Poesia (36) | William Blake - And did those feet

William Blake. O grande mestre do romantismo surrealista inglês regressa a este blog com And did those feet. Devido à sua referência a uma totalmente apócrifa referência a uma suposta visita de Jesus às Ilhas Britânicas, há quem deteste, há quem adore este texto colocado no prefácio dos eu épico Milton a Poem. Talvez a apreciação mais correcta deva ficar num meio termo a tender para o carro de fogo nele referido.

                                    And did those feet in ancient time

                                 And did those feet in ancient time,

                                 Walk upon England's mountains green:
                                 And was the holy Lamb of God,
                                 On Englands pleasant pastures seen!

                                 And did the Countenance Divine,
                                 Shine forth upon our clouded hills?
                                 And was Jerusalem builded here,
                                 Among these dark Satanic Mills?

                                 Bring me my Bow of burning gold;
                                 Bring me my Arrows of desire:
                                 Bring me my Spear: O clouds unfold!
                                 Bring me my Chariot of fire!

                                 I will not cease from Mental Fight,
                                 Nor shall my Sword sleep in my hand:
                                 Till we have built Jerusalem,
                                 In Englands green & pleasant Land

Poesia (11) | William Blake - Divine Image

Regresso a William Blake na secção deste blog dedicada àqueles poemas que têm em si impressas as impressões digitais do Deus Cristão, do Deus do Amor infinito que resplandece em toda a criação, mas de modo particular numa humanidade criada à sua imagem. Nada melhor, então, do que aqui deixar Divine Image.

 

 Divine Image

To Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love
All pray in their distress;
And to these virtues of delight
Return their thankfulness.

For Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love
Is God, our father dear,
And Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love
Is Man, his child and care.

For Mercy has a human heart,
Pity a human face,
And Love, the human form divine,
And Peace, the human dress.

 Then every man, of every clime,
That prays in his distress,
Prays to the human form divine,
Love, Mercy, Pity, Peace.

And all must love the human form,
In heathen, turk, or jew;
Where Mercy, Love, & Pity dwell
There God is dwelling too.

Poesia (2) | William Blake - The Little Boy Found

Retomando a rubrica de poemas com as suas raízes em Deus, hoje deixo aqui o pequeno poema The Little Boy Found de William Blake retirado da sua obra "Songs of Innocence". Que vos possa deleitar e inspirar.

                                                  The Little Boy Found

                         The little boy lost in the lonely fen,
                         Led by the wand’ring light,
                         Began to cry, but God ever nigh,
                         Appeard like his father in white.

                         He kissed the child & by the hand led
                         And to his mother brought,
                         Who in sorrow pale, thro’ the lonely dale
                         Her little boy weeping sought.