With hesitating step, at last,
The embattled portal arch he passed,
Whose pond’rous grate and massy bar
Had oft rolled back the tide of war,
But never closed the iron door
Against the desolate and poor.
5. The Duchess marked his weary pace,
His timid mien, and reverend face,
And bade her page the menials tell,
That they should tend the old man well: