e voice of valleys, the voice of meek
cities,
Mourning oppressed on village and field, till the village and field is
a waste.
For the husbandman weeps at blights of the fife, and blasting of
trumpets consume
The souls of mild France; the pale mother nourishes her child to the
deadly slaughter.

When the heavens were sealed with a stone, and the terrible sun closed
in an orb, and the moon
Rent from the nations, and each star appointed for watchers of night,
The millions of spirits immortal were bound in the ruins of sulphur
heaven
To wander enslaved; black, depressed in dark ignorance, kept in awe with
the whip
To worship terrors, bred from the blood of revenge and breath of desire
In bestial forms, or more terrible men; till the dawn of our peaceful
morning,
Till dawn, till morning, till the breaking of clouds, and swelling of
winds, and the universal voice;
Till man raise his darkened limbs out of the caves of night. His eyes
and his heart
Expand--Where is Space? where, O sun, is thy dwelling? where thy tent,
O faint slumbrous Moon?
Then the valleys of France shall cry to the soldier: "Throw down thy
sword and musket,
And run and embrace the meek peasant." Her nobles shall hear and shall
weep, and put off
The red robe of terror, the crown of oppression, the shoes of contempt,
and unbuckle
The girdle of war from the desolate earth. Then the Priest in his
thunderous cloud
Shall weep, bending to earth, embracing the valleys, and putting his
hand to the plough,
Shall say, "No more I curse thee; but now I will bless thee: no more in
deadly black
Devour thy labour; nor lift up a cloud in thy heavens, O laborious
plough;
That the wild raging millions, that wander in forests, and howl in
law-blasted wastes,
Strength maddened with slavery, honesty bound in the dens of
superstition,
May sing in the village, and shout in the harvest, and woo in pleasant
gardens
Their once savage loves, now beaming with knowledge, with gentle awe
adorned;
And the saw, and the hammer, the chisel, the pencil, the pen, and the
instruments
Of heavenly song sound in the wilds once forbidden, to teach the
laborious ploughman
And shepherd, delivered from clouds of war, from pestilence, from
night-fear, from murder,
From falling, from stifling, from hunger, from