The Works of Edgar Allan Poe — Volume 2

By Edgar Allan Poe

Page 189

extravagance was at its height. Madly
flushed with cards and intoxication, I was in the act of insisting upon
a toast of more than wonted profanity, when my attention was suddenly
diverted by the violent, although partial unclosing of the door of the
apartment, and by the eager voice of a servant from without. He said
that some person, apparently in great haste, demanded to speak with me
in the hall.

Wildly excited with wine, the unexpected interruption rather delighted
than surprised me. I staggered forward at once, and a few steps brought
me to the vestibule of the building. In this low and small room there
hung no lamp; and now no light at all was admitted, save that of the
exceedingly feeble dawn which made its way through the semi-circular
window. As I put my foot over the threshold, I became aware of the
figure of a youth about my own height, and habited in a white kerseymere
morning frock, cut in the novel fashion of the one I myself wore at the
moment. This the faint light enabled me to perceive; but the features of
his face I could not distinguish. Upon my entering he strode hurriedly
up to me, and, seizing me by the arm with a gesture of petulant
impatience, whispered the words "William Wilson!" in my ear.

I grew perfectly sober in an instant. There was that in the manner of
the stranger, and in the tremulous shake of his uplifted finger, as he
held it between my eyes and the light, which filled me with unqualified
amazement; but it was not this which had so violently moved me. It
was the pregnancy of solemn admonition in the singular, low, hissing
utterance; and, above all, it was the character, the tone, the key, of
those few, simple, and familiar, yet whispered syllables, which came
with a thousand thronging memories of bygone days, and struck upon my
soul with the shock of a galvanic battery. Ere I could recover the use
of my senses he was gone.

Although this event failed not of a vivid effect upon my disordered
imagination, yet was it evanescent as vivid. For some weeks, indeed, I
busied myself in earnest inquiry, or was wrapped in a cloud of morbid
speculation. I did not pretend to disguise from my perception the
identity of the singular individual who thus perseveringly interfered
with my affairs, and harassed me with his insinuated counsel. But
who and what was this Wilson?--and whence came he?--and what were his
purposes? Upon neither of these points could I be satisfied; merely
ascertaining, in regard to

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

Page 4
Page 10
Poe's adopted father, however, did not regard his 'protege's' collegiate career with equal pleasure: whatever view he may have entertained of the lad's scholastic successes, he resolutely refused to discharge the gambling debts which, like too many of his classmates, he had incurred.
Page 24
" Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore.
Page 53
At morn--at noon--at twilight dim-- Maria! thou hast.
Page 63
How fares good Ugo?--and when is it to be? Can I do aught?--is there no further aid Thou needest, Jacinta? _Jac_.
Page 76
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Page 88
For public insult in the streets--before The eyes of the citizens.
Page 101
[1] PART I.
Page 107
Or, capriciously still, Like the lone Albatross, [23] Incumbent on night (As she on the air) To keep watch with delight On the harmony there? Ligeia! wherever Thy image may be, No magic shall sever Thy music from thee.
Page 108
A maiden-angel and her seraph-lover-- O! where (and ye may seek the wide skies over) Was Love, the blind, near sober Duty known? Unguided Love hath fallen--'mid "tears of perfect moan.
Page 116
I reached my home--my home no more-- For all had flown who made it so.
Page 127
Perhaps it may be that my mind is wrought To a ferver [1] by the moonbeam that hangs o'er, But I will half believe that wild light fraught With more of sovereignty than ancient lore Hath ever told--or is it of a thought The unembodied essence, and no more That.
Page 131
The poem styled "Romance" constituted the Preface of the 1829 volume, but with the addition of the following lines: Succeeding years, too wild for song, Then rolled like tropic storms along, Where, though the garish lights that fly Dying along the troubled sky, Lay bare, through vistas thunder-riven, The blackness of the general Heaven, That very blackness yet doth fling Light on the lightning's silver wing.
Page 143
' But in this existence I dreamed that I should be at once cognizant of all things, and thus at once happy in being cognizant of all.
Page 151
Words are vague things.
Page 153
And when now, dear Una, approaching the bed upon which I lay outstretched, you sat gently by my side, breathing odor from your sweet lips, and pressing them upon my brow, there arose tremulously within my bosom, and mingling with the merely physical sensations which circumstances had called forth, a something akin to sentiment itself--a feeling that, half appreciating, half responded to your earnest love and sorrow; but this feeling took no root in the pulseless heart, and seemed indeed rather a shadow than a reality, and faded quickly away, first into extreme quiescence, and then into a purely sensual pleasure as before.
Page 160
It was clear that we were already within the influence of the comet; yet we lived.
Page 192
" Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore.
Page 195
gleams--the chamber-window of a student, occupied half in pouring over a volume, half in dreaming of a beloved mistress deceased.