William Blake (1757–1827). The Poetical Works. 1908.
The Pickering MS.William Bond
I
And I wonder whether they mean to kill,
And I wonder if William Bond will die,
For assuredly he is very ill.
Attended by Fairies, one, two, and three;
But the Angels of Providence drove them away,
And he return’d home in misery.
He went not out to the village nor town,
But he came home in a black, black cloud,
And took to his bed, and there lay down.
And an Angel of Providence at his head,
And in the midst a black, black cloud,
And in the midst the sick man on his bed.
And on his left hand was his sister Jane,
And their tears fell thro’ the black, black cloud
To drive away the sick man’s pain.
Dost another love better than poor Mary,
Go and take that other to be thy wife,
And Mary Green shall her servant be.’
Another I love far better than thee,
And another I will have for my wife;
Then what have I to do with thee?
And on thy head is the cold moon’s shine,
But she is ruddy and bright as day,
And the sunbeams dazzle from her eyne.’
And Mary fell down on the right-hand floor,
That William Bond and his sister Jane
Scarce could recover Mary more.
On the right hand of her William dear,
On the right hand of his loved bed,
And saw her William Bond so near,
Dancèd around her shining head;
They dancèd over the pillow white,
And the Angels of Providence left the bed.
But O, he lives in the moony light!
I thought to find Love in the heat of day,
But sweet Love is the comforter of night.
In the gentle relief of another’s care,
In the darkness of night and the winter’s snow,
In the naked and outcast, seek Love there!