The Poetical Works of Edgar Allan Poe: With an Original Memoir |
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Page 129
... ALESSANDRA and CASTIGLIONE . ALESSANDRA . Thou art sad , Castiglione . CASTIGLIONE . Sad ! -not I. Oh , I'm the happiest , happiest man in Rome ! A few days more , thou knowest , my Alessandra , Will make thee mine . Oh , I am very ...
... ALESSANDRA and CASTIGLIONE . ALESSANDRA . Thou art sad , Castiglione . CASTIGLIONE . Sad ! -not I. Oh , I'm the happiest , happiest man in Rome ! A few days more , thou knowest , my Alessandra , Will make thee mine . Oh , I am very ...
Page 130
... ALESSANDRA . Thou didst . Thou art not well . Thou hast indulged Too much of late , and I am vexed to see it . Late hours and wine , Castiglione , -- these Will ruin thee ! thou art already altered— Thy looks are haggard — nothing so ...
... ALESSANDRA . Thou didst . Thou art not well . Thou hast indulged Too much of late , and I am vexed to see it . Late hours and wine , Castiglione , -- these Will ruin thee ! thou art already altered— Thy looks are haggard — nothing so ...
Page 131
... ALESSANDRA . Do it ! I would have thee drop Thy riotous company , too - fellows low born- Ill suit the like with old Di Broglio's heir And Alessandra's husband . CASTIGLIONE . I will drop them . ALESSANDRA . Thou wilt -- thou must ...
... ALESSANDRA . Do it ! I would have thee drop Thy riotous company , too - fellows low born- Ill suit the like with old Di Broglio's heir And Alessandra's husband . CASTIGLIONE . I will drop them . ALESSANDRA . Thou wilt -- thou must ...
Page 132
... ALESSANDRA . Then see to it ! -pay more attention , sir , To a becoming carriage — much thou wantest In dignity . CASTIGLIONE . Much , much , oh much I want In proper dignity . ALESSANDRA ( haughtily ) . Thou mockest me , sir 132 ...
... ALESSANDRA . Then see to it ! -pay more attention , sir , To a becoming carriage — much thou wantest In dignity . CASTIGLIONE . Much , much , oh much I want In proper dignity . ALESSANDRA ( haughtily ) . Thou mockest me , sir 132 ...
Page 133
With an Original Memoir Edgar Allan Poe. ALESSANDRA ( haughtily ) . Thou mockest me , sir ! CASTIGLIONE ( abstractedly ) . Sweet , gentle Lalage ! ALESSANDRA . Heard I aright ? I speak to him he speaks of Lalage ! Sir Count ! ( places ...
With an Original Memoir Edgar Allan Poe. ALESSANDRA ( haughtily ) . Thou mockest me , sir ! CASTIGLIONE ( abstractedly ) . Sweet , gentle Lalage ! ALESSANDRA . Heard I aright ? I speak to him he speaks of Lalage ! Sir Count ! ( places ...
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Common terms and phrases
Aaraaf Al Aaraaf ALESSANDRA amid angels ANNABEL LEE BALDAZZAR beauty bells beneath bird breast breath bright Broadway Journal calf or mor calf or morocco CASTIGLIONE chamber door cloth death deep didst dost dream dwell Earl of Leicester Earth EDGAR ALLAN POE extra eyes fair fancy feel fell flowers gentle glory golden half calf happy hath hear heart Heaven Hope Indian Cupid Israfel JACINTA LALAGE Lenore light lone loveliness maiden melody moon murmur N. P. WILLIS never Nevermore night o'er odors passion poem poet Poetic POETIC PRINCIPLE Poetry POLITIAN quarrel Quoth the Raven rhyme SCENES FROM POLITIAN Seraph shadow sigh skies sleep smile song sorrow soul sound speak spirit stars strange sweet tale tears thee thine things thou art thou hast throne Truth unto voice vols wave wild wind wing words young
Popular passages
Page 50 - Nevermore." "Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! prophet still, if bird or devil! Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore, Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted — On this home by Horror haunted — tell me truly, I implore : Is there — is there balm in Gilead? — tell me — tell me, I implore!
Page 44 - This it is and nothing more." Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, "Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, That I scarce was sure I heard you" — here I opened wide the door: — Darkness there and nothing more.
Page 48 - Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, "Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store, Caught from some unhappy master, whom unmerciful disaster Followed fast and followed faster, till his songs one burden bore, — Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore Of "Never — nevermore.
Page 80 - IT WAS many and many a year ago, In a kingdom by the sea, That a maiden there lived whom you may know By the name of ANNABEL LEE; And this maiden she lived with no other thought Than to love and be loved by me.
Page 76 - Oh, the bells, bells, bells! What a tale their terror tells Of Despair! How they clang, and clash, and roar! What a horror they outpour On the bosom of the palpitating air! Yet the ear it fully knows, By the twanging, And the clanging, How the danger ebbs and flows; Yet the ear distinctly tells, In the jangling, And the wrangling, How the danger sinks and swells, By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells Of the bells Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells In the clamor...
Page 264 - I see the lights of the village Gleam through the rain and the mist, And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me, That my soul cannot resist : A feeling of sadness and longing, That is not akin to pain, And resembles sorrow only As the mist resembles the rain.
Page 74 - Oh, from out the sounding cells, What a gush of euphony voluminously wells! How it swells! How it dwells On the Future! how it tells Of the rapture that impels To the swinging and the ringing Of the bells, bells, bells, Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells— To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells!
Page 47 - But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour. Nothing farther then he uttered — not a feather then he fluttered— Till I scarcely more than muttered, "Other friends have flown before — On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.
Page 81 - With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven Coveted her and me. And this was the reason that, long ago, In this kingdom by the sea, A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling My beautiful Annabel Lee; So that her highborn kinsmen came And bore her away from me, To shut her up in a sepulchre In this kingdom by the sea.
Page 75 - Hear the loud alarum bells— Brazen bells! What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells! In the startled ear of night How they scream out their affright! Too much horrified to speak, They can only shriek, shriek, Out of tune, In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire...