The lord of those etherial domains,
Once wing-maimed, pitiless fate to the dull earth enchains.
That Serpent is a sinister birth of time,
The likeness of the light 'twould fain take on,
But 'tis engendered from the poisonous slime
Of hate, and greed, and darkness. Though it don
Apollo's guise, 'tis but Apollyon.
To shackle, poison, palsy is its aim.
Venom and violence never yet have won
A victory truly worthy of the name.