despair,' are heard throughout; we see thought change the infinite to a serpent:
'Then was the serpent temple formed, image of infinite
Shut up in finite revolutions, and man become an angel;
Heaven a mighty circle turning; God a tyrant crown'd.'
The serpent temple shadows the whole island:
'Enitharmon laugh'd in her sleep to see (0 woman's triumph)
Every house a den, every man bound: the shadows are filled
With spectres, and the windows wove over with curses of iron:
Over the doors Thou shalt not: and over the chimneys Fear is written:
With bands of iron round their necks fasten'd into the walls
The citizens: in leaden gyves the inhabitants of suburbs
Walk heavy: soft and bent are the bones of villagers.'
The whole book is a lament and protest, and it ends with a call to spiritual battle. In a gay and naive prologue, written by Blake in a copy of Europe in the possession of Mr. Linnell, and quoted by Ellis and Yeats, Blake tells us that he caught a fairy on a streaked tulip, and brought him home:
