I dwelt beside the prison gate; And the strange crowd that out and in Passed, some, no doubt, with mine own fate, Might have fretted me with its ceaseless din, _905 But the fever of care was louder within. Soon, but too late, in penitence Or fear, his foes released him thence: I saw his thin and languid form, As leaning on the jailor's arm, _910 Whose hardened eyes grew moist the while, To meet his mute and faded smile, And hear his words of kind farewell, He tottered forth from his damp cell. Many had never wept before, _915 From whom fast tears then gushed and fell: Many will relent no more, Who sobbed like infants then; aye, all Who thronged the prison's stony hall, The rulers or the slaves of law, _920 Felt with a new surprise and awe That they were human, till strong shame Made them again become the same. The prison blood-hounds, huge and grim, From human looks the infection caught, _925 And fondly crouched and fawned on him; And men have heard the prisoners say, Who in their rotting dungeons lay, That from that hour, throughout one day, The fierce despair and hate which kept _930 Their trampled bosoms almost slept: Where, like twin vultures, they hung feeding On each heart's wound, wide torn and bleeding,-- Because their jailors' rule, they thought, Grew merciful, like a parent's sway. _935