Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 4.djvu/39



I.

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 bowed, 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 banned, and barred—forbidden fare;

But this was for my father's faith

I suffered chains and courted death;