William Blake,
Vala, or The Four Zoas: Night the First
“ Why hast thou taken sweet Jerusalem from my inmost Soul Let her Lay secret in the Soft recess of darkness & silence It is not Love I bear to [Jerusalem] It is Pity She hath taken refuge in my bosom & I cannot cast her out. 15 The Men have recieved their death wounds & their Emanations are fled To me for refuge & I cannot turn them out for Pitys sake Enion said—Thy fear has made me tremble thy terrors have surrounded me All Love is lost Terror succeeds & Hatred instead of Love And stern demands of Right & Duty instead of Liberty. ”
