Milton

DAUGHTERS of Beulah! Muses who inspire the Poet’s Song, Record the journey of immortal Milton thro’ your Realms Of terror & mild moony lustre, in soft sexual delusions Of varied beauty, to delight the wanderer and repose His burning thirst & freezing hunger! Come into my hand By your mild power; descending down the Nerves of my right arm From out the Portals of my Brain, where by your ministry The Eternal Great Humanity Divine planted his Paradise, And in it caus’d the Spectres of the Dead to take sweet form In likeness of himself. Tell also of the False Tongue! vegetated Beneath your land of shadows: of its sacrifices, and Its offerings: even till Jesus, the image of the Invisible God, Became its prey; a curse, an offering, and an atonement For Death Eternal in the heavens of Albion, & before the Gates Of Jerusalem his Emanation, in the heavens beneath Beulah.

Say first! what mov’d Milton, who walk’d about in Eternity One hundred years, pond’ring the intricate mazes of Providence, Unhappy tho’ in heav’n, he obey’d, he murmur’d not, he was silent, Viewing his Sixfold Emanation scatter’d thro’ the deep In torment: To go into the deep her to redeem & himself perish? That cause at length mov’d Milton to this unexampled deed, A Bard’s prophetic Song! for sitting at eternal tables, Terrific among the Sons of Albion, in chorus solemn & loud A Bard broke forth: all sat attentive to the awful man.