Stonehenge by William Camden (1551-1623)

Jerusalem by William Blake

They become like they behold! Yet immense in strength and power,
In awful pomp and gold, in all the precious unhewn stones of Eden
They build a stupendous Building on the Plain of Salisbury, with chains
Of rocks round London Stone, of Reasonings, of unhewn Demonstrations
In labyrinthine arches (Mighty Urizen the Architect) thro' which
The heavens might revolve and Eternity be bound in their chain.
Labour unparallell'd! a wondrous rocky World of cruel destiny,
Rocks piled on rocks reaching the stars, stretching from pole to pole.
The Building is Natural Religion & its Altars Natural Morality,
A building of eternal death, whose proportions are eternal despair.

Mayburgh Henge by John Horsborough: circa 1833

The Bridal Of Triermain

The faithful Page he mounts his steed,
And soon he cross'd green Irthing's mead,
Dash'd o'er Kirkoswald's verdant plain,
And Eden barr'd his course in vain.
He pass'd red Penrith's Table Round,
For feats of chivalry renown'd.
Left Mayburgh's mound and stones of power,
By Druid's raised in magic hour,
And traced the Eamont's winding way,
Till Ulfo's lake beneath him lay.

Sir Walter Scott (1771-1832)

Milton by William Blake

Stonehenge, from A Game of Henge

Those stony backs. A scrum around a whisper:
Hush. Hiss. Who?
Why won't they let you in? No, it's a
secret secret
won't tell YOU . . .
A playground wide as Wessex. Wire barbs
the wind whines through.
You'd wait a hundred years and couldn't ask.
It's secret secret
won't tell YOU.
Don't dare. You dare yourself to dare
and then you do.
They turn and . . . What's the game? You are.
And it's Sticks And Stones
and you're on your own
and it's Piggy in the Middle
and the piggy is YOU.

Philip Gross

Milton by William Blake

Stonehenge, from A Game of Henge

A game of Henge, my masters?
The pieces are set. We lost the box
with instructions years ago.
Do you see Hangman? Or
Clock Patience? Building bricks
the gods grew out of? Dominoes?
It's your move. You're in the ring
of the hills, of the stones, of the walls
of your skull. You want to go?
You want out? Good - that's
the game. Whichever way you turn
are doors. Choose. Step through, so...
And whichever world you stumble into
will be different from all the others, only
what they might have been,
you'll never know.

Philip Gross

Dolmen in the Snow by C D Friedrich (1774-1840)

Close your bodily eye

Close your bodily eye, so that you may see your picture first with your spiritual eye, then bring to the light of day that which you have seen in the darkness so that it may react on others from the outside inwards.

C D Friedrich (1774-1840)