Page:The prophetic books of William Blake, Milton.djvu/70

 The Clouds of Ololon folded as a Garment dipped in blood,

Written within & without in woven letters: & the Writing

Is the Divine Revelation in the Litteral expression:

A Garment of War. I heard it nam'd the Woof of Six Thousand Years.

And I beheld the Twenty-four Cities of Albion

Arise upon their Thrones to Judge the Nations of the Earth:

And the Immortal Four in whom the Twenty-four appear Four-fold

Arose around Albion's body: Jesus wept, & walked forth

From Felpham's Vale clothed in Clouds of blood, to enter into

Albion's Bosom, the bosom of death, & the Four surrounded him

In the Column of Fire in Felpham's Vale: then to their mouths the Four

Applied their Four Trumpets, & then sounded to the Four winds.

Terror struck in the Vale I stood at that immortal sound:

My bones trembled, I fell outstretch'd upon the path

A moment, & my Soul returned into its mortal state,

To Resurrection & Judgment in the Vegetable Body:

And my sweet Shadow of delight stood trembling by my side.

Immediately the Lark mounted with a loud trill from Felpham's Vale,

And the Wild Thyme from Wimbleton's green & impurpled Hills.

And Los & Enitharmon rose over the Hills of Surrey:

Their clouds roll over London with a south wind: soft Oothoon

Pants in the Vales of Lambeth, weeping o'er her Human Harvest.

Los listens to the Cry of the Poor Man: his Cloud

Over London in volume terrific, low bended in anger.

Rintrah & Palamabron view the Human Harvest beneath.

Their Wine-presses & Barns stand open: the Ovens are prepar'd:

The Waggons ready: terrific Lions & Tygers sport & play:

All Animals upon the Earth are prepar'd in all their strength

P. 45 TO go forth to the Great Harvest & Vintage of the Nations.

Finis. 46