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Inscribed in orange ink, upper right: "8"

Lettered upper right: "8"; inside image: "Rose up against me thundering from the Brook of Albion's River, | From Ranelagh & Strumbolo, from Cromwell's gardens & Chelsea | The place of wounded Soldiers; but when he saw my Mace | Whirl'd round from heaven to earth, trembling he sat: his cold | Poisons rose up: & his sweet deceits cover'd them all over | With a tender cloud. As thou art now, such was he O Spectre. | I know thy deceit & thy revenges, and unless thou desist | I will certainly create an eternal Hell for thee. Listen! | Be attentive! be obedient! Lo the Furnaces are ready to recieve thee. | I will break thee into shivers, & melt thee in the furnaces of death, | I will cast thee into forms of abhorrence & torment if thou | Desist not from thine own will, & obey not my stern command : | I am clos'd up from my children: my Emanation is dividing | And thou my Spectre art divided against me. But mark, | I will compell thee to assist me in my terrible labours. To beat | These hypocritic Selfhoods on the Anvils of bitter Death. | I am inspired: I act not for myself: for Albion's sake | I now am what I am! a horror and an astonishment | Shudd'ring the heavens to look upon me: Behold what cruelties | Are practised in Babel & Shinar, & have approach'd to Zion's Hill. | While Los spoke, the terrible Spectre fell shudd'ring before him | Watching his time with glowing eyes to leap upon his prey. | Los open'd the Furnaces in fear, the Spectre saw to Babel & Shinar | Across all Europe & Asia, he saw the tortures of the Victims. | He saw now from the outside what he before saw & felt from within, | He saw that Los was the sole, uncontroll'd Lord of the Furnaces, | Groaning he kneel'd before Los's iron-shod feet on London Stone, | Hung'ring & thirsting for Los's life yet pretending obedience, | While Los pursu'd his speech in threat'nings loud & fierce. | Thou art my Pride & Self-righteousness: I have found thee out: | Thou art reveal'd before me in all thy magnitude & power: | Thy Uncircumcised pretences to Chastity must be cut in sunder: | Thy holy wrath & deep deceit cannot avail against me, | Nor shalt thou ever assume the triple-form of Albion's Spectre, | For I am one of the living: dare not to mock my inspired fury. | If thou wast cast forth from my life: if I was dead upon the mountains | Thou mightest be pitied & Jov'd: but now I am living: unless | Thou abstain ravening I will create an eternal Hell for thee. | Take thou this Hammer & in patience heave the thundering Bellows, | Take thou these Tongs: strike thou alternate with me: labour obedient. | Hand & Hyle & Koban: Skofeld, Kox & Kotope, labour mightily | In the Wars of Babel & Shinar; all their Emanations were | Condens'd. Hand has absorb'd all his Brethren in his might; | All the infant Loves & Graces were lost, for the mighty Hand | Con..."