The Invocation

Daughters of Beulah! Muses who inspire the Poet's Song, Record the journey of immortal Milton thro' your realms Of terror and mild moony lustre, in soft Sexual delusions Of varièd beauty, to delight the wanderer, and repose His burning thirst and freezing hunger! Come into my hand, By your mild power descending down the nerves of my right arm From out the portals of my Brain, where by your ministry The Eternal Great Humanity Divine planted His Paradise, And in it caus'd the Spectres of the Dead to take sweet form In likeness of Himself. Tell also of the False Tongue, vegetated Beneath your land of Shadows, of its sacrifices and Its offerings; even till Jesus, the image of the Invisible God, Became its prey; a curse, an offering, and an atonement For Death Eternal, in the Heavens of Albion, and before the Gates Of Jerusalem his Emanation, in the Heavens beneath Beulah!