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Biography of William Blake

William Blake

William Blake (1757 - 1827)


British poet, painter, visionary mystic, and engraver, who illustrated and printed his own books. Blake proclaimed the supremacy of the imagination over the rationalism and materialism of the 18th century. He joined for a time the Swedenborgian Church of the New Jerusalem in London and considered Newtonian science to be superstitious nonsense. Misunderstanding shadowed his career as a writer and artist and it was left to later generations to recognize his importance.

Blake was born in London, where he spent most of his life. His father was a successful London hosier and attracted by the doctrines of Emmanuel Swedenborg. Blake was first educated at home, chiefly by his mother. His parents encouraged him to collect prints of the Italian masters, and in 1767 sent him to Henry Pars' drawing school. From his early years, he experienced visions of angels and ghostly monks, he saw and conversed with the angel Gabriel, the Virgin Mary, and various historical figures.

At the age of 14 Blake was apprenticed for seven years to the engraver James Basire. Gothic art and architecture influenced him deeply. After studies at the Royal Academy School, Blake started to produce watercolors and engrave illustrations for magazines. In 1783 he married Catherine Boucher, the daughter of a market gardener. Blake taught her to draw and paint and she assisted him devoutly. In 1774 Blake opened with his wife and younger brother Robert a print shop at 27 Broad Street, but the venture failed after the death of Robert in 1787. Blake's important cultural and social contacts included Henry Fuseli, Reverend A.S. Mathew and his wife, John Flaxman (1755-1826), a sculptor and draughtsman, Tom Paine, William Godwin, and Mrs Elizabeth Montagu (1720-1800), married to the wealthy grandson of the earl of Sandwich.

His early poems Blake wrote at the age of 12. His first book of poems, POETICAL SKETCHES, appeared in 1783 and was followed by SONGS OF INNOCENCE (1789), and SONGS OF EXPERIENCE (1794). His most famous poem, 'The Tyger', was part of his Songs of Experience. Typical for Blake's poems were long, flowing lines and violent energy, combined with aphoristic clarity and moments of lyric tenderness. He approved of free love, and sympathized with the actions of the French revolutionaries until the events of 1794 sickened him. In 1790 Blake engraved THE MARRIAGE OF HEAVEN AND HELL, a book of paradoxical aphorisms and his principal prose work. It expressed Blake's revolt against the established values of his time. "Prisons are built with stones of Law, brothels with bricks of Religion." Radically he sided with the Satan in Milton's Paradise Lost and attacked the conventional religious views in a series of aphorisms. But the poet's life in the realms of images did not plese his wife who once remarked: "I have very little of Mr. Blake's company. He is always in Paradise." Some of Blake's contemporaries called him a harmless lunatic.

The Blakes moved south of the Thames to Lambeth in 1790. During this time Blake began to work on his 'prophetic books', where he expressed his lifelong concern with the struggle of the soul to free its natural energies from reason and organized religion. He wrote THE VISIONS OF THE DAUGHTERS OF ALBION (1793), AMERICA: A PROPHESY (1793), THE BOOK OF URIZEN (1794), and THE SONG OF LOS (1795). Blake hated the effects of the Industrial Revolution in England and looked forward to the establishment of a New Jerusalem "in England's green and pleasant land." Between 1804 and 1818 he produced an edition of his own poem JERUSALEM with 100 engravings.

In 1800 Blake was taken up by the wealthy William Hayley, poet and patron of poets. The Blakes lived in Hayley's house at Felpham in Sussex, staying there for three years. At Felpham Blake worked on MILTON: A POEM IN TWO BOOKS, TO JUSTIFY THE WAYS OF GOD TO MEN. It was finished and engraved between 1803 and 1808. In 1803 Blake was charged at Chichester with high treason for having 'uttered seditious and treasonable expressions, such as "D-n the King, d-n all his sibjects..."' but was acquitted. In 1809 Blake had a commercially unsuccessful exhibition at the shop once owned by his brother. However, economic problems did not depress him, but he continued to produce energetically poems, aphorisms, and engravings. "The tigers of wrath are wiser than the horses of instruction," he wrote.

From 1818 Blake started to enjoy the admiration of a group of young disciples. Blake's last years were passed in obscurity, quarreling even with some of the circle of friends who supported him. Among Blake's later artistic works are drawings and engravings for Dante's Divine Comedy and the 21 illustrations to the book of Job, which was completed when he was almost 70 years old. Blake never shook off the poverty, in large part due to his inability to compete in the highly competitive field of engraving and his expensive invention that enabled him to design illustrations and print words at the same time.

Independent through his life, Blake left no debts at his death on August 12, 1827. He was buried in an unmarked grave at the public cemetery of Bunhill Fields. Wordsworth's verdict after Blake's death reflected many opinions of the time: "There was no doubt that this poor man was mad, but there is something in the madness of this man which interests me more than the sanity of Lord Byron and Walter Scott." Blake's influence grew through Pre-Raphealites and W.B. Yeats especially in Britain. His interest in legend was revived with the Romantics' rediscovery of the past, especially the Gothic and medieval. In the 1960s Blake's work was acclaimed by the Underground movement.


Biography by: 1911 Encyclopaedia Articles


132 Poems written by William Blake

The poems are by default sorted according to volume, but you can also choose to sort them alphabetically or by page views.

Volume | Alphabetically | Page Views | Comments | [First Lines]


First LineComments
1. But Los saw the Female & pitied
1. Earth was not: nor globes of attraction
1. In terrors Los shrunk from his task:
1. Lo, a shadow of horror is risen
1. The voice ended, they saw his pale visage
1. Then the Inhabitants of those Cities:
1. They named the child Orc, he grew
1. Urizen explor'd his dens
1.1 "What is the price of Experience? do men buy it for a song?
84 Thee the ancientest peer, Duke of Burgundy, rose from the monarch's right hand, red as wines Comments and analysis of French Revolution, The (excerpt) by William Blake 1 Comment
a
A flower was offered to me;
A little black thing among the snow: Comments and analysis of The Chimney-Sweeper (Experience) by William Blake 8 Comments
A Robin Redbreast in a cage, Comments and analysis of Three Things to Remember by William Blake 1 Comment
AFRICA Comments and analysis of The Song of Los by William Blake 1 Comment
Ah Sun-flower! weary of time. Comments and analysis of Ah! Sun-Flower by William Blake 1 Comment
All the night in woe,
And did those feet in ancient time Comments and analysis of And Did Those Feet In Ancient Time by William Blake 1 Comment
And did those feet in ancient time
And did those feet in ancient time
And did those feet in ancient time
And did those feet in ancient time Comments and analysis of The New Jerusalem by William Blake 1 Comment
As I wandered the forest,
Awake, awake my little Boy! Comments and analysis of The Land Of Dreams by William Blake 2 Comments
But in the Wine-presses the human grapes sing not nor dance:
Can I see anothers woe, Comments and analysis of On Anothers Sorrow by William Blake 1 Comment
CHAPTER 1
Come, kings, and listen to my song:
Dear Mother, dear Mother, the Church is cold, Comments and analysis of The Little Vagabond by William Blake 6 Comments
Earth raised up her head. Comments and analysis of Earth's Answer by William Blake 2 Comments
England! awake! awake! awake!
England! awake! awake! awake!
He who binds to himself a joy Comments and analysis of Eternity by William Blake 2 Comments
He. Where thou dwellest, in what grove, Comments and analysis of The Birds by William Blake 2 Comments
Hear the voice of the Bard!
Hear the voice of the Bard,
HEAR the voice of the Bard, Comments and analysis of Hear the Voice by William Blake 1 Comment
How sweet I roam'd from field to field, Comments and analysis of How Sweet I Roam'd by William Blake 1 Comment
How sweet is the Shepherd's sweet lot, Comments and analysis of The Shepherd by William Blake 2 Comments
I Dreamt a Dream! what can it mean? Comments and analysis of The Angel by William Blake 1 Comment
I have no name
I heard an Angel Singing Comments and analysis of The Two Songs by William Blake 1 Comment
I heard an Angel singing Comments and analysis of I Heard an Angel by William Blake 1 Comment
I love to rise in a summer morn, Comments and analysis of The School Boy by William Blake 3 Comments
I rose up at the dawn of day-- Comments and analysis of I Rose Up at the Dawn of Day by William Blake 1 Comment
I saw a chapel all of gold Comments and analysis of I Saw a Chapel by William Blake 1 Comment
I see the Four-fold Man, The Humanity in deadly sleep
I see the Four-fold Man, The Humanity in deadly sleep Comments and analysis of I see the Four-fold Man by William Blake 1 Comment
I wander thro' each charter'd street. Comments and analysis of London by William Blake 3 Comments
I was angry with my friend; Comments and analysis of A Poison Tree by William Blake 8 Comments
I went to the Garden of Love. Comments and analysis of The Garden Of Love by William Blake 19 Comments
If it is true, what the Prophets write, Comments and analysis of If It Is True What the Prophets Write by William Blake 1 Comment
In futurity
In seed time learn, in harvest teach, in winter enjoy.
In seed time learn, in harvest teach, in winter enjoy.
Is this a holy thing to see. Comments and analysis of Holy Thursday (Experience) by William Blake 3 Comments
Little Fly
Little Lamb, who made thee Comments and analysis of The Lamb by William Blake 5 Comments
Love and harmony combine, Comments and analysis of Love and Harmony by William Blake 2 Comments
Love seeketh not Itself to please. Comments and analysis of The Clod & The Pebble by William Blake 7 Comments
Memory, hither come, Comments and analysis of Song: Memory, hither come by William Blake 1 Comment
Merry Merry Sparrow Comments and analysis of The Blossom by William Blake 1 Comment
Mock on, mock on, Voltaire, Rousseau;
My mother bore me in the southern wild,
My mother groand! my father wept, Comments and analysis of Infant Sorrow by William Blake 2 Comments
My silks and fine array,
My spectre around me night and day Comments and analysis of My Spectre Around Me by William Blake 1 Comment
MY Spectre around me night and day Comments and analysis of Broken Love by William Blake 2 Comments
Never seek to tell thy love
Never seek to tell thy love, Comments and analysis of Love's Secret by William Blake 12 Comments
Nought loves another as itself
O Autumn, laden with fruit, and stain'd
O holy virgin! clad in purest white,
O Rose thou art sick. Comments and analysis of The Sick Rose by William Blake 60 Comments
O thou who passest thro' our valleys in
O thou with dewy locks, who lookest down
O Winter! bar thine adamantine doors: Comments and analysis of To Winter by William Blake 1 Comment
Of the primeval Priests assum'd power,
Once a dream did weave a shade, Comments and analysis of A Dream by William Blake 1 Comment
Piping down the valleys wild Comments and analysis of Songs Of Innocence: Introduction by William Blake 2 Comments
Piping down the valleys wild,
Piping down the valleys wild, Comments and analysis of Reeds of Innocence by William Blake 1 Comment
Piping down the valleys wild,
Pity would be no more, Comments and analysis of The Human Abstract by William Blake 1 Comment
Samson, the strongest of the children of men, I sing; how he was foiled by woman's arts, by a false wife brought to the gates of death! O Truth! that shinest with propitious beams, turning our earthly night to heavenly day, from presence of the Almighty Father, thou visitest our darkling world with blessed feet, bringing good news of Sin and Death destroyed! O whiterobed Angel, guide my timorous hand to write as on a lofty rock with iron pen the words of truth, that all who pass may read. -- Now Night, noontide of damned spirits, over the silent earth spreads her pavilion, while in dark council sat Philista's lords; and, where strength failed, black thoughts in ambush lay. Their helmed youth and aged warriors in dust together lie, and Desolation spreads his wings over the land of Palestine: from side to side the land groans, her prowess lost, and seeks to hide her bruised head under the mists of night, breeding dark plots. For Dalila's fair arts have long been tried in vain; in vain she wept in many a treacherous tear. `Go on, fair traitress; do thy guileful work; ere once again the changing moon her circuit hath performed, thou shalt overcome, and conquer him by force unconquerable, and wrest his secret from him. Call thine alluring arts and honest-seeming brow, the holy kiss of love, and the transparent tear; put on fair linen that with the lily vies, purple and silver; neglect thy hair, to seem more lovely in thy loose attire; put on thy country's pride, deceit, and eyes of love decked in mild sorrow; and sell thy lord for gold.' For now, upon her sumptuous couch reclined in gorgeous pride, she still entreats, and still she grasps his vigorous knees with her fair arms. `Thou lov'st me not! thou'rt war, thou art not love! O foolish Dalila! O weak woman! it is death clothed in flesh thou lovest, and thou hast been encircled in his arms! Alas, my lord, what am I calling thee? Thou art my God! To thee I pour my tears for sacrifice morning and evening. My days are covered with sorrow, shut up, darkened! By night I am deceived! Who says that thou wast born of mortal kind? Destruction was thy father, a lioness suckled thee, thy young hands tore human limbs, and gorged human flesh. Come hither, Death; art thou not Samson's servant? 'Tis Dalila that calls, thy master's wife; no, stay, and let thy master do the deed: one blow of that strong arm would ease my pain; then should I lay at quiet and have rest. Pity forsook thee at thy birth! O Dagon furious, and all ye gods of Palestine, withdraw your hand! I am but a weak woman. Alas, I am wedded to your enemy! I will go mad, and tear my crisped hair; 1000 I'll run about, and pierce the ears o' th' gods! O Samson, hold me not; thou lovest me not! Look not upon me with those deathful eyes! Thou wouldst my death, and death approaches fast.' Thus, in false tears, she bath'd his feet, and thus she day by day oppressed his soul: he seemed a mountain; his brow among the clouds; she seemed a silver stream, his feet embracing. Dark thoughts rolled to and fro in his mind, like thunder clouds troubling the sky; his visage was troubled; his soul was distressed. `Though I should tell her all my heart, what can I fear? Though I should tell this secret of my birth, the utmost may be warded off as well when told as now.' She saw him moved, and thus resumes her wiles. `Samson, I'm thine; do with me what thou wilt: my friends are enemies; my life is death; I am a traitor to my nation, and despised; my joy is given into the hands of him who hates me, using deceit to the wife of his bosom. Thrice hast thou mocked me and grieved my soul. Didst thou not tell me with green withs to bind thy nervous arms; and, after that, when I had found thy falsehood, with new ropes to bind thee fast? I knew thou didst but mock me. Alas, when in thy sleep I bound thee with them to try thy truth, I cried, "The Philistines be upon thee, Samson!" Then did suspicion wake thee; how didst thou rend the feeble ties! Thou fearest nought, what shouldst thou fear? Thy power is more than mortal, none can hurt thee; thy bones are brass, thy sinews are iron. Ten thousand spears are like the summer grass; an army of mighty men are as flocks in the valleys; what canst thou fear? I drink my tears like water; I live upon sorrow! O worse than wolves and tigers, what canst thou give when such a trifle is denied me? But O! at last thou mockest me, to shame my over-fond inquiry. Thou toldest me to weave thee to the beam by thy strong hair; I did even that to try thy truth; but, when I cried "The Philistines be upon thee!" then didst thou leave me to bewail that Samson loved me not.' He sat, and inward griev'd; he saw and lov'd the beauteous suppliant, nor could conceal aught that might appease her; then, leaning on her bosom, thus he spoke: `Hear, O Dalila! doubt no more of Samson's love; for that fair breast was made the ivory palace of my inmost heart, where it shall lie at rest: for sorrow is the lot of all of woman born: for care was I brought forth, and labour is my lot: nor matchless might, nor wisdom, nor every gift enjoyed, can from the heart of man hide sorrow. Twice was my birth foretold from heaven, and twice a sacred vow enjoined me that I should drink no wine, nor eat of any unclean thing; for holy unto Israel's God I am, a Nazarite even from my mother's womb. Twice was it told, that it might not be broken. "Grant me a son, kind Heaven," Manoa cried; but Heaven refused. Childless he mourned, but thought his God knew best. In solitude, though not obscure, in Israel he lived, till venerable age came on: his flocks increased, and plenty crowned his board, beloved, revered of man. But God hath other joys in store. Is burdened Israel his grief? The son of his old age shall set it free! The venerable sweetener of his life receives the promise first from Heaven. She saw the maidens play, and blessed their innocent mirth; she blessed each new-joined pair; but from her the long-wished deliverer shall spring. Pensive, alone she sat within the house, when busy day was fading, and calm evening, time for contemplation, rose from the forsaken east, and drew the curtains of heaven: pensive she sat, and thought on Israel's grief, and silent prayed to Israel's God; when lo! an angel from the fields of light entered the house. His form was manhood in the prime, and from his spacious brow shot terrors through the evening shade. But mild he hailed her, "Hail, highly favoured!" said he; "for lo! thou shalt conceive, and bear a son, and Israel's strength shall be upon his shoulders, and he shall be called Israel's Deliverer. Now, therefore, drink no wine, and eat not any unclean thing, for he shall be a Nazarite to God." Then, as a nei 727 ghbour, when his evening tale is told, departs, his blessing leaving, so seemed he to depart: she wondered with exceeding joy, nor knew he was an angel. Manoa left his fields to sit in the house, and take his evening's rest from labour -- the sweetest time that God has allotted mortal man. He sat, and heard with joy, and praised God, who Israel still doth keep. The time rolled on, and Israel groaned oppressed. The sword was bright, while the ploughshare rusted, till hope grew feeble, and was ready to give place to doubting. Then prayed Manoa: "O Lord, thy flock is scattered on the hills! The wolf teareth them, Oppression stretches his rod over our land, our country is ploughed with swords, and reaped in blood. The echoes of slaughter reach from hill to hill. Instead of peaceful pipe the shepherd bears a sword, the ox-goad is turned into a spear. O when shall our Deliverer come? The Philistine riots on our flocks, our vintage is gathered by bands of enemies. Stretch forth thy hand, and save!" Thus prayed Manoa. The aged woman walked into the field, and lo! again the angel came, clad as a traveller fresh risen on his journey. She ran and called her husband, who came and talked with him. "O man of God," said he, "thou comest from far! Let us detain thee while I make ready a kid, that thou mayest sit and eat, and tell us of thy name and warfare; that, when thy sayings come to pass, we may honour thee." The Angel answered, "My name is Wonderful; inquire not after it, seeing it is a secret; but, if thou wilt, offer an offering unto the Lord."'
Silent, silent night, Comments and analysis of Silent, Silent Night by William Blake 1 Comment
Sleep! sleep! beauty bright, Comments and analysis of Sleep! Sleep! Beauty Bright by William Blake 1 Comment
Sound the Flute!
Sweet dreams form a shade,
The Argument.
The bell struck one, and shook the silent tower;
The Caverns of the Grave I've seen, Comments and analysis of The Caverns of the Grave I've Seen by William Blake 1 Comment
The little boy lost in the lonely fen,
The modest Rose puts forth a thorn: Comments and analysis of The Lilly by William Blake 1 Comment
The nameless shadowy female rose from out the breast of Orc,
The shadowy Daughter of Urthona stood before red Orc, Comments and analysis of Preludium to America by William Blake 1 Comment
The sky is an immortal tent built by the Sons of Los:
The sky is an immortal tent built by the Sons of Los:
The sun descending in the west.
The Sun does arise, Comments and analysis of The Echoing Green by William Blake 12 Comments
The vision of Christ that thou dost see
The wild winds weep Comments and analysis of Mad Song by William Blake 1 Comment
Thee the ancientest peer, Duke of Burgundy, rose from the monarch's right hand, red as wines
THEL'S MOTTO
Thou fair hair'd angel of the evening, Comments and analysis of Evening Star by William Blake 2 Comments
Thou fair hair'd angel of the evening,
Thou fair-haired angel of the evening,
To Mercy Pity Peace and Love. Comments and analysis of The Divine Image by William Blake 1 Comment
TO my friend Butts I write
To see a world in a grain of sand Comments and analysis of Auguries Of Innocence by William Blake 2 Comments
Truly My Satan thou art but a Dunce
Twas on a Holy Thursday their innocent faces clean
Tyger Tyger. burning bright, Comments and analysis of The Tyger by William Blake 4 Comments
What is it men in women do require? Comments and analysis of Several Questions Answered by William Blake 2 Comments
What is it men in women do require?
Whate'er is Born of Mortal Birth, Comments and analysis of To Tirzah by William Blake 2 Comments
When Klopstock England defied,
When my mother died I was very young, Comments and analysis of The Chimney Sweeper (Innocence) by William Blake 5 Comments
When silver snow decks Susan's clothes,
When the green woods laugh with the voice of joy Comments and analysis of Laughing Song by William Blake 1 Comment
When the voices of children. are heard on the green
When voices of children are heard on the green Comments and analysis of Nurse's Song (Innocence) by William Blake 2 Comments
Whether on Ida's shady brow,
Why art thou silent & invisible Comments and analysis of To Nobodaddy by William Blake 4 Comments
Why should I care for the men of thames
Why was Cupid a boy,
You don't believe -- I won't attempt to make ye: Comments and analysis of You Don't Believe by William Blake 1 Comment
Youth of delight come hither. Comments and analysis of The Voice Of The Ancient Bard by William Blake 1 Comment
"I die, I die!" the Mother said, Comments and analysis of The Grey Monk by William Blake 2 Comments
"I die, I die!" the Mother said,
'What is the price of Experience? do men buy it for a song?
`Now Art has lost its mental charms Comments and analysis of Now Art Has Lost Its Mental Charms by William Blake 1 Comment


Books by William Blake

 
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