The works of Edgar Allan Poe [with a mem. by R.W. Griswold].

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I
liii
II
47
III
82
IV
96
V
104
VI
115
VII
125
VIII
144
XVII
331
XVIII
338
XIX
345
XX
352
XXI
358
XXII
362
XXIII
373
XXIV
378

IX
155
X
172
XI
205
XII
254
XIII
273
XIV
283
XV
302
XVI
317
XXV
394
XXVI
407
XXVII
425
XXVIII
434
XXIX
441
XXX
457
XXXI
463

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Népszerű szakaszok

279. oldal - DURING THE WHOLE OF a dull, dark, and soundless day in the autumn of the year, when the clouds hung oppressively low in the heavens, I had been passing alone, on horseback, through a singularly dreary tract of country, and at length found myself, as the shades of evening drew on, within view of the melancholy House of Usher.
288. oldal - Banners yellow, glorious, golden, On its roof did float and flow; (This, all this, was in the olden Time, long ago) And every gentle air that dallied, In that sweet day, Along the ramparts plumed and pallid, A winged odor went away.
442. oldal - And the seraphs sob at vermin fangs In human gore imbued. Out - out are the lights - out all! And over each quivering form, The curtain, a funeral pall, Comes down with the rush of a storm, And the angels, all pallid and wan, Uprising, unveiling, affirm That the play is the tragedy, 'Man,' And its hero the Conqueror Worm.
v. oldal - Helen, thy beauty is to me Like those Nicean barks of yore, That gently, o'er a perfumed sea, The weary, way-worn wanderer bore To his own native shore. On desperate seas long wont to roam, Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face, Thy Naiad airs have brought me home To the glory that was Greece, And the grandeur that was Rome.
279. oldal - I say insufferable; for the feeling was unrelieved by any of that half-pleasurable, because poetic, sentiment with which the mind usually receives even the sternest natural images of the desolate or terrible.
364. oldal - On! on!"— but o'er the Past (Dim gulf!) my spirit hovering lies Mute, motionless, aghast! For, alas! alas! with me The light of Life is o'er! "No more — no more...
441. oldal - Mimes, in the form of God on high, Mutter and mumble low, And hither and thither fly — Mere puppets they, who come and go At bidding of vast formless things That shift the scenery to and fro, Flapping from out their Condor wings Invisible Wo!
73. oldal - Readily; I have solved others of an abstruseness ten thousand times greater. Circumstances, and a certain bias of mind, have led me to take interest in such riddles, and it may well be doubted whether human ingenuity can construct an enigma of the kind which human ingenuity may not, by proper application, resolve.
286. oldal - An excited and highly distempered ideality threw a sulphureous lustre over all. His long improvised dirges will ring forever in my ears. Among other things, I hold painfully in mind a certain singular perversion and amplification of the wild air of the last waltz of Von Weber.
442. oldal - Man doth not yield himself to the angels, nor unto death utterly, save only through the weakness of his feeble will.

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