On The Cstle Of Chillon
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-Lord Byron
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Eternal Spirit of the Chainless Mind!
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Brightest in dungeons, Liberty! thou art,
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For there thy habitation is the heart-
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The heart which love of thee alone can
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bind;
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And when thy sons to fetters are
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consigned-
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To fetters, and the damp vault's dayless
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gloom.
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Their country conquers with their martyrdom,
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And Freedom's fame finds wings on every
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wind.
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Chillon! thy prison is a holy place,
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And thy sad floor an altar - for 'twas trod,
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Until his very steps have left a trace
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Worn, as if thy cold pavement were a
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sod,
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By Bonnivard! - May none those marks
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efface!
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For they appeal from tyranny to God.
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On the Castle of Chillon(½Ã¿ë¼º)(½ÃÀÎ: L.Byron)(À½¾Ç: °íµ¶ÇÑ ¾çÄ¡±â)
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J. Stewart |