Made hollow by the tread of centuries—
Lead to a sculptured archway, where the door,
Massive and iron-bound, now stands ajar,
While footsteps echo through the sombre hall,
To clink of keys and voices partly hushed!
See melancholy windows closely barred
By tangled iron-work of choice design;
And groups of quaintly headed mooring-posts,
Reflected quaintly in the green canal:
Beyond are rare effects of light and shade—