The Works of Edgar Allan Poe — Volume 3

By Edgar Allan Poe

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him, when a puppy, from the clutches of a malignant little
villain in Nantucket who was leading him, with a rope around his neck,
to the water; and the grown dog repaid the obligation, about three years
afterward, by saving me from the bludgeon of a street robber.

Getting now hold of the watch, I found, upon applying it to my ear, that
it had again run down; but at this I was not at all surprised, being
convinced, from the peculiar state of my feelings, that I had slept,
as before, for a very long period of time, how long, it was of course
impossible to say. I was burning up with fever, and my thirst was almost
intolerable. I felt about the box for my little remaining supply of
water, for I had no light, the taper having burnt to the socket of the
lantern, and the phosphorus-box not coming readily to hand. Upon finding
the jug, however, I discovered it to be empty--Tiger, no doubt, having
been tempted to drink it, as well as to devour the remnant of mutton,
the bone of which lay, well picked, by the opening of the box. The
spoiled meat I could well spare, but my heart sank as I thought of the
water. I was feeble in the extreme--so much so that I shook all over,
as with an ague, at the slightest movement or exertion. To add to my
troubles, the brig was pitching and rolling with great violence, and
the oil-casks which lay upon my box were in momentary danger of falling
down, so as to block up the only way of ingress or egress. I felt, also,
terrible sufferings from sea-sickness. These considerations determined
me to make my way, at all hazards, to the trap, and obtain immediate
relief, before I should be incapacitated from doing so altogether.
Having come to this resolve, I again felt about for the phosphorus-box
and tapers. The former I found after some little trouble; but, not
discovering the tapers as soon as I had expected (for I remembered very
nearly the spot in which I had placed them), I gave up the search for
the present, and bidding Tiger lie quiet, began at once my journey
toward the trap.

In this attempt my great feebleness became more than ever apparent.
It was with the utmost difficulty I could crawl along at all, and
very frequently my limbs sank suddenly from beneath me; when, falling
prostrate on my face, I would remain for some minutes in a state
bordering on insensibility. Still I struggled forward by

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

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Osgood Eldorado Eulalie A Dream within a Dream To Marie Louise (Shew) To the Same The City in the Sea The Sleeper Bridal Ballad Notes Poems of Manhood Lenore To One in Paradise The Coliseum The Haunted Palace The Conqueror Worm Silence Dreamland Hymn To Zante Scenes from "Politian" Note Poems of Youth Introduction (1831) Sonnet--To Science Al Aaraaf Tamerlane To Helen The Valley of Unrest Israfel To -- ("The Bowers Whereat, in Dreams I See") To -- ("I Heed not That my Earthly Lot") .
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which reached us every morning from the populous city.
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the ourang-outang was much more efficiently represented by flu.
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The street was a narrow and long one, and his course lay within it for nearly an hour, during which the passengers had gradually diminished to about that number which is ordinarily seen at noon in Broadway near the Park--so vast a difference is there between a London populace and that of the most frequented American city.
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Goodfellow) had induced him to make every hypothesis which imagination could suggest, by way of endeavoring to account for what appeared suspicious in the circumstances that told so seriously against Mr.
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A distinguished exterior will, I am constrained to say, have its way even with a beast; and I am willing to allow much in the outward man of the restaurateur calculated to impress the imagination of the quadruped.
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Thus was delicately shadowed forth the two-fold occupation of the proprietor.
Page 95
And what, if cheerful shouts at noon, Come, from the village sent, Or songs of maids, beneath the moon, With fairy laughter blent? And what if, in the evening light, Betrothed lovers walk in sight Of my low monument? I would the lovely scene around Might know no sadder sight nor sound.
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Farewell, farewell, fair Ines, That vessel never bore So fair a lady on its deck, Nor danced so light before,-- Alas for pleasure on the sea, And sorrow on the shorel The smile that blest one lover's heart Has broken many more! "The Haunted House," by the same author, is one of the truest poems ever written,--one of the truest, one of the most unexceptionable, one of the most thoroughly artistic, both in its theme and in its execution.
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No nobler _theme _ever engaged the pen of poet.
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" * "Book of Gems," Edited by S.
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And he dances, and he yells; Keeping time, time, time, In a sort of Runic rhyme, To the paean of the bells-- Of the bells:-- Keeping time, time, time, In a sort of Runic rhyme, To the throbbing of the bells-- Of the bells, bells, bells-- To the sobbing of the bells:-- Keeping time, time, time, As he knells, knells, knells, In a happy Runic rhyme, To the rolling of the bells-- Of the bells, bells, bells:-- To the tolling of the bells-- Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells-- To the moaning and the groaning of the bells.
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us on, by this tremulous light! Let us bathe in this crystalline light! Its Sybillic splendor is beaming With Hope and in Beauty to-night-- See!--it flickers up the sky through the night! Ah, we safely may trust to its gleaming, And be sure it will lead us aright-- We safely may trust to a gleaming That cannot but guide us aright, Since it flickers up to Heaven through the night.
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] AN ENIGMA "Seldom we find," says Solomon Don Dunce, "Half an idea in the profoundest sonnet.
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And I lie so composedly, Now in my bed, (Knowing her love) That you fancy me dead-- And I rest so contentedly, Now in my bed, (With her love at my breast) That you fancy me dead-- That you shudder to look at me, Thinking me dead:-- But my heart it is brighter Than all of the many Stars in the sky, For it sparkles with Annie-- It glows with the light Of the love of my Annie-- With the thought of the light Of the eyes of my Annie.
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It shall not be forgot! With its Phantom chased for evermore, By a crowd that seize it not, Through a circle that ever returneth in To the self-same spot, And much of Madness, and more of Sin, And Horror the soul of the plot.
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' 'The blue waves of Ullin roll in light; the green hills are covered with day; trees shake their dusty heads in the breeze.
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*And gemmy flower, of Trebizond misnam'd-- Inmate of highest stars, where erst it sham'd All other loveliness: its honied dew (The fabled nectar that the heathen knew) Deliriously sweet, was dropp'd from Heaven, And fell on gardens of the unforgiven In Trebizond--and on a sunny flower So like its own above that, to this hour, It still remaineth, torturing the bee With madness, and unwonted reverie: In Heaven, and all its environs, the leaf And blossom of the fairy plant, in grief Disconsolate linger--grief that hangs her head, Repenting follies that full long have.
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** I met with this idea in an old English tale, which I am now unable to obtain and quote from memory:--"The verie essence and, as it were, springe-heade, and origine of all musiche is the verie pleasaunte sounde which the trees of the forest do make when they growe.