In the flames stood & view’d the armies drawn out in the sky
Washington Franklin Paine & Warren Allen Gates & Lee:
And heard the voice of Albions Angel give the thunderous command:
His plagues obedient to his voice flew forth out of their clouds
Falling upon America, as a storm to cut them off
As a blight cuts the tender corn when it begins to appear.
Dark is the heaven above, & cold & hard the earth beneath;
And as a plague wind fill’d with insects cuts off man & beast;
And as a sea o’erwhelms a land in the day of an earthquake;
Fury! rage! madness! in a wind swept through America
And the red flames of Orc that folded roaring fierce around
The angry shores, and the fierce rushing of th’inhabitants together:
The citizens of New-York close their books & lock their chests;
The mariners of Boston drop their anchors and unlade;
The scribe of Pensylvania casts his pen upon the earth;
The builder of Virginia throws his hammer down in fear.
Then had America been lost, o’erwhelm’d by the Atlantic,
And Earth had lost another portion of the infinite,
But all rush together in the night in wrath and raging fire
The red fires rag’d! the plagues recoil’d! then rolld they back with fury
On Albions Angels; then the Pestilence began in streaks of red
Across the limbs of Albions Guardian, the spotted plague smote Bristols
And the Leprosy Londons Spirit, sickening all their bands:
The millions sent up a howl of anguish and threw off their hammerd mail,
And cast their swords & spears to earth, & stood a naked multitude.
Albions Guardian writhed in torment on the eastern sky
Pale quivring toward the brain his glimmering eyes, teeth chattering
Howling & shuddering his legs quivering; convuls’d each muscle & sinew
Sick’ning lay Londons Guardian, and the ancient miter’d York
Their heads on snowy hills, their ensigns sick’ning in the sky
The plagues creep on the burning winds driven by flames of Orc,
And by the fierce Americans rushing together in the night
Driven o’er the Guardians of Ireland and Scotland and Wales
They spotted with plagues forsook the frontiers & their banners seard
With fires of hell, deform their ancient heavens with shame & woe.
Hid in his caves the Bard of Albion felt the enormous plagues.
And a cowl of flesh grew o’er his head & scales on his back & ribs;
And rough with black scales all his Angels fright their ancient heavens
The doors of marriage are open, and the Priests in rustling scales
Rush into reptile coverts, hiding from the fires of Orc,
That play around the golden roofsin wreaths of fierce desire,
Leaving the females naked and glowing with the lusts of youth
For the female spirits of the dead pining in bonds of religion;
Run from their fetters reddening, & in long drawn arches sitting:
They feel the nerves of youth renew, and desires of ancient times,
Over their pale limbs as a vine when the tender grape appears
Over the hills, the vales, the cities, rage the red flames fierce;
The Heavens melted from north to south; and Urizen who sat
Above all heavens in thunders wrap’d, emerg’d his leprous head
From out his holy shrine, his tears in deluge piteous
Falling into the deep sublime! flag’d with grey-brow’d snows
And thunderous visages, his jealous wings wav’d over the deep;
Weeping in dismal howling woe he dark descended howling
Around the smitten bands, clothed in tears & trembling shudd’ring cold.
His stored snows he poured forth, and his icy magazines
He open’d on the deep, and on the Atlantic sea white shiv’ring.
Leprous his limbs, all over white, and hoary was his visage.
Weeping in dismal howlings before the stern Americans
Hiding the Demon red with clouds & cold mists from the earth;
Till Angels & weak men twelve years should govern o’er the strong:
And then their end should come, when France reciev’d the Demons light.
Stiff shudderings shook the heav’nly thrones! France Spain & Italy,
In terror view’d the bands of Albion, and the ancient Guardians
Fainting upon the elements, smitten with their own plagues
They slow advance to shut the five gates of their law-built heaven
Filled with blasting fancies and with mildews of despair
With fierce disease and lust, unable to stem the fires of Orc;
But the five gates were consum’d, & their bolts and hinges melted
And the fierce flames burnt round the heavens, & round the abodes of men
Reveal the dragon thro’ the human; coursing swift as fire
To the close hall of counsel, where his Angel form renews.
In a sweet vale shelter’d with cedars, that eternal stretch
Their unmov’d branches, stood the hall; built when the moon shot forth,
In that dread night when Urizen call’d the stars round his feet;
Then burst the center from its orb, and found a place beneath;
And Earth conglob’d, in narrow room, roll’d round its sulphur Sun.
To this deep valley situated by the flowing Thes;
Where George the third holds council. & his Lords & Commons meet:
Shut out from mortal sight the Angel ce; the vale was dark
With clouds of smoke from the Atlantic, that in volumes roll’d
Between the mountains, dismal visions mope around the house.
On chairs of iron, canopied with mystic ornents,
Of life by magic power condens’d; infernal forms art-bound
The council sat; all rose before the aged apparition;
His snowy beard that stres like lbent fles down his wide breast
Wetting with tears, & his white garments cast a wintry light.
Then as arm’d clouds arise terrific round the northern drum;
The world is silent at the flapping of the folding banners;
So still terrors rent the house: as when the solemn globe
Launch’d to the unknown shore, while Sotha held the northern helm,
Till to that void it ce & fell; so the dark house was rent,
The valley mov’d beneath; its shining pillars split in twain,
And its roofs crack across down falling on th’Angelic seats.
[Then Albions Angel rose] resolv’d to the cove of armoury:
His shield that bound twelve demons & their cities in its orb,
He took down from its trembling pillar; from its cavern deep,
His helm was brought by Londons Guardian, & his thirsty spear
By the wise spirit of Londons river: silent stood the King breathing dp mists:
And on his aged limbs they clasp’d the armour of terrible gold.
Infinite Londons awful spires cast a dreadful cold
Even on rational things beneath, and from the palace walls
Around Saint Jes’s chill & heavy, even to the city gate.
On the vast stone whose ne is Truth he stood, his cloudy shield
Smote with his scepter, the scale bound orb loud howld; th’ ancient pillar
Trembling sunk, an earthquake roll’d along the massy pile.
In glittring armour, swift as winds; intelligent as clouds;
Four winged heralds mount the furious blasts & blow their trumps
Gold, silver, brass & iron clangors cloring rend the shores.
Like white clouds rising from the deeps, his fifty-two armies
From the four cliffs of Albion rise, mustering around their Prince;
Angels of cities and of parishes and villages and filies,
In armour as the nerves of wisdom, each his station holds.
In opposition dire, a warlike cloud the myriads stood
In the red air before the Demon; [seen even by mortal men:
Who call it Fancy, & shut the gates of sense, & in their chbers,
Sleep like the dead.] But like a constellation ris’n and blazing
Over the rugged ocean; so the Angels of Albion hung,
A frowning shadow, like an aged King in arms of gold,
Who wept over a den, in which his only son outstretch’d
By rebels hands was slain; his white beard wav’d in the wild wind.
On mountains & cliffs of snow the awful apparition hover’d;
And like the voices of religious dead, heard in the mountains:
When holy zeal scents the sweet valleys of ripe virgin bliss;
Such was the hollow voice that o’er erica lented.
As when a dre of Thiralatha flies the midnight hour:
In vain the dreer grasps the joyful images, they fly
Seen in obscured traces in the Vale of Leutha, So
The British Colonies beneath the woful Princes fade.
And so the Princes fade from earth, scarce seen by souls of men
But tho’ obscur’d, this is the form of the Angelic land.