The sentence passed, the stalwart Cossack guard
Straightway transferred us to a prison yard.
There parted we, before its grated door;
They dragged him in,—and he was seen no more.
Another door, with dull metallic sound
Was closed, and I was hurried underground,
Through labyrinth of passages and halls,
Past dingy arches and protruding walls,
Where gloom perpetual the eye obscures,
Through damp recesses, nooks and apertures,