The Works of Edgar Allan Poe — Volume 1

By Edgar Allan Poe

Page 26

fair words, until, by some good turn of
fate, an opportunity of vengeance should be afforded me.

"One day, having given my creditors the slip, and feeling more than
usually dejected, I continued for a long time to wander about the most
obscure streets without object whatever, until at length I chanced to
stumble against the corner of a bookseller's stall. Seeing a chair close
at hand, for the use of customers, I threw myself doggedly into it,
and, hardly knowing why, opened the pages of the first volume which
came within my reach. It proved to be a small pamphlet treatise on
Speculative Astronomy, written either by Professor Encke of Berlin or
by a Frenchman of somewhat similar name. I had some little tincture of
information on matters of this nature, and soon became more and more
absorbed in the contents of the book, reading it actually through twice
before I awoke to a recollection of what was passing around me. By this
time it began to grow dark, and I directed my steps toward home. But
the treatise had made an indelible impression on my mind, and, as I
sauntered along the dusky streets, I revolved carefully over in my
memory the wild and sometimes unintelligible reasonings of the writer.
There are some particular passages which affected my imagination in a
powerful and extraordinary manner. The longer I meditated upon these
the more intense grew the interest which had been excited within me.
The limited nature of my education in general, and more especially my
ignorance on subjects connected with natural philosophy, so far from
rendering me diffident of my own ability to comprehend what I had read,
or inducing me to mistrust the many vague notions which had arisen in
consequence, merely served as a farther stimulus to imagination; and I
was vain enough, or perhaps reasonable enough, to doubt whether
those crude ideas which, arising in ill-regulated minds, have all the
appearance, may not often in effect possess all the force, the reality,
and other inherent properties, of instinct or intuition; whether, to
proceed a step farther, profundity itself might not, in matters of a
purely speculative nature, be detected as a legitimate source of falsity
and error. In other words, I believed, and still do believe, that truth,
is frequently of its own essence, superficial, and that, in many cases,
the depth lies more in the abysses where we seek her, than in the actual
situations wherein she may be found. Nature herself seemed to afford
me corroboration of these ideas. In the contemplation of the heavenly
bodies it struck me forcibly

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

Page 11
Feeling the difficulty of living by literature at the same time that he saw he might have to rely largely upon his own exertions for a livelihood, Poe expressed a wish to enter the army.
Page 23
Nothing further then he uttered--not a feather then he fluttered-- Till I scarcely more than muttered, "Other friends have flown before-- On the morrow _he_ will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.
Page 55
Sad!--not I.
Page 80
Oh, wilt thou--wilt thou Fly to that Paradise--my Lalage, wilt thou Fly thither with me? There Care shall be forgotten, And Sorrow shall be no more, and Eros be all.
Page 84
Page 87
I _will not_ fight thee.
Page 91
So, so, you see! Be not too positive.
Page 94
Page 106
kiss'd her golden hair And long'd to rest, yet could but sparkle there! Young flowers were whispering in melody [21] To happy flowers that night--and tree to tree; Fountains were gushing music as they fell In many a star-lit grove, or moon-light dell; Yet silence came upon material things-- Fair flowers, bright waterfalls and angel wings-- And sound alone that from the spirit sprang Bore burthen to the charm the maiden sang: "Neath blue-bell or streamer-- Or tufted wild spray That keeps, from the dreamer, The moonbeam away--[22] Bright beings! that ponder, With half-closing eyes, On the stars which your wonder Hath drawn from the skies, Till they glance thro' the shade, and Come down to your brow Like--eyes of the maiden Who calls on you now-- Arise! from your dreaming In violet bowers, To duty beseeming These star-litten hours-- And shake from your tresses Encumber'd with dew The breath of those kisses That cumber them too-- (O! how, without you, Love! Could angels be blest?) Those kisses of true love That lull'd ye to rest! Up! shake from your wing Each hindering thing: The dew of the night-- It would weigh down your flight; And true love caresses-- O! leave them apart! They are light on the tresses, But lead on the heart.
Page 115
I spoke to her of power and pride, But mystically--in such guise That she might deem it nought beside The moment's converse; in her eyes I read, perhaps too carelessly-- A mingled feeling with my own-- The flush on her bright cheek, to me Seemed to become a queenly throne Too well that I should let it be Light in the wilderness alone.
Page 120
I saw thee on thy bridal day-- When a burning blush came o'er thee, Though happiness around thee lay, The world all love before thee: And in thine eye a kindling light (Whatever it might be) Was all on Earth my aching sight Of Loveliness could see.
Page 122
* * * * * FAIRYLAND.
Page 132
My draught of passion hath been deep-- I revell'd, and I now would sleep-- And after drunkenness of soul Succeeds the glories of the bowl-- An idle longing night and day To dream my very life away.
Page 135
In these rapid, restless shadows, Once I walked at eventide, When a gentle, silent maiden, Walked in beauty at my side.
Page 142
"The revolution which has just been made by the Fay," continued I musingly, "is the cycle of the brief year of her life.
Page 154
But suddenly these strains diminished in distinctness and in volume.
Page 156
Page 163
And the door whereupon the shadow rested was, if I remember aright, over against the feet of the young Zoilus enshrouded.
Page 176
The oriole should build and tell His love-tale, close beside my cell; The idle butterfly Should rest him there, and there be heard The housewife-bee and humming bird.
Page 187
It is my design to render it manifest that no one point in its composition is referrible either to accident or intuition--that the work proceeded, step by step, to its completion with the precision and rigid consequence of a mathematical problem.