Revives the milkèd cow, and tames the fire-breathing steed. 35 But Thel is like a faint cloud kindled at the rising sun: I vanish from my pearly throne, and who shall find my place?" "Queen of the vales," the Lily answered, "ask the tender Cloud, And it shall tell thee why it glitters in the morning sky, And why it scatters its bright beauty through the humid air. 40 Descend, O little Cloud, and hover before the eyes of Thel." The Cloud descended; and the Lily bowed her modest head, And went to mind her numerous charge among the verdant grass. II "O little Cloud," the virgin said, "I charge thee tell to me Why thou complainest not, when in one hour thou fad'st away: 45 Then we shall seek thee, but not find. Ah! Thel is like to thee I pass away; yet I complain, and no one hears my voice." The Cloud then showed his golden head, and his bright form emerged, Hovering and glittering on the air, before the face of Thel. "O virgin, know'st thou not our steeds drink of the golden springs 50 Where Luvah doth renew his horses? Look'st thou on my youth, And fearest thou because I vanish and am seen no more? Nothing remains. O maid, I tell thee, when I pass away, It is to tenfold life, to love, to peace, and raptures holy. Unseen, descending, weigh my light wings. upon balmy flowers, 55 And court the fair-eyed Dew to take me to her shining tent: The weeping virgin, trembling, kneels before the risen sun, Till we arise, linked in a golden band, and never part, But walk united, bearing food to all our tender flowers."' "Dost thou, O little Cloud? I fear that I am not like thee; 60 For I walk through the vales of Har, and smell the sweetest flowers, But I feed not the little flowers; I hear the warbling birds, But I feed not the warbling birds-they fly and seek their food. But Thel delights in these no more, because I fade away, And all shall say, 'Without a use this shining woman lived; 65 Or did she only live to be at death the food of worms?'"' The Cloud reclined upon his airy throne, and answered thus: "Then if thou art the food of worms, O virgin of the skies, How great thy use, how great thy blessing! Everything that lives 70 Lives not alone nor for itself.1 Fear not, and I will call The weak Worm from its lowly bed, and The helpless Worm arose, and sat upon And the bright Cloud sailed on to find his partner in the vale. III 75 Then Thel, astonished, viewed the Worm upon its dewy bed. "Art thou a worm, image of weakness? art thou but a worm? I see thee, like an infant, wrapped in the Lily's leaf. Ah! weep not, little voice; thou canst not speak, but thou canst weep. Is this a worm? I see thee lie helpless and naked, weeping, 80 And none to answer, none to cherish thee with mother's smiles." The Clod of Clay heard the Worm's voice, and raised her pitying head: She bowed over the weeping infant, and her life exhaled In milky fondness; then on Thel she fixed her humble eyes. "O beauty of the vales of Har! we live not for ourselves. 85 Thou seest me, the meanest thing, and so I am indeed. My bosom of itself is cold, and of itself is dark; But He that loves the lowly pours His oil upon my head, 1 See Romans, 14:7. And kisses me, and binds His nuptial bands around my breast, "Why cannot the ear be closed to its own destruction? And says: "Thou mother of my children, 115 Or the glistening eye to the poison of a I have loved thee, smile? Why are eyelids stored with arrows ready drawn, Where a thousand fighting-men in ambush lie, Or an eye of gifts and graces showering fruits and coinèd gold? Why a tongue impressed with honey from every wind? 120 Why an ear, a whirlpool fierce to draw creations in? And lay me down in thy cold bed, and 125 100 "Queen of the vales," the matron Clay And to return: fear nothing; enter with IV The eternal gates' terrific porter lifted the northern bar; 105 The entered in, and saw the secrets of the land unknown. She saw the couches of the dead, and where fibrous root Of every heart on earth infixes deep its restless twists; A land of sorrows and of tears, where never smile was seen. She wandered in the land of clouds, through valleys dark, listening 110 Dolors and lamentations; waiting oft beside a dewy grave, She stood in silence, listening to the voices of the ground, Till to her own grave-plot she came, and there she sat down, And heard this voice of sorrow breathed from the hollow pit. 1 See Cowper's The Task, 6, 560 ff. (p. 148).. Why a nostril wide-inhaling terror, trembling, and affright? Why a tender curb upon the youthful burning boy? Why a little curtain of flesh on the bed of our desire?" The Virgin started from her seat, and with a shriek Fled back unhindered till she came into the vales of Har. THE CLOD AND THE PEBBLE "Love seeketh not itself to please, 5 So sung a little clod of clay, Warbled out these metres meet: And it grew both day and night, 10 Till it bore an apple bright, And my foe beheld it shine, And he knew that it was mine, And into my garden stole When the night had veiled the pole; 15 In the morning, glad, I see My foe outstretched beneath the tree. A CRADLE SONG Sleep! sleep! beauty bright, 5 Sweet babe, in thy face As thy softest limbs I feel, O! the cunning wiles that creep From thy cheek and from thy eye, 20 Heaven and Earth of peace beguiles. AUGURIES OF INNOCENCE To see a world in a grain of sand, A robin redbreast in a cage A dove-house filled with doves and pigeons A game-cock clipped and armed for fight Doth the rising sun affright; A horse misused upon the road Calls to heaven for human blood. Every wolf's and lion's howl 15 Raises from hell a human soul; Each outcry of the hunted hare A fibre from the brain does tear; A skylark wounded on the wing 20 Doth make a cherub cease to sing. He who shall hurt the little wren Repeats to thee thy mother's grief; Keep the human soul from care; 35 The lamb misused breeds public strife, The bleat, the bark, bellow, and roar, 45 The bat, that flits at close of eve, Nought can deform the human race Like to the armorer's iron brace; The soldier armed with sword and gun 60 Palsied strikes the summer's sun. When gold and gems adorn the plough, To peaceful arts shall Envy bow. The beggar's rags fluttering in air Do to rags the heavens tear; 65 The prince's robes and beggar's rags Are toadstools on the miser's bags. One mite wrung from the laborer's Shall buy and sell the miser's lands, 70 Shall that whole nation sell and buy; |