8. 
That hoary man had spent his livelong age
In converse with the dead, who leave the stamp
Of ever-burning thoughts on many a page,
When they are gone into the senseless damp 1480
Of graves;—­his spirit thus became a lamp
Of splendour, like to those on which it fed;
Through peopled haunts, the City and the Camp,
Deep thirst for knowledge had his footsteps led,
And all the ways of men among mankind he read. 1485

9. 
But custom maketh blind and obdurate
The loftiest hearts;—­he had beheld the woe
In which mankind was bound, but deemed that fate
Which made them abject, would preserve them so;
And in such faith, some steadfast joy to know, 1490
He sought this cell:  but when fame went abroad
That one in Argolis did undergo
Torture for liberty, and that the crowd
High truths from gifted lips had heard and understood;

10. 
And that the multitude was gathering wide,—­ 1495
His spirit leaped within his aged frame;
In lonely peace he could no more abide,
But to the land on which the victor’s flame
Had fed, my native land, the Hermit came: 
Each heart was there a shield, and every tongue 1500
Was as a sword of truth—­young Laon’s name
Rallied their secret hopes, though tyrants sung
Hymns of triumphant joy our scattered tribes among.

11. 
He came to the lone column on the rock,
And with his sweet and mighty eloquence 1505
The hearts of those who watched it did unlock,
And made them melt in tears of penitence. 
They gave him entrance free to bear me thence. 
‘Since this,’ the old man said, ’seven years are spent,
While slowly truth on thy benighted sense 1510
Has crept; the hope which wildered it has lent
Meanwhile, to me the power of a sublime intent.

12. 
’Yes, from the records of my youthful state,
And from the lore of bards and sages old,
From whatsoe’er my wakened thoughts create 1515
Out of the hopes of thine aspirings bold,
Have I collected language to unfold
Truth to my countrymen; from shore to shore
Doctrines of human power my words have told,
They have been heard, and men aspire to more 1520
Than they have ever gained or ever lost of yore.

13. 
’In secret chambers parents read, and weep,
My writings to their babes, no longer blind;
And young men gather when their tyrants sleep,
And vows of faith each to the other bind; 1525
And marriageable maidens, who have pined
With love, till life seemed melting through their look,
A warmer zeal, a nobler hope, now find;
And every bosom thus is rapt and shook,
Like autumn’s myriad leaves in one swoln mountain-brook. 1530