Delphi Poetry Anthology: The World's Greatest Poems (Delphi Poets Series Book 50) (161 page)
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Authors: Homer,William Shakespeare
Planting these Oaken Groves: Erecting these Dragon Temples
Injury the Lord heals but Vengeance cannot be healed:
As the Sons of Albion have done to Luvah: so they have in him
Done to the Divine Lord & Saviour, who suffers with those that suffer:
For not one sparrow can suffer, & the whole Universe not suffer also,
In all its Regions, & its Father & Saviour not pity and weep.
10
But Vengeance is the destroyer of Grace & Repentance in the bosom
Of the Injurer: in which the Divine Lamb is cruelly slain:
Descend O Lamb of God & take away the imputation of Sin
By the Creation of States & the deliverance of Individuals Evermore Amen
Thus wept they in Beulah over the Four Regions of Albion
But many doubted & despaird & imputed Sin & Righteousness
To Individuals & not to States, and these Slept in Ulro.
PLATE 26
SUCH VISIONS HAVE APPEARD TO ME
AS I MY ORDERD RACE HAVE RUN
JERUSALEM IS NAMED LIBERTY
AMONG THE SONS OF ALBION
PLATE 27
TO
THE
JEWS
Jerusalem the Emanation of the Giant Albion! Can it be? Is it a Truth that the Learned have explored? Was Britain the Primitive Seat of the Patriarchal Religion? If it is true: my title-page is also True, that Jerusalem was & is the Emanation of the Giant Albion. It is True, and cannot be controverted. Ye are united O ye inhabitants of Earth in One Religion. The Religion of Jesus: the most Ancient, the Eternal: & the Everlasting Gospel – The Wicked will turn it to Wickedness, the Righteous to Righteousness,
10
Amen! Huzza! Selah!
‘All things Begin & End in Albions Ancient Druid Rocky Shore.’
Your Ancestors derived their origin from Abraham, Heber, Shem, and Noah, who were Druids: as the Druid Temples (which are the Patriarchal Pillars & Oak Groves) over the whole Earth witness to this day.
You have a tradition, that Man anciently containd in his mighty limbs all things in Heaven & Earth: this you recieved from the Druids
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‘But now the Starry Heavens are fled from the mighty limbs of Albion’
Albion was the Parent of the Druids; & in his Chaotic State of Sleep
Satan & Adam & the whole World was Created by the Elohim.
The fields from Islington to Marybone,
To Primrose Hill and Saint Johns Wood:
Were builded over with pillars of gold,
And there Jerusalems pillars stood.
Her Little-ones ran on the fields
The Lamb of God among them seen
And fair Jerusalem his Bride:
Among the little meadows green.
Pancrass & Kentish-town repose
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Among her golden pillars high:
Among her golden arches which
Shine upon the starry sky.
The Jews-harp-house & the Green Man;
The Ponds where Boys to bathe delight:
The fields of Cows by Willans farm:
Shine in Jerusalems pleasant sight.
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She walks upon our meadows green:
The Lamb of God walks by her side:
And every English Child is seen,
Children of Jesus & his Bride,
Forgiving trespasses and sins
Lest Babylon with cruel Og,
With Moral & Self-righteous Law
Should Crucify in Satans Synagogue!
What are those golden Builders doing
Near mournful ever-weeping Paddington
Standing above that mighty Ruin
Where Satan the first victory won.
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Where Albion slept beneath the Fatal Tree
And the Druids golden Knife,
Rioted in human gore,
In Offerings of Human Life
They groan’d aloud on London Stone
They groan’d aloud on Tyburns Brook
Albion gave his deadly groan,
And all the Atlantic Mountains shook
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Albions Spectre from his Loins
Tore forth in all the pomp of War!
Satan his name: in flames of fire
He stretch’d his Druid Pillars far.
Jerusalem fell from Lambeth’s Vale,
Down thro Poplar & Old Bow;
Thro Malden & acros the Sea,
In War & howling death & woe.
The Rhine was red with human blood:
The Danube rolld a purple tide:
On the Euphrates Satan stood:
And over Asia stretch’d his pride.
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He witherd up sweet Zions Hill,
From every Nation of the Earth:
He witherd up Jerusalems Gates,
And in a dark Land gave her birth.
He witherd up the Human Form,
By laws of sacrifice for sin:
Till it became a Mortal Worm:
But O! translucent all within.
The Divine Vision still was seen
Still was the Human Form, Divine
Weeping in weak & mortal clay
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O Jesus still the Form was thine.
And thine the Human Face & thine
The Human Hands & Feet & Breath
Entering thro’ the Gates of Birth
And passing thro’ the Gates of Death
And O thou Lamb of God, whom I
Slew in my dark self-righteous pride:
Art thou return’d to Albions Land!
And is Jerusalem thy Bride?
Come to my arms & never more
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Depart; but dwell for ever here:
Create my Spirit to thy Love:
Subdue my Spectre to thy Fear.
Spectre of Albion! warlike Fiend!
In clouds of blood & ruin roll’d:
I here reclaim thee as my own
My Selfhood! Satan! armd in gold.
Is this thy soft Family-Love
Thy cruel Patriarchal pride
Planting thy Family alone,
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Destroying all the World beside.
A mans worst enemies are those
Of his own house & family;
And he who makes his law a curse,
By his own law shall surely die.
In my Exchanges every Land
Shall walk, & mine in every Land,
Mutual shall build Jerusalem:
Both heart in heart & hand in hand.
If Humility is Christianity; you O Jews are the true
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Christians; If your tradition that Man contained in his
Limbs, all Animals, is True & they were separated from him by cruel Sacrifices: and when compulsory cruel Sacrifices had brought Humanity into a Feminine Tabernacle, in the loins of Abraham & David: the Lamb of God, the Saviour became apparent on Earth as the Prophets had foretold? The Return of Israel is a Return to Mental Sacrifice & War. Take up the Cross O Israel & follow Jesus.
PLATE 28
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
Early Nineteenth Century Poets
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
John Collins (d. 1808)
IN the downhill of life, when I find I’m declining,
May my fate no less fortunate be
Than a snug elbow-chair can afford for reclining,
And a cot that o’erlooks the wide sea;
With an ambling pad-pony to pace o’er the lawn,
5
While I carol away idle sorrow,
And blithe as the lark that each day hails the dawn,
Look forward with hope for to-morrow.
With a porch at my door, both for shelter and shade too.
As the sun-shine or rain may prevail;
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And a small spot of ground for the use of the spade too,
With a barn for the use of the flail:
A cow for my dairy, a dog for my game,
And a purse when a friend wants to borrow;
I’ll envy no nabob his riches or fame,
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Nor what honours may wait him to-morrow.
From the bleak northern blast may my cot be completely
Secured by a neighbouring hill;
And at night may repose steal upon me more sweetly
By the sound of a murmuring rill:
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And while peace and plenty I find at my board,
With a heart free from sickness and sorrow,
With my friends may I share what today may afford,
And let them spread the table to-morrow.
And when I at last must throw off this frail covering,
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Which I’ve worn for three-score years and ten,
On the brink of the grave I’ll not seek to keep hovering,
Nor my thread wish to spin o’er again:
But my face in the glass I’ll serenely survey,
And with smiles count each wrinkle and furrow;
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And this old worn-out stuff which is threadbare today,
May become everlasting to-morrow.
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
Jessie, the Flower o’ Dunblane
Robert Tannahill (1774–1810)
THE SUN has gane down o’er the lofty Benlomond,
And left the red clouds to preside o’er the scene,
While lanely I stray in the calm simmer gloamin’
To muse on sweet Jessie, the flower o’ Dunblane.
How sweet is the brier, wi’ its saft faulding blossom,
5
And sweet is the birk, wi’ its mantle o’ green;
Yet sweeter and fairer, and dear to this bosom,
Is lovely young Jessie, the flower o’ Dunblane.
She’s modest as ony, and blythe as she’s bonny;
For guileless simplicity marks her its ain;
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And far be the villain, divested o’ feeling,
Wha’d blight, in its bloom, the sweet flower o’ Dunblane.
Sing on, thou sweet mavis, thy hymn to the evening,
Thou’rt dear to the echoes of Calderwood glen;
Sae dear to this bosom, sae artless and winning,
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Is charming young Jessie, the flower o’ Dunblane.
How lost were my days till I met wi’ my Jessie,
The sports o’ the city seemed foolish and vain;
I ne’er saw a nymph I would ca’ my dear lassie,
Till charm’d wi’ sweet Jessie, the flower o’ Dunblane.
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Though mine were the station o’ loftiest grandeur,
Amidst its profusion I’d languish in pain;
And reckon as naething the height o’ its splendour,
If wanting sweet Jessie, the flower o’ Dunblane.
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
