And its fallen Emanation， the Spectre and its cruel Shadow.
I see the Past， Present， and Future existing all at once
Before me. O Divine Spirit！ sustain me on thy wings，
That I may awake Albion from his long and cold repose；
For Bacon and Newton， sheath'd in dismal steel， their terrors hang
Like iron scourges over Albion. Reasonings like vast Serpents
Enfold around my limbs， bruising my minute articulations.
I turn my eyes to the Schools and Universities of Europe，
And there behold the Loom of Locke， whose Woof rages dire，
Wash'd by the Water-wheels of Newton： black the cloth
In heavy wreaths folds over every Nation： cruel Works
Of many Wheels I view， wheel without wheel， with cogs tyrannic，
Moving by compulsion each other； not as those in Eden， which，
Wheel within wheel， in freedom revolve， in harmony and peace.