In Lorro’s castle is a cell
(Where Cruelty has sat in state,
I ween that some have known it well,)
Which is divided by a grate.
No sunbeam ever pierced its night;
Nor aught save lamp there shed its light;
No sound save sound of wild despair
Hath ever vexed its heavy air.
Upon its walls so grim and old
Have gathered centuries of mould.