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Lettered inside image: "Then Los heaved his thund'ring Bellows on the Valley of Middlesex | And thus he chaunted his Song: the Daughters of Albion reply. | What may Man be? who can tell! But what may Woman be? | To have power over Man from Cradle to corruptible Grave. | He who is an Infant, and whose Cradle is a Manger, | Knoweth the Infant sorrow : whence it came, and where it goeth : | And who weave it a Cradle of the grass that withereth away. | This World is all a Cradle for the erred wandering Phantom, | Rock'd by Year, Month, Day & Hour; and every two Moments | Between, dwells a Daughter of Beulah, to feed the Human Vegetable. | Entune, Daughters of Albion, your hymning Chorus mildly: | Cord of affection thrilling extatic on the iron Reel : | To the golden Loom of Love! to the moth-labour'd Woof! | A Garment and Cradle weaving for the infantine Terror: | For fear, at entering the gate into our World of cruel | Lamentation, it flee back and hide in Non-Entity's dark wild, | Where dwells the Spectre of Albion: destroyer of Definite Form. | The Sun shall be a Scythed Chariot of Britain: the Moon, a Ship | In the British Ocean! Created by Los's Hammer: measured out | Into Days & Nights & Years & Months, to travel with my feet | Over these desolate rocks of Albion: O daughters of despair! | Rock the Cradle, and in mild melodies tell me where found | What you have en woven with so much tears & care! so much | Tender artifice! to laugh, to weep, to learn, to know: | Remember! recollect! what dark befel in wintry days. | O it was lost for ever! and we found it not: it came | And wept at our wintry Door: Look! look! behold! Gwendolen | Is become a Clod of Clay! Merlin is a Worm of the Valley! | Then Los uttered with Hammer & Anvil: Chaunt! revoice! | I mind not your laugh: and your frown I not fear: and | You must my dictate obey from your gold-beam'd Looms: trill | Gentle to Albion's Watchman, on Albion's mountains: reeccho, | And rock the Cradle while! Ah me! of that Eternal Man, | And of the cradle'd Infancy in his bowels of compassion, | Who fell beneath his instruments of husbandry & became | Subservient to the clods of the furrow: the cattle and even | The emmet and earth-worm are his superiors & his lords. | Then the response came warbling from trilling Looms in Albion. | We Women tremble at the light therefore: hiding fearful, | The Divine Vision with Curtain & Veil & fleshly Tabernacle. | Los utter'd, swift as the rattling thunder upon the mountains : | Look back into the Church Paul! Look! Three Women around | The Cross! O Albion why didst thou a Female Will Create?"