The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket Comprising the details of a mutiny and atrocious butchery on board the American brig Grampus, on her way to the South Seas, in the month of June, 1827.

By Edgar Allan Poe

Page 56

of
the waves. In this situation a good vessel will ride out a very heavy
gale of wind without shipping a drop of water, and without any further
attention being requisite on the part of the crew. The helm is usually
lashed down, but this is altogether unnecessary (except on account of
the noise it makes when loose), for the rudder has no effect upon the
vessel when lying to. Indeed, the helm had far better be left loose
than lashed very fast, for the rudder is apt to be torn off by heavy
seas if there be no room for the helm to play. As long as the sail
holds, a well-modelled vessel will maintain her situation, and ride
every sea, as if instinct with life and reason. If the violence of the
wind, however, should tear the sail into pieces (a feat which it
requires a perfect hurricane to accomplish under ordinary
circumstances), there is then imminent danger. The vessel falls off
from the wind, and, coming broadside to the sea, is completely at its
mercy: the only resource in this case is to put her quickly before the
wind, letting her scud until some other sail can be set. Some vessels
will lie to under no sail whatever, but such are not to be trusted at
sea.

But to return from this digression. It had never been customary with
the mate to have any watch on deck when lying to in a gale of wind, and
the fact that he had now one, coupled with the circumstance of the
missing axes and handspikes, fully convinced us that the crew were too
well on the watch to be taken by surprise in the manner Peters had
suggested. Something, however, was to be done, and that with as little
delay as practicable, for there could be no doubt that a suspicion
having been once entertained against Peters, he would be sacrificed
upon the earliest occasion, and one would certainly be either found or
made upon the breaking of the gale.

Augustus now suggested that if Peters could contrive to remove, under
any pretext, the piece of chain-cable which lay over the trap in the
stateroom, we might possibly be able to come upon them unawares by
means of the hold; but a little reflection convinced us that the vessel
rolled and pitched too violently for any attempt of that nature.

By good fortune I at length hit upon the idea of working upon the
superstitious terrors and guilty conscience of the mate. It will be
remembered that one of the crew, Hartman Rogers, had died

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Text Comparison with The Bells, and Other Poems

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II.
Page 2
Hear the tolling of the bells-- Iron bells! What a world of solemn thought their monody compels! In the silence of the night, How we shiver with affright At the melancholy menace of their tone! For every sound that floats From the rust within their throats .
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For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side Of my darling--my darling--my life and my bride, In her sepulchre there by the sea, In her tomb by the sounding sea.
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" 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 lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor; And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor .
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Shall be lifted--nevermore! [Illustration: The Raven] _TO ONE IN PARADISE_ Thou wast all that to me, love, For which my soul did pine-- A green isle in the sea, love, A fountain and a shrine, All wreathed with fairy fruits and flowers, And all the flowers were mine.
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Clad all in white, upon a violet bank I saw thee half-reclining; while the moon Fell on the upturn'd faces of the roses, And on thine own, upturn'd--alas, in sorrow! Was it not Fate,.
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lute's well-tuned law, Round about a throne where, sitting (Porphyrogene!) In state his glory well befitting, The ruler of the realm was seen.
Page 15
" Thus I pacified Psyche and kissed her, And tempted her out of her gloom-- And conquered her scruples and gloom; And we passed to the end of the vista, .
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And when an hour with calmer wings Its down upon my spirit flings-- That little time with lyre and rhyme To while away--forbidden things! My heart would feel to be a crime Unless it trembled with the strings.
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Not that the grass--O! may it thrive! On my grave is growing or grown-- But that, while I am dead yet alive I cannot be, lady, alone.
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[Illustration: The Conqueror Worm] _SONNET--TO ZANTE_ Fair isle, that from the fairest of all flowers, Thy gentlest of all gentle names dost take! How many memories of what radiant hours At sight of thee and thine at once awake! How many scenes of what departed bliss! How many thoughts of what entombed hopes! How many visions of a maiden that is No more--no more upon thy verdant slopes! _No more!_ alas, that magical sad sound Transforming all! Thy charms shall please _no more_-- Thy memory _no more!_ Accursèd ground Henceforth I hold thy flower-enamelled shore, O hyacinthine isle! O purple Zante! "Isola d'oro! Fior di Levante!" _TO M.
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Away--away--'mid seas of rays that roll Empyrean splendour o'er th' unchained soul-- The soul that scarce (the billows are so dense) Can struggle to its destin'd eminence,-- To distant spheres, from time to time, she rode And late to ours, the favour'd one of God-- But, now, the ruler of an anchor'd realm, She throws aside the sceptre--leaves the helm, And, amid incense and high spiritual hymns, Laves in quadruple light her angel limbs.
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She stirr'd not--breath'd not--for a voice was there How solemnly pervading the calm air! A sound of silence on the startled ear Which dreamy poets name "the music of the sphere.
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From the wild energy of wanton haste Her cheeks were flushing, and her lips apart; And zone that clung around her gentle waist Had burst beneath the heaving of her heart.
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Frances Sargent Osgood] Thou wouldst be loved?--then let thy heart From its present pathway part not! Being everything which now thou art, Be nothing which thou art not.
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] Because I feel that, in the Heavens above, The angels, whispering to one another, Can find, among their burning terms of love, None so devotional as that of "Mother," Therefore by that dear name I long have called you-- You who are more than mother unto me, And fill my heart of hearts, where Death installed you In setting my Virginia's spirit free.
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[Illustration: To ---- ---- (Mrs.
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We rule the hearts of mightiest men--we rule With a despotic sway all giant minds.
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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.
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'Twas sunset: when the sun will part There comes a sullenness of heart To him who still would look upon The glory of the summer sun.