The Portable William Blake (14 page)

If you trap the moment before it’s ripe,
The tears of repentence you’ll certainly wipe;
But if once you let the ripe moment go
You can never wipe off the tears of woe.

He who binds to himself a joy
Does the winged life destroy;
But he who kisses the joy as it flies
Lives in eternity’s sun rise.

What is it men in women do require?
The lineaments of Gratified Desire.
What is it women do in men require?
The lineaments of Gratified Desire.

“Come hither, my boy, tell me what thou seest there.”

“A fool tangled in a religious snare.”

The countless gold of a merry heart,
The rubies & pearls of a loving eye,
The indolent never can bring to the mart,
Nor the secret hoard up in his treasury.

“Why of the sheep do you not learn peace?”
“Because I don’t want you to shear my fleece.”

The look of love alarms
Because ’tis fill’d with fire;
But the look of soft deceit
Shall win the lover’s hire.

Which are beauties sweetest dress?
Soft deceit & idleness,
These are beauties sweetest dress.

The Good are attracted by Men’s perceptions,
And think not for themselves;
Till Experience teaches them to catch
And to cage the Fairies & Elves.

 

And then the Knave begins to snarl
And the Hypocrite to howl;
And all his good Friends shew their private ends,
And the Eagle is known from the Owl.

Her whole Life is an Epigram, smart, smooth, & neatly
pen’d,
Platted quite neat to catch applause with a sliding noose
at the end.

An old maid early—e‘er I knew
Ought but the love that on me grew;
And now I’m cover’d o’er & o’er
And wish that I had been a whore.

 

0, I cannot, cannot find
The undaunted courage of a Virgin Mind,
For Early I in love was crost,
Before my flower of love was lost.

“Let the Brothels of Paris be opened
With many an alluring dance
To awake the Pestilence thro’ the city,”
Said the beautiful Queen of France.

 

The King awoke on his couch of gold,
As soon as he heard these tidings told:
“Arise & come, both fife & drum,
And the Famine shall eat both crust & crumb.”

 

Then he swore a great & solemn Oath:
“To kill the people I am loth,
But If they rebel, they must go to hell:
They shall have a Priest & a passing bell.”

 

Then old Nobodaddy aloft
Farted & belch’d & cough’d,
And said, “I love hanging & drawing & quartering
Every bit as well as war & slaughtering.
Damn praying & singing,
Unless they will bring in
The blood of ten thousand by fighting qr swinging.”

 

The Queen of France just touched this Globe,
And the Pestilence darted from her robe;
But our good Queen quite grows to the ground,
And a great many suckers grow all around.

 

Fayette beside King Lewis stood;
He saw him sign his hand;
And soon he saw the famine rage
About the fruitful land.

 

Fayette beheld the Queen to smile
And wink her lovely eye;
And soon he saw the pestilence
From street to street to fly.

 

Fayette beheld the King & Queen
In tears & iron bound;
But mute Fayette wept tear for tear,
And guarded them around.

 

Fayette, Fayette, thou’rt bought & sold,
And sold is thy happy morrow;
Thou gavest the tears of Pity away
In exchange for the tears of sorrow.

Who will exchange his own fire side
For the steps of another’s door?
Who will exchange his wheaten loaf
For the links of a dungeon floor?

 

0, who would smile on the wintry seas,
& Pity the stormy roar?
Or who will exchange his new born child
For the dog at the wintry door?

A fairy leapt upon my knee
Singing & dancing merrily;
I said, “Thou thing of patches, rings,
Pins, Necklaces, & such like things,
Disguiser of the Female Form,
Thou paltry, gilded, poisonous worml”
Weeping, he fell upon my thigh,
And thus in tears did soft reply:
“Knowest thou not, 0 Fairies’ Lord!
How much by us Contemn’d, Abhorr’d,
Whatever hides the Female form
That cannot bear the Mental storm?
Therefore in Pity still we give
Our lives to make the Female live;
And what would turn into disease
We turn to what will joy & please.”

Around the Springs of Gray my wild root weaves.
Traveller repose & Dream among my leaves.

A little Flower grew in a lonely Vale.
Its form was lovely but its colours pale.
One standing in the Porches of the Sun,
When his Meridian Glories were begun,
Leap’d from the steps of fire & on the grass
Alighted where this little flower was.
With hands divine he mov’d the gentle. Sod
And took the Flower up in its native Clod;
Then planting it upon a Mountain’s brow—
“ ’Tis your own fault if you don’t flourish now.”

SECOND SERIES

(1800-1810)

 

The Angel that presided o’er my birth
Said, “Little creature, form’d of Joy & Mirth,
Go love without the help of any Thing on Earth.”

To find the Western path
Right thro’ the Gates of Wrath
I urge my way;
Sweet Mercy leads me on:
With soft repentant moan
I see the break of day.

 

The war of swords & spears
Melted by dewy tears
Exhales on high;
The Sun is freed from fears
And with soft grateful tears
Ascends the sky.