Page:The prophetic books of William Blake, Milton.djvu/39

 She ties the knot of bloody veins into a red hot heart!

Within her bosom Albion lies embalm'd, never to awake.

Hand is become a rock: Sinai & Horeb is Hyle & Coban:

Scofield is bound in iron armour before Reuben's Gate:

She ties the knot of milky seed into two lovely Heavens,

P. 18 TWO yet but one; each in the other sweet reflected: these

Are our Three Heavens beneath the shades of Beulah, land of rest:

Come then to Ephraim & Manasseh, O beloved-one!

Come to my ivory palaces, O beloved of thy mother!

And let us bind thee in the bands of War & be thou King

Of Canaan and reign in Hazor where the Twelve Tribes meet.

So spoke they as in one voice: Silent Milton stood before

The darken'd Urizen; as the sculptor silent stands before

His forming image: he walks round it patient labouring.

Thus Milton stood forming bright Urizen, while his Mortal part

Sat frozen in the rock of Horeb: and his Redeemed portion,

Thus form'd the Clay of Urizen; but within that portion

His real Human walk'd above in power and majesty,

Tho' darken'd; and the Seven Angels of the Presence attended him.

O how can I with my gross tongue that cleaveth to the dust,

Tell of the Four-fold Man in starry numbers fitly order'd,

Or how can I with my cold hand of clay! But thou, O Lord,

Do with me as thou wilt! for I am nothing, and vanity

If thou chuse to elect a worm, it shall remove the mountains.

For that portion nam'd the Elect: the Spectrous body of Milton:

Redounding from my left foot into Los's Mundane space,

Brooded over his Body in Horeb against the Resurrection,

Preparing it for the Great Consummation: red the Cherub on Sinai

Glow'd: but in terrors folded round his clouds of blood.

Now Albion's sleeping Humanity began to turn upon his Couch,

Feeling the electric flame of Milton's awful precipitate descent.

Seest thou the little winged fly smaller than a grain of sand?

It has a heart like thee: a brain open to heaven & hell,

Withinside wondrous & expansive: its gates are not clos'd:

I hope thine are not: hence it clothes itself in rich array:

Hence thou art cloth'd with human beauty, O thou mortal man.

Seek not thy heavenly father then beyond the skies:

There Chaos dwells & ancient Night & Og & Anak old:

For every human heart has gates of brass & bars of adamant, 15