Oh, silent and mysterious cell,
Could I command thy walls to tell

The secrets they have kept so long,
'T would be, indeed, a cheerless song.

A tale of crime, and tears, and pain,
The fruit, perhaps, of frenzied brain,

As none to crime yet ever sank
That had not first become a crank.

"The law of God and man defy,
A wretch you'll live, a felon die!"

These words seem to haunt my brain,
Perhaps it is the sad refrain

Of a song well known to thee;
Yet where its author now can be,

Save thee, perhaps no one can tell,
Thou grim, mysterious, silent cell.

Thy rocky floor has felt the tread
Of many a hapless one now dead;

Thy walls have echoed many a sigh,
Wrung from guilt's expiring eye.

While musing 'mid thy walls tonight
I seem to hear, with some affright,

The wail of many a blighted life,
The prayer of a despairing wife;

A mother, weeping for her child;
A father, grief has driven wild.

And then—I pray thee silence keep;
'Twere best to let thy secrets sleep.