excerpt from “The Prisoner of Chillon” by Byron:
My brothers — both had ceased to breathe
I took that hand which lay so still,
Alas! my own was full as chill;
I had not strength to stir or strive,
But felt that I was still alive,
— A frantic feeling when we know
That what we love shall ne’er be so.
I know not why
I could not die,
I had no earthly hope — but faith,
And that forbade a selfish death.