| A kind of change came in my fate, |
| My keepers grew compassionate ; |
| I know not what had made them so, |
| They were inured to sights of woe, |
| But so it was:—my broken chain |
| With links unfastened did remain, |
| And it was liberty to stride, |
| Along my cell from side to side, |
| And up and down, and then athwart, |
| And tread it over every part ; |
| And round the pillars one by one |
| Returning where my walk begun, |
| Avoiding only, as I trod, |
| My brothers’ graves without a sod ; |
| For if I thought with heedless tread |
| My step profaned their lowly bed, |
| My breath came gaspingly and thick, |
And my crushed heart felt blind and sick.
|
| I made a footing in the wall, |
| It was not
therefrom to escape, |
| For I had buried one and all, |
| Who loved me in a
human shape ; |
| And the whole earth would henceforth be |
| A wider prison unto me : |
| No child, no sire, no kin had I, |
| No partner in my misery ; |
| I thought of this, and I was glad, |
| For thought of them had made me mad ; |
| But I was curious to ascend |
| To my barred windows, and to bend |
| Once more, upon the mountains high, |
The quiet of a loving eye.
|
| I saw them, and they were the same, |
| They were not changed like me in a frame ; |
| I saw their thousand years of snow |
| On high—their wide long lake below, |
| And the blue Rhone in fullest flow ; |
| I heard the torrents leap and gush |
| O’er channeled rock and broken bush ; |
| I saw the white-walled distant town, |
| And whiter sails go skimming down ; |
| And then there was a little isle, |
| Which in my very face did smile, |
| The only one in
view ; |
| A small green isle, it seemed no more, |
| Scarce broader than my dungeon floor, |
| But in it there were three tall trees, |
| And o’er it blew the mountain breeze, |
| And by it there were waters flowing, |
| And on it there were young flowers growing, |
| Of gentle breath
and hue. |
| The fish swam by the castle wall, |
| And they seemed joyous each and all ; |
| The eagle rode the rising blast, |
| Methought he never flew so fast |
| As then to me he seemed to fly ; |
| And then new tears came in my eye, |
| And I felt troubled—and would fain |
| I had not left my recent chain ; |
| And when I did descend again, |
| The darkness of my dim abode |
| Fell on me as a heavy load ; |
| It was as is a new-dug grave, |
| Closing o’er one we sought to save,— |
| And yet my glance, too much opprest, |
Had almost need of such a rest.
|
| It might be months, or years, or days, |
| I kept no count, I
took no note, |
| I had no hope my eyes to raise, |
| And clear them of
their dreary mote ; |
| At last men came to set me free ; |
| I asked not why,
and recked not where ; |
| It was at length the same to me, |
| Fettered or fetterless to be, |
| I learned to love
despair. |
| And thus when they appeared at last, |
| And all my bonds aside were cast, |
| These heavy walls to me had grown |
| A hermitage—and all my own ! |
| And half I felt as they were come |
| To tear me from a second home : |
| With spiders I had friendship made, |
| And watched them in their sullen trade, |
| Had seen the mice by moonlight play, |
| And why should I feel less than they ? |
| We were all inmates of one place, |
| And I, the monarch of each race, |
| Had power to kill—yet, strange to tell ! |
| In quiet we had learned to dwell ; |
| My very chains and I grew friends, |
| So much a long communion tends |
| To make us what we are:—even I |
Regained my freedom with a sigh.
|
| Lord Byron |
Classic Poems |
| |
|
[ Destruction of the Sennacherib ] [ Growing Old ] [ She Walks in Beauty ] [ Italy versus England ] [ The Eve of Waterloo ] [ from The Prisoner of Chillon ] [ The Isles of Greece ] [ from Don Juan ] |
