The Complete Poetical Works of Edgar Allan Poe Including Essays on Poetry

By Edgar Allan Poe

Page 15

ciphers more or less
abstruse, demanding solution. In the correspondence which ensued in
'Graham's Magazine' and other publications, Poe was universally
acknowledged to have proved his case, so far as his own personal ability
to unriddle such mysteries was concerned. Although he had never offered
to undertake such a task, he triumphantly solved every cryptogram sent
to him, with one exception, and that exception he proved conclusively
was only an imposture, for which no solution was possible.

The outcome of this exhaustive and unprofitable labor was the
fascinating story of "The Gold Bug," a story in which the discovery of
hidden treasure is brought about by the unriddling of an intricate
cipher.

The year 1841 may be deemed the brightest of Poe's checkered career. On
every side acknowledged to be a new and brilliant literary light, chief
editor of a powerful magazine, admired, feared, and envied, with a
reputation already spreading rapidly in Europe as well as in his native
continent, the poet might well have hoped for prosperity and happiness.
But dark cankers were gnawing his heart. His pecuniary position was
still embarrassing. His writings, which were the result of slow and
careful labor, were poorly paid, and his remuneration as joint editor of
'Graham's' was small. He was not permitted to have undivided control,
and but a slight share of the profits of the magazine he had rendered
world-famous, whilst a fearful domestic calamity wrecked all his hopes,
and caused him to resort to that refuge of the broken-hearted--to that
drink which finally destroyed his prospects and his life.

Edgar Poe's own account of this terrible malady and its cause was made
towards the end of his career. Its truth has never been disproved, and
in its most important points it has been thoroughly substantiated. To a
correspondent he writes in January 1848:

"You say, 'Can you _hint_ to me what was "that terrible evil" which
caused the "irregularities" so profoundly lamented?' Yes, I can do more
than hint. This _evil_ was the greatest which can befall a man. Six
years ago, a wife whom I loved as no man ever loved before, ruptured a
blood-vessel in singing. Her life was despaired of. I took leave of
her forever, and underwent all the agonies of her death. She recovered
partially, and I again hoped. At the end of a year, the vessel broke
again. I went through precisely the same scene.... Then again--again--
and even once again at varying intervals. Each time I felt all the

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Text Comparison with The Works of Edgar Allan Poe — Volume 5

Page 3
In the matter of glass, generally, we proceed upon false.
Page 20
to be beasts of some kind in reality, if not precisely ourang-outangs.
Page 32
The fashion had "grown with his growth and strengthened with his strength," so that, when he came to be a man, he could scarcely utter a sentence without interlarding it with a proposition to gamble.
Page 71
" "Did you not intend to assert-" "My soul is--hiccup!--peculiarly qualified for--hiccup!--a-" "What, sir?" "Stew.
Page 97
Pinckney to have been born too far south.
Page 98
Thou hast call'd me thy Angel in moments of bliss, And thy Angel I'll be, 'mid the horrors of this,-- Through the furnace, unshrinking, thy steps to pursue, .
Page 104
I call him, and _think _him the noblest of poets, _not _because the impressions he produces are at _all _times the most profound--_not _because the poetical.
Page 107
No general error evinces a more thorough confusion of ideas than the error of supposing Donne and Cowley metaphysical in the.
Page 114
" Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, "Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore-- Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore Of "Never--nevermore.
Page 122
1849.
Page 131
but you Are mother to the one I loved so dearly, And thus are dearer than the mother I knew By that infinity with which my wife Was dearer to my soul than its soul-life.
Page 133
She tenderly kissed me, She fondly caressed, And then I fell gently To sleep on her breast-- Deeply to sleep From the heaven of her breast.
Page 135
EULALIE I DWELT alone In a world of moan, And my soul was a stagnant tide, Till the fair and gentle Eulalie became my blushing bride-- Till the yellow-haired young Eulalie became my smiling bride.
Page 149
THE CONQUEROR WORM.
Page 173
' The opinion is the world's, truly, but it may be called theirs as a man would call a book his, having bought it; he did not write the book, but it is his; they did not originate the opinion, but it is theirs.
Page 176
It is the beginning of the epic poem 'Temora.
Page 183
.
Page 192
They are light on the tresses, But lead on the heart.
Page 210
Which we worship in a star.
Page 217
HYMN TO ARISTOGEITON AND HARMODIUS Translation from the Greek I WREATHED in myrtle, my sword I'll conceal Like those champions devoted and brave, When they plunged in the tyrant their steel, .