out whose sounding door
She ne'er shall force an echo more,
Thrilling to think, poor child of sin!
It was the dead who groaned within.
* * * * *
The ring is on my hand,
And the wreath is on my brow;
Satins and jewels grand
Are all at my command.
And I am happy now.
And my lord he loves me well;
But, when first he breathed his vow,
I felt my bosom swell--
For the words rang as a knell,
And the voice seemed _his_ who fell
In the battle down the dell,
And who is happy now.
But he spoke to reassure me,
And he kissed my pallid brow,
While a reverie came o'er me,
And to the churchyard bore me,
And I sighed to him before me,
Thinking him dead D'Elormie,
"Oh, I am happy now!"
And thus the words were spoken,
And thus the plighted vow,
And, though my faith be broken,
And, though my heart be broken,
Behold the golden keys
That _proves_ me happy now!
Would to God I could awaken
For I dream I know not how,
And my soul is sorely shaken
Lest an evil step be taken,--
Lest the dead who is forsaken
May not be happy now.
* * * * *
1. THE RAVEN
"The Raven" was first published on the 29th January, 1845, in the New
York 'Evening Mirror'--a paper its author was then assistant editor of.
It was prefaced by the following words, understood to have been written
by N. P. Willis:
"We are permitted to copy (in advance of publication) from the second
number of the 'American Review', the following remarkable poem by
Edgar Poe. In our opinion, it
" Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.Page 1
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing, Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before; But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token, And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore?" This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!"-- Merely this and nothing more.Page 2
" 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 blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door-- Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door, With such name as "Nevermore.Page 3
" "Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!--prophet still, if bird or devil!-- Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore, Desolate,.Page 4
" And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door; And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadows on the floor; And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor Shall be lifted--nevermore! The Masque of the Red Death by Edgar Allan Poe October, 1997 [Etext #1064]* The Masque of the Red Death The "Red Death".Page 5
It was towards the close of the fifth or sixth month of his seclusion, and while the pestilence raged most furiously abroad, that the Prince Prospero entertained his thousand friends at a masked ball of the most unusual magnificence.Page 6
That at the eastern extremity was hung, for example in blue--and vividly blue were its windows.Page 7
There were much glare and glitter and piquancy and phantasm--much of what has been since seen in "Hernani".Page 8
is silent save the voice of the clock.Page 9
But from a certain nameless awe with which the mad assumptions of the mummer had inspired the whole party, there were found none who put forth hand to seize him; so that, unimpeded, he passed within a yard of the prince's person; and, while the vast assembly, as if with one impulse, shrank from the centres of the rooms to the walls, he made his way uninterruptedly, but with the same solemn and measured step which had distinguished him.Page 10
It was then, however, that the Prince Prospero, maddening with rage and the shame of his own momentary cowardice, rushed hurriedly through the six chambers, while none followed him on account of a deadly terror that had seized upon all.Page 11
It was about dusk, one evening during the supreme madness of the carnival season, that I encountered my friend.Page 12
"I drink," he said, "to the buried that repose around us.Page 13
But first, another draught of the Medoc.Page 14
With these materials and with the aid of my trowel, I began vigorously to wall up the entrance of the niche.Page 15
I had completed the eighth, the ninth, and the tenth tier.Page 16
My heart grew sick on account of the dampness of the catacombs.