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THE DEATH OF THE YOUNGER PRISONER.

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THE DEATH OF THE YOUNGER PRISONER.

BUT he, the favourite and the flower,
Most cherish'd since his natal hour,
He, too, was struck, and day by day
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,
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
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;
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,
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,
And then the sighs he would suppress
Of fainting nature's feebleness,

More slowly drawn, grew less and less :
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-
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.

THE PRISONER OF CHILLON.

THE CAPTIVE AND THE BIRD.

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,
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
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,

But through the crevice where it came
That bird was perch'd, as fond and tame,

THE VIEW FROM THE DUNGEON.

And tamer than upon the tree;
A lovely bird, with azure wings,
And song that said a thousand things,
And seem'd to say them all for me!
I never saw its like before,

I ne'er shall see its likeness more:
It seem'd like me to want a mate,
But was not half so desolate,
And it was come to love me when
None lived to love me so again.

I know not if it late were free,

Or broke its cage to perch on mine,

But knowing well captivity,

Sweet bird! I could not wish for thine! Or if it were, in winged guise,

A visitant from Paradise;

For-Heaven forgive that thought! the while
Which made me both to weep and smile;
I sometimes deem'd that it might be
My brother's soul come down to me;
But then at last away it flew,
And then 'twas mortal-well I knew,
For he would never thus have flown,
And left me twice so doubly lone.

THE PRISONER OF CHILLON.

THE VIEW FROM THE DUNGEON.

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;

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And the whole earth would henceforth be

A wider prison unto me:

But I was curious to ascend

Το my barr'd 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 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 channell'd rock and broken bush :
I saw the white-wall'd 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 seem'd 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 seem'd joyous each and all;
The eagle rode the rising blast,
Methought he never flew so fast
As then to me he seem'd to fly,
And then new tears came in my eye,
And I felt troubled-and would fain
I had not left my recent chain.

THE PRISONER OF CHILLON.

MAZEPPA'S RIDE.

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THE LIBERATION OF THE PRISONER.

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 ask'd not why, and reck'd not where,
It was at length the same to me,
Fetter'd or fetterless to be,

I learn'd to love despair.

And thus when they appear'd 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:
My very chains and I grew friends,
So much a long communion tends
To make us what we are :-even I
Regain'd my freedom with a sigh.

THE PRISONER OF CHILLON.

MAZEPPA'S RIDE.

--

"BRING forth the horse!' the horse was brought;

In truth, he was a noble steed,

A Tartar of the Ukraine breed,

Who look'd as though the speed of thought

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