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poems of william blake-第3章

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 Earth raised up her head



 From the darkness dread and drear;



 Her light fled;



 Stony; dread;



 And her locks covered with grey despair。



 



 〃Prisoned on watery shore;



 Starry jealousy does keep my den



 Cold and hoar;



 Weeping o're;



 I hear the father of the ancient men。



 



 〃Selfish father of men!



 Cruel; jealous; selfish fear!



 Can delight;



 Chained in night;



 The virgins of youth and morning bear?



 



 



 〃Does spring hide its joy;



 When buds and blossoms grow?



 Does the sower 



 Sow by night;



 Or the plowman in darkness plough?



 



 〃Break this heavy chain;



 That does freeze my bones around!



 Selfish; vain;



 Eternal bane;



 That free love with bondage bound。〃



 



 



 THE CLOD AND THE PEBBLE



 



 〃Love seeketh not itself to please;



   Nor for itself hath any care;



 But for another gives it ease;



   And builds a heaven in hell's despair。〃



 



 So sang a little clod of clay;



   Trodden with the cattle's feet;



 But a pebble of the brook



   Warbled out these metres meet:



 



 〃Love seeketh only Self to please;



   To bind another to its delight;



 Joys in another's loss of ease;



   And builds a hell in heaven's despite。〃



 



 



 HOLY THURSDAY



 



 Is this a holy thing to see



   In a rich and fruitful land; 



 Babes reduced to misery;



   Fed with cold and usurous hand?



 



 Is that trembling cry a song?



   Can it be a song of joy?



 And so many children poor?



   It is a land of poverty!



 



 And their son does never shine;



   And their fields are bleak and bare;



 And their ways are filled with thorns:



   It is eternal winter there。



 



 For where'er the sun does shine;



   And where'er the rain does fall;



 Babes should never hunger there;



   Nor poverty the mind appall。



 



 



 THE LITTLE GIRL LOST



 



 In futurity



 I prophetic see



 That the earth from sleep



 (Grave the sentence deep)



 



 Shall arise; and seek



 for her Maker meek;



 And the desert wild



 Become a garden mild。



 



 In the southern clime;



 Where the summer's prime



 Never fades away;



 Lovely Lyca lay。



 



 Seven summers old



 Lovely Lyca told。



 She had wandered long;



 Hearing wild birds' song。



 



 〃Sweet sleep; come to me



 Underneath this tree;



 Do father; mother; weep?



 Where can Lyca sleep?



 



 〃Lost in desert wild



 Is your little child。



 How can Lyca sleep



 If her mother weep?



 



 〃If her heart does ache;



 Then let Lyca wake;



 If my mother sleep;



 Lyca shall not weep。



 



 〃Frowning; frowning night;



 O'er this desert bright



 Let thy moon arise;



 While I close my eyes。〃



 



 Sleeping Lyca lay



 While the beasts of prey;



 Come from caverns deep;



 Viewed the maid asleep。



 



 The kingly lion stood;



 And the virgin viewed:



 Then he gambolled round



 O'er the hallowed ground。



 



 Leopards; tigers; play



 Round her as she lay;



 While the lion old



 Bowed his mane of gold;



 



 And her breast did lick



 And upon her neck;



 From his eyes of flame;



 Ruby tears there came;



 



 While the lioness



 Loosed her slender dress;



 And naked they conveyed



 To caves the sleeping maid。



 



 



 THE LITTLE GIRL FOUND



 



 All the night in woe



 Lyca's parents go



 Over valleys deep;



 While the deserts weep。



 



 Tired and woe…begone;



 Hoarse with making moan;



 Arm in arm; seven days



 They traced the desert ways。



 



 Seven nights they sleep



 Among shadows deep;



 And dream they see their child



 Starved in desert wild。



 



 Pale through pathless ways



 The fancied image strays;



 Famished; weeping; weak;



 With hollow piteous shriek。



 



 Rising from unrest;



 The trembling woman presse



 With feet of weary woe;



 She could no further go。



 



 In his arms he bore



 Her; armed with sorrow sore;



 Till before their way



 A couching lion lay。



 



 Turning back was vain:



 Soon his heavy mane



 Bore them to the ground;



 Then he stalked around;



 



 Smelling to his prey;



 But their fears allay



 When he licks their hands;



 And silent by them stands。



 



 They look upon his eyes;



 Filled with deep surprise;



 And wondering behold



 A spirit armed in gold。



 



 On his head a crown;



 On his shoulders down



 Flowed his golden hair。



 Gone was all their care。



 



 〃Follow me;〃 he said;



 〃Weep not for the maid;



 In my palace deep;



 Lyca lies asleep。〃



 



 Then they followed



 Where the vision led;



 And saw their sleeping child



 Among tigers wild。



 



 To this day they dwell



 In a lonely dell;



 Nor fear the wolvish howl



 Nor the lion's growl。



 



 



 THE CHIMNEY SWEEPER



 



 A little black thing in the snow;



 Crying 〃weep! weep!〃 in notes of woe!



 〃Where are thy father and mother? Say!〃



 〃They are both gone up to the church to pray。



 



 〃Because I was happy upon the heath;



 And smiled among the winter's snow;



 They clothed me in the clothes of death;



 And taught me to sing the notes of woe。



 



 〃And because I am happy and dance and sing;



 They think they have done me no injury;



 And are gone to praise God and his priest and king;



 Who make up a heaven of our misery。〃



 



 



 NURSE'S SONG



 



 When voices of children are heard on the green;



 And whisperings are in the dale;



 The days of my youth rise fresh in my mind;



 My face turns green and pale。



 



 Then come home; my children; the sun is gone down;



 And the dews of night arise;



 Your spring and your day are wasted in play;



 And your winter and night in disguise。



 



 



 THE SICK ROSE



 



 O rose; thou art sick!



   The invisible worm;



 That flies in the night;



   In the howling storm;



 



 Has found out thy bed



   Of crimson joy;



 And his dark secret love



   Does thy life destroy。



 



 



 THE FLY



 



 Little Fly;



 Thy summer's play



 My thoughtless hand



 Has brushed away。



 



 Am not I



 A fly like thee?



 Or art not thou



 A man like me?



 



 For I dance



 And drink; and sing;



 Till some blind hand



 Shall brush my wing。



 



 If thought is life



 And strength and breath



 And the want 



 Of thought is death;



 



 Then am I



 A happy fly;



 If I live;



 Or if I die。



 



 



 THE ANGEL



 



 I dreamt a dream!  What can it mean?



 And that I was a maiden Queen



 Guarded by an Angel mild:



 Witless woe was ne'er beguiled!



 



 And I wept both night and day;



 And he wiped my tears away;



 And I wept both day and night;



 And hid from him my heart's delight。



 



 So he took his wings; and fled;



 Then the morn blushed rosy red。



 I dried my tears; and armed my fears



 With ten…thousand shields and spears。



 



 Soon my Angel came again;



 I was armed; he came in vain;



 For the time of youth was fled;



 And grey hairs were on my head。



 



 



 THE TIGER



 



 Tiger; tiger; burning bright



 In the forest of the night;



 What immortal hand or eye



 Could Frame thy fearful symmetry?



 



 In what distant deeps or skies



 Burnt the fire of thine eyes?



 On what wings dare he aspire?



 What the hand dare seize the fire?



 



 And what shoulder and what art



 Could twist the sinews of thy heart?



 And; when thy heart began to beat;



 What dread hand and what dread feet?



 



 What the hammer?  what the chain?



 In what furnace was thy brain?



 What the anvil? what dread grasp



 Dare its deadly terrors clasp?



 



 When the stars threw down their spears;



 And watered heaven with their tears;



 Did he smile his work to see?



 Did he who made the lamb make thee?



 



 Tiger; tiger; burning bright



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