The Prisoner of Chillon 03

III

They chain'd us each to a column stone,
And we were three - yet, each alone;
We could not move a single pace,
We could not see each other's face,
But with that pale and livid light
That made us strangers in our sight:
And thus together - yet apart,
Fetter'd in hand, but join'd in heart,
'Twas still some solace, in the dearth
Of the pure elements of earth,
To hearken to each other's speech,
And each turn comforter to each
With some new hope, or legend old,
So song heroically bold;
But even these at length grew cold.
Our voices took on a dreary tone,
And echo of the dungeon stone,
A grating sound, not full and free,
As they of yore were wont to be;
It might be fancy - but to me
They never sounded like our own.

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