The Prisoner of Chillon 02

II

There are seven pillars of Gothic mould,
In Chillon's dungeons deep and old,
There are seven columns, massy and grey,
Dim with a dull imprison'd ray,
A sunbeam which hath lost its way,
And through the crevice and the cleft
Of the thick wall is fallen and left;
Creeping o'er the floor so damp,
Like a marsh's meteor lamp:
And in each pillar there is a ring,
And in each ring there is a chain;
That iron is a cankering thing,
For in these limbs its teeth remain,
With marks that will not wear away,
TIll I have done with this new day,
Which now is painful to these eyes,
Which have not seen the sun so rise
For years - I cannot count them o'er,
I lost their long and heavy score
When my last brother drooped and died,
And I lay living by his side.

George Gordon Byron, Lord Byron (1788-1824) ByronLong