There are seven pillars of Gothic mould,[6] In Chillon's dungeons deep and old, There are seven columns, massy and grey, Dim with a dull imprisoned ray, 30 A sunbeam which hath lost its way, 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:[7] And in each pillar there is a ring,[8] 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, 40 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; We could not move a single pace, 50 We could not see each other's face, But with that pale and livid light That made us strangers in our sight: And thus together--yet apart, Fettered in hand, but joined in heart,[d] 'Twas still some solace in the dearth Of the pure elements of earth, To hearken to each other's speech, And each turn comforter to each With some new hope, or legend old, 60 Or song heroically bold; But even these at length grew cold. Our voices took a dreary tone, An echo of the dungeon stone, A grating sound, not full and free, As they of yore were wont to be: It might be fancy--but to me They never sounded like our own. IV. I was the eldest of the three, And to uphold and cheer the rest 70 I ought to do--and did my best-- And each did well in his degree. The youngest, whom my father loved, Because our mother's brow was given To him, with eyes as blue as heaven-- For him my soul was sorely moved: And truly might it be distressed To see such bird in such a nest;[9] For he was beautiful as day-- (When day was beautiful to me 80 As to young eagles, being free)-- A polar day, which will not see[10] A sunset till its summer's gone, Its sleepless summer of long light, The snow-clad offspring of the sun: And thus he was as pure and bright, And in his natural spirit gay, With tears for nought but others' ills, And then they flowed like mountain rills, Unless he could assuage the woe 90 Which he abhorred to view below. V.