A Prisoner in a Dungeon Deep

A prisoner in a dungeon deep

             Sat musing silently;

His head was rested on his hand,

             His elbow on his knee.

Turned he his thoughts to future times

             Or are they backward cast?

For freedom is he pining now

             Or mourning for the past?

No, he has lived so long enthralled

             Alone in dungeon gloom

That he has lost regret and hope,

             Has ceased to mourn his doom.

He pines not for the light of day

             Nor sighs for freedom now;

Such weary thoughts have ceased at length

             To rack his burning brow.

Lost in a maze of wandering thoughts

             He sits unmoving there;

That posture and that look proclaim

             The stupor of despair.

Yet not for ever did that mood

             Of sullen calm prevail;

There was a something in his eye

             That told another tale.

It did not speak of reason gone,

             It was not madness quite;

It was a fitful flickering fire,

             A strange uncertain light.

And sooth to say, these latter years

             Strange fancies now and then

Had filled his cell with scenes of life

             And forms of living men.

A mind that cannot cease to think

             Why needs he cherish there?

Torpor may bring relief to pain

             And madness to despair.

Such wildering scenes, such flitting shapes

             As feverish dreams display:

What if those fancies still increase

             And reason quite decay?

But hark, what sounds have struck his ear;

             Voices of men they seem;

And two have entered now his cell;

             Can this too be a dream?

'Orlando, hear our joyful news:

             Revenge and liberty!

Your foes are dead, and we are come

             At last to set you free.'

So spoke the elder of the two,

             And in the captive's eyes

He looked for gleaming ecstasy

             But only found surprise.

'My foes are dead! It must be then

             That all mankind are gone.

For they were all my deadly foes

             And friends I had not one.'