Billeder på siden
PDF
ePub

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 oppress'd,
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.

BEPPO.

A VENETIAN STORS

Rosalind. Farewm., Monsieur Traveller : Look, you lisp, and wear strange suits : disable all the benefits of your own country; be out of love with your Nativity, and almost chide God for making you that countenance you are; or I will scarce think that you have swam in a Goraoia.

As You Like It, Act IV. Sc. l.

Annotation of the Commentators.

That is, been at Venice, which was much visited by the young English gentlemen of those times, and was then what Paris is now - the seat of all dissoluteness. S. A

« ForrigeFortsæt »