text: -- Entering I stood beneath the spacious dome Of a round hall vacant save here and there Where from the panelings in mouldy shreds Hung what was arras loom-work; weather-stains In mould appear'd on the mosaic floors Of marble black and white--or what was white For time had yellow'd all; and opposite High on the wall within a crumbling frame Of tarnish'd gold scowl'd down a pictured form In the habiliments of bygone days-- With ruff and doublet slash'd and studded belt-- 'Twas the same face--the Gorgon curls the same The same lynx eye the same peak-bearded chin And the same nose with sneering upward curl