America, A Prophecy Poem by William Blake

America, A Prophecy

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The shadowy Daughter of Urthona stood before red Orc,
When fourteen suns had faintly journey'd o'er his dark abode:
His food she brought in iron baskets, his drink in cups of iron:
Crown'd with a helmet and dark hair the nameless female stood;
A quiver with its burning stores, a bow like that of night,
When pestilence is shot from heaven: no other arms she need!
Invulnerable though naked, save where clouds roll round her loins
Their awful folds in the dark air: silent she stood as night;
For never from her iron tongue could voice or sound arise,
But dumb till that dread day when Orc assay'd his fierce embrace.
'Dark Virgin,' said the hairy youth, 'thy father stern, abhorr'd,
Rivets my tenfold chains while still on high my spirit soars;
Sometimes an Eagle screaming in the sky, sometimes a Lion
Stalking upon the mountains, and sometimes a Whale, I lash
The raging fathomless abyss; anon a Serpent folding
Around the pillars of Urthona, and round thy dark limbs
On the Canadian wilds I fold; feeble my spirit folds,
For chain'd beneath I rend these caverns: when thou bringest food
I howl my joy, and my red eyes seek to behold thy face-
In vain! these clouds roll to and fro, and hide thee from my sight.'

Silent as despairing love, and strong as jealousy,
The hairy shoulders rend the links; free are the wrists of fire;
Round the terrific loins he seiz'd the panting, struggling womb;
It joy'd: she put aside her clouds and smiled her first-born smile,
As when a black cloud shews its lightnings to the silent deep.

Soon as she saw the terrible boy, then burst the virgin cry:

'I know thee, I have found thee, and I will not let thee go:
Thou art the image of God who dwells in darkness of Africa,
And thou art fall'n to give me life in regions of dark death.
On my American plains I feel the struggling afflictions
Endur'd by roots that writhe their arms into the nether deep.
I see a Serpent in Canada who courts me to his love,
In Mexico an Eagle, and a Lion in Peru;
I see a Whale in the south-sea, drinking my soul away.
O what limb-rending pains I feel! thy fire and my frost
Mingle in howling pains, in furrows by thy lightnings rent.
This is eternal death, and this the torment long foretold.'

America, A Prophecy
Seham Yusuef 03 November 2012

To the Mormons - America is the New Jerusalem or Promised Land or A Prophecy- It is a sick concept to steal Native American Land for Paper and wooden homes. Stealing is never right- it is evil done by Satan.

11 15 Reply
* Sunprincess * 26 September 2015

..........incredible write...nicely written ★

3 1 Reply
Samson Dawit Agegnehu 02 July 2016

God Bless America!

2 1 Reply
Edward Kofi Louis 23 June 2018

Struggling afflictions! ! Thanks for sharing.

2 0 Reply
Dr Antony Theodore 23 June 2018

I see a Whale in the south-sea, drinking my soul away. O what limb-rending pains I feel! thy fire and my frost Mingle in howling pains..... william Blakes lament.. very nice poem.. brilliance. tony

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Susan Williams 23 June 2018

Blake sees the American Revolution as a good thing and hopes it influences the world to follow its lead. But instead of making a historical essay about it, he portrays it as if it were a great Greek or Roman myth with heroic mythical characters so his point would be more universal than a tale about America.

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