The Poetry Corner

Song, Of One Eleven Years In Prison

By George Canning

I Whene'er with haggard eyes I view This dungeon that I'm rotting in, I think of those companions true Who studied with me at the U niversity of Gottingen, niversity of Gottingen. [Weeps, and pulls out a blue kerchief, with which he wipes his eyes; gazing tenderly at it, he proceeds] II Sweet kerchief, check'd with heavenly blue, Which once my love sat knotting in! Alas! Matilda then was true! At least I thought so at the U niversity of Gottingen, niversity of Gottingen. [At the repetition of this line he clanks his chains in cadence.] III Barbs! Barbs! alas! how swift you flew, Her neat post-wagon trotting in! Ye bore Matilda from my view; Forlorn I languish'd at the U niversity of Gottingen, niversity of Gottingen. IV This faded form! this pallid hue! This blood my veins is clotting in, My years are many, they were few When first I entered at the U niversity of Gottingen, niversity of Gottingen. V There first for thee my passion grew, Sweet, sweet Matilda Pottengen! Thou wast the daughter of my tu tor, law professor at the U niversity of Gottingen, niversity of Gottingen. VI Sun, moon and thou, vain world, adieu, That kings and priests are plotting in; Here doom'd to starve on water gru el, never shall I see the U niversity of Gottingen, niversity of Gottingen. [During the last stanza he dashes his head repeatedly against the walls of his prison; and, finally, so hard as to produce a visible contusion; he then throws himself on the floor in an agony. The curtain drops; the music still continuing to play till it is wholly fallen.]