Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 4.djvu/45

Rh 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,

I lost their long and heavy score

When my last brother drooped and died,

And I lay living by his side.

III.

They chained us each to a column stone,

And we were three—yet, each alone;