Captivity - sToa

Caged in old woods, whose reverend echoes wake

When the hern screams along the distant lake

Her little heart oft flutters to be free

Oft sighs to turn the unrelenting key

In vain the nurse that rusted relic wears

Nor moved by gold — nor to be moved by tears;

And terraced walls their black reflection throw

On the green-mantled moat that sleeps below

(Samuel Rogers)