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Inscribed in orange ink, upper right: "84"

Lettered inside image: "Highgate's heights & Hampstead's, to Poplar, Hackney & Bow; | To Islington & Paddington & the Brook of Albion's River. | We builded Jerusalem as a City & a Temple; from Lambeth | We began our Foundations; lovely Lambeth, O lovely Hills | Of Camberwell, we shall behold you no more in glory & pride, | For Jerusalem lies in ruins & the Furnaces of Los are builded there: | You are now shrunk up to a narrow Rock in the midst of the Sea. | But here we build Babylon on Euphrates, compell'd to build | And to inhabit, our Little-ones to clothe in armour of the gold | Of Jerusalem's Cherubims & to forge them swords of her Altars. | I see London blind & age bent begging thro' the Streets | Of Babylon, led by a child, his tears run down his beard. | The voice of Wandering Reuben ecchoes from street to street, | In all the Cities of the Nations, Paris, Madrid, Amsterdam. | The Corner of Broad Street weeps; Poland Street languishes | To Great Queen Street & Lincoln's Inn: all is distress & woe. | The night falls thick: Hand comes from Albion in his strength: | He combines into a Mighty-one, the Double Molech & Chemosh, | Marching thro' Egypt in his fury: the East is pale at his course: | The Nations of India, the Wild Tartar that never knew Man, | Starts from his lofty places & casts down his tents & flees away. | But we woo him all the night in songs. O Los come forth, O Los | Divide us from these terrors & give us power them to subdue. | Arise upon thy Watches, let us see thy Globe of fire | On Albion's Rocks & let thy voice be heard upon Euphrates. | Thus sang the Daughters in lamentation, uniting into One | With Rahab as she turn'd the iron Spindle of destruction. | Terrified at the Sons of Albion they took the Falshood which | Gwendolen hid in her left hand, it grew & grew till it..."