La Falo de Uŝero-Domo

By Edgar Allan Poe

Page 3

la
kuriozan kaj dubasencan nomon "Usxero-Domo"--nomon sxajnantan
ampleksi en la mensoj de la kamparanaro gxin uzanta, kaj la familion
kaj la familian domon.

Mi diris ke la sola rezulto de mia iom knabeca eksperimento--mia
subenrigardado en la lageton--estis pliprofundigo de la unua
malkutima efekto. Estas sendube ke la konscio pri la rapida
pligrandigo de mia supersticxo--cxar kial mi hezitu gxin nomi
tia?--utilis cxefe por plirapidigi tiun pligrandigon mem. Jam de
longa tempo mi konscias ke tia estas la paradoksa legxo pri cxiuj
sentoj bazitaj sur la teruro. Kaj eble pro tiu sola kialo okazis ke,
kiam denove mi levis la rigardon gxis la domo mem, for de ties bildo
en la lageto, ekkreskis en mia menso stranga fantazio--fantazio
tiel ridinda ke mi konsentas gxin mencii nur por elmontri la viglan
forton de la sensacoj kiuj min premis. Mi tiel aktivigintis mian
imagpovon ke mi komencis pensi efektive ke super la tutaj domego kaj
bieno pendas etoso propra nur al ili kaj al ilia cxirkauxejo--etoso
havanta nenian rilaton kun la aero de la cxielo, sed levigxinta el la
putrintaj arboj kaj la griza muro kaj la silenta lageto--pesta kaj
mistika vaporo, malhela, malenergia, apenaux videbla, plumba.

Forskuinte de sur mia spirito tion kio povintus esti nur songxo, mi
rigardis pli proksimdetale la veran aspekton de la konstruajxo. Gxia
cxefa trajto sxajnis esti tiu de ekscesa antikveco. La miskolorigxo
kauxzita de la forpasintaj epokoj estis granda. Etaj fungoj sin
sternintis sur la tutan eksterajxon kaj pendis el la aleroj en
subtila, implikita retajxo. Malgraux tio videblis tamen nenia
eksterordinara kadukeco. Forfalintis nenia parto de la masonajxo;
kaj sxajnis esti sovagxa malkonformeco inter ties dauxre perfekta
kunligo de eroj kaj la dispecigxanta stato de la unuopaj sxtonoj.
Tiurilate la situacio multe memorigis al mi la sxajnigan tutecon
de malnova lignajxo putrinta dum longaj jaroj en iu forgesita
kelo sen difektigxi pro la interrompa spirado de la ekstera aero.
Krom tiu indikajxo pri vastskala putreco, tamen, la konstruajxo
elmontris malmultajn signojn pri malstabileco. Eble la rigardo de
kontrolanta observanto konstatintus apenaux percepteblan fendeton,
kiu, etendigxante ekde la tegmento de la domo sur la fasado, estigis
vojon suben laux la muro en zigzaga direkto, gxis sin perdigi en la
morozajn akvojn de la lageto.

Rimarkinte tiujn aspektajxojn, mi rajdis trans mallongan digvojon
gxis la domo. Atendanta servanto ricevis mian cxevalon kaj mi eniris
la gotikan arkopasejon de la halo. Sxtelpasxa valeto kondukis min de
tie, en silento, tra multaj malhelaj kaj kompleksaj koridoroj gxis
la laborejo de sia mastro. Multe da tio kion mi renkontis survoje
helpis, mi malscias kiel, pligrandigi la malklarajn sentojn pri kiuj
mi jam parolis. Dum la objektoj min cxirkauxantaj--dum la cxizajxoj
de la plafonoj, la

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Text Comparison with The Bells, and Other Poems

Page 0
----_ _To the River----_ _A Dream_ _Al Aaraaf_ _To F----s S.
Page 2
Oh, the bells, bells, bells! What a tale their terror tells Of Despair! How they clang, and clash, and roar! What a horror they outpour On the bosom of the palpitating air! Yet the ear it fully knows, By the twanging, And the clanging, How the danger ebbs and flows: Yet the ear distinctly tells, In the jangling, And the wrangling, How the danger sinks and swells, By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells-- Of the bells-- Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells-- In the clamour and the clangour of the bells! IV.
Page 3
And the people--ah, the people-- They that dwell up in the steeple, All alone, And who, tolling, tolling, tolling, In that muffled monotone, Feel a glory in so rolling On the human heart a stone-- They are neither man nor woman-- They are neither brute nor human-- They are Ghouls: And their king it is who tolls; And he rolls, rolls, rolls, Rolls A paean from the bells! And his merry bosom swells With the paean of the bells! And he dances, and he yells; Keeping time, time, time, In a sort of Runic rhyme, To the paean of the bells-- Of the bells: Keeping time, time, time, In a sort of Runic rhyme, To the throbbing of the bells Of the bells, bells, bells-- To the sobbing of the bells; Keeping time, time, time, As he knells, knells, knells, In a happy Runic rhyme, To.
Page 4
Now doubt--now Pain Come never again, For her soul gives me sigh for sigh, And all day long Shines, bright and strong, Astarté within the sky, While ever to her dear Eulalie upturns her matron eye-- While ever to her young Eulalie upturns her violet eye.
Page 5
The angels, not half so happy in heaven, Went envying her and me-- Yes!--that was the reason (as all men know, In this kingdom by the sea) That the wind came out of the cloud by night, Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.
Page 6
"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice: Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore-- Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;-- 'Tis the wind and nothing more.
Page 7
" Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, Though its answer little meaning--little relevancy bore; For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being Ever yet was blest with seeing bird above his chamber door-- Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door, With such name as "Nevermore.
Page 9
"Avaunt! avaunt! from fiends below, the indignant ghost is riven-- From Hell unto a high estate far up within the Heaven-- From grief and groan, to a golden throne, beside the King of Heaven! Let no bell toll, then,--lest her soul,.
Page 10
I _have been_ happy, tho' in a dream.
Page 17
Mimes, in the form of God on high, Mutter and mumble low, And hither and thither fly-- Mere puppets they, who come and go At bidding of vast formless things That shift the scenery to and fro, Flapping from out their Condor wings Invisible Woe! That motley drama--oh, be sure It shall not be forgot! With its Phantom chased for evermore, By a crowd that seize it not, Through a circle that ever returneth in To the self-same spot, And much of Madness, and more of Sin, And Horror.
Page 21
All Nature speaks, and ev'n ideal things Flap shadowy sounds from visionary wings-- But ah! not so when, thus, in realms on high The eternal voice of God is passing by, And the red winds are withering in the sky:-- "What tho' in worlds which sightless cycles run Linked to a little system, and one sun-- Where all my life is folly and the crowd Still think my terrors but the thunder cloud, The storm, the earthquake, and the ocean-wrath-- (Ah! will they cross me in my angrier path?) What tho' in world which hold a single sun The sands of Time grow dimmer as they run, Yet thine is my resplendency, so given To bear my secrets thro' the upper Heaven Leave tenantless thy crystal home, and fly, With all thy train, athwart the moony sky-- Apart--like fire-flies in the Sicilian night, And wing to other worlds another light! Divulge the secrets of thy embassy To the proud orbs that twinkle--and so be To ev'ry heart a barrier and a ban Lest the stars totter in the guilt of man!" Up rose the maiden in the yellow night, The single-moonèd eve!--on Earth we plight Our faith to one love--and one moon adore-- The birth-place of young Beauty had no more.
Page 22
Of molten stars their pavement, such as fall Thro' the ebon air, besilvering the pall Of their own dissolution, while they die-- Adorning then the dwellings of the sky.
Page 24
Thou hast bound many eyes In a dreamy sleep-- But the strains still arise Which _thy_ vigilance keep-- The sound of the rain, Which leaps down to the flower-- And dances again In the rhythm of the shower-- The murmur that springs From the growing of grass Are the music of things-- But are modell'd, alas!-- Away, then, my dearest, Oh! hie thee away To the springs that lie clearest Beneath the moon-ray-- To lone lake that smiles, In its dream of deep rest, At the many star-isles That enjewel its breast-- Where wild flowers, creeping, Have mingled their shade, On its margin is sleeping Full many a maid-- Some have left the cool glade, and Have slept with the bee-- Arouse them, my maiden, On moorland and lea-- Go! breathe on their slumber, All softly in ear, Thy musical number They slumbered to hear-- For what can awaken An angel so soon, Whose sleep hath been taken Beneath the cold moon, As the spell which no slumber Of witchery may test, The rhythmical number Which lull'd him to rest?" Spirits in wing, and angels to the view, A thousand seraphs burst th' Empyrean thro' Young dreams still hovering on their drowsy flight-- Seraphs in all but "Knowledge," the keen.
Page 25
That eve--that eve--I should remember well-- The sun-ray dropp'd in Lemnos, with a spell On th' arabesque carving of a gilded hall Wherein I sate, and on the draperied wall-- And on my eyelids--O the heavy light! How drowsily it weigh'd them into night! On flowers, before, and mist, and love they ran With Persian Saadi in his Gulistan: But O that light!--I slumber'd--Death, the while, Stole o'er my senses in that lovely isle So softly that no single silken hair Awoke that slept--or knew that he was there.
Page 28
Ah, by no wind are stirred those trees That palpitate like the chill seas Around the misty Hebrides! Ah, by no wind those clouds are driven That rustle through the unquiet Heaven Uneasily, from morn till even, Over the violets there that lie In myriad types of the human eye-- Over the lilies there that wave And weep above a nameless grave! They wave:--from out their fragrant tops Eternal dews come down in drops.
Page 31
How it hangs upon the trees, A mystery of mysteries! _ISRAFEL_ And the angel Israfel, whose heart-strings are a lute, and who has the sweetest voice of all God's creatures.
Page 32
They use that moon no more For the same end as before-- Videlicet a tent-- Which I think extravagant: Its atomies, however, Into a shower dissever, Of which those butterflies, Of Earth, who seek the skies, And so come down again (Never-contented things!) Have brought a specimen Upon their quivering wings.
Page 33
Bottomless vales and boundless floods, And chasms, and caves, and Titan woods, With forms that no man can discover For the tears that drip all over; Mountains toppling evermore Into seas without a shore; Seas that restlessly aspire, Surging, unto skies of fire; Lakes that endlessly outspread Their lone waters--lone and dead,-- Their still waters--still and chilly With the snows of the lolling lily.
Page 35
And so it lies happily, Bathing in many A dream of the truth And the beauty of Annie-- Drowned in a bath Of the tresses of Annie.
Page 37
Young Love's first lesson is--the heart: For 'mid that sunshine, and those smiles, When, from our little cares apart, And laughing at her girlish wiles, I'd throw me on her throbbing breast, And pour my spirit out in tears-- There was no need to speak the rest-- No need to quiet any fears Of her--who ask'd no reason why, But turned on me her quiet eye! Yet _more_ than worthy of the love My spirit struggled with, and strove, When, on the mountain peak, alone, Ambition lent it a new tone-- I had no being--but in thee: The world, and all it did contain In the earth--the air--the sea-- Its joy--its little lot of pain That was new pleasure--the ideal, Dim vanities of dreams by night-- And dimmer nothings which were real-- (Shadows--and a more shadowy light!) Parted upon their misty wings, And, so, confusedly, became Thine image, and--a name--a name! Two separate--yet most intimate things.