一个地牢里的囚犯静静地坐着沉思;他的头支在手上，胳膊肘支在膝盖上。他是思念将来呢，还是思念过去呢。他现在是为自由而憔悴，还是为过去而悲伤?不，他在地牢里孤独地生活了太久他失去了遗憾和希望，不再为他的厄运哀悼。他不渴望白天的阳光，也不叹息现在的自由;这些令人厌烦的念头终于停止了，不再折磨他那燃烧的额头。他迷失在迷惘的思绪中，一动不动地坐在那里;那姿态和那神情表明了绝望的麻木。然而，这种阴郁平静的情绪并没有永远占上风; There was a something in his eye That told another tale. It did not speak of reason gone, It was not madness quite; It was a fitful flickering fire, A strange uncertain light. And sooth to say, these latter years Strange fancies now and then Had filled his cell with scenes of life And forms of living men. A mind that cannot cease to think Why needs he cherish there? Torpor may bring relief to pain And madness to despair. Such wildering scenes, such flitting shapes As feverish dreams display: What if those fancies still increase And reason quite decay? But hark, what sounds have struck his ear; Voices of men they seem; And two have entered now his cell; Can this too be a dream? 'Orlando, hear our joyful news: Revenge and liberty! Your foes are dead, and we are come At last to set you free.' So spoke the elder of the two, And in the captive's eyes He looked for gleaming ecstasy But only found surprise. 'My foes are dead! It must be then That all mankind are gone. For they were all my deadly foes And friends I had not one.'