On vegetation, that with progress slow
Where man forbears to fix his foot, will grow;
The window’s depth and dust repell’d the ray
Of the moon’s light and of the setting day;
Pictures there were, and each display’d a face
And form that gave their sadness to the place;
The frame and canvas show’d that worms unseen,
Save in their works, for years had working been;
A fire of brushwood on the irons laid }
All the dull room in fitful views display’d, 100}