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" MY hair is gray, but not with years, Nor grew it white In a single night, As men's have grown from sudden fears. My limbs are bowed, though not with toil, But rusted with a vile repose, For they have been a dungeon's spoil, And mine has been the fate... "
The Irish Quarterly Review - Σελίδα 837
1857
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...hero is supposed to he commencing a relation of the events of his captivity. " My hair is grey, but not with years. Nor grew it white In a single night, As men's have grown from sudden fears: My limbs are bowed though not with toil, But rusted with a vile repose For they have been a dungeon's...

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...efface ! For they appeal from tyranny to God. THE PRISONER OF CHILLON. A FABLE. I. MY hair is grey, but not with years, Nor grew it white In a single night, * As men's have grown from sudden fears : • a My limbs are bowed, though not with toil, But rusted with a vile repose, For they have been...

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...blanchi ma tête. Ce changement ne s'est pas fait non THE PRISONER 0F CHILLON. ,. My haïr is grey, but not with years, Nor grew it white In a single night . As men's have grown from suddeu fears : (*) La traduction publiee en français , qui fait partie du ta cottection des (Ruvres...

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...marks efface ! For they appeal from tyranny to God. THE PRISONER OF CHILLON. i. My hair a gray, but not with years, Nor grew it white In a single night,' As men's have grown from sudden fears: My limbs are bow'd, though not with toil, But rusted with a vile repose, For they have been a dungeon's...

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...marks efface ! For they appeal from tyranny to God. THE PRISONER OF CHILLON. i. My hair is gray, but not with years, Nor grew it white In a single night,* As men's have grown from sudden fears : My limbs are bow'd, though not with toil, But rusted with a vile repose, For they have been a dungeon's...




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