Classic Poem

When morning dawned, the Eternals rose to labour at the vintage.
Beneath they saw their sons and daughters wondering inconceivable
At the dark myriads in shadows in the worlds beneath.
The morning dawned, Urizen rose, and in his hand the flail
Sounds, on the floor heard terrible by all beneath the heavens;
Dismal loud redounding, the nether floor shakes with the sound,
And all nations were threshed out, and the stars threshed from their husks.
Then Tharmas took the winnowing fan, the winnowing wind furious
Above, veered round by the violent whirlwind driven west and south,
Tossed the nations like chaff into the seas of Tharmas.
" Oh Mystery fierce!" Tharmas cries, " Behold thy end is come!
Art thou she that made the nations drunk with the cup of religion?
Go down, ye kings and councillors and giant warriors,
Go down into the depths, go down and hide yourselves beneath!
Go down with horse and chariots and trumpets of hoarse war!"
Lo! how the pomp of Mystery goes down into the caves:
Her great men howl and throw the dust and rend their hoary hair;
Her delicate women and children shriek upon the bitter wind,
Spoiled of their beauty, their hair rent, and their skin shrivelled up.
Lo! darkness covers the long pomp of banners on the wind,
And black horses and armed men and miserable bound captives.
Where shall the graves receive them all, and where shall be their place?
And who shall mourn for Mystery, who never loosed her captives?
Let the slave grinding at the mill run out into the field;
Let him look up into the heavens and laugh in the bright air;
Let the enchained soul shut up in darkness and in sighing,
Whose face has never seen a smile in thirty weary years,
Rise and look out! — his chains are loose, his dungeon doors are open.
And let his wife and children return from the oppressor's scourge:
They look behind at every step and believe it is a dream.
Are these the slaves that groaned along the streets of Mystery?
Where are your bonds and task-masters? Are these the prisoners?
Where are your chains? Where are your tears? Why do you look around.
If you are thirsty, there is the river; go bathe your parched limbs:
The good of all the land is before you, for Mystery is no more!
Then all the slaves from every earth in the wide universe
Sing a new song, drowning confusion in its happy notes,
While the flail of Urizen sounded loud and the winnowing wind of Tharmas
So loud, so clear in the wide heavens! And the song that they sung was this,
Composed by an African black from the little earth of Sotha:
" Aha! Aha! How came I here, so soon in my sweet native land?
How came I here? Methinks I am as I was in my youth,
When in my father's house I sat, and heard his cheering voice.
Methinks I see his flocks and herds, and feel my limbs renewed —
And lo! my brethren in their tents, and their little ones around them!"
The song arose to the golden feast: the Eternal Man rejoiced.