THE CAPTIVE WARRIOR'S LAMENT.
"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."
Byron—Prisoner of Chillon.
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."
Byron—Prisoner of Chillon.
Again the morning sun returns,
To gild the Eastern sky,
Yet still, a captive lone I pine,
A captive must I die!
To gild the Eastern sky,
Yet still, a captive lone I pine,
A captive must I die!
Oh! shall I never tread again,
With step and spirit free,
The hills I've trod a thousand times,
In days' of boyhood's glee?
With step and spirit free,
The hills I've trod a thousand times,
In days' of boyhood's glee?
