Page:The Poems of William Blake (Shepherd, 1887).djvu/180

 
Forgiving trespasses and sins
Lest Babylon with cruel Og,
With moral and self-righteous law,
Should crucify in Satan's synagogue.
 
What are those golden builders doing
Near mournful, ever-weeping Paddington,
Standing above that mighty ruin
Where Satan the first victory won.

Where Albion slept beneath the fatal tree,
And the Druid's golden knife
Rioted in human gore,
In offerings of human life.

They groan'd aloud on London stone,
They groan'd aloud on Tyburn's brook:
Albion gave his deadly groan,
And all the Atlantic mountains shook.
 
Albion's 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 and Old Bow;
Thro' Maiden and across the sea,
In war and howling, death and woe.