Each pillar held upon its top an urn,
Serpent-begirt; each urn upon its front
A face--and such a face! I turn'd away--
Then gazed again--'twas not to be forgot:--
There was a fascination in the eyes--
Even in their stony stare; like the ribb'd sand
Of ocean was the eager brow; the mouth
Had a hyena grin; the nose, compress'd
With curling sneer, of wolfish cunning spake;
O'er the lank temples, long entwisted curls
Adown the scraggy neck in masses fell;
And fancy, aided by the time and place,
Read in the whole the effigies of a fiend--
Who, and what art thou? ask'd my beating heart--
And but the silence to my heart replied!
That entrance pass'd, I found a grass-grown court,
Vast, void, and desolate--and there a house,
Baronial, grim, and grey, with Flemish roof
High-pointed, and with aspect all forlorn:--
Four-sided rose the towers at either end
Of the long front, each coped with mouldering flags:
Up from the silent chimneys went no smoke;
And vacantly the deep-brow'd windows stared,
Like eyeballs dead to daylight. O'er the gate
Of entrance, to whose folding-doors a flight
Of steps converging led, startled I saw,
Oh, horrible! the same reflected face
As that on either urn--but gloomier still
In shadow of the mouldering architrave.