The Birds (Blake, Notebook)



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2nd reading:
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THE BIRDS.

==== 1st reading: ==== Selections from ‘Jerusalem’ [Man’s Spectre]

(Jerusalem, f. 41 [lines engraved in reverse on scroll].)

EACH Man is in his Spectre’s power Until the arrival of that hour, When his Humanity awake, And cast his Spectre into the Lake.

Note
Man’s Spectre] In the original draft on p. 12 of the Rossetti MS. this quatrain was at first written:

This world is in the Spectre’s power Until the arrival of that hour, Until Humanity awake, And cast his own Spectre in the Lake— followed by the unfinished stanza.

And there to Eternity aspire The Selfhood in a flame of fire; Till then the Lamb of God … ________________________________________

2nd reading:
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[ 4 ] [This world del.] Each Man is in [the del.] his Spectre’s power [ 3 ] Until the arrival of that hour, [ 1 ] [Until del.] When [the del.] Humanity awake, [ 2 ] And cast [the del.] his own Spectre in the Lake.

And there to Eternity aspire The Selfhood in a flame of fire Till then the Lamb of God…

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Terror in the house does roar, But Pity stands before the door.

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c.1800-1803
43 "Why was Cupid a Boy" 44 "Now Art has lost its mental Charms" 45 To the Queen 46 "The Caverns of the Grave Ive seen" 47 "I rose up at the dawn of day" 48 "A fairy skipd upon my knee" 49 "Around the Springs of Gray my wild root weaves" 50 To Mrs Ann Flaxman 51 The Smile 52 The Golden Net 53 The Mental Traveller 54 The Land of Dreams 55 Mary 56 The Crystal Cabinet 57 The Grey Monk 58 Auguries of Innocence 59 Long John Brown & Little Mary Bell 60 William Bond 61 Mr Blake's Nursery Rhyme

I die I die the Mother said My Children die for lack of Bread What more has the merciless Tyrant said The Monk sat down on the Stony Bed

The blood red ran from the Grey Monks side His hands & feet were wounded wide His Body bent his arms & knees Like to the roots of ancient trees

His eye was dry no tear could flow A hollow groan first spoke his woe He trembled & shudderd upon the Bed At length with a feeble cry he said

When God commanded this hand to write In the studious hours of deep midnight He told me the writing I wrote should prove The Bane of all that on Earth I lovd

My Brother starvd between two Walls His Childrens Cry my Soul appalls I mockd at the wrack & griding chain My bent body mocks their torturing pain

Thy Father drew his sword in the North With his thousands strong he marched forth Thy Brother has armd himself in Steel To avenge the wrongs thy Children feel

But vain the Sword & vain the Bow They never can work Wars overthrow The Hermits Prayer & the Widows tear Alone can free the World from fear

For a Tear is an Intellectual Thing And a Sigh is the Sword of an Angel King And the bitter groan of the Martyrs woe Is an Arrow from the Almighties Bow

The hand of Vengeance found the Bed To which the Purple Tyrant fled The iron hand crushd the Tyrants head And became a Tyrant in his stead

Blake manuscript - Notebook 1800 - 10 The Birds.jpg

Blake manuscript - Notebook 1800 - 10 The Birds.jpg 123 KB