Plate 68

O Skofield why art thou cruel? Lo Joseph is thine! to make You One: to weave you both in the same mantle of skin Bind him down Sisters bind him down on Ebal. Mount of cursing: Malah come forth from Lebanon: & Hoglah from Mount Sinai: Come circumscribe this tongue of sweets & with a screw of iron Fasten this ear into the rock! Milcah the task is thine Weep not so Sisters! weep not so! our life depends on this Or mercy & truth are fled away from Shechem & Mount Gilead Unless my beloved is bound upon the Stems of Vegetation

And thus the Warriors cry, in the hot day of Victory, in Songs.

Look: the beautiful Daughter of Albion sits naked upon the Stone Her panting Victim beside her: her heart is drunk with blood Tho her brain is not drunk with wine: she goes forth from Albion In pride of beauty: in cruelty of holiness: in the brightness Of her tabernacle, & her ark & secret place, the beautiful Daughter Of Albion, delights the eyes of the Kings. their hearts & the Hearts of their Warriors glow hot before Thor & Friga. O Molech! O Chemosh! O Bacchus! O Venus! O Double God of Generation The Heavens are cut like a mantle around from the Cliffs of Albion Across Europe; across Africa; in howlings & deadly War A sheet & veil & curtain of blood is let down from Heaven Across the hills of Ephraim & down Mount Olivet to The Valley of the Jebusite: Molech rejoices in heaven He sees the Twelve Daughters naked upon the Twelve Stones Themselves condensing to rocks & into the Ribs of a Man Lo they shoot forth in tender Nerves across Europe & Asia Lo they rest upon the Tribes, where their panting Victims lie Molech rushes into the Kings in love to the beautiful Daughters But they frown & delight in cruelty, refusing all other joy Bring your Offerings, your first begotten: pamperd with milk & blood Your first born of seven years old: be they Males or Females: To the beautiful Daughters of Albion! they sport before the Kings Clothed in the skin Of the Victim! blood! human blood! is the life And delightful food of the Warrior: the well fed Warriors flesh Of him who is slain in War: fills the Valleys of Ephraim with Breeding Women walking in pride & bringing forth under green trees With pleasure, without pain, for their food is. blood of the Captive Molech rejoices thro the Land from Havilah to Shur: he rejoices In moral law & its severe penalties: loud Shaddai & Jehovah Thunder above: when they see the Twelve panting Victims On the Twelve Stones of Power, & the beautiful Daughters of Albion If you dare rend their Veil with your Spear; you are healed of Love! From the Hills of Camberwell & Wimbledon: from the Valleys Of Walton & Esher: from Stone-henge & from Maldens Cove Jerusalems Pillars fall in the rendings of fierce War Over France & Germany: upon the Rhine & Danube Reuben & Benjamin flee; they hide in the Valley of Rephaim Why trembles the Warriors limbs when he beholds thy beauty Spotted with Victims blood: by the fires of thy secret tabernacle And thy ark & holy place: at thy frowns: at thy dire revenge Smitten as Uzzah of old: his armour is softend; his spear And sword faint in his hand, from Albion across Great Tartary O beautiful Daughter of Albion: cruelty is thy delight O Virgin of terrible eyes, who dwellest by Valleys of springs Beneath the Mountains of Lebanon, in the City of Rehob in Hamath Taught to touch the harp: to dance in the Circle of Warriors Before the Kings of Canaan: to cut the flesh from the Victim To roast the flesh in fire: to examine the Infants limbs In cruelties of holiness: to refuse the joys of love: to bring The Spies from Egypt, to raise jealousy in the bosoms of the Twelve Kings of Canaan: then to let the Spies depart to Meribah Kadesh To the place of the Amalekite; I am drunk with unsatiated love I must rush again to War: for the Virgin has frownd & refusd Sometimes I curse & sometimes bless thy fascinating beauty Once Man was occupied in intellectual pleasures & energies But now my soul is harrowd with grief & fear & love & desire And now I hate & now I love & Intellect is no more: There is no time for any thing but the torments of love & desire The Feminine & Masculine Shadows soft, mild & ever varying In beauty: are Shadows now no more, but Rocks in Horeb