THE BOOK OF THEL.

[ENGRAVED 1789.]

[The Thel has been spoken of in the Life (Chapter X. pages 76-8). It is equal in delightfulness to Blake's lyrical poetry; and being the most tender and simple of the class of his works to which it belongs, may prove the most generally acceptable as a specimen of these.]

Does the Eagle know what is in the pit?

Or wilt thou go and ask the mole?

Can Wisdom be put in a silver rod?
Or Love in a golden bowl?

THEL

THE daughters of the Seraphim led round their sunny flocks, All but the youngest: she in paleness sought the secret air

To fade away like morning beauty from her mortal day. Down by the river of Adona her soft voice is heard, And thus her gentle lamentation falls like morning dew. "O life of this our Spring! why fades the lotus of the water?

Why fade these children of the Spring, born but to smile and fall?

Ah! Thel is like a watery bow, and like a parting cloud, Like a reflection in a glass, like shadows in the water, Like dreams of infants, like a smile upon an infant's face, Like the dove's voice, like transient day, like music in the air.

Ah! gentle may I lay me down, and gentle rest my

head,

And gentle sleep the sleep of death, and gentle hear the

voice

Of him that walketh in the garden in the evening time."

The Lily of the valley breathing in the humble grass
Answer'd the lovely maid and said: "I am a watery weed,
And I am very small, and love to dwell in lowly vales;
So weak, the gilded butterfly scarce perches on my head.
Yet I am visited from heaven; and He that smiles on all
Walks in the valley, and each morn over me spreads His
hand,

Saying, 'Rejoice, thou humble grass, thou new-born lilyflower,

Thou gentle maid of silent valleys and of modest brooks; For thou shalt be clothed in light and fed with morning

manna,

Till summer's heat melts thee beside the fountains and the

springs

To flourish in eternal vales.' Then why should Thel complain?

Why should the mistress of the vales of Har utter a sigh?"

She ceased and smiled in tears, then sat down in her silver shrine.

Thel answer'd: "O thou little virgin of the peaceful valley, Giving to those that cannot crave, the voiceless, the

o'ertired;

Thy breath doth nourish the innocent lamb, he smells thy milky garments,

He crops thy flowers, whilst thou sittest smiling in his face, Wiping his mild and meekin mouth from all contagious

taints.

Thy wine doth purify the golden honey, thy perfume,

Which thou dost scatter on every little blade of grass that springs,

Revives the milked cow, and tames the fire-breathing steed. But Thel is like a faint cloud kindled at the rising sun:

I vanish from my pearly throne, and who shall find my place?"

"Queen of the vales," the Lily answered, "ask the tender cloud,

And it shall tell thee why it glitters in the morning sky, And why it scatters its bright beauty through the humid air.

Descend, O little cloud, and hover before the eyes of Thel."

The cloud descended, and the Lily bowed her modest head And went to mind her numerous charge among the verdant grass.

II.

"O little cloud," the Virgin said, "I charge thee tell to me Why thou complainest not, when in one hour thou fad'st

away:

Then we shall seek thee, but not find. Ah! Thel is like to thee;

I pass away, yet I complain and no one hears my voice."

The cloud then showed his golden head, and his bright form emerged

Hovering and glittering on the air before the face of Thel.

"O virgin, know'st thou not our steeds drink of the golden springs

Where Luvah doth renew his horses?

my youth,

Look'st thou on

And fearest thou because I vanish and am seen no more? Nothing remains. O maid, I tell thee, when I pass away

It is to tenfold life, to love, to peace, and raptures holy. Unseen descending weigh my light wings upon balmy flowers,

And court the fair-eye'd dew to take me to her shining tent:

The weeping virgin trembling kneels before the risen sun, Till we arise, link'd in a golden band, and never part, But walk united, bearing food to all our tender flowers."

"Dost thou, O little cloud? I fear that I am not like thee;

For I walk through the vales of Har, and smell the sweetest flowers;

But I feed not the little flowers: I hear the warbling birds, But I feed not the warbling birds, they fly and seek their

food:

But Thel delights in these no more because I fade away, And all shall say, without a use this shining woman liv'd, Or did she only live to be at death the food of worms?"

The Cloud reclin'd upon his airy throne and answer'd thus:

"Then if thou art the food of worms, O virgin of the skies, How great thy use, how great thy blessing. Every thing that lives,

Lives not alone nor for itself. Fear not and I will call