Студопедия  
Главная страница | Контакты | Случайная страница

АвтомобилиАстрономияБиологияГеографияДом и садДругие языкиДругоеИнформатика
ИсторияКультураЛитератураЛогикаМатематикаМедицинаМеталлургияМеханика
ОбразованиеОхрана трудаПедагогикаПолитикаПравоПсихологияРелигияРиторика
СоциологияСпортСтроительствоТехнологияТуризмФизикаФилософияФинансы
ХимияЧерчениеЭкологияЭкономикаЭлектроника

A PROPHECY

Читайте также:
  1. A PROPHECY

 

 

The deep of winter came,

What time the Secret Child

Descended through the orient gates of the Eternal day:

War ceas'd, and all the troops like shadows fled to their

abodes.

 

Then Enitharmon saw her sons and daughters rise around;

Like pearly clouds they meet together in the crystal

house;

And Los, possessor of-ihe Moon, joy'd in the peaceful night,

Thus speaking, while his num'rous sons shook their bright fiery

wings: -

 

'Again the night is come,

That strong Urthona takes his rest;

And Urizen, unloos'd from chains,

 

Glows like a meteor in the distant North.

Stretch forth your hands and strike the elemental

strings!

Awake the thunders of the deep!

 

'The shrill winds wake,

Till all the sons of Urizen look out and envy Los.

Seize all the spirits of life, and bind

 

Their warbling joys to our loud strings!

Bind all the nourishing sweets of earth

To give us bliss, that we may drink the sparkling wine

of Los!

And let us laugh at war,

Despising toil and care,

Because the days and nights of joy in lucky

hours renew.

 

'Arise, О Ore, from thy deep den!

First-born of Enitharmon, rise!

And we will crown thy head with garlands of the ruddy vine;

For now thou art bound,

And I may see thee in the hour of bliss, my eldest-born.'

 

The horrent Demon rose, surrounded with red stars of fire,

Whirling about in furious circles round the Immortal Fiend.

 

Then Enitharmon down descended into his red light,

And thus her voice rose to her children: the distant heavens

reply: -

 

'Now comes the night of Enitharmon's joy!

Who shall I call? Who shall I send,

That Woman, lovely Woman, may have dominion?

Arise, О Rintrah! thee I call, and Palamabron, thee!

Go! tell the Human race that Woman's love is Sin;

That an Eternal life awaits the worms of sixty winters,

In an allegorical abode, where existence hath never come.

Forbid all Joy; and, from her childhood, shall the little

Female

Spread nets in every secret path.

 

'My weary eyelids draw towards the evening; my bliss is yet

but new.

 

'Arise! O Rintrah, eldest-born, second to none but Ore!

О lion Rintrah, raise thy fury from thy forests black!

Bring Palamabron, horned priest, skipping upon

the mountains,

And silent Elynittria, the silver-bowed queen.

Rintrah, where hast thou hid thy bride?

Weeps she in desert shades?

Alas! my Rintrah, bring the lovely jealous

Ocalythron.

 

'Arise, my son! bring all thy brethren,

О thou King of Fire!

Prince of the Sun! I see thee with thy innumerable

race,

Thick as the summer stars;

But each, ramping, his golden mane shakes,

And thine eyes rejoice because of strength, О Rintrah, furious

King!'

 

Enitharmon slept

Eighteen hundred years. Man was a dream,

The night of Nature and their harps unstrung!

She slept in middle of her nightly song

Eighteen hundred years, a Female dream.

 

Shadows of men in fleeting bands upon the winds

Divide the heavens of Europe;

Till Albion's Angel, smitten with his own plagues, fled with

his bands.

The cloud bears hard on Albion's shore,

Fill'd with immortal Demons of futurity:

In council gather the smitten Angels of Albion;

The cloud bears hard upon the council-house,

down rushing

On the heads of Albion's Angels.

 

One hour they lay buried beneath the ruins of that hall;

But as the stars rise from the Salt Lake, they arise in pain,

In troubled mists, o'erclouded by the terrors of struggling

times.

 

In thoughts perturb'd they rose from the bright ruins, silent

following

The fiery King, who sought his ancient temple,

serpent-form'd,

That stretches out its shady length along

the Island white.

Round him roll'd his clouds of war; silent the Angel went

Along the infinite shores of Thames to golden

Verulam.

There stand the venerable porches, that high-towering

rear

Their oak-surrounded pillars, form'd of massy stones, uncut

With tool, stones precious!-such eternal in the heavens,

Of colours twelve (few known on earth) give light

in the opaque,

Plac'd in the order of the stars; when the five senses

whelm'd

In deluge o'er the earth-born man, then turn'd the fluxile

eyes

Into two stationary orbs, concentrating all things:

The ever-varying spiral ascents to the Heavens of Heavens

Were bended downward, and the nostrils' golden gates shut,

Turn'd outward, barr'd, and petrify'd against the Infinite.

 

Thought chang'd the Infinite to a Serpent, that which

pitieth

To a devouring flame; and Man fled from its face and hid

In forests of night; then all the eternal forests were divided

Into earths, rolling in circles of Space, that like an ocean

rush'd

And overwhelmed all except this finite wall of flesh.

Then was the Serpent temple form'd, image of Infinite, |

Shut up in finite revolutions, and Man became an Angel,

Heaven a mighty circle turning, God a tyrant crown'd.

 

Now arriv'd the ancient Guardian at the southern porch,

That planted thick with trees of blackest leaf,

and in a vale

Obscure enclos'd the Stone of Night; oblique it stood, o'erhung

With purple flowers and berries red, image

of that sweet South,

Once open to the heavens, and elevated on the human neck,

Now overgrown with hair, and cover'd with a stony roof.

Downward 'tis sunk beneath th' attractive North, that round

the feet,

A raging whirlpool, draws the dizzy enquirer to his grave.

 

Albion's Angel rose upon the Stone of Night.

He saw Urizen on the Atlantic;

And his brazen Book,

That Kings and Priests had copied on Earth,

Expanded from North to South.

 

And the clouds and fires pale roll'd round in the night

of Enitharmon,

Round Albion's cliffs and London's walls: still Enitharmon slept.

Rolling volumes of grey mist involve Churches,

Palaces, Towers;

For Urizen unclasp'd his Book, feeding his soul with pity.

The youth of England, hid in gloom, curse the pain'd heavens,

compell'd

Into the deadly night to see the form

of Albion's Angel.

Their parents brought them forth, and Aged Ignorance preaches*

canting,

On a vast rock, perceiv'd by those senses that are clos'd front

thought -------

Bleak, dark, abrupt it stands, and overshadows London city.

They saw his bony feet on the rock, the flesh consum'd

in flames;

They saw the Serpent temple lifted above, shadowing the Island

white;

They heard the voice of Albion's Angel, howling in flames of Ork,

Seeking the trump of the Last Doom.

 

Above the rest the howl was heard from Westminster, louder and

louder:

The Guardian of the secret codes forsook his ancient mansion,

Driven out by the flames of Ore; his furr'd robes

and false locks

Adhered and grew one with his flesh and nerves, and veins shot

thro' them.

With dismal torment sick, hanging upon the wind, he fled

Grovelling, along Great George Street, thro' the Park gate:

all the soldiers

Fled from his sight: he dragg'd his torments to the wilderness.

 

Thus was the howl thro' Europe!

For Ore rejoie'd to hear the howling shadows;

But Palamabron shot his lightnings, trenching down his

wide back;

And Rintrah hung with all his legions in the nether deep.

 

Enitharmon laugh'd in her sleep to see (O woman's triumph!)

Every house a den, every man bound: the shadows are fill'd

With spectres, and the windows wove over with curses of iron:

Over the doors 'Thou shalt not,' and over the chimneys 'Fear' is

written:

With bands of iron round their necks fasten'd into the walls

The citizens, in leaden gyves the inhabitants of suburbs

Walk heavy; soft and bent are the bones

of villagers.

 

Between the clouds of Urizen the flames of Ore roll heavy

Around the limbs of Albion's Guardian, his flesh consuming:

Howlings and hissings, shrieks and groans, and voices of despair

Arise around him in the cloudy heavens of Albion. Furious,

The red-limb'd Angel seiz'd in horror

and torment

The trump of the Last Doom; but he could not blow

the iron tube!

Thrice he assay'd presumptuous to awake

the dead to Judgement.

A mighty Spirit leap'd from the land of Albion,

Nam'd Newton: he seiz'd the trump, and blow'd the enormous

blast!

Yellow as leaves of autumn, the myriads

of Angelic hosts

Fell thro' the wintry skies, seeking their graves,

Rattling their hollow bones in howlings

and lamentation.

 

Then Enitharmon woke, nor knew that she had

slept;

And eighteen hundred years were fled

As if they had not been.

She call'd her sons and daughters

To the sports of night

Within her crystal house,

And thus her song proceeds: -

 

'Arise, Ethinthus! tho' the earth-worm call,

Let him call in vain,

Till the night of holy shadows

And human solitude is past!

 

'Ethinthus, Queen of Waters, how thou shinest

in the sky!

My daughter, how do I rejoice! for thy children flock

around,

Like the gay fishes on the wave, when the cold moon drink"

dew.

Ethinthus! thou art sweet as comforts to my

fainting soul,

For now thy waters warble round the feet of Enitharmon.

 

'Manatha-Varcyon! I behold thee flaming in my

halls.

Light of thy mother's soul! I see thy lovely eagles round;

Thy golden wings are my delight, and thy flames of soft

delusion.

 

'Where is my luring bird of Eden? Leutha,

silent love!

Leutha, the many-colour'd bow delights upon thy wings!

Soft soul of flowers, Leutha!

 

Sweet smiling Pestilence! I see thy blushing light;

Thy daughters, many changing,

Revolve like sweet perfumes ascending, О Leutha,

Silken Queen!

 

'Where is the youthful Antamon, Prince of the Pearly Dew?

О Antamon! why wilt thou leave thy mother Enitharmon?

Alone I see thee, crystal form,

Floating upon the bosom'd air,

With lineaments of gratified desire.

My Antamon! the seven churches of Leutha seek thy love.

 

'I hear the soft Oothoon in Enitharmon's tents;

Why wilt thou give up woman's secrecy,

my melancholy child?

Between two moments Bliss is ripe.

О Theotormon! robb'd of joy, I see thy salt

tears flow

Down the steps of my crystal house.

 

'Sotha and Thiralatha! secret dwellers of dreamful caves,

Arise and please the horrent Fiend with your

melodious songs;

Still all your thunders, golden-hoof d, and bind your horses

black.

Ore! smile upon my children,

Smile, son of my afflictions!

Arise, О Ore, and give our mountains joy

of thy red light!

 

She ceas'd; for all were forth at sport beneath the solemn moon

Waking the stars of Utizen with their immortal

songs;

That Nature felt thro' all her pores the enormous revelry,

Till Morning oped the eastern gate;

Then every one fled to his station, and Enitharmon wept.

 

But terrible Ore, when he beheld the morning

in the East,

Shot from the heights of Enitharmon,

And in the vineyards of red France appear'd the light

of his fury.

 

The Sun glow'd fiery red!

The furious Terrors flew around

On golden chariots, raging with red wheels,

dropping with blood!

The Lions lash their wrathful tails!

The Tigers couch upon the prey and suck the ruddy tide;

And Enitharmon groans and cries in anguish and dismay.

 

Then Los arose: his head he rear'd, in snaky

thunders clad;

And with a cry that shook all Nature

to the utmost pole,

Call'd all his sons to the strife of blood.

 




Дата добавления: 2015-09-11; просмотров: 19 | Поможем написать вашу работу | Нарушение авторских прав

ПАМЯТНЫЙ СОН | A MEMORABLE FANCY | ПАМЯТНЫЙ СОН | ПЕСНЬ СВОБОДЫ | VISIONS | ВИДЕНИЯ | BOOK THE FIRST | КНИГА ПЕРВАЯ | AMERICA | A PROPHECY |


lektsii.net - Лекции.Нет - 2014-2024 год. (0.03 сек.) Все материалы представленные на сайте исключительно с целью ознакомления читателями и не преследуют коммерческих целей или нарушение авторских прав