Page:The poetical works of William Blake; a new and verbatim text from the manuscript engraved and letterpress originals (1905).djvu/88

 sat, and heard with joy, and praised God, who Israel still doth keep. The time rolled on, and Israel groaned oppressed. The sword was bright, while the plow-share rusted, till hope grew feeble, and was ready to give place to doubting: then prayed Manoa: "O Lord, thy flock is scattered on the hills. The wolf teareth them, Oppression stretches his rod over our land, our country is plowed with swords, and reaped in blood. The echoes of slaughter reach from hill to hill. Instead of peaceful pipe the shepherd bears a sword, the ox goad is turned into a spear. O when shall our Deliverer come? The Philistine riots on our flocks, our vintage is gathered by bands of enemies. Stretch forth thy hand, and save." Thus prayed Manoa. The aged woman walked into the field, and lo, again the angel came. Clad as a traveller fresh risen on his journey, she ran and called her husband, who came and talked with him. "O man of God," said he, "thou comest from far. Let us detain thee while I make ready a kid, that thou mayest sit and eat, and tell us of thy name and warfare; that, when thy sayings come to pass, we may honour thee." The Angel answered, "My name is wonderful; enquire not after it, seeing it is a secret: but, if thou wilt, offer an offering unto the Lord."'