TravelswithCharie

Chateau de Chillon T here are seven pillars of Gothic mould,  In Chillon's dungeons deep and old,  There are seven columns, massy and grey,  Dim with a dull imprison'd ray,  A sunbeam which hath lost its way,  And through the crevice and the cleft  Of the thick wall is fallen and left;  Creeping o'er the floor so damp,  Like a marsh's meteor lamp:  And in each pillar there is a ring,  And in each ring there is a chain;  That iron is a cankering thing,  For in these limbs its teeth remain,  With marks that will not wear away,  Lake Leman L ake Leman lies by Chillon's walls:  A thousand feet in depth below  Its massy waters meet and flow;  Thus much the fathom-line was sent  From Chillon's snow-white battlement,  Which round about the wave inthralls:  A double dungeon wall and wave  Have made—and like a living grave  Below the surface of the lake  The dark vault lies wherein we lay:  We heard it ripple n