Page:The Poems of William Blake (Shepherd, 1887).djvu/101

"arts and honest-seeming brow, the holy kiss of
"love and the transparent tear; put on fair linen,
"that with the lily vies, purple and silver; neglect
"thy hair, to seem more lovely in thy loose attire;
"put on thy country's pride, deceit; and eyes of
"love decked in mild sorrow, and sell thy lord for
"gold."—For now, upon her sumptuous couch
reclined, in gorgeous pride, she still entreats, and
still she grasps his vigorous knees with her fair
arms. "Thou lovest me not! thou'rt war, thou
"art not love! O foolish Dalila! O weak woman!
"it is death clothed in flesh thou lovest, and thou
"hast been encircled in his arms! Alas, my lord,
"what am I calling thee? Thou art my God!
"To thee I pour my tears for sacrifice morning
"and evening: my days are covered with sorrow!
"shut up, darkened: by night I am deceived!
"Who says that thou wast born of mortal kind?
"Destruction was thy father, a lioness suckled
"thee, thy young hands tore human limbs, and
"gorged human flesh! Come hither, Death; art
"thou not Samson's servant? 'Tis Dalila that
"calls; thy master's wife; no, stay, and let thy
"master do the deed: one blow of that strong
"arm would ease my pain; then I should lay at
"quiet and have rest. Pity forsook thee at thy
"birth! O Dagon furious, and all ye gods of
"Palestine, withdraw your hand! I am but a
"weak woman. Alas, I am wedded to your