The strait of stairs to that infectious hold;
And, when I enter’d, misery met my view }
In every shape she wears, in every hue, }
And the bleak icy blast across the dungeon flew; }
There frown’d the ruin’d walls that once were white;
There gleam’d the panes that once admitted light;
There lay unsavoury scraps of wretched food;
And there a measure, void of fuel, stood.
But who shall part by part describe the state
Of these, thus follow’d by relentless fate? 720