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I recently visited the Castle of Chillon on the shores of Lake Geneva near Montreux - an opportunity to read Byron's famous poem about a political prisoner. Sonnet on Chillon Eternal Spirit of the chainless Mind!
I
My
hair is grey, but not with years, Nor
grew it white In
a single night, As
men's have grown from sudden fears: My
limbs are bow'd, though not with toil, But
rusted with a vile repose, For
they have been a dungeon's spoil, And
mine has been the fate of those To
whom the goodly earth and air Are
bann'd, and barr'd -- forbidden fare: But
this was for my father's faith I
suffer'd chains and courted death; That
father perish'd at the stake; For
tenets he would not forsake; And
for the same his lineal race In
darkness found a dwelling-place; We
were seven -- who now are one, Six
in youth, and one in age, Finish'd
as they had begun, Proud
of Persecution's rage; One
in fire, and two in field, Their
belief with blood have seal'd, Dying
as their father died, For
the God their foes denied; Three
were in a dungeon cast, Of whom this wreck is left the last. II
There
are seven pillars of Gothic mould, In
Chillon's dungeons deep and old, There
are seven columns, massy and grey, Dim
with a dull imprison'd ray, A
sunbeam which hath lost its way, And
through the crevice and the cleft Of
the thick wall is fallen and left; Creeping
o'er the floor so damp, Like
a marsh's meteor lamp: And
in each pillar there is a ring, And
in each ring there is a chain; That
iron is a cankering thing, For
in these limbs its teeth remain, With
marks that will not wear away, Till
I have done with this new day Which
now is painful to these eyes, Which
have not seen the sun so rise For
years -- I cannot count them o'er When
my last brother droop'd and died, And I lay living by his side. III
They
chain'd us each to a column stone, And
we were three -- yet, each alone; We
could not move a single pace, We
could not see each other's face, But
with that pale and livid light That
made us strangers in our sight: And
thus together -- yet apart, Fetter'd
in hand, but join'd in heart, 'Twas
still some solace, in the dearth Of
the pure elements of earth, To
hearken to each other's speech, And
each turn comforter to each With
some new hope, or legend old, Or
song heroically bold; But
even these at length grew cold. Our
voices took a dreary tone, An
echo of the dungeon stone, A
grating sound, not full and free, As
they of yore were wont to be: It
might be fancy, but to me They never sounded like our own. IV
I
was the eldest of the three, And
to uphold and cheer the rest 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 -- For
him my soul was sorely moved; And
truly might it be distress'd To
see such bird in such a nest; For
he was beautiful as day -- (When
day was beautiful to me As
to young eagles, being free) -- A
polar day, which will not see A
sunset till its summer's gone, Its
sleepless summer of long light, The
snow-clad offspring of the sun: And
thus he was as pure and bright, And
in his natural spirit gay, With
tears for nought but others' ills, And
then they flow'd like mountain rills, Unless
he could assuage the woe Which he abhorr'd to view below. V
The
other was as pure of mind, But
form'd to combat with his kind; Strong
in his frame, and of a mood Which
'gainst the world in war had stood, And
perish'd in the foremost rank With
joy: -- but not in chains to pine: His
spirit wither'd with their clank, I
saw it silently decline -- 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; To
him his 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; Thus
much the fathom-line was sent 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 lake The
dark vault lies wherein we lay. We
heard it ripple night and day; Sounding
o'er our heads it knock'd; And
I have felt the winter's spray 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 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, 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 captives' tears 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; 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 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, 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: 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, 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 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, 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: 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
accrused breath of dungeon-dew; 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 -- My
brothers -- both had ceased to breathe: I
took that hand which lay so still, Alas!
my own was full as chill; 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. 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; 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! 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, And
mine was thinkful 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, 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, And
cheering from my dungeon's brink, Had
brought me back to feel and think. 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, Lone
as the corse within its shroud, Lone
as the solitary cloud, -- A
single cloud on a sunny day. While
all the rest of heaven is clear, A
frown upon the atmosphere, That
hath no business to appear When skies are blue, and earth is gay. XI
A
kind of change came in my fate, My
keepers grew compassionate; I
know not what had made them so, They
were inured to sights of woe, But
so it was: -- my broken chain With
links unfasten'd did remain. And
it was liberty to stride Along
my cell from side to side, And
up and down, and then athwart, And
tread it over every part; And
round the pillars one by one, Returning
where my walk begun, Avoiding
only, as I trod, My
brothers' graves without a sod; For
if I thought with heedless tread My
step profaned their lowly bed, My
breath came gaspingly and thick, And my crush'd heart felt blind and sick. XII
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; And
the whole earth would henceforth be A
wider prison unto me: No
child, nor sire, no kin had I, No
partner in my misery; I
thought of this, and I was glad, For
thought of them had made me mad; But
I was curious to ascend To
my barr'd windows, and to bend Once
more, upon the mountains high, The quiet of a loving eye. XIII
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; And
when I did descend again, The
darkness of my dim abode Fell
on me as a heavy load; It
was as is a new-dug grave, Closing
o'er one we sought to save, -- And
yet my glance, too much opprest, Had almost need of such a rest. XIV
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: With
spiders I had friendship made, And
watch'd them in their sullen trade, Had
seen the mice by moonlight play, And
why should I feel less than they? We
were all inmates of one place, And
I, the monarch of each race, Had
power to kill -- yet, strange to tell! In
quiet we had learn'd to dwell; 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.
by
Lord Byron
Here's a modern picture of the castle.
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