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

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to a
ringbolt in the deck of the cuddy. Having thus arranged everything as
well as I could in my chilled and agitated condition, I recommended
myself to God, and made up my mind to bear whatever might happen with
all the fortitude in my power.

Hardly had I come to this resolution, when, suddenly, a loud and long
scream or yell, as if from the throats of a thousand demons, seemed to
pervade the whole atmosphere around and above the boat. Never while I
live shall I forget the intense agony of terror I experienced at that
moment. My hair stood erect on my head--I felt the blood congealing in
my veins--my heart ceased utterly to beat, and without having once
raised my eyes to learn the source of my alarm, I tumbled headlong and
insensible upon the body of my fallen companion.

I found myself, upon reviving, in the cabin of a large whaling-ship
(the Penguin) bound to Nantucket. Several persons were standing over
me, and Augustus, paler than death, was busily occupied in chafing my
hands. Upon seeing me open my eyes, his exclamations of gratitude and
joy excited alternate laughter and tears from the rough-looking
personages who were present. The mystery of our being in existence was
now soon explained. We had been run down by the whaling-ship, which was
close hauled, beating up to Nantucket with every sail she could venture
to set, and consequently running almost at right angles to our own
course. Several men were on the look-out forward, but did not perceive
our boat until it was an impossibility to avoid coming in
contact--their shouts of warning upon seeing us were what so terribly
alarmed me. The huge ship, I was told, rode immediately over us with as
much ease as our own little vessel would have passed over a feather,
and without the least perceptible impediment to her progress. Not a
scream arose from the deck of the victim--there was a slight grating
sound to be heard mingling with the roar of wind and water, as the
frail bark which was swallowed up rubbed for a moment along the keel of
her destroyer--but this was all. Thinking our boat (which it will be
remembered was dismasted) some mere shell cut adrift as useless, the
captain (Captain E. T. V. Block of New London) was for proceeding on
his course without troubling himself further about the matter. Luckily,
there were two of the look-out who swore positively to having seen some
person at our helm, and represented the possibility of yet saving him.
A discussion ensued, when Block grew

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

Page 8
Half an hour.
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Isn't it my own swate silf now that'll missure the six fut, and the three inches more nor that, in me stockins, and that am excadingly will proportioned all over to match? And it is ralelly more than three fut and a bit that there is, inny how, of the little ould furrener Frinchman that lives jist over the way, and that's a oggling and a goggling the houl day, (and bad luck to him,) at the purty widdy Misthress Tracle that's my own nixt-door neighbor, (God bliss her!) and a most particuller frind and acquaintance? You percave the little spalpeen is summat down in the mouth, and wears his lift hand in a sling, and it's for that same thing, by yur lave, that I'm going to give you the good rason.
Page 71
I had a wretched headache, and was desperately drowsy.
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of opinion, from the redness of the epidermis, that the embalmment had been effected altogether by asphaltum; but, on scraping the surface with a steel instrument, and throwing into the fire some of the powder thus obtained, the flavor of camphor and other sweet-scented gums became apparent.
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For, like strains of martial music, Their mighty thoughts suggest Life's endless toil and endeavor; And to-night I long for rest.
Page 119
speak, They can only shriek, shriek, Out of tune, In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire, In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire, Leaping higher, higher, higher, With a desperate desire, And a resolute endeavor Now--now to sit, or never, By the side of the pale-faced moon.
Page 120
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 meaning of their tone! For every sound that floats From the rust within their throats .
Page 125
" 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-- But were stopped by the door of a tomb-- By the door of a legended tomb:-- And I said--"What is written, sweet sister, On the door of this legended tomb?" She replied--"Ulalume--Ulalume-- 'T is the vault of thy lost Ulalume!" Then my heart it grew ashen and sober As the leaves that were crisped and sere-- As the leaves that were withering and sere-- And I cried--"It was surely October On _this_ very night of last year, That I journeyed--I journeyed down here!-- That I brought a dread burden down here-- On this night, of all nights in the year, Ah, what demon has tempted me here? .
Page 136
me sigh for sigh, And all day long Shines, bright and strong, Astarte within the sky, While ever to her dear Eulalie upturns her matron eye-- While ever to her young Eulalie upturns her violet eye.
Page 152
By a route obscure and lonely, Haunted by ill angels only, .
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love, Knowing what I know, and seeing what I have seen.
Page 168
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Who livest--_that_ we know-- In Eternity--we feel-- But the shadow of whose brow What spirit shall reveal? Tho' the beings whom thy Nesace, Thy messenger hath known Have dream'd for thy Infinity *A model of their own-- Thy will is done, Oh, God! The star hath ridden high Thro' many a tempest, but she rode Beneath thy burning eye; And here, in thought, to thee-- In thought that can alone Ascend thy empire and so be A partner of thy throne-- * The Humanitarians held that God was to be understood as having a really human form.
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** Sightless--too small to be seen--_Legge_.
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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.
Page 203
Young Love's first lesson is--the heart: .
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all beside Of glory which the world hath known Stands she not nobly and alone? Falling--her veriest stepping-stone Shall form the pedestal of a throne-- And who her sovereign? Timour--he Whom the astonished people saw Striding o'er empires haughtily A diadem'd outlaw-- O! human love! thou spirit given, On Earth, of all we hope in Heaven! Which fall'st into the soul like rain Upon the Siroc wither'd plain, And failing in thy power to bless But leav'st the heart a wilderness! Idea! which bindest life around With music of so strange a sound And beauty of so wild a birth-- Farewell! for I have won the Earth! When Hope, the eagle that tower'd, could see No cliff beyond him in the sky, His pinions were bent droopingly-- And homeward turn'd his soften'd eye.
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Ah! what is not a dream by day To him whose eyes are cast On things around him with a ray Turned back upon the past? That holy dream--that holy dream, While all the world were chiding, Hath cheered me as a lovely beam A lonely spirit guiding.
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In the edition for 1831, however, this poem, its author's longest, was introduced by the following twenty-nine lines, which have been omitted in--all subsequent collections: AL AARAAF Mysterious star! Thou wert my dream All a long summer night-- Be now my theme! By this clear stream, Of thee will I write; Meantime from afar Bathe me in light I Thy world has not the dross of ours, Yet all the beauty-all the flowers That list our love or deck our bowers In dreamy gardens, where do lie Dreamy maidens all the day; While the silver winds of Circassy On violet couches faint away.
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IV Like music heard in dreams, Like strains of harps unknown, Of birds forever flown Audible as the voice of streams That murmur in some leafy dell, .