Eternal Spirit of the chainless Mind! <br />Brightest in dungeons, Liberty, thou art; <br />For there thy habitation is the heart— <br />The heart which love of thee alone can bind; <br />And when thy sons to fetters are consigned, <br />- To fetters, and the damp vault's dayless gloom— <br />Their country conquers with their martyrdom, <br />And Freedom's fame finds wings on every wind. <br />Chillon! thy prison is a holy place, <br />And thy sad floor and altar, for 'twas trod, <br />Until his very steps have left a trace, <br />Worn, as if thy cold pavement were a sod, <br />By Bonnivard.—May none those marks efface! <br />For they appeal from tyranny to God.<br /><br />George Gordon Byron<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/on-chillon-2/
