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| CLISSON! thy towers, thy depth of sunless caves, | |
| Thy humid corridors that smother sound, | |
| And thy gapped windows whence the violet waves | |
| A sweet farewell to Legend lingering round, | |
| And mingling whispers echoed from afar, | 5 |
| Invite and chain my steps here where thy mysteries are. | |
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| The clang of steel smiting thy solid stones | |
| Goes with me as I wind within thy towers; | |
| Thy oubliettes unseal their ancient groans, | |
| And fright the swallows from their airy bowers; | 10 |
| Silks rustle, and the gray of œillets old | |
| Gleams with gemmed arms across the arras fold. | |
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| All this is Legend’s and fond Fancy’s work, | |
| They give a tongue to every silent block; | |
| For, like to Memnon, now no voices lurk, | 15 |
| The sun of Chivalry set, in the dumb rock. | |
| In moody sadness frowns the questioned pile, | |
| Where only wild-flowers live, and scarcely sunbeams smile. | |
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| Below thy festering feet the undaunted wave | |
| Whirls with a song past roofs no more profaned, | 20 |
| And the wood-dove rebuilds above the grave | |
| Of other doves in what from spoils reclaimed, | |
| Of that sweet grove where Eloisa’s woes | |
| Sighed to the quivering leaves from yon dark cave’s repose. | |
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| Here her strong spirit felt how vain the lore, | 25 |
| Heaped from all Eld, to dam pale passion’s course, | |
| Wish chasing wish more burning than before, | |
| And her heart emptied to its inmost source, | |
| To madden with new waters and swift growing | |
| Of Love’s wild passion-flower beside its flowing. | 30 |
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| Thy cavern-like yon murderous tower is still, | |
| It throbs no more with fiery sighs like thine; | |
| The lizard glances past its portals chill, | |
| And withered vine-leaves over it entwine; | |
| The paths around are choked, and bear no more | 35 |
| Feet chased by passionate breath along that glowing shore. | |
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