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, to him?
These wasted not his heart or limb;
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!
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,
And scoop'd for him a hollow 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,
But then within my brain it wrought,
That even in death his free-born breast
In such a dungeon could not rest.
I might have spared my idle prayer,-
They coldly laugh'd-and laid him there:
The flat and turfless earth above
The being we so much did love;
His empty chain above it leant,
Such murder's fitting monument!

VII.

But he, the favourite and the flower,
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
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
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 swoll'n 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 the mockery of the tomb,

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, to him?
These wasted not his heart or limb;
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!
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,
And scoop'd for him a hollow 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,
But then within my brain it wrought,
That even in death his free-born breast
In such a dungeon could not rest.
I might have spared my idle prayer,-
They coldly laugh'd-and laid him there:
The flat and turfless earth above
The being we so much did love;
His empty chain above it leant,
Such murder's fitting monument!

I had not strength to stir or strive,
But felt that I was still alive,-
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,
And that forbade a selfish death.

VIII.

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:

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;
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 ;

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,

Blind,-boundless,-mute, and motionless.

IX.

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 glimmering 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,
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,