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Inscribed in orange ink, upper right: "10"

Lettered upper right: "10"; inside image: "Into the Furnaces & into the valleys of the Anvils of Death, | And into the mountains of the Anvils & of the heavy Hammers, | Till he should bring the Sons & Daughters of Jerusalem to be | The Sons & Daughters of Los, that he might protect them from | Albion's dread Spectres: storming, loud, thunderous & mighty | The Bellows & the Hammers move compell'd by Los's hand. | And this is the manner of the Sons of Albion in their strength; | They take the Two Contraries which are calld Qualities, with which | Every Substance is clothed, they name them Good & Evil, | From them they make an Abstract, which is a Negation | Not only of the Substance from which it is derived, | A murderer of its own Body : but also a murderer | Of every Divine Member: it is the Reasoning Power, | An Abstract objecting power, that Negatives every thing. | This is the Spectre of Man: the Holy Reasoning Power, | And in its Holiness is closed the Abomination of Desolation. | Therefore Los stands in London building Golgonooza, | Compelling his Spectre to labours mighty; trembling in fear | The Spectre weeps, but Los unmov'd by tears or threats remains. | I must Create a System, or be enslav'd by another Man's | I will not Reason & Compare: my business is to Create. | So Los, in fury & strength: in indignation & burning wrath | Shudd'ring the Spectre howls, his howlings terrify the night. | He stamps around the Anvil, beating blows of stern despair, | He curses Heaven & Earth, Day & Night & Sun & Moon, | He curses Forest Spring & River, Desart & sandy Waste, | Cities & Nations, Families & Peoples, Tongues & Laws, | Driven to desperation by Los's terrors & threat'ning fears. | Los cries, Obey my voice & never deviate from my will | And I will be merciful to thee: be thou invisible to all | To whom I make thee invisible, but chief to my own Children, | O Spectre of Urthona: Reason not against their dear approach | Nor them obstruct with thy temptations of doubt & despair; | O Shame, O strong & mighty Shame I break thy brazen fetters; | If thou refuse, thy present torments will seem southern breezes | To what thou shalt endure if thou obey not my great will. | The Spectre answer'd. Art thou not asham'd of those thy Sins | That thou callest thy Children ! lo the Law of God commands | That they be offered upon his Altar: O cruelty & torment | For thine are also mine! I have kept silent hitherto, | Concerning my chief delight: but thou hast broken silence; | Now I will speak my mind! Where is my lovely Enitharmon, | thou my enemy, where is my Great Sin? She is also thine. | I said: now is my grief at worst, incapable of being | Surpassed: but every moment it accumulates more & more, | It continues accumulating to eternity: the joys of God advance | For he is Righteous: he is not a Being of Pity & Compassion, | He cannot feel Distress: he feeds on Sacrifice & Offering: | Delighting in cries & tears & clothed in holiness & solitude; | But my griefs advance also, for ever & ever without end. | O that I could cease to be! Despair! I am Despair | Created to be the great example of horror & agony : also my | Prayer is vain. I called for compassion : compassion mock'd, | Mercy & pity threw the grave stone over me & with lead | And iron, bound it over me for ever: Life lives on my | Consuming: & the Almighty hath made me his Contrary, | To be all evil, all reversed & for ever dead: knowing | And seeing life, yet living not: how can I then behold | And not tremble; how can I be beheld & not abhorr'd? | So spoke the Spectre shudd'ring, & dark tears ran down his shadowy face | Which Los wiped off, but comfort none could give, or beam of hope. | Yet ceas'd he not from labouring at the roarings of his Forge | With iron & brass Building Golgonooza in great contendings, | Till his Sons & Daughters came forth from the Furnaces | At the sublime Labours, for Los compell'd the invisible Spectre..."