The prisoner of Chillon : a poem / by Lord Byron.

  • Lord Byron
Date:
1818
Catalogue details

Licence: Public Domain Mark

Credit: The prisoner of Chillon : a poem / by Lord Byron. Source: Wellcome Collection.

    62/156 page 24
    His valour can win worship. Thou'rt of those, Who would have war’s deep art bear the wild semblance Of some disorder’d hunting, where, pell-mell. Each trusting to the swiftness of his horse. Gallants press on to see the quarry fall. Yon steel-clad Southrons, Reynald, are no deer; And England’s Edward is no stag at bay. viPONT {advancing^. There needed not, to blazon forth the Swinton, His ancient burgonet, the sable Boar Chain’d to the gnarled oak,—nor his proud ste]), Nor giant stature, nor the ponderous mace. Which only he of Scotland’s realm can wield: His discipline and wisdom mark the leader. As doth his frame the champion. Hail, brave Swinton ! SWINTON. Brave Templar, thanks! Such your a’oss’d shoulder speaks you; But the closed visor, which conceals your features. Forbids more knowledge. Uinfraville, perhaps
    digitised image 1
    digitised image 2
    digitised image 3