Page:Life of William Blake, Gilchrist.djvu/141

I plucked Leutha's flower,
And I rose up from the vale;
But the terrible thunders tore
My virgin mantle in twain.

The poem partakes of the same delicate mystic beauty as Thel, but tends also towards the incoherence of the writings which immediately followed it. Of the former qualities the commencement may be quoted as an instance—

Enslaved, the daughters of Albion weep, a trembling lamentation
Upon their mountains; in their valleys, sighs toward America.

For the soft soul of America,—Oothoon,—wandered in woe
Among the vales of Leutha, seeking flowers to comfort her:
And thus she spoke to the bright marigold of Leutha's vale,—