Life of William Blake, "Pictor Ignotus": With Selections from His Poems and Other Writings |
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Page v
... SKETCHES . PAGE INTRODUCTORY NOTE . 3 SONG . My silks and fine array . SONG . Love and harmony combine . SONG . I love the jocund dance . MAD SONG . The wild winds weep SONG . How sweet I roamed from field to field SONG . Memory ...
... SKETCHES . PAGE INTRODUCTORY NOTE . 3 SONG . My silks and fine array . SONG . Love and harmony combine . SONG . I love the jocund dance . MAD SONG . The wild winds weep SONG . How sweet I roamed from field to field SONG . Memory ...
Page 2
... Alexander Gilchrist, Anne Burrows Gilchrist. I give you the end of a golden string : Only wind it into a ball , It will lead you in at Heaven's gate , Built in Jerusalem wall . FROM THE POETICAL SKETCHES . [ PRINTED IN 1783. WRITTEN.
... Alexander Gilchrist, Anne Burrows Gilchrist. I give you the end of a golden string : Only wind it into a ball , It will lead you in at Heaven's gate , Built in Jerusalem wall . FROM THE POETICAL SKETCHES . [ PRINTED IN 1783. WRITTEN.
Page 3
... SKETCHES . [ PRINTED IN 1783. WRITTEN 1768-77 . Ær . 11-20 . ] THERE is no need for many further critical remarks on these selections from the Poetical Sketches , which have already been spoken of in Chap . VI . of the Life . Among the ...
... SKETCHES . [ PRINTED IN 1783. WRITTEN 1768-77 . Ær . 11-20 . ] THERE is no need for many further critical remarks on these selections from the Poetical Sketches , which have already been spoken of in Chap . VI . of the Life . Among the ...
Page 5
... There his charm'd nest he doth lay , There he sleeps the night away , There he sports along the day , And doth among our branches play . SONG . I LOVE the jocund dance , The softly POETICAL SKETCHES . 5 SONG Love and harmony combine.
... There his charm'd nest he doth lay , There he sleeps the night away , There he sports along the day , And doth among our branches play . SONG . I LOVE the jocund dance , The softly POETICAL SKETCHES . 5 SONG Love and harmony combine.
Page 7
... , And with night will go ; I turn my back to the East Whence comforts have increas'd ; For light doth seize my brain With frantic pain . SONG . How sweet I roamed from field to field POETICAL SKETCHES . 7 MAD SONG The wild winds weep.
... , And with night will go ; I turn my back to the East Whence comforts have increas'd ; For light doth seize my brain With frantic pain . SONG . How sweet I roamed from field to field POETICAL SKETCHES . 7 MAD SONG The wild winds weep.
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Adam and Eve Alex ancient angels appears Artist babe beautiful beneath Butts Caiaphas called Capaneus Capt character Chaucer Christ cloud colour Colour-printed Correggio Court Strand Dante dark Death delight devils divine doth drawing earth engraved envy eternal execution expression eyes face father fear Felpham female figures finished fire flames Gilchrist Giulio Romano grand Grave ground hand Harvey head heaven Hell Henry Baillie Holy human Indian ink infant invention kneeling labour Last Judgment light Linnell look Mary Michael Angelo morning naked never night Painter painting Palser picture Plates poem printed Prophetic Books Raphael Rembrandt represented Rubens Satan seen serpent sketch sleep smile song soul spirit Strange sweet tears Tempera thee things Thomas Dagworth thou Titian tree Virgin vision water-colour weep wife Wife of Bath WILLIAM BLAKE woman Woolett young youth
Popular passages
Page 206 - When Jesus therefore saw his mother, and the disciple standing by whom he loved, he saith unto his mother, "Woman, behold thy son!" Then saith he to the disciple, "Behold thy mother!" And from that hour that disciple took her unto his own home.
Page 65 - I was angry with my foe: I told it not, my wrath did grow. And I water'd it in fears, Night & morning with my tears; And I sunned it with smiles, And with soft deceitful wiles. And it grew both day and night, Till it bore an apple bright; And my foe beheld it shine, And he knew that it was mine, And into my garden stole When the night had...
Page 63 - I wander thro' each charter'd street Near where the charter'd Thames does flow, And mark in every face I meet Marks of weakness, marks of woe. In every cry of every Man, In every Infant's cry of fear, In every voice, in every ban, The mind-forg'd manacles I hear: How the Chimney-sweeper's cry Every black'ning Church appalls, And the hapless Soldier's sigh Runs in blood down Palace walls; But most thro' midnight streets I hear How the youthful Harlot's curse Blasts the new born Infant's tear.
Page 227 - And when they had sung an hymn, they went out into the mount of Olives. And Jesus saith unto them, All ye shall be offended because of me this night : for it is written, I will smite the shepherd, and the sheep shall be scattered. But after that I am risen, I will go before you into Galilee.
Page 61 - I went to the Garden of Love, And saw what I never had seen: A Chapel was built in the midst, Where I used to play on the green. And the gates of this Chapel were shut, And 'Thou shalt not...
Page 94 - The hand of Vengeance found the bed To which the purple tyrant fled; The iron hand crush'd the tyrant's head, And became a tyrant in his stead.' Auguries of Innocence To see a World in a grain of sand, And a Heaven in a wild flower, Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand, And Eternity in an hour. A robin redbreast in a cage Puts all Heaven in a rage. A dove-house fill'd with doves and pigeons Shudders Hell thro
Page 105 - Mock on' Mock on, mock on, Voltaire, Rousseau; Mock on, mock on: 'tis all in vain! You throw the sand against the wind, And the wind blows it back again. And every sand becomes a gem, Reflected in the beams divine. Blown back they blind the mocking eye, But still in Israel's paths they shine.
Page 59 - TIGER! Tiger! burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry? In what distant deeps or skies Burnt the fire of thine eyes? On what wings dare he aspire? What the hand dare seize the fire? And what shoulder, and what art, Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
Page 60 - AH! SUN-FLOWER Ah, sun-flower, weary of time, Who countest the steps of the sun, Seeking after that sweet golden clime Where the traveller's journey is done: Where the youth pined away with desire, And the pale virgin shrouded in snow Arise from their graves, and aspire Where my sun-flower wishes to go.
Page 96 - Every Night and every Morn Some to Misery are Born. Every Morn and every Night Some are Born to sweet delight. Some are Born to sweet delight, Some are Born to Endless Night. We are led to Believe a Lie When we see not Thro...