"To decide Two Worlds with a great decision..." (Plate 65)
Date:
1804 to 1820
Materials & Techniques:
Relief etching printed in orange ink, with watercolor and pen and black ink on moderately thick, smooth, cream wove paper
Dimensions:
Sheet: 13 1/2 x 10 3/8 inches (34.3 x 26.4 cm)
Inscription(s)/Marks/Lettering:
Lettered inside image: "To decide Two Worlds with a great decision: a World of Mercy, and | A World of Justice; the World of Mercy for Salvation, | To cast Luvah into the Wrath, and Albion into the Pity, | In the Two Contraries of Humanity & in the Four Regions. | For in the depths of Albion's bosom in the eastern heaven, | They sound the clarions strong, they chain the howling captives: | They cast the lots into the helmet: they give the oath of blood in Lambeth: | They vote the death of Luvah, & they nail'd him to Albion's tree in Bath: | They stain'd him with poisonous blue, they inwove him in cruel roots, | To die a death of Six thousand years bound round with vegetation: | The sun was black & the moon roll'd a useless globe thro' Britain. | Then left the Sons of Urizen the plow & harrow, the loom, | The hammer & the chisel, & the rule & compasses; from London fleeing | They forg'd the sword on Cheviot, the chariot of war & the battle-ax, | The trumpet fitted to mortal battle, & the flute of summer in Annandale: | And all the Arts of Life, they chang'd into the Arts of Death in Albion. | The hour-glass contemn'd because its simple workmanship | Was like the workmanship of the plowman, & the water wheel | That raises water into cisterns broken & burn'd with fire : | Because its workmanship was like the workmanship of the shepherd. | And in their stead, intricate wheels invented, wheel without wheel: | To perplex youth in their outgoings, & to bind to labours in Albion | Of day & night the myriads of eternity that they may grind | And polish brass & iron hour after hour, laborious task : | Kept ignorant of its use, that they might spend the days of wisdom | In sorrowful drudgery, to obtain a scanty pittance of bread: | In ignorance to view a small portion & think that All, | And call it Demonstration: blind to all the simple rules of life. | Now, now the battle rages round thy tender limbs, O Vala, | Now smile among thy bitter tears; now put on all thy beauty. | Is not the wound of the sword sweet: & the broken bone delightful? | Wilt thou now smile among the scythes when the wounded groan in the field? | We were carried away in thousands from London, & in tens | Of thousands from Westminster & Marybone in ships clos'd up: | Chain'd hand & foot, compell'd to fight under the iron whips | Of our captains, fearing our officers more than the enemy. | Lift up thy blue eyes Vala & put on thy sapphire shoes: | O melancholy Magdalen, behold the morning over Maiden break! | Gird on thy flaming zone, descend into the sepulcher of Canterbury. | Scatter the blood from thy golden brow, the tears from thy silver locks: | Shake off the waters from thy wings, & the dust from thy white garments. | Remember all thy feigned terrors on the secret couch of Lambeth's Vale, | When the sun rose in glowing morn, with arms of mighty hosts | Marching to battle, who was wont to rise with Urizen's harps | Girt as a sower with his seed to scatter life abroad over Albion: | Arise, O Vala: bring the bow of Urizen: bring the swift arrows of light. | How rag'd the golden horses of Urizen, compell'd to the chariot of love! | Compell'd to leave the plow to the ox, to snuff up the winds of desolation, | To trample the corn fields in boastful neighings: this is no gentle harp, | This is no warbling brook, nor shadow of a mirtle tree: | But blood and wounds and dismal cries, and shadows of the oak: | And hearts laid open to the light, by the broad grizly sword: | And bowels hid in hammer'd steel rip'd quivering on the ground. | Call forth thy smiles of soft deceit: call forth thy cloudy tears: | We hear thy sighs in trumpets shrill when morn shall blood renew. | So sang the Spectre Sons of Albion round Luvah's Stone of Trial : | Mocking and deriding at the writhings of their Victim on Salisbury: | Drinking his Emanation in intoxicating bliss, rejoicing in Giant dance. | For a Spectre has no Emanation but what he imbibes from decieving | A Victim: Then he becomes her Priest & she his Tabernacle, | And his Oak Grove, till the Victim rend the woven Veil, | In the end of his sleep when Jesus calls him from his grave. | Howling the Victims on the Druid Altars yield their souls | To the stern Warriors: lovely sport the Daughters round their Victims, | Drinking their lives in sweet intoxication : hence arose from Bath | Soft deluding odours, in spiral volutions intricately winding | Over Albion's mountains, a feminine indefinite cruel delusion, | Astonish'd, terrified & in pain & torment, Sudden they behold | Their own Parent, the Emanation of their murder'd Enemy, | Become their Emanation and their Temple and Tabernacle: | They knew not, this Vala was their beloved Mother, Vala Albion's Wife. | Terrified at the sight of the Victim, at his distorted sinews: | The tremblings of Vala vibrate thro' the limbs of Albion's Sons, | While they rejoice over Luvah in mockery & bitter scorn: | Sudden they become like what they behold, in howlings & deadly pain. | Spasms smite their features, sinews & limbs: pale they look on one another; | They turn, contorted: their iron necks bend unwilling towards | Luvah: their lips tremble: their muscular fibres are tramp'd & smitten, | They become like what they behold! Yet immense in strength & power,"
Credit Line:
Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Collection
Copyright Status:
Public Domain
Accession Number:
B1992.8.1(65)
Classification:
Prints
Collection:
Prints and Drawings
Subject Terms:
text | chains | sky | religious and mythological subject | literary theme
Currently On View:
Not on view
Exhibition History:
William Blake (Tate Britain, 2000-11-02 - 2001-02-04)The Human Form Divine - William Blake from the Paul Mellon Collection (Yale Center for British Art, 1997-04-02 - 1997-07-06)