I was the eldest of the three, And to uphold and cheer the rest70 I ought to do—and did my best— And each did well in his degree. The youngest, whom my father loved, Because our mother's brow was given To him—with eyes as blue as heaven,75 For him my soul was sorely moved: And truly might it be distressed To see such bird in such a nest; For he was beautiful as day— (When day was beautiful to me80 As to young eagles being free)—
A polar day,[113] which will not see A sunset till its summer's gone, Its sleepless summer of long light, The snow-clad offspring of the sun:85 And thus he was as pure and bright, And in his natural spirit gay, With tears for naught but others' ills, And then they flowed like mountain rills, Unless he could assuage the woe90 Which he abhorred to view below.
V
The other was as pure of mind, But formed to combat with his kind; Strong in his frame, and of a mood Which 'gainst the world in war had stood,95 And perished in the foremost rank With joy:—but not in chains to pine: His spirit withered with their clank, I saw it silently decline— And so perchance in sooth[114] did mine:100 But yet I forced it on to cheer Those relics of a home so dear. He was a hunter of the hills, Had followed there the deer and wolf; To him this dungeon was a gulf,105 And fettered feet the worst of ills.
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Lake Leman[115] lies by Chillon's walls, A thousand feet in depth below Its massy waters meet and flow; Thus much the fathom-line was sent110 From Chillon's snow-white battlement, Which round about the wave inthrals: A double dungeon wall and wave Have made—and like a living grave. Below the surface of the lake115 The dark vault lies wherein we lay, We heard it ripple night and day; Sounding o'er our heads it knocked And I have felt the winter's spray Wash through the bars when winds were high120 And wanton in the happy sky; And then the very rock hath rocked, And I have felt it shake, unshocked, Because I could have smiled to see The death that would have set me free.125
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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, For we were used to hunter's fare,130 And for the like had little care: The milk drawn from the mountain goat Was changed for water from the moat,[116] Our bread was such as captive's tears Have moistened many a thousand years,135 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; My brother's soul was of that mould140 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,145 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 unlocked his chain, And scooped for him a shallow grave150 Even from the cold earth of our cave. I begged 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,155 That even in death his freeborn breast In such a dungeon could not rest. I might have spared my idle prayer— They coldly laughed—and laid him there: The flat and turfless earth above160 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, Most cherished since his natal hour,165 His mother's image in fair face, The infant love of all his race, His martyred father's dearest thought, My latest care, for whom I sought To hoard my life, that his might be170 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 withered on the stalk away.175 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,[117] I've seen it on the breaking ocean180 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 Unmixed with such—but sure and slow;185 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 bloom190 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,195 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, For I was sunk in silence—lost200 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: I listened, but I could not hear—205 I called, for I was wild with fear; I knew 'twas hopeless, but my dread Would not be thus admonishèd; I called, and thought I heard a sound— I burst my chain with one strong bound,210 And rushed to him:—I found him not, I only stirred in this black spot, I only lived—I only drew The accursed breath of dungeon-dew; The last—the sole—the dearest link215 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— My brothers—both had ceased to breathe;220 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— A frantic feeling, when we know225 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.[118]230
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