Nouvelles histoires extraordinaires

By Edgar Allan Poe

Page 176

l'ombre ni d'un homme, ni d'un Dieu,--ni d'un Dieu
de Grèce, mi d'un Dieu de Chaldée, ni d'aucun Dieu égyptien. Et l'ombre
reposait sur la grande porte de bronze et sous la corniche cintrée, et
elle ne bougeait pas, et elle ne prononçait pas une parole, mais elle se
fixait de plus en plus, et elle resta immobile. Et la porte sur laquelle
l'ombre reposait était, si je m'en souviens bien, tout contre les pieds
du jeune Zoïlus enseveli. Mais nous, les sept compagnons, ayant vu
l'ombre, comme elle sortait des draperies, nous n'osions pas la
contempler fixement; mais nous baissions les yeux, et nous regardions
toujours dans les profondeurs du miroir d'ébène. Et, à la longue, moi,
Oinos, je me hasardai à prononcer quelques mots à voix basse, et je
demandai à l'ombre sa demeure et son nom. Et l'ombre répondit:

--Je suis OMBRE, et ma demeure est à côté des Catacombes de Ptolémaïs,
et tout près de ces sombres plaines infernales qui enserrent l'impur
canal de Charon!

Et alors, tous les sept, nous nous dressâmes d'horreur sur nos sièges,
et nous nous tenions tremblants, frissonnants, effarés; car le timbre de
la voix de l'ombre n'était pas le timbre d'un seul individu, mais d'une
multitude d'êtres; et cette voix, variant ses inflexions de syllabe en
syllabe, tombait confusément dans nos oreilles en imitant les accents
connus et familiers de mille et mille amis disparus!




SILENCE

La crête des montagnes sommeille; la vallée, le rocher et la caverne
sont muets.
ALCMAN.


Écoute-moi,--dit le Démon, en plaçant sa main sur ma tête.--La contrée
dont je parle est une contrée lugubre en Libye, sur les bords de la
rivière Zaïre. Et là, il n'y a ni repos ni silence.

Les eaux de la rivière sont d'une couleur safranée et malsaine; et elles
ne coulent pas vers la mer, mais palpitent éternellement, sous l'oeil
rouge du soleil, avec un mouvement tumultueux et convulsif. De chaque
côté de cette rivière au lit vaseux s'étend, à une distance de plusieurs
milles, un pâle désert de gigantesques nénuphars. Ils soupirent l'un
vers l'autre dans cette solitude, et tendent vers le ciel leurs longs
cous de spectres, et hochent de côté et d'autre leurs têtes
sempiternelles. Et il sort d'eux un murmure confus qui ressemble à celui
d'un torrent souterrain. Et ils soupirent l'un vers l'autre.

Mais il y a une frontière à leur empire, et cette frontière est une
haute forêt, sombre, horrible. Là, comme les vagues autour des Hébrides,
les petits arbres sont dans une perpétuelle agitation. Et cependant il
n'y a pas de vent dans le ciel.

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Text Comparison with The Bells, and Other Poems

Page 0
O----d_ _Bridal Ballad_ _To my Mother_ _To Helen (Helen, thy beauty is to me)_ _The Valley of Unrest_ _The Lake--To----_ _The Happiest Day, the Happiest Hour_ _Catholic Hymn_ _To ---- ---- (Not long ago, the writer of these lines)_ _Evening Star_ _Stanzas_ _Spirits of the Dead_ _Israfel_ _Song (I saw thee on thy bridal day)_ _To---- (The bowers whereat, in dreams, I see)_ _Fairy-land_ _The Coliseum_ _Dreamland_ _For Annie_ _Alone_ _Tamerlane_ ILLUSTRATIONS _The Bells_ _The Bells_ _The Bells_ _Annabel Lee_ _Silence_ _The Raven_ _To One in Paradise_ _Lenore_ _To Helen_ _The Haunted Palace_ _The City in the Sea_ _The Sleeper_ _Ulalume_ _Eldorado_ _The Conqueror Worm_ _To the River_ _Al Aaraaf_ _Al Aaraaf_ _Bridal Ballad_ _To Helen_ _The Valley of Unrest_ _To ---- ---- (Mrs.
Page 1
Through the balmy air of night How they ring out their delight! From the molten golden-notes, And all in tune, What a liquid ditty floats To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats On the moon! Oh, from out the sounding cells, What a gush of euphony voluminously wells! How it swells! How it dwells On the Future! how it tells Of the rapture that impels To the swinging and the ringing Of the bells, bells, bells, Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells-- To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells! [Illustration: The Bells] III.
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 6
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
Page 11
Wanderers in that happy valley, Through two luminous windows, saw Spirits moving musically, To a.
Page 12
No rays from the holy heaven come down On the long night-time of that town; But light from out the lurid sea Streams up the turrets silently-- Gleams up the pinnacles far and free-- Up domes--up spires--up kingly halls-- Up fanes--up Babylon-like walls-- Up shadowy long-forgotten bowers Of sculptured ivy and stone flowers-- Up many and many a marvellous shrine Whose wreathèd friezes intertwine The viol, the violet, and the vine.
Page 13
An opiate vapour, dewy, dim, Exhales from out her golden rim, And, softly dripping, drop by drop, Upon the quiet mountain top, Steals drowsily and musically Into the universal valley.
Page 14
And.
Page 17
the tamarind tree? _ELDORADO_ Gaily bedight, A gallant knight.
Page 18
S.
Page 19
Its echo dwelleth and will dwell-- Oh, nothing of the dross of ours-- Yet all the beauty--all the flowers That list our Love, and deck our bowers-- Adorn yon world afar, afar-- The wandering star.
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erst it sham'd All other loveliness:--its honied dew (The fabled nectar that the heathen knew) Deliriously sweet, was dropp'd from Heaven.
Page 21
" She ceas'd--and buried then her burning cheek Abash'd, amid the lilies there, too seek A shelter from the fervour of His eye; For the stars trembled at the Deity.
Page 24
On the harmony there? Ligeia! wherever Thy image may be, No magic shall sever Thy music from thee.
Page 25
"Ianthe, dearest, see--how dim that ray! How lovely 'tis to look so far away! She seem'd not thus upon that autumn eve I left her gorgeous halls--nor mourn'd to leave.
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TO HELEN ["Helen" was Mrs.
Page 29
With thy dear name as text, though bidden by thee, I cannot write--I cannot speak or think-- Alas, I cannot feel; for 'tis not feeling, This standing motionless upon the golden Threshold of the wide-open gate of dreams.
Page 33
By the lakes that thus outspread Their lone waters, lone and dead,-- Their sad waters, sad and chilly With the snows of the lolling lily-- By the mountains--near the river Murmuring lowly, murmuring ever,-- By the grey woods,--by the swamp Where the toad and the newt encamp,-- By the dismal tarns and pools Where dwell the Ghouls,-- By each spot the most unholy-- In each nook.
Page 34
For the heart whose woes are legion 'Tis a peaceful, soothing region-- For the spirit that walks in shadow 'Tis--oh, 'tis an Eldorado! But the traveller, travelling through it, May not--dare not openly view it! Never its mysteries are exposed To the weak human eye unclosed; So wills its King, who hath forbid The uplifting of the fringèd lid; And thus the sad Soul that here passes Beholds it but through darkened glasses.
Page 35
From the same source I have not taken My sorrow; I could not awaken My heart to joy at the same tone; And all I loved _I_ loved alone.