Chapter 2 No.2

There are seven[109] pillars of Gothic mould

In Chillon's dungeons deep and old,

There are seven columns massy and gray,

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[110]:35

And in each pillar there is a ring,

And in each ring there is a chain;

That iron is a cankering[111] thing,

For in these limbs its teeth remain,

With marks that will not wear away40

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 score45

When my last brother drooped and died,

And I lay living by his side.