The Knickerbocker, Vol. 10, No. 6, December 1837Various
History
The Knickerbocker, Vol. 10, No. 6, December 1837
Various
Periodicals
How long I have been in this dungeon here,
Little I know, and nothing I care;
What to me is the day or night,
Summer's heat or autumn sere,
Spring-tide flowers, or winter's blight,
Pleasure's smile, or sorrow's tear?
Time! what care I for thy flight,
Joy! I spurn thee with disdain;
Nothing love I but this clanking chain;
Once I broke from its iron hold,
Nothing I said, but silent and bold,
Like the shepherd that watches his gentle fold,
Like the tiger that crouches in mountain lair,
Hours upon hours, so watch'd I here;
Till one of the fiends that had come to bring
Herbs from the valley and drink from the spring,
Stalk'd through my dungeon entrance in!
Ha! how he shriek'd to see me free--
Ho! how he trembled and knelt to me,
He who had mock'd me many a day,
And barred me out from its cheerful ray,
Gods! how I shouted to see him pray!
I wreath'd my hand in the demon's hair,
And chok'd his breath in its mutter'd prayer,
And danc'd I then, in wild delight,
To see the trembling wretch's fright.
Gods! how I crush'd his hated bones!
'Gainst the jagged wall and the dungeon-stones;
And plung'd my arm adown his throat,
And dragg'd to life his beating heart,
And held it up, that I might gloat,
To see its quivering fibres start!
Ho! how I drank of the purple flood,
Quaff'd and quaff'd again of blood,
Till my brain grew dark, and I knew no more,
Till I found myself on this dungeon floor,
Fetter'd and held by this iron chain;
Ho! when I break its links again,
Ha! when I break its links again,
Wo to the daughters and sons of men!
My frame is shrunk, and my soul is sad,
And devils mock, and call me mad;
Many a dark and fearful sight
Haunts me here, in the gloom of night;
Mortal smile or human tear
Never cheers or soothes me here;
The spider shrinks from my grasp away,
Though he's known my form for many a day;
The slimy toad, with his diamond eye,
Watches afar, but comes not nigh;
The craven rat, with her filthy brood,
Pilfers and gnaws my scanty food:
But when I strive to make her play,
Snaps at my hands, and flees away;
Light of day or ray of sun,
Friend or hope, I've none--I've none!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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