The Song of Los

Asia

...The Kings of Asia heard

The howl rise up from Europe,

And each ran out from his Web,

From his ancient woven Den;

For the darkness of Asia was startled

At the thick−flaming, thought−creating fires of Orc.

And the Kings of Asia stood

And crièd in bitterness of soul:— `Shall not the King call for Famine from the heath,

Nor the Priest for Pestilence from the fen,

To restrain, to dismay, to thin

The inhabitants of mountain and plain,

In the day of full−feeding prosperity

And the night of delicious songs?

Shall not the Counsellor throw his curb

Of Poverty on the laborious,

To fix the price of labour,

To invent allegoric riches?

And the privy admonishers of men

Call for Fires in the City,

For heaps of smoking ruins,In the night of prosperity and wantonness,

To turn man from his path,

To restrain the child from the womb,

To cut off the bread from the city;

That the remnant may learn to obey,

That the pride of the heart may fail,

That the lust of the eyes may be quench'd,

That the delicate ear in its infancy

May be dull'd, and the nostrils clos'd up,

To teach Mortal Worms the path

That leads from the gates of the Grave?'

William Blake 1795

© 2020 Amanda Dean

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