Am1.1; E51| The shadowy daughter of Urthona stood before red Orc.
Am1.2; E51| When fourteen suns had faintly journey'd o'er his dark abode;
Am1.3; E51| His food she brought in iron baskets, his drink in cups of iron;
Am1.4; E51| Crown'd with a helmet & dark hair the nameless female stood;
Am1.5; E51| A quiver with its burning stores, a bow like that of night,
Am1.6; E51| When pestilence is shot from heaven; no other arms she need:
Am1.7; E51| Invulnerable tho' naked, save where clouds roll round her loins,
Am1.8; E51| Their awful folds in the dark air; silent she stood as night;
Am1.9; E51| For never from her iron tongue could voice or sound arise;
Am1.10; E51| But dumb till that dread day when Orc assay'd his fierce embrace.
Am1.11; E51| Dark virgin; said the hairy youth, thy father stern abhorr'd;
Am1.12; E51| Rivets my tenfold chains while still on high my spirit soars;
Am1.13; E51| Sometimes an eagle screaming in the sky, sometimes a lion,
Am1.14; E51| Stalking upon the mountains, & sometimes a whale I lash
Am1.15; E51| The raging fathomless abyss, anon a serpent folding
Am1.16; E51| Around the pillars of Urthona, and round thy dark limbs,
Am1.17; E51| On the Canadian wilds I fold, feeble my spirit folds.
Am1.18; E51| For chaind beneath I rend these caverns; when thou bringest food
Am1.19; E51| I howl my joy! and my red eyes seek to behold thy face
Am1.20; E51| In vain! these clouds roll to & fro, & hide thee from my sight.
Am2.1; E52| Silent as despairing love, and strong as jealousy,
Am2.2; E52| The hairy shoulders rend the links, free are the wrists of fire;
Am2.3; E52| Round the terrific loins he siez'd the panting struggling womb;
Am2.4; E52| It joy'd: she put aside her clouds & smiled her first-born smile;
Am2.5; E52| As when a black cloud shews its light'nings to the silent deep.
Am2.7; E52| I know thee, I have found thee, & I will not let thee go;
Am2.8; E52| Thou art the image of God who dwells in darkness of Africa;
Am2.9; E52| And thou art fall'n to give me life in regions of dark death.
Am2.10; E52| On my American plains I feel the struggling afflictions
Am2.11; E52| Endur'd by roots that writhe their arms into the nether deep:
Am2.12; E52| I see a serpent in Canada, who courts me to his love;
Am2.13; E52| In Mexico an Eagle, and a Lion in Peru;
Am2.14; E52| I see a Whale in the South-sea, drinking my soul away.
Am2.15; E52| O what limb rending pains I feel. thy fire & my frost
Am2.16; E52| Mingle in howling pains, in furrows by thy lightnings rent;
Am2.17; E52| This is eternal death; and this the torment long foretold.
Am2.18; E52| [The stern Bard ceas'd, asham'd of his own song; enrag'd he swung] t156
Am2.19; E52| [His harp aloft sounding, then dash'd its shining frame against]
Am2.20; E52| [A ruin'd pillar in glittring fragments; silent he turn'd away,]
Am2.21; E52| [And wander'd down the vales of Kent in sick & drear lamentings. ]
Am3.2; E52| The Guardian Prince of Albion burns in his nightly tent,
Am3.3; E52| Sullen fires across the Atlantic glow to America's shore:
Am3.4; E52| Piercing the souls of warlike men, who rise in silent night,
Am3.5; E52| Washington, Franklin, Paine & Warren, Gates, Hancock & Green; t157
Am3.6; E52| Meet on the coast glowing with blood from Albions fiery Prince.
Am3.7; E52| Washington spoke; Friends of America look over the Atlantic sea;
Am3.8; E52| A bended bow is lifted in heaven, & a heavy iron chain t158
Am3.9; E52| Descends link by link from Albions cliffs across the sea to bind
Am3.10; E52| Brothers & sons of America, till our faces pale and yellow;
Am3.11; E52| Heads deprest, voices weak, eyes downcast, hands work-bruis'd, t159
Am3.12; E52| Feet bleeding on the sultry sands, and the furrows of the whip t160
Am3.13; E52| Descend to generations that in future times forget.----
Am3.14; E52| The strong voice ceas'd; for a terrible blast swept over the heaving sea;
Am3.15; E52| The eastern cloud rent; on his cliffs stood Albions wrathful Prince t161
Am3.16; E52| A dragon form clashing his scales at midnight he arose,
Am3.17; E52| And flam'd red meteors round the land of Albion beneath[.] t162
Am3.18; E52| His voice, his locks, his awful shoulders, and his glowing eyes,
Am4.2; E53| Solemn heave the Atlantic waves between the gloomy nations,
Am4.3; E53| Swelling, belching from its deeps red clouds & raging Fires!
Am4.4; E53| Albion is sick. America faints! enrag'd the Zenith grew.
Am4.5; E53| As human blood shooting its veins all round the orbed heaven
Am4.6; E53| Red rose the clouds from the Atlantic in vast wheels of blood
Am4.7; E53| And in the red clouds rose a Wonder o'er the Atlantic sea;
Am4.8; E53| Intense! naked! a Human fire fierce glowing, as the wedge
Am4.9; E53| Of iron heated in the furnace; his terrible limbs were fire
Am4.10; E53| With myriads of cloudy terrors banners dark & towers
Am4.11; E53| Surrounded; heat but not light went thro' the murky atmosphere
Am5.1; E53| Albions Angel stood beside the Stone of night, and saw
Am5.2; E53| The terror like a comet, or more like the planet red
Am5.3; E53| That once inclos'd the terrible wandering comets in its sphere.
Am5.4; E53| Then Mars thou wast our center, & the planets three flew round
Am5.5; E53| Thy crimson disk; so e'er the Sun was rent from thy red sphere;
Am5.6; E53| The Spectre glowd his horrid length staining the temple long
Am5.7; E53| With beams of blood; & thus a voice came forth, and shook the temple
Am6.1; E53| The morning comes, the night decays, the watchmen leave their stations;
Am6.2; E53| The grave is burst, the spices shed, the linen wrapped up;
Am6.3; E53| The bones of death, the cov'ring clay, the sinews shrunk & dry'd.
Am6.4; E53| Reviving shake, inspiring move, breathing! awakening!
Am6.5; E53| Spring like redeemed captives when their bonds & bars are burst;
Am6.6; E53| Let the slave grinding at the mill, run out into the field:
Am6.7; E53| Let him look up into the heavens & laugh in the bright air;
Am6.8; E53| Let the inchained soul shut up in darkness and in sighing,
Am6.9; E53| Whose face has never seen a smile in thirty weary years;
Am6.10; E53| Rise and look out, his chains are loose, his dungeon doors are open.
Am6.11; E53| And let his wife and children return from the opressors scourge;
Am6.12; E53| They look behind at every step & believe it is a dream.
Am6.13; E53| Singing. The Sun has left his blackness, & has found a fresher morning
Am6.14; E53| And the fair Moon rejoices in the clear & cloudless night;
Am6.15; E53| For Empire is no more, and now the Lion & Wolf shall cease.
Am7.1; E53| In thunders ends the voice. Then Albions Angel wrathful burnt
Am7.2; E53| Beside the Stone of Night; and like the Eternal Lions howl
Am7.3; E53| In famine & war, reply'd. Art thou not Orc, who serpent-form'd
Am7.4; E53| Stands at the gate of Enitharmon to devour her children;
Am7.5; E53| Blasphemous Demon, Antichrist, hater of Dignities;
Am8.1; E54| The terror answerd: I am Orc, wreath'd round the accursed tree:
Am8.2; E54| The times are ended; shadows pass the morning gins to break;
Am8.3; E54| The fiery joy, that Urizen perverted to ten commands,
Am8.4; E54| What night he led the starry hosts thro' the wide wilderness:
Am8.5; E54| That stony law I stamp to dust: and scatter religion abroad
Am8.6; E54| To the four winds as a torn book, & none shall gather the leaves;
Am8.7; E54| But they shall rot on desart sands, & consume in bottomless deeps;
Am8.8; E54| To make the desarts blossom, & the deeps shrink to their fountains,
Am8.9; E54| And to renew the fiery joy, and burst the stony roof.
Am8.10; E54| That pale religious letchery, seeking Virginity,
Am8.11; E54| May find it in a harlot, and in coarse-clad honesty
Am8.12; E54| The undefil'd tho' ravish'd in her cradle night and morn:
Am8.13; E54| For every thing that lives is holy, life delights in life;
Am8.14; E54| Because the soul of sweet delight can never be defil'd.
Am8.15; E54| Fires inwrap the earthly globe, yet man is not consumd;
Am8.16; E54| Amidst the lustful fires he walks: his feet become like brass,
Am8.17; E54| His knees and thighs like silver, & his breast and head like gold.
Am9.1; E54| Sound! sound! my loud war-trumpets & alarm my Thirteen Angels!
Am9.2; E54| Loud howls the eternal Wolf! the eternal Lion lashes his tail!
Am9.3; E54| America is darkned; and my punishing Demons terrified
Am9.4; E54| Crouch howling before their caverns deep like skins dry'd in the wind.
Am9.5; E54| They cannot smite the wheat, nor quench the fatness of the earth.
Am9.6; E54| They cannot smite with sorrows, nor subdue the plow and spade.
Am9.7; E54| They cannot wall the city, nor moat round the castle of princes.
Am9.8; E54| They cannot bring the stubbed oak to overgrow the hills.
Am9.9; E54| For terrible men stand on the shores, & in their robes I see
Am9.10; E54| Children take shelter from the lightnings, there stands Washington
Am9.11; E54| And Paine and Warren with their foreheads reard toward the east
Am9.12; E54| But clouds obscure my aged sight. A vision from afar!
Am9.13; E54| Sound! sound! my loud war-trumpets & alarm my thirteen Angels:
Am9.14; E54| Ah vision from afar! Ah rebel form that rent the ancient
Am9.15; E54| Heavens; Eternal Viper self-renew'd, rolling in clouds
Am9.16; E54| I see thee in thick clouds and darkness on America's shore.
Am9.17; E54| Writhing in pangs of abhorred birth; red flames the crest rebellious
Am9.18; E54| And eyes of death; the harlot womb oft opened in vain
Am9.19; E54| Heaves in enormous circles, now the times are return'd upon thee,
Am9.20; E54| Devourer of thy parent, now thy unutterable torment renews.
Am9.21; E54| Sound! sound! my loud war trumpets & alarm my thirteen Angels!
Am9.22; E54| Ah terrible birth! a young one bursting! where is the weeping mouth?
Am9.23; E54| And where the mothers milk? instead those ever-hissing jaws
Am9.24; E54| And parched lips drop with fresh gore; now roll thou in the clouds
Am9.25; E55| Thy mother lays her length outstretch'd upon the shore beneath.
Am9.26; E55| Sound! sound! my loud war-trumpets & alarm my thirteen Angels!
Am9.27; E55| Loud howls the eternal Wolf: the eternal Lion lashes his tail!
Am10.1; E55| Thus wept the Angel voice & as he wept the terrible blasts
Am10.2; E55| Of trumpets, blew a loud alarm across the Atlantic deep.
Am10.3; E55| No trumpets answer; no reply of clarions or of fifes,
Am10.4; E55| Silent the Colonies remain and refuse the loud alarm.
Am10.5; E55| On those vast shady hills between America & Albions shore;
Am10.6; E55| Now barr'd out by the Atlantic sea: call'd Atlantean hills:
Am10.7; E55| Because from their bright summits you may pass to the Golden world
Am10.8; E55| An ancient palace, archetype of mighty Emperies,
Am10.9; E55| Rears its immortal pinnacles, built in the forest of God
Am10.0; E55| By Ariston the king of beauty for his stolen bride,
Am11.13; E55| Fiery the Angels rose, & as they rose deep thunder roll'd
Am11.14; E55| Around their shores: indignant burning with the fires of Orc
Am11.15; E55| And Bostons Angel cried aloud as they flew thro' the dark night.
Am11.16; E55| He cried: Why trembles honesty and like a murderer,
Am11.17; E55| Why seeks he refuge from the frowns of his immortal station!
Am11.18; E55| Must the generous tremble & leave his joy, to the idle: to the pestilence!
Am11.19; E55| That mock him? who commanded this? what God? what Angel!
Am11.20; E55| To keep the gen'rous from experience till the ungenerous
Am11.21; E55| Are unrestraind performers of the energies of nature;
Am11.22; E55| Till pity is become a trade, and generosity a science,
Am11.23; E55| That men get rich by, & the sandy desart is giv'n to the strong
Am11.24; E55| What God is he, writes laws of peace, & clothes him in a tempest
Am11.25; E55| What pitying Angel lusts for tears, and fans himself with sighs
Am11.26; E55| What crawling villain preaches abstinence & wraps himself
Am11.27; E55| In fat of lambs? no more I follow, no more obedience pay.
Am12.1; E55| So cried he, rending off his robe & throwing down his scepter.
Am12.2; E55| In sight of Albions Guardian, and all the thirteen Angels
Am12.3; E55| Rent off their robes to the hungry wind, & threw their golden scepters
Am12.4; E55| Down on the land of America. indignant they descended
Am12.5; E55| Headlong from out their heav'nly heights, descending swift as fires
Am12.6; E55| Over the land; naked & flaming are their lineaments seen
Am12.7; E55| In the deep gloom, by Washington & Paine & Warren they stood
Am12.8; E55| And the flame folded roaring fierce within the pitchy night
Am12.9; E55| Before the Demon red, who burnt towards America,
Am12.10; E55| In black smoke thunders and loud winds rejoicing in its terror
Am13.1; E56| What time the thirteen Governors that England sent convene
Am13.2; E56| In Bernards house; the flames coverd the land, they rouze they cry
Am13.3; E56| Shaking their mental chains they rush in fury to the sea
Am13.4; E56| To quench their anguish; at the feet of Washington down fall'n
Am13.5; E56| They grovel on the sand and writhing lie, while all
Am13.6; E56| The British soldiers thro' the thirteen states sent up a howl
Am13.7; E56| Of anguish: threw their swords & muskets to the earth & ran
Am13.8; E56| From their encampments and dark castles seeking where to hide
Am13.9; E56| From the grim flames; and from the visions of Orc; in sight
Am13.10; E56| Of Albions Angel; who enrag'd his secret clouds open'd
Am13.11; E56| From north to south, and burnt outstretchd on wings of wrath cov'ring
Am13.12; E56| The eastern sky, spreading his awful wings across the heavens;
Am13.13; E56| Beneath him roll'd his num'rous hosts, all Albions Angels camp'd
Am13.14; E56| Darkend the Atlantic mountains & their trumpets shook the valleys
Am13.15; E56| Arm'd with diseases of the earth to cast upon the Abyss,
Am13.16; E56| Their numbers forty millions, must'ring in the eastern sky.
Am14.16; E56| In the flames stood & view'd the armies drawn out in the sky
Am14.17; E56| Washington Franklin Paine & Warren Allen Gates & Lee:
Am14.18; E56| And heard the voice of Albions Angel give the thunderous command:
Am14.19; E56| His plagues obedient to his voice flew forth out of their clouds
Am14.20; E56| Falling upon America, as a storm to cut them off
Am14.21; E56| As a blight cuts the tender corn when it begins to appear.
Am14.22; E56| Dark is the heaven above, & cold & hard the earth beneath;
Am14.23; E56| And as a plague wind fill'd with insects cuts off man & beast;
Am14.24; E56| And as a sea o'erwhelms a land in the day of an earthquake; t163
Am14.25; E56| Fury! rage! madness! in a wind swept through America
Am14.26; E56| And the red flames of Orc that folded roaring fierce around
Am14.27; E56| The angry shores, and the fierce rushing of th'inhabitants together:
Am14.28; E56| The citizens of New-York close their books & lock their chests;
Am14.29; E56| The mariners of Boston drop their anchors and unlade;
Am14.30; E56| The scribe of Pensylvania casts his pen upon the earth;
Am14.31; E56| The builder of Virginia throws his hammer down in fear.
Am14.32; E56| Then had America been lost, o'erwhelm'd by the Atlantic,
Am14.33; E56| And Earth had lost another portion of the infinite,
Am14.34; E56| But all rush together in the night in wrath and raging fire
Am14.35; E56| The red fires rag'd! the plagues recoil'd! then rolld they back with fury
Am15.3; E57| And the Leprosy Londons Spirit, sickening all their bands:
Am15.4; E57| The millions sent up a howl of anguish and threw off their hammerd mail,
Am15.5; E57| And cast their swords & spears to earth, & stood a naked multitude.
Am15.6; E57| Albions Guardian writhed in torment on the eastern sky
Am15.7; E57| Pale quivring toward the brain his glimmering eyes, teeth chattering
Am15.8; E57| Howling & shuddering his legs quivering; convuls'd each muscle & sinew
Am15.9; E57| Sick'ning lay Londons Guardian, and the ancient miter'd York
Am15.10; E57| Their heads on snowy hills, their ensigns sick'ning in the sky
Am15.11; E57| The plagues creep on the burning winds driven by flames of Orc,
Am15.12; E57| And by the fierce Americans rushing together in the night
Am15.13; E57| Driven o'er the Guardians of Ireland and Scotland and Wales
Am15.14; E57| They spotted with plagues forsook the frontiers & their banners seard
Am15.15; E57| With fires of hell, deform their ancient heavens with shame & woe.
Am15.16; E57| Hid in his caves the Bard of Albion felt the enormous plagues.
Am15.17; E57| And a cowl of flesh grew o'er his head & scales on his back & ribs;
Am15.18; E57| And rough with black scales all his Angels fright their ancient heavens
Am15.19; E57| The doors of marriage are open, and the Priests in rustling scales
Am15.20; E57| Rush into reptile coverts, hiding from the fires of Orc,
Am15.21; E57| That play around the golden roofsin wreaths of fierce desire,
Am15.22; E57| Leaving the females naked and glowing with the lusts of youth
Am15.23; E57| For the female spirits of the dead pining in bonds of religion;
Am15.24; E57| Run from their fetters reddening, & in long drawn arches sitting:
Am15.25; E57| They feel the nerves of youth renew, and desires of ancient times,
Am15.26; E57| Over their pale limbs as a vine when the tender grape appears
Am16.1; E57| Over the hills, the vales, the cities, rage the red flames fierce;
Am16.2; E57| The Heavens melted from north to south; and Urizen who sat
Am16.3; E57| Above all heavens in thunders wrap'd, emerg'd his leprous head
Am16.4; E57| From out his holy shrine, his tears in deluge piteous
Am16.5; E57| Falling into the deep sublime! flag'd with grey-brow'd snows
Am16.6; E57| And thunderous visages, his jealous wings wav'd over the deep;
Am16.7; E57| Weeping in dismal howling woe he dark descended howling
Am16.8; E57| Around the smitten bands, clothed in tears & trembling shudd'ring cold.
Am16.9; E57| His stored snows he poured forth, and his icy magazines
Am16.10; E57| He open'd on the deep, and on the Atlantic sea white shiv'ring.
Am16.11; E57| Leprous his limbs, all over white, and hoary was his visage.
Am16.12; E57| Weeping in dismal howlings before the stern Americans
Am16.13; E57| Hiding the Demon red with clouds & cold mists from the earth;
Am16.14; E57| Till Angels & weak men twelve years should govern o'er the strong:
Am16.15; E57| And then their end should come, when France reciev'd the Demons light.
Am16.16; E57| Stiff shudderings shook the heav'nly thrones! France Spain & Italy,
Am16.17; E57| In terror view'd the bands of Albion, and the ancient Guardians
Am16.18; E57| Fainting upon the elements, smitten with their own plagues
Am16.19; E58| They slow advance to shut the five gates of their law-built heaven
Am16.20; E58| Filled with blasting fancies and with mildews of despair
Am16.21; E58| With fierce disease and lust, unable to stem the fires of Orc;
Am16.22; E58| But the five gates were consum'd, & their bolts and hinges melted
Am16.23; E58| And the fierce flames burnt round the heavens, & round the abodes of men
AM-b.3; E58| In a sweet vale shelter'd with cedars, that eternal stretch
AM-b.4; E58| Their unmov'd branches, stood the hall; built when the moon shot forth,
AM-b.5; E58| In that dread night when Urizen call'd the stars round his feet;
AM-b.6; E58| Then burst the center from its orb, and found a place beneath;
AM-b.7; E58| And Earth conglob'd, in narrow room, roll'd round its sulphur Sun.
AM-b.8; E58| To this deep valley situated by the flowing Thames;
AM-b.9; E58| Where George the third holds council. & his Lords & Commons meet:
AM-b.10; E58| Shut out from mortal sight the Angel came; the vale was dark
AM-b.11; E58| With clouds of smoke from the Atlantic, that in volumes roll'd
AM-b.12; E58| Between the mountains, dismal visions mope around the house.
AM-b.13; E58| On chairs of iron, canopied with mystic ornaments,
AM-b.14; E58| Of life by magic power condens'd; infernal forms art-bound
AM-b.15; E58| The council sat; all rose before the aged apparition;
AM-b.16; E58| His snowy beard that streams like lambent flames down his wide breast
AM-b.17; E58| Wetting with tears, & his white garments cast a wintry light.
AM-b.18; E58| Then as arm'd clouds arise terrific round the northern drum;
AM-b.19; E58| The world is silent at the flapping of the folding banners;
AM-b.20; E58| So still terrors rent the house: as when the solemn globe
AM-b.21; E58| Launch'd to the unknown shore, while Sotha held the northern helm,
AM-b.22; E58| Till to that void it came & fell; so the dark house was rent,
AM-b.23; E58| The valley mov'd beneath; its shining pillars split in twain,
AM-b.24; E58| And its roofs crack across down falling on th'Angelic seats.
AM-c.1; E58| [Then Albions Angel rose] resolv'd to the cove of armoury: t166
AMc.2; E58| His shield that bound twelve demons & their cities in its orb, t167
AM-c.3; E58| He took down from its trembling pillar; from its cavern deep,
AM-c.4; E58| His helm was brought by Londons Guardian, & his thirsty spear
AM-c.5; E58| By the wise spirit of Londons river: silent stood the King breathing damp mists: t168
AM-c.6; E58| And on his aged limbs they clasp'd the armour of terrible gold. t169
AM-c.7; E59| Infinite Londons awful spires cast a dreadful cold t170
AM-c.8; E59| Even on rational things beneath, and from the palace walls t171
AM-c.9; E59| Around Saint James's chill & heavy, even to the city gate. t172
AM-c.10; E59| On the vast stone whose name is Truth he stood, his cloudy shield
AM-c.11; E59| Smote with his scepter, the scale bound orb loud howld; th' ancie[nt] pillar t173
AM-c.12; E59| Trembling sunk, an earthquake roll'd along the massy pile. t174
AM-c.13; E59| In glittring armour, swift as winds; intelligent as clouds; t175
AM-c.14; E59| Four winged heralds mount the furious blasts & blow their trumps
AM-c.15; E59| Gold, silver, brass & iron clangors clamoring rend the shores. t176
AM-c.16; E59| Like white clouds rising from the deeps, his fifty-two armies
AM-c.17; E59| From the four cliffs of Albion rise, mustering around their Prince; t177
AM-c.18; E59| Angels of cities and of parishes and villages and families,
AM-c.19; E59| In armour as the nerves of wisdom, each his station holds. t178
AM-c.20; E59| In opposition dire, a warlike cloud the myriads stood
AM-c.21; E59| In the red air before the Demon; [seen even by mortal men: t179
AM-c.22; E59| Who call it Fancy, & shut the gates of sense, & in their chambers,
AM-c.23; E59| Sleep like the dead.] But like a constellation ris'n and blazing
AM-c.24; E59| Over the rugged ocean; so the Angels of Albion hung,
AM-c.25; E59| a frowning shadow, like an aged King in arms of gold, t180
AM-c.26; E59| Who wept over a den, in which his only son outstretch'd
AM-c.27; E59| By rebels hands was slain; his white beard wav'd in the wild wind. t181
AM-c.28; E59| On mountains & cliffs of snow the awful apparition hover'd;
AM-c.29; E59| And like the voices of religious dead, heard in the mountains:
AM-c.30; E59| When holy zeal scents the sweet valleys of ripe virgin bliss;
AM-c.31; E59| Such was the hollow voice that o'er America lamented. t182
AM-d.1; E59| As when a dream of Thiralatha flies the midnight hour:
AM-d.2; E59| In vain the dreamer grasps the joyful images, they fly
AM-d.3; E59| Seen in obscured traces in the Vale of Leutha, So
AM-d.4; E59| The British Colonies beneath the woful Princes fade.