sisters, I will tell
What thou forgetest. They in us and we in them have lived,
Drinking the joys of Universal Mankind. One dread morn —
Listen, oh Vision of Delight, — one morn of gory blood
The Manhood was divided. Gentle passions making way
Through th' infinite labyrinth of the heart and nostrils issuing,
In odorous stupefaction, stood before the eyes of Man
A female bright. I stood beside my anvil dark, a mass
Of iron glow'd bright prepared for spade and plough-share, sudden down
I sunk with cries of blood, issuing downward in the veins
Which now my rivers were become, rolling in tube-like forms
Shut up within themselves descending down. I sunk along
The gory tide even to the place of seed. Divided there
I was in darkness and oblivion. Thou an infant woe,
And I an infant terror in the womb of Enion.
My masculine spirit scorning the frail body issued forth
From Enion's brain, in this deformed form, leaving thee there
Till times passed over thee, my spirit still returning hovered
And formed a male, to be a counterpart to thee, oh love,
Darkened and lost! In due time issuing forth from Enion's womb
Thou and that demon Los were born. Ah, jealousy and woe!
Ah, poor divided dark Urthona, now a Spectre wandering,
In deeps of Los, the slave of that creation I created.

I labour night and day for Los, but listen thou my vision,
I view futurity with thee. I will bring down soft Vala
To the embraces of this terror, and I will destroy
The body I created; then shall we unite in bliss.

For till these terrors planted round the gates of Eternal life
Are driven away, annihilated, we cannot repass the gates.
Thou knowest that the Spectre is in every man, insane, brutish,
Brutish, deformed, that I am thus a ravening lust continually
Craving, devouring; but my eyes are upon thee, oh lovely
Delusion, and I cannot crave except for thee: not so
The Spectres of the dead: I am the Spectre of the living.

Although filled with tears, the spirit of Enitharmon beheld
And heard the Spectre. Bitterly she wept, embracing fervent
Her once loved Lord, now but a shade, herself also a shade,
Conferring times on times among the branches of that tree.
Thus they conferred among th' intoxicating fumes of Mystery
Till Enitharmon's shadow, pregnant in the deeps beneath,
Brought forth a wonder horrible, while Enitharmon shrieked
And trembled through the worlds above, and Los wept, terrified
At the shrieks of Enitharmon and her tossings, nor perceived
The cause of her dire anguish, for she lay the image of death,
Moved by strong shudders till her shadow was delivered, then
Raving ran through the upper elements in maddening fury.

She burst the gates of Enitharmon's heart with direful crash,
Nor could they e'er be closed again, the golden hinges were broke,
And the gates broken in sunder, and their ornaments defaced
Beneath the tree of Mystery, for the immortal shade
Brought forth this wonder horrible. A cloud she grew and grew
Till many of the dead burst through the bottoms of their tombs
In male forms without female counterparts or emanations,
Cruel and ravening with envy, hatred, and with war,
In dreams of Ulro, dark, delusive, drawn by the lovely shade.

The Spectre, terrified, gave her charge over the howling Orc,
Men took the tree of Mystery cast in the world of Los.
Its top boughs shoot a fibre beneath Enitharmon's couch,
The double-rooted labyrinth soon waved around their heads.

The Spectre entered Los's bosom. Every sigh and groan
Of Enitharmon bore Urthona's Spectre on its wings,
Obdurate Los felt pity; Enitharmon told the tale
Of Urthona. Los embraced the Spectre as a brother first,
Then as another self, astonished, humanizing in tears
In self-abasement giving up his domineering lust.

Thou never canst embrace sweet Enitharmon. Demon dread,
Thou art united with thy Spectre, to consume by pains
That mortal body, and by self-annihilation come
Back to Eternal Life to be assured I am thy self,
Though thus divided from thee and the slave of every passion
Of thy fierce soul. Unbar the gates of memory: look on me
Not as another, but as thy real self. I am thy Spectre,
Though horrible and ghastly to thine eyes, buried beneath
The ruins of the universe. Hear what, inspired, I speak;
If we unite in one another bitter worlds will be
Opened within your heart and in your loins and wondrous brain
Threefold, as in Eternity, and this fourth universe
Will be renewed by the three, consumed in mental fires.
Thou didst subdue me in old times by thy immortal power
When I was ravening hungry, thirsting cruel, murder and lust,
But if thou dost refuse another body will be prepared
For me, and thou annihilate, vanish and be no more.
For thou art but a form and organ of life, and of thyself
Art nought, by Mercy and Love Divine continually created.

Los answered, Spectre horrible, thy words astound my ear
With irresistible conviction. I feel I am not of those
Who, when convinced, persist, though furious, controllable
By Reason's power. I already feel a world within
Opening its gates, and in it all the real substances
Of which these in the outer world are shadows which pass away.
Come then into my bosom, in thy shadowy arms, with thee
Bring lovely Enitharmon. I will quell my fury and teach
Peace to the soul of dark revenge, and repentance to cruelty.

So spoke Los, and embracing Enitharmon and the Spectre,
Clouds would have folded round in love and extacy uniting,
But Enitharmon trembling, fled and hid beneath Urizen's tree,
But mingling together with his spectre, the Spectre of Urthona
Wondering, beheld the centre opened. By Divine Mercy inspired,
He in his bosom gave tasks to Los, enormous, to destroy
That body he created, but in vain, though Los performed wonders of labour. . ..

They builded Golgonooza, Los builded the pillars high,
And domes terrific in the nether heavens, for beneath
Was opened a new heaven, a new earth beneath within,
Threefold within the brain, within the heart, within the loins
A threefold atmosphere continuous from Urthona's world,
But yet having a limit twofold named Satan and Adam,
But Los stood on the limit of translucence weeping, trembling,
Filled with doubts in self-accusation beheld the fruit
Of Urizen's mysterious tree, for Enitharmon spake.

When in the deeps beneath I gathered of this ruddy fruit,
It was by that I knew that I had sinned, and I knew
That, without ransom, I could not be saved from Eternal death,
That life lives upon death, and by devouring appetite
All things subsist on one another. Thenceforth in despair
I spend my glowing times, but thou art strong, and mighty thou
To bear this self-contrition. Take, then, eat thou also of
The fruit, and give me proof of life eternal or I die.

Then Los plucked the fruit and eat and sat down in despair,
And must have surely given himself to death eternal, but
Urthona's spectre ministering within him comforted,
As medium between him and Enitharmon, but this union
Was not to be effected without cares and sorrows and troubles,
Six thousand years of self-denial and of bitter contrition.

Urthona's Spectre, terrified, saw the spectres of the dead,
Each male without a counterpart, without a concentering vision,
The Spectre wept before Los, saying, Behold I am the cause
That this dim state commences. I begin the dreadful state
Of separation, and on my dark head the punishment
Must fall unless a way be found to ransom and redeem.
But I have this, my counterpart, — given miraculous.
These spectres have no counterparts, therefore they raven thus
Without the food of life. Let us create them counterparts.

The Spectre is Eternal Death, without a created body.

Los trembling, answered: Now I feel the weight of stern repentance,
Tremble not so, my Enitharmon, at the awful gates
Of thy poor broken heart. I see thee like a shadow withering
As on the outside of existence. But behold, take comfort,
Turn inwardly thine eyes, and there behold the Lamb of God
Clothed in Luvah's robes of blood descending to redeem.

Oh, Spectre of Urthona, take comfort! Enitharmon,
Could'st thou but cease from terror, and from trembling and affright,
When I appear before thee in forgiveness of injuries,
Why should'st thou remember to be afraid?

Often enough thy jealousy and terror convince. I have died in pain.

Come hither; patient be; let us converse together, for
I also tremble at myself and all my former life.

Enitharmon answered: I behold the Lamb of God descending
To meet the spectres of the dead. I therefore fear that he
Will give us to Eternal death for punishment, for such
Hideous offenders' last extinction is eternal pain.

An ever-dying life of stifling and obstruction, shut
Out of existence to be a sign, and terror to who see.
Lest any in futurity should do as we in heaven,
Such is our state, nor will the Son redeem us, but destroy,
So Enitharmon spoke trembling, and in torrents of tears
Los sat in Golgonooza at the gate of Laban, where
He had created porches where branched the mysterious tree.
Where the spectrous dead wail; sighing thus he spoke to Enitharmon.

Lovely delight of men, Enitharmon, shady refuge from war,
Thy bosom translucent is a soft repose for weeping souls
Of piteous victims of battle, where they sleep, happy, obscure.
They feed upon our life. We are their victims. Stern desire
I feel to make embodied semblances in which the dead
May live in our palaces and in our gardens of labour,
Which now, opened within the centre, we behold spread round
To form a world of sacrifice of brothers, sons, and daughters,
To comfort Orc in his dire sufferings. Look, my fires afresh
Before my face assembling with delight as in old times!

Enitharmon spread her beamy locks upon the wind, and said —

Oh! wonder of Eternity, Los, my defence and guide,
Thy works are all my joy and in thy fires my soul delights,
If mild they burn in just proportion and in secret night
And silence. Build their day in shadow of soft clouds and dens.
I can sigh forth on the winds of Golgonooza piteous forms
That vanish again in my bosom; but if thou, my Los,
Wilt in sweet moderate fury fabricate these forms sublime,
Such as the piteous spectres may assimilate them with,
They shall be ransoms for our souls, that we through them may live.

So Enitharmon spoke, and Los, his hands inspired, began
To moderate his fires, studious, the loud roaring flames
He vanquished with the strength of art, bending their iron points,
And drawing them forth deflected on the winds of Golgonooza.
From out the ranks of Urizen's war, and from the fiery lake
Of Orc, bending down as the binder of the sheaves follows
The reaper, embracing in both arms the furious raging flames,
Los drew them forth out of the deeps, planting his right foot firm
On the iron crag of Urizen, thence springing up aloft
Into the heavens of Enitharmon in a mighty circle.

And first he drew a line upon the walls of shining heaven,
And Enitharmon tinctured it with beams of blushing love.
It remained permanent, a lovely form, inspired, divine, human.
Dividing into just proportion, Los unwearied laboured
The immortal lines upon the heavens, till, with sighs of love,
Sweet Enitharmon mild, entranced, breathed forth upon the wind
The spectrous dead, weeping. The Spectre viewed the immortal work
Of Los, assimilating to those forms Embodied. Lovely
In youth and beauty, in the arms of Enitharmon mild.

First Rintrah, and then Palamabron, drawn from ranks of war,
In infant innocence reposed on Enitharmon's bosom.
Orc was comforted in the deeps; his soul revived in them;
As the elder brother is the father's image, so Orc became
As Los, a father to his brethren, and forged in the dark lake,
Then bound with chains of jealousy and scales of iron and brass.

Los loved them, and refused to sacrifice their infant limbs,
And Enitharmon's smiles and tears prevailed o'er self-protection.

They rather chose to meet Eternal Death than to destroy
The offspring of their care and pity. Urthona's spectre was comforted,
But Tharmas most rejoiced in hope of Enion's return,
For he beheld new female forms borne forth upon the air,
Who wore soft silken veils of covering in sweet raptured trance,
Mortal, and not as Enitharmon, without a covering veil.
First his immortal spirit drew Urizen's spectre away
From out the ranks of war, separating him in sunder,
Leaving his spectrous form, which could not so be drawn away.
Then he divided Tiriel, the eldest of Urizen's sons.
Urizen became Rintrah, Tiriel became Palamabron:
Thus divided the power of every warrior.
Startled was Los — he found his enemy Urizen now
In his hands. Much he wondered that he felt love and not hate,
His whole soul loved him. He as an infant him beheld,
Lovely, from Enitharmon breathed. He trembled in himself.

But in the deeps beneath the breasts of Mystery in night
Where Urizen sat on his rock, behold, the shadow brooded.
Urizen saw and triumphed, and he cried to his warriors: —
The Time of Prophecy is now revolved at last, and all
The universal ornament is mine, and in my hand
The ends of heaven. Like a garment I will fold them round,
Consuming what must be consumed. In power and majesty
I will walk forth through these wide fields of endless Eternity,
A God and not a Man, a conqueror in triumphant glory,
And all the sons of mortality shall bow down at my feet.

First trades and commerce, ships and armed vessels he builded laborious
To swim the deep; and on the land children are sold to trades
Of dire necessity, still labouring day and night, till, all
Their life extinct, they take the spectre form in dark despair,
And slaves in myriads, in shiploads, burden the sounding deep.

And Urizen laid the first stone, and all his myriads
Builded a temple in the image of the human heart.

And in the inner part of the temple, wondrous workmanship,
They formed the secret place, reviving all the altars of delight, —
That whomsoever entered into the temple might not be sold
The hidden, wondrous allegories of the generations —

Of secret lust, when hid in chambers dark the mighty harlot
Plays at disguise in whispered hymn and mumbling prayer. The Priests
He ordained, Presbyters, and clothed in disguises bestial,
Inspiring secrets. They bore lamps. Intoxicating fumes
Roll round the temple. And they took the Sun that glowed o'er Los
And with immense machines, down-rolling, the terrific orb
Compelled. The sun, reddening, like a lion in his chains,
Descended to the sound of instruments that drowned the noise
Of the hoarse wheels and the terrific howling of wild beasts
That dragged the wheels of the sun's chariot. And they put the sun
Into the temple of Urizen, to give light to the Abyss,
To light the war by day, to hide his secret braves by night —
The day for war, the night for secret religion in his temple.

Los reared his mighty stature: on earth stood his feet, above
The moon his furious forehead, circled with black bursting thunders,
The naked limbs glittering upon the dark blue sky, his knees
Bathed in bloody clouds, his loins in fires of war where spears
And swords rage, where the eagles cry and the vultures laugh, saying:

Now comes the night of carnage, and the flesh of kings and princes
Pampered in palaces for our food, the blood of captains nurtured
With lust and murder for our drink. The drunken raven shall wander
All night among the slain and mock the wounded that groan in the field.

Tharmas laughed, furious among the banners clothed with blood,
Crying: As I will I rend the nations all asunder, rending
The people. Vain their combinations, I will scatter them.

But thou, oh! Son, whom I have crowned and enthroned the strong,
I will preserve thee. Enemies rise round thee numberless.
I will command my winds and they shall scatter them, or call
My waters like a flood around thee. Fear not, trust in me,
And I will give thee all the orbs of heaven for thy possession.

In war shall thou bear rule, in blood shalt thou triumph for me,
Because in times of everlasting I was rent in sunder,
And what I loved, divided was among my enemies.
My little daughters were made captives, and I saw them beaten
With whips along the sultry roads. I heard those whom I loved
Crying in secret tents at night, and in the morn compelled
To labour; and, behold, my heart sunk down beneath in sighs,
In sobbings, until all divided I divided was
In twain, and, lo, my crystal form that in my bosom lived,
Followed her daughters to the field of blood: they left me naked,
Alone, and they refused to return from the fields of the mighty.
Therefore I will reward them as they have rewarded me;
I will divide them in my anger, and thou, oh! my king,
Shalt gather them from out their graves, and put thy fetters on,
And bind them to thee, that my crystal form may come to me.

So cried the Demon of the Waters in the clouds of Los.

Outstretched upon the hills lay Enitharmon. Clouds and tempests
Beat round her head all night: all day she riots in excess.
But night and day Los follows war. The moon rolls over her,
That, when Los waned upon the south, reflected the fierce fires
Of his immortal head in north, upon faint Enitharmon.

Red rage the furies of fierce Orc. Black thunders roll round Los,
Flaming: his head like the sun seen through mist that magnifies
The disk into a terrible vision to th' eyes of dreaming mortals.

And Enitharmon, trembling in fear, uttered these words: —

I put not any trust in thee, nor in thy glittering scales;
Thy eyelids are a terror, and the flaming of thy crest;
The rustling of thy scales confounds me, thy hoarse rustling scales.
And if that Los had not built me a bower upon a rock,
I must have died in the dark desert among noxious worms.

How shall I flee? How shall I flee into the bower of Los?
My feet are turned backwards and my footsteps slide in clay,
And clouds are closed round my towers. My arms labour in vain.
Does not the God of Waters in the rocking elements
Love those who hate, rewarding with his hate the living soul?

And must I not obey the God, thou shadow of jealousy?

I cry; the watchman heareth not. I pour my voice in roarings:
Watchman! the night is thick, and darkness chokes my rayie sight.
Lift up! lift up! oh, Los! awake my watchman, for he sleepeth.
Lift up! lift up! Shine forth, oh, Light! Watchman, thy light is out.

Oh, Los! unless thou keep my tower the watchman will be slain.

So Enitharmon cried upon her terrible earthy bed,
While the broad oak wreathed his roots round her, forcing his dark way
Through caves of death into existence. The beech, long-limbed, advanced
Terrific into the pained heavens. The fruit-trees humanizing,
Showed their immortal energies in warlike desperation,
Bending the heavens and earths, and drinking blood in the hot battle
To feed their fruit, to gratify their hidden sons and daughters,
That far in close recesses of their secret palaces
Viewed the vast war and joy'd therein writhing to vegetate
Into the worlds of Enitharmon. Loud the roaring winds
Burdened with clouds howl round the couch. Sullen the woolly sheep
Walks through the battle. Dark and fierce the strong bull in his rage
Propagates through the warring earth. The lions raging in flames,
The tiger in redounding smoke, the serpent of the woods, —
With harsh songs every living soul. The prester serpent runs
Along the ranks, crying, Listen to the priest of God, ye warriors,
This cowl upon my head he placed in times of everlasting
And said, Go forth and guide my battles. Like the pointed spears
Of Man I made thee when I blotted Man from life and light.
Take thou the seven diseases of Man. Store them for time to come,
In store-houses, in secret places I will tell thee of,
To be my great and awful curses at the appointed time.
The prester serpent ceased. The war song sounded loud and strong
Through all the heavens. Urizen wet, vibrated torrent on torrent.

Now in the caverns of the grave and places of human seed
The nameless shadowy vortex stood before the face of Orc.
The shadow raised her dismal head over the flaming youth
With sighs and howlings and deep sobs, that he might lose his rage,
And with it lose himself in meekness. She embraced his fire,
As when the Earthquake rises from his den, his shoulders huge
Appear above the crumbling mountains, silence waits round him
A moment. Then astounding horror belches from the centre,
The fiery dogs arise again, the shoulders huge appear;
So Orc rolled round his clouds upon the deeps of dark Urthona.

Knowing the arts of Urizen were pity and affection,
And by these arts the serpent form exuded from his limbs
Silent as is despairing love, and strong as jealousy,
Jealousy that she was Vala, now become Urizen's harlot.
And the harlot and the deluded harlot of the kings of the earth
His soul was gnawn asunder
The hairy shoulders rend the links, free are the wrists of fire,
Red rage resounds, he roused his lions from his forests dark,
They howl around the flaming youth, rending the nameless shadow,
And running their immortal course through solid darkness borne.

Loud sounds the war-song round red Orc in his resistless fury,
And round the nameless shadowy female in her howling terror,
When all the elemental gods joined in the wondrous song.
Sound the war-trumpet terrific, souls clad in attractive steel!
Sound the shrill fife, serpents of war! I hear the northern drum
Awake! I hear the flapping of the folding banners
The dragons of the north put on their armour
Upon the eastern sea .... they take their course ....

The glittering of their horses and trappings stains the vault of night.

Stop we the rising of the glorious king, — spur, spur your steeds,
Oh, northern drum! awake — oh, hand of iron, sound
The northern drum. Now give the charge! Bravely obscured
With deaths of wintry hail. Again the black bow draw:
Again the elemental strings to your right breasts draw,
And let the shadowy drum speed on the arrows black.

The arrows flew from cloudy bow all day till blood,
From east to west, flowed like the human victims in rivers
Of life upon the plains of death and valleys of despair.

Now sound the clarions of victory, now strip
The slain, now clothe yourselves in golden arms, brothers of war,
They sound the clarions strong, they chain the howling captives,
They cast the lots into the helmet, they give the oath of blood,
They vote the death of Luvah and they nailed him to a tree
To die a death of six thousand years bound round with desolation.
The sun was black and the moon rolled, a useless globe through heaven.

Then left the sons of Urizen the plough and harrow and loom,
The hammer and the chisel and the rule and compasses.
They forged the sword, the chariot of war, the battle axe,
The trumpet fitted to the battle, and the flute of summer,
And all the arts of life they changed into the arts of death.

The hour-glass contemned because its simple workmanship
Was as the workmanship of the ploughman and the waterwheel
That raises water into cisterns broken and burned with fire,
Because its workmanship was like the workmanship of the shepherd,
And in their stead intricate wheels, involved, wheel within wheel,
To perplex youth in their outgoings, to bind the labourers
Of day and night, the myriads of eternity, that they might file
And polish brass and iron hour after hour, laborious work,
Kept ignorant of the use; that they might spend the days of wisdom
In sorrowful drudgery to obtain a scanty pittance of bread,
In ignorance to view a small portion and think that All,
And call it demonstration, blind to the simple rules of life.

And now the battle rages round thy tender limbs, oh! Vala.

Now smile among thy bitter tears, now put on all thy beauty.

Is not the wound of the sword sweet and the broken bone delightful?

Wilt thou now smile among the slain when the wounded groan in the fields?

Lift up thy blue eyes, Vala, and put on thy sapphire shoes, —
On melancholy Magdalen, behold the morning breaks.
Gird in thy flaming loins, descend into the sepulchre,
Scatter the blood from thy golden bow and tears from thy silver locks,
Shake off the water from thy wings, dust from thy white garments.
Remember all thy feigned terrors on the secret couch
When the sun rose in glowing morn with arms of mighty hosts
Marching to battle, who was wont to rise with Urizen's harps
Girt as a sower with his seed to scatter life abroad.

Arise, oh! Vala, bring the bow of Urizen, bring the swift arrows of light,
How raged the golden horses of Urizen, bound to the chariot of love,
Compelled to leave the plough to the ox, to snuff up desolation,
To tramp cornfields in boastful neighings. This is no gentle harp,
This is no warbling brook, nor shadow of a myrtle-tree,
But blood and wounds and dismal cries and clarions of war,
And hearts laid open to the light by the broad grizzly sword,
And bowels hid in hammered steel ripped out upon the ground, —
Call forth thy smiles of soft deceit, — call forth thy cloudy tears,
We hear thy sighs in trumpets shrill when morn shall blood renew.

So sang the demons of the deep. The clarions of war blew loud.
Orc rent her, and his human form consumed in his own fires
Mingled with her dolorous members, strewn through the abyss.
She joyed in conflict, gratified and drinking tears of woe.

No more remained of Orc but the serpent round the tree of mystery.

The form of Orc was gone. He reared his serpent bulk among
The stars of Urizen in furor, rending the form of life
Into a formless indefinite and strewing her on the abyss
Like clouds upon a winter sky, broken with wind and thunders.
This was, to her, supreme delight. The warriors mourned disappointed.

They go to war with many shouts and with loud clarions.

Oh, pity! They return with lamentations, mourning, weeping.
Invisible or visible, drawn out in length or breadth,
The shadowy female varied in the war in her delight.
Howling in discontent, black, heavy uttering harsh sounds
Wandering through fires and slimy weeds and making lamentations
To deliver Tharmas in his rage, to soothe his furious soul,
To stay his flight that Urizen might live although in pain.
He said: Art thou bright Enion? is the shadow of hope returned?

And she said: Tharmas, I am Vala, bless thy innocent face!
Doth Enion avoid the sight of thy blue watery eyes,?

Be not persuaded that the air knows this, or the falling dew.

Tharmas replied: Oh! Vala, once I lived in a garden of delight;
I watered Enion in the morning and she lived always
Among the apple-trees; and all the garden of delight
Swam like a dream before my eyes. I went to seek the steps
Of Enion in the garden and the shadow compassed me
And closed me in a watery world of woe where Enion stood
Trembling before me like a shadow, like a mist, like air.
And she is gone, and here alone I war with darkness and death.

I hear thy voice, but not thy form see. Thou and all delight
And life appear and vanish, — mocking me with shadows of false hope.
Hast thou forgot that the air listens through all its districts telling
The subtlest thoughts shut up from light in chambers of the moon?

Tharmas, the moon has chambers where the babes of love lie hid,
And whence they never can be brought in all Eternity
Unless exposed by their vain parents. Lo, he whom I love
Is hidden from me, and I never in all Eternity
Shall see him. Enitharmon and Ahania, combined with Enion,
Hid him in that outrageous form of Orc, which torments me for sin
For all my secret faults which he brings forth upon the light
Of day in jealousy and blood. My children are led to Urizen's war
Before my eyes, and for every one of these I am condemned
To eternal torment in these flames, for though I have the power
To rise on high, yet love here binds me down, and never, never
Will I arise till him I love is loosed from this dark chain.

Tharmas replied: Vala, thy sins have lost us heaven and bliss,
Thou art our curse, and till I can bring love into the light
I never will depart from my great wrath
So Tharmas wailed. Dreadful they rode upon the stormy deep,
Cursing the voice that mocked them with false hope in furious mood.
Then she returned, swift as a blight upon the infant bred,
Howling in all the notes of woe to stay his furious rage,
Stamping the hills, wandering, swimming, flying furious, falling,
Or like an earthquake rumbling in the bowels of the earth,
Or like a cloud beneath, or like a fire flaming on high,
Walking with pleasure on the hills or running in the dales
Like to a rushing torrent beneath and a falling rock above,
A thunder-cloud in the south and a chilling voice heard in the north.

And she went forth and saw the forms of life and of delight
Walking on mountains or flying in the open expanse of heaven.
She heard sweet voices in the winds and in the voices of birds
That rose from waters, for the waters were as the voice of Luvah,
Not seen to her like waters or like this dark world of death,
Though all those fair perfections which men know only by name
In beautiful substantial forms appeared and served her
As food or drink or ornament or in delightful works
To build her bowers, for the elements brought forth abundantly
The living soul in glorious forms, and everyone came forth
Walking before her shadowy face and bowing at her feet.

But in vain delights were poured forth on the howling melancholy.
For her delight the horse his proud neck bowed, and his whole mane,
And the strong lion deigned in his mouth to wear the golden bit,
While the far-beaming peacock walked on the fragrant wind
To bring her fruits of sweet delight from trees of richest wonder,
And the strong eagle bore the fire of heaven in the night.
Woo'd and subdued into eternal death the demon lay,
In rage against the dark despair, the howling melancholy.
For far and wide she stretched through all the worlds of Urizen's journey,
And was adjoined to Beulah as the polypus to the rock.

Mourning, the daughters of Beulah saw, nor could they have sustained
The horrid sight of death and torment. But the Eternal promise
They wrote on all their tombs and pillars and on every urn,
These words, — If ye will believe your brother shall rise again, —
In golden letters ornamented with sweet labours of love,
Waiting in patience for the fulfilment of the promise Divine.

And all the songs of Beulah sounded comfortable notes,
Not suffering doubt to rise up from the clouds of the shadowy female.
The myriads of the dead burst through the bottoms of their tombs,
Descending on the shadowy female's clouds in spectrous terror,
Beyond the limit of translucence on the lake of Udan Adan.

These they named Satans, and in the aggregate they named them Satan.