Selected Poems (76 page)

With joy: — but not in chains to pine:

His spirit wither’d with their clank,

I saw it silently decline —

100

And so perchance in sooth did mine:

But yet I forced it on to cheer

Those relics of a home so dear.

He was a hunter of the hills,

Had follow’d there the deer and wolf;

105

To him this dungeon was a gulf,

And fetter’d feet the worst of ills.

VI

Lake Leman lies by Chillon’s walls:

A thousand feet in depth below

Its massy waters meet and flow;

110

Thus much the fathom-line was sent

From Chillon’s snow-white battlement,
¹

Which round about the wave inthrals:

A double dungeon wall and wave

Have made — and like a living grave.

115

Below the surface of the lake

The dark vault lies wherein we lay,

We heard it rile night and day;

Sounding o’er our heads it knock’d;

And I have felt the winter’s spray

120

Wash through the bars when winds were high

And wanton in the happy sky;

And then the very rock hath rock’d,

And I have felt it shake, unshock’d,

Because I could have smiled to see

125

The death that would have set me free.

VII

I said my nearer brother pined,

I said his mighty heart declined,

He loathed and put away his food;

It was not that ’twas coarse and rude,

130

For we were used to hunter’s fare,

And for the like had little care:

The milk drawn from the mountain goat

Was changed for water from the moat,

Our bread was such as captive’s tears

135

Have moisten’d many a thousand years,

Since man first pent his fellow men

Like brutes within an iron den;

But what were these to us or him?

These wasted not his heart or limb;

140

My brother’s soul was of that mould

Which in a palace had grown cold,

Had his free breathing been denied

The range of the steep mountain’s side;

But why delay the truth? — he died.

145

I saw, and could not hold his head,

Nor reach his dying hand — nor dead, —

Though hard I strove, but strove in vain,

To rend and gnash my bonds in twain.

He died — and they unlock’d his chain

150

And scoop’d for him a shallow grave

Even from the cold earth of our cave.

I begg’d them, as a boon, to lay

His corse in dust whereon the day

Might shine — it was a foolish thought,

155

But then within my brain it wrought,

That even in death his freeborn breast

In such a dungeon could not rest.

I might have spared my idle prayer —

They coldly laugh’d — and laid him there:

160

The flat and turfless earth above

The being we so much did love;

His empty chain above it leant,

Such murder’s fitting monument!

VIII

But he, the favourite and the flower,

165

Most cherish’d since his natal hour,

His mother’s image in fair face,

The infant love of all his race,

His martyr’d father’s dearest thought,

My latest care, for whom I sought

170

To hoard my life, that his might be

Less wretched now, and one day free;

He, too, who yet had held untired

A spirit natural or inspired –

He, too, was struck, and day by day

175

Was wither’d on the stalk away.

Oh, God! it is a fearful thing

To see the human soul take wing

In any shape, in any mood: —

I’ve seen it rushing forth in blood,

180

I’ve seen it on the breaking ocean

Strive with a swoln convulsive motion

I’ve seen the sick and ghastly bed

Of Sin delirious with its dread:

But these were horrors — this was woe

185

Unmix’d with such — but sure and slow:

He faded, and so calm and meek,

So softly worn, so sweetly weak,

So tearless, yet so tender — kind,

And grieved for those he left behind;

190

With all the while a cheek whose bloom

Was as a mockery of the tomb,

Whose tints as gently sunk away

As a departing rainbow’s ray —

An eye of most transparent light,

195

That almost made the dungeon bright,

And not a word of murmur — not

A groan o’er his untimely lot, -

A little talk of better days,

A little hope my own to raise,

200

For I was sunk in silence — lost

In this last loss, of all the most;

And then the sighs he would suppress

Of fainting nature’s feebleness,

More slowly drawn, grew less and less:

205

I listen’d, but I could not hear —

I call’d, for I was wild with fear;

I knew ’twas hopeless, but my dread

Would not be thus admonished;

I call’d, and thought I heard a sound -

210

I burst my chain with one strong bound,

And rush’d to him: — I found him not,

I
only stirr’d in this black spot,

I
only lived —
I
only drew

The accursed breath of dungeon-dew;

215

The last — the sole — the dearest link

Between me and the eternal brink,

Which bound me to my failing race,

Was broken in this fatal place.

One on the earth, and one beneath -

220

My brothers — both had ceased to breathe :

I took that hand which lay so still,

Alas! my own was full as chill;

I had not strength to stir, or strive,

But felt that I was still alive —

225

A frantic feeling, when we know

That what we love shall ne’er be so.

I know not why

I could not die,

I had no earthly hope — but faith,

230

And that forbade a selfish death.

IX

What next befell me then and there

I know not well — I never knew —

First came the loss of light, and air,

And then of darkness too:

235

I had no thought, no feeling — none —

Among the stones I stood a stone,

And was, scarce conscious what I wist,

As shrubless crags within the mist;

For all was blank and bleak, and grey,

240

It was not night — it was not day,

It was not even the dungeon-light,

So hateful to my heavy sight,

But vacancy absorbing space,

And fixedness — without a place;

245

There were no stars — no earth — no time —

No check — no change — no good — no crime

But silence, and a stirless breath

Which neither was of life nor death;

A sea of stagnant idleness,

250

Blind, boundless, mute, and motionless!

X

A light broke in upon my brain, —

It was the carol of a bird;

It ceased, and then it came again,

The sweetest song ear ever heard,

255

And mine was thankful till my eyes

Ran over with the glad surprise,

And they that moment could not see

I was the mate of misery;

But then by dull degrees came back

260

My senses to their wonted track,

I saw the dungeon walls and floor

Close slowly round me as before,

I saw the glimmer of the sun

Creeping as it before had done,

265

But through the crevice where it came