The fall of the house of usher
by edgar allan poe

noticing these things, i rode over a short causeway to the house. a servant in waiting took my horse, and i entered the gothic archway of the hall. a valet, of stealthy step, thence conducted me, in silence, through many dark and intricate passages in my progress to the studio of his master. much that i encountered on the way contributed, i know not how, to heighten the vague sentiments of which i have already spoken. while the objects around me—while the carvings of the ceilings, the sombre tapestries of the walls, the ebon blackness of the floors, and the phantasmagoric armorial trophies which rattled as i strode, were but matters to which, or to such as which, i had been accustomed from my infancy—while i hesitated not to acknowledge how familiar was all this—i still wondered to find how unfamiliar were the fancies which ordinary images were stirring up. on one of the staircases, i met the physician of the family. his countenance, i thought, wore a mingled expression of low cunning and perplexity. he accosted me with trepidation and passed on. the valet now threw open a door and ushered me into the presence of his master.

roderick usher's poem
by edgar allan poe

in the greenest of our valleys,
by good angels tenanted,
once a fair and stately palace—
radiant palace—reared its head.
in the monarch thought's dominion—
it stood there!
never seraph spread a pinion
over fabric half so fair.

banners yellow, glorious, golden,
on its roof did float and flow;
(this—all this—was in the olden
time long ago);
and every gentle air that dallied,
in that sweet day,
along the ramparts plumed and pallid,
a winged odor went away.

and, round about his home, the glory
that blushed and bloomed
is but a dim-remembered story
of the old time entombed.

and travellers now within that valley,
through the red-litten windows see
vast forms that move fantastically
to a discordant melody;
while, like a rapid ghastly river,
through the pale door,
a hideous throng rush out forever,
and laugh—but smile no more.

which words from the paragraph describe something similar to the "palace" of roderick usher's poem?
the carvings of the ceilings, the sombre tapestries of the walls, the ebon blackness of the floors, and the phantasmagoric armorial trophies
his countenance, i thought, wore a mingled expression of low cunning and perplexity.
accosted me with trepidation and passed on
the valet now threw open a door and ushered me into the presence of his master.