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

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I
5
II
32
III
64
IV
80
V
88
VI
97
VII
109
VIII
126
XVII
311
XVIII
318
XIX
325
XX
332
XXI
338
XXII
342
XXIII
354
XXIV
360

IX
137
X
154
XI
187
XII
236
XIII
255
XIV
265
XV
282
XVI
297
XXV
374
XXVI
387
XXVII
407
XXVIII
416
XXIX
423
XXX
439
XXXI
445

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261. 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.
268. 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.
424. 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.
261. 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.
344. 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...
423. 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!
55. 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.
267. 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.
424. 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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