The Works of Edgar Allan Poe — Volume 3

By Edgar Allan Poe

Page 45

of his breathing upon applying our ears closely
to the box. I was convinced that he was dead, and determined to open the
door. We found him lying at full length, apparently in a deep stupor,
yet still alive. No time was to be lost, yet I could not bring myself to
abandon an animal who had now been twice instrumental in saving my life,
without some attempt at preserving him. We therefore dragged him along
with us as well as we could, although with the greatest difficulty and
fatigue; Augustus, during part of the time, being forced to clamber
over the impediments in our way with the huge dog in his arms--a feat
to which the feebleness of my frame rendered me totally inadequate. At
length we succeeded in reaching the hole, when Augustus got through, and
Tiger was pushed in afterward. All was found to be safe, and we did
not fail to return sincere thanks to God for our deliverance from the
imminent danger we had escaped. For the present, it was agreed that I
should remain near the opening, through which my companion could readily
supply me with a part of his daily provision, and where I could have the
advantages of breathing an atmosphere comparatively pure.

In explanation of some portions of this narrative, wherein I have spoken
of the stowage of the brig, and which may appear ambiguous to some of my
readers who may have seen a proper or regular stowage, I must here state
that the manner in which this most important duty had been performed
on board the Grampus was a most shameful piece of neglect on the part
of Captain Barnard, who was by no means as careful or as experienced a
seaman as the hazardous nature of the service on which he was
employed would seem necessarily to demand. A proper stowage cannot be
accomplished in a careless manner, and many most disastrous accidents,
even within the limits of my own experience, have arisen from neglect
or ignorance in this particular. Coasting vessels, in the frequent hurry
and bustle attendant upon taking in or discharging cargo, are the most
liable to mishap from the want of a proper attention to stowage. The
great point is to allow no possibility of the cargo or ballast shifting
position even in the most violent rollings of the vessel. With this end,
great attention must be paid, not only to the bulk taken in, but to the
nature of the bulk, and whether there be a full or only a partial cargo.
In most kinds of freight

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Text Comparison with The Bells, and Other Poems

Page 2
By the side of the pale-faced moon.
Page 6
And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain Thrilled me--filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating, "'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door-- Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;-- This it is, and nothing more.
Page 7
" This.
Page 8
" "Be that word our sign in parting, bird or fiend," I shrieked, upstarting-- "Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore! Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken! Leave my loneliness unbroken!--quit the bust above my door! Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!" Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore.
Page 9
And when she fell in feeble health, ye blessed her--that she died! How _shall_ the ritual, then, be read?--the requiem how be sung By you--by yours, the evil eye,--by yours, the slanderous tongue That did to death the innocence that died, and died so young?" [Illustration: Lenore] _Peccavimus_; but rave not thus! and let a Sabbath song Go up to God so solemnly the dead may feel no wrong The sweet Lenore hath "gone before," with Hope, that flew beside, Leaving thee wild for the dear child that should have been thy bride-- For her, the fair and _debonair_, that now so lowly lies, The life upon her yellow hair but not within her eyes-- The life still there, upon her hair--the death upon her eyes.
Page 10
For I have revell'd, when the sun was bright I' the summer sky, in dreams of living light And loveliness,--have left my very heart In climes of my imagining, apart From mine own home, with beings that have been Of mine own thought--what more could I have seen? 'Twas once--and only once--and the wild hour From my remembrance shall not pass--some power Or spell had bound me--'twas the chilly wind Came o'er me in the night, and left behind Its image on my spirit--or the moon Shone on my slumbers in her lofty noon Too coldly--or the stars--howe'er it was That dream was as that night-wind--let it pass.
Page 12
_A DREAM WITHIN A DREAM_ Take this kiss upon the brow! And, in parting from you now, Thus much let me avow-- You are not wrong, who deem That my days have been a dream; Yet if hope has flown away In a night, or in a day, In a vision, or in none, Is it therefore the less _gone?_ _All_ that we see or seem Is but a dream within a dream.
Page 13
An opiate vapour, dewy, dim, Exhales from out her golden rim, And, softly dripping, drop by drop, Upon the quiet mountain top, Steals drowsily and musically Into the universal valley.
Page 16
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-- 'Tis 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? Well I know, now, this dim lake of Auber-- This misty mid region of Weir-- Well I know, now, this dank tarn of Auber, This ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir.
Page 17
Not that the grass--O! may it thrive! On my grave is growing or grown-- But that, while I am dead yet alive I cannot be, lady, alone.
Page 18
[Illustration: The Conqueror Worm] _SONNET--TO ZANTE_ Fair isle, that from the fairest of all flowers, Thy gentlest of all gentle names dost take! How many memories of what radiant hours At sight of thee and thine at once awake! How many scenes of what departed bliss! How many thoughts of what entombed hopes! How many visions of a maiden that is No more--no more upon thy verdant slopes! _No more!_ alas, that magical sad sound Transforming all! Thy charms shall please _no more_-- Thy memory _no more!_ Accursèd ground Henceforth I hold thy flower-enamelled shore, O hyacinthine isle! O purple Zante! "Isola d'oro! Fior di Levante!" _TO M.
Page 19
All hurriedly she knelt upon a bed Of flowers: of lilies such as rear'd the head On the fair Capo Deucato, and sprang So eagerly around about to hang Upon the flying footsteps of----deep pride-- Of her who lov'd a mortal--and so died.
Page 21
Page 23
[Illustration: Al Aaraaf] Ligeia! Ligeia! My beautiful one! Whose harshest idea Will to melody run, O! is it thy will On the breezes to toss? Or, capriciously still, Like the lone Albatross, Incumbent on night (As she on the air) To keep watch with delight .
Page 25
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 31
And they say (the starry choir And the other listening things) That Israfeli's fire Is owing to that lyre By which he sits and sings-- The trembling living wire Of those unusual strings.
Page 33
By the lakes that thus outspread Their lone waters, lone and dead,-- Their sad waters, sad and chilly With the snows of the lolling lily-- By the mountains--near the river Murmuring lowly, murmuring ever,-- By the grey woods,--by the swamp Where the toad and the newt encamp,-- By the dismal tarns and pools Where dwell the Ghouls,-- By each spot the most unholy-- In each nook.
Page 34
By a route obscure and lonely, Haunted by ill angels only, Where an Eidolon, named NIGHT, On a black throne reigns upright, I have wandered home but newly From this ultimate dim Thule.
Page 35
When the light was extinguished She covered me warm, And she prayed to the angels To keep me from harm-- To the queen of the angels To shield me from harm.
Page 37
O, she was worthy of all love! Love--as in infancy was mine-- 'Twas such as angel minds above Might envy; her young heart the shrine On which my every hope and thought Were incense--then a goodly gift, For they were childish and upright-- Pure--as her young example taught: Why did I leave it, and, adrift, Trust to the fire within, for light? We grew in age--and love--together, Roaming the forest, and the wild; My breast her shield in wintry weather-- And, when the friendly sunshine smil'd And she would mark the opening skies, _I_ saw no Heaven--but in her eyes.