The Works of Edgar Allan Poe — Volume 1

By Edgar Allan Poe

Page 61

only deeply interesting in its own peculiar
character, but rendered doubly so by its intimate connection, in
capacity of satellite, with the world inhabited by man, I may have
intelligence for the private ear of the States' College of Astronomers
of far more importance than the details, however wonderful, of the mere
voyage which so happily concluded. This is, in fact, the case. I
have much--very much which it would give me the greatest pleasure to
communicate. I have much to say of the climate of the planet; of its
wonderful alternations of heat and cold, of unmitigated and burning
sunshine for one fortnight, and more than polar frigidity for the next;
of a constant transfer of moisture, by distillation like that in vacuo,
from the point beneath the sun to the point the farthest from it; of
a variable zone of running water, of the people themselves; of their
manners, customs, and political institutions; of their peculiar physical
construction; of their ugliness; of their want of ears, those useless
appendages in an atmosphere so peculiarly modified; of their consequent
ignorance of the use and properties of speech; of their substitute
for speech in a singular method of inter-communication; of the
incomprehensible connection between each particular individual in
the moon with some particular individual on the earth--a connection
analogous with, and depending upon, that of the orbs of the planet and
the satellites, and by means of which the lives and destinies of the
inhabitants of the one are interwoven with the lives and destinies
of the inhabitants of the other; and above all, if it so please your
Excellencies--above all, of those dark and hideous mysteries which lie
in the outer regions of the moon--regions which, owing to the almost
miraculous accordance of the satellite's rotation on its own axis with
its sidereal revolution about the earth, have never yet been turned,
and, by God's mercy, never shall be turned, to the scrutiny of the
telescopes of man. All this, and more--much more--would I most
willingly detail. But, to be brief, I must have my reward. I am pining
for a return to my family and to my home, and as the price of any
farther communication on my part--in consideration of the light which
I have it in my power to throw upon many very important branches of
physical and metaphysical science--I must solicit, through the influence
of your honorable body, a pardon for the crime of which I have been
guilty in the death of the creditors upon my departure from Rotterdam.
This, then, is the object of the present paper. Its bearer, an

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Text Comparison with The Raven

Page 0
_ "Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow--sorrow for the lost Lenore.
Page 2
" _R.
Page 3
Page 4
"We are in Love's hand to-day!" sings Gautier, in Swinburne's buoyant paraphrase,--and from morn to sunset we are wafted on the violent sea: there is but one love, one May, one flowery strand.
Page 5
a drunkard, was but one perpetual effort to escape the influence of this antipathetical atmosphere.
Page 6
_The Raven_ in sheer poetical constituents falls below such pieces as "The Haunted Palace," "The City in the Sea," "The Sleeper," and "Israfel.
Page 7
" This is still my belief; and yet, upon a fresh study of this poem, it impresses me more than at any time since my boyhood.
Page 8
All have heard that the poem, signed "Quarles," appeared in the "American Review," with a pseudo-editorial comment on its form; that Poe received ten dollars for it; that Willis, the kindest and least envious of fashionable arbiters, reprinted it with a eulogy that instantly made it town-talk.
Page 9
In Mr.
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, is enthusiastic in his admiration of the rhythm.
Page 11
Pike's revision the following stanza, of which the main features correspond with the original version: "Restless I pace our lonely rooms, I play our songs no more, The garish sun shines flauntingly upon the unswept floor; The mocking-bird still sits and sings, O melancholy strain! For my heart is like an autumn-cloud that overflows with rain; Thou art lost to me forever, Isadore!" Here we have a prolonged measure, a similarity of refrain, and the introduction of a bird whose song enhances sorrow.
Page 12
"the Night's Plutonian shore," he seems the imaged soul of the questioner himself,--of him who can not, will not, quaff the kind nepenthe, because the memory of Lenore is all that is left him, and with the surcease of his sorrow even that would be put aside.
Page 13
All this stage effect of situation, light, color, sound, is purely romantic, and even melodramatic, but of a poetic quality that melodrama rarely exhibits, and thoroughly reflective of the poet's "eternal passion, eternal pain.
Page 15
Page 16
What is the result? Dore proffers a series of variations upon the theme as he conceived it, "the enigma of death and the hallucination of an inconsolable soul.
Page 17
" Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Page 18
Darkness there, and nothing more.
Page 19
" This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my.
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" [Illustration] "For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore-- Nameless here for evermore.
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" [Illustration] .