29. 'The Fiend, whose name was Legion: Death, Decay, Earthquake and Blight, and Want, and Madness pale, _380 Winged and wan diseases, an array Numerous as leaves that strew the autumnal gale; Poison, a snake in flowers, beneath the veil Of food and mirth, hiding his mortal head; And, without whom all these might nought avail, _385 Fear, Hatred, Faith, and Tyranny, who spread Those subtle nets which snare the living and the dead. 30. 'His spirit is their power, and they his slaves In air, and light, and thought, and language, dwell; And keep their state from palaces to graves, _390 In all resorts of men--invisible, But when, in ebon mirror, Nightmare fell To tyrant or impostor bids them rise, Black winged demon forms--whom, from the hell, His reign and dwelling beneath nether skies, _395 He loosens to their dark and blasting ministries. 31. 'In the world's youth his empire was as firm As its foundations...Soon the Spirit of Good, Though in the likeness of a loathsome worm, Sprang from the billows of the formless flood, _400 Which shrank and fled; and with that Fiend of blood Renewed the doubtful war...Thrones then first shook, And earth's immense and trampled multitude In hope on their own powers began to look, And Fear, the demon pale, his sanguine shrine forsook. _405 32. 'Then Greece arose, and to its bards and sages, In dream, the golden-pinioned Genii came, Even where they slept amid the night of ages, Steeping their hearts in the divinest flame Which thy breath kindled, Power of holiest name! _410 And oft in cycles since, when darkness gave New weapons to thy foe, their sunlike fame Upon the combat shone--a light to save, Like Paradise spread forth beyond the shadowy grave. 33. 'Such is this conflict--when mankind doth strive _415 With its oppressors in a strife of blood, Or when free thoughts, like lightnings, are alive, And in each bosom of the multitude Justice and truth with Custom's hydra brood Wage silent war; when Priests and Kings dissemble _420 In smiles or frowns their fierce disquietude, When round pure hearts a host of hopes assemble, The Snake and Eagle meet--the world's foundations tremble! 34. 'Thou hast beheld that fight--when to thy home Thou dost return, steep not its hearth in tears; _425 Though thou may'st hear that earth is now become The tyrant's garbage, which to his compeers, The vile reward of their dishonoured years, He will dividing give.--The victor Fiend, Omnipotent of yore, now quails, and fears _430 His triumph dearly won, which soon will lend An impulse swift and sure to his approaching end.