454 lines
19 KiB
Plaintext
454 lines
19 KiB
Plaintext
1829
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AL AARAAF
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by Edgar Allan Poe
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PART I
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O! nothing earthly save the ray
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(Thrown back from flowers) of Beauty's eye,
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As in those gardens where the day
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Springs from the gems of Circassy-
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O! nothing earthly save the thrill
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Of melody in woodland rill-
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Or (music of the passion-hearted)
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Joy's voice so peacefully departed
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That like the murmur in the shell,
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Its echo dwelleth and will dwell-
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Oh, nothing of the dross of ours-
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Yet all the beauty- all the flowers
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That list our Love, and deck our bowers-
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Adorn yon world afar, afar-
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The wandering star.
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'Twas a sweet time for Nesace- for there
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Her world lay lolling on the golden air,
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Near four bright suns- a temporary rest-
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An oasis in desert of the blest.
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Away- away- 'mid seas of rays that roll
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Empyrean splendor o'er th' unchained soul-
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The soul that scarce (the billows are so dense)
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Can struggle to its destin'd eminence,-
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To distant spheres, from time to time, she rode
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And late to ours, the favor'd one of God-
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But, now, the ruler of an anchor'd realm,
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She throws aside the sceptre- leaves the helm,
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And, amid incense and high spiritual hymns,
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Laves in quadruple light her angel limbs.
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Now happiest, loveliest in yon lovely Earth,
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Whence sprang the "Idea of Beauty" into birth,
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(Falling in wreaths thro' many a startled star,
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Like woman's hair 'mid pearls, until, afar,
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It lit on hills Achaian, and there dwelt)
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She looked into Infinity- and knelt.
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Rich clouds, for canopies, about her curled-
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Fit emblems of the model of her world-
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Seen but in beauty- not impeding sight
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Of other beauty glittering thro' the light-
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A wreath that twined each starry form around,
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And all the opal'd air in color bound.
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All hurriedly she knelt upon a bed
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Of flowers: of lilies such as rear'd the head
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On the fair Capo Deucato, and sprang
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So eagerly around about to hang
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Upon the flying footsteps of- deep pride-
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Of her who lov'd a mortal- and so died.
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The Sephalica, budding with young bees,
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Upreared its purple stem around her knees:-
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And gemmy flower, of Trebizond misnam'd-
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Inmate of highest stars, where erst it sham'd
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All other loveliness:- its honied dew
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(The fabled nectar that the heathen knew)
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Deliriously sweet, was dropp'd from Heaven,
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And fell on gardens of the unforgiven
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In Trebizond- and on a sunny flower
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So like its own above that, to this hour,
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It still remaineth, torturing the bee
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With madness, and unwonted reverie:
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In Heaven, and all its environs, the leaf
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And blossom of the fairy plant in grief
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Disconsolate linger- grief that hangs her head,
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Repenting follies that full long have Red,
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Heaving her white breast to the balmy air,
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Like guilty beauty, chasten'd and more fair:
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Nyctanthes too, as sacred as the light
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She fears to perfume, perfuming the night:
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And Clytia, pondering between many a sun,
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While pettish tears adown her petals run:
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And that aspiring flower that sprang on Earth,
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And died, ere scarce exalted into birth,
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Bursting its odorous heart in spirit to wing
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Its way to Heaven, from garden of a king:
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And Valisnerian lotus, thither flown"
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From struggling with the waters of the Rhone:
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And thy most lovely purple perfume, Zante!
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Isola d'oro!- Fior di Levante!
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And the Nelumbo bud that floats for ever
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With Indian Cupid down the holy river-
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Fair flowers, and fairy! to whose care is given
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To bear the Goddess' song, in odors, up to Heaven:
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"Spirit! that dwellest where,
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In the deep sky,
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The terrible and fair,
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In beauty vie!
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Beyond the line of blue-
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The boundary of the star
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Which turneth at the view
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Of thy barrier and thy bar-
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Of the barrier overgone
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By the comets who were cast
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From their pride and from their throne
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To be drudges till the last-
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To be carriers of fire
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(The red fire of their heart)
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With speed that may not tire
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And with pain that shall not part-
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Who livest- that we know-
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In Eternity- we feel-
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But the shadow of whose brow
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What spirit shall reveal?
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Tho' the beings whom thy Nesace,
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Thy messenger hath known
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Have dream'd for thy Infinity
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A model of their own-
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Thy will is done, O God!
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The star hath ridden high
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Thro' many a tempest, but she rode
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Beneath thy burning eye;
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And here, in thought, to thee-
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In thought that can alone
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Ascend thy empire and so be
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A partner of thy throne-
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By winged Fantasy,
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My embassy is given,
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Till secrecy shall knowledge be
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In the environs of Heaven."
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She ceas'd- and buried then her burning cheek
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Abash'd, amid the lilies there, to seek
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A shelter from the fervor of His eye;
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For the stars trembled at the Deity.
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She stirr'd not- breath'd not- for a voice was there
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How solemnly pervading the calm air!
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A sound of silence on the startled ear
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Which dreamy poets name "the music of the sphere."
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Ours is a world of words: Quiet we call
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"Silence"- which is the merest word of all.
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All Nature speaks, and ev'n ideal things
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Flap shadowy sounds from visionary wings-
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But ah! not so when, thus, in realms on high
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The eternal voice of God is passing by,
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And the red winds are withering in the sky:-
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"What tho 'in worlds which sightless cycles run,
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Linked to a little system, and one sun-
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Where all my love is folly and the crowd
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Still think my terrors but the thunder cloud,
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The storm, the earthquake, and the ocean-wrath-
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(Ah! will they cross me in my angrier path?)
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What tho' in worlds which own a single sun
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The sands of Time grow dimmer as they run,
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Yet thine is my resplendency, so given
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To bear my secrets thro' the upper Heaven!
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Leave tenantless thy crystal home, and fly,
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With all thy train, athwart the moony sky-
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Apart- like fire-flies in Sicilian night,
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And wing to other worlds another light!
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Divulge the secrets of thy embassy
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To the proud orbs that twinkle- and so be
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To ev'ry heart a barrier and a ban
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Lest the stars totter in the guilt of man!"
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Up rose the maiden in the yellow night,
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The single-mooned eve!- on Earth we plight
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Our faith to one love- and one moon adore-
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The birth-place of young Beauty had no more.
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As sprang that yellow star from downy hours
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Up rose the maiden from her shrine of flowers,
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And bent o'er sheeny mountains and dim plain
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Her way, but left not yet her Therasaean reign.
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PART II
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High on a mountain of enamell'd head-
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Such as the drowsy shepherd on his bed
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Of giant pasturage lying at his ease,
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Raising his heavy eyelid, starts and sees
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With many a mutter'd "hope to be forgiven"
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What time the moon is quadrated in Heaven-
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Of rosy head that, towering far away
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Into the sunlit ether, caught the ray
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Of sunken suns at eve- at noon of night,
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While the moon danc'd with the fair stranger light-
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Uprear'd upon such height arose a pile
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Of gorgeous columns on th' unburthen'd air,
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Flashing from Parian marble that twin smile
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Far down upon the wave that sparkled there,
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And nursled the young mountain in its lair.
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Of molten stars their pavement, such as fall
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Thro' the ebon air, besilvering the pall
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Of their own dissolution, while they die-
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Adorning then the dwellings of the sky.
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A dome, by linked light from Heaven let down,
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Sat gently on these columns as a crown-
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A window of one circular diamond, there,
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Look'd out above into the purple air,
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And rays from God shot down that meteor chain
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And hallow'd all the beauty twice again,
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Save, when, between th' empyrean and that ring,
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Some eager spirit Flapp'd his dusky wing.
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But on the pillars Seraph eyes have seen
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The dimness of this world: that greyish green
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That Nature loves the best Beauty's grave
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Lurk'd in each cornice, round each architrave-
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And every sculptur'd cherub thereabout
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That from his marble dwelling peered out,
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Seem'd earthly in the shadow of his niche-
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Achaian statues in a world so rich!
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Friezes from Tadmor and Persepolis-
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From Balbec, and the stilly, clear abyss
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Of beautiful Gomorrah! O, the wave
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Is now upon thee- but too late to save!
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Sound loves to revel in a summer night:
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Witness the murmur of the grey twilight
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That stole upon the ear, in Eyraco,
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Of many a wild star-gazer long ago-
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That stealeth ever on the ear of him
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Who, musing, gazeth on the distance dim,
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And sees the darkness coming as a cloud-
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Is not its form- its voice- most palpable and loud?
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But what is this?- it cometh, and it brings
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A music with it- 'tis the rush of wings-
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A pause- and then a sweeping, falling strain
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And Nesace is in her halls again.
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From the wild energy of wanton haste
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Her cheeks were flushing, and her lips apart;
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And zone that clung around her gentle waist
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Had burst beneath the heaving of her heart.
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Within the centre of that hall to breathe,
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She paused and panted, Zanthe! all beneath,
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The fairy light that kiss'd her golden hair
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And long'd to rest, yet could but sparkle there.
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Young flowers were whispering in melody
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To happy flowers that night- and tree to tree;
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Fountains were gushing music as they fell
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In many a star-lit grove, or moon-lit dell;
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Yet silence came upon material things-
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Fair flowers, bright waterfalls and angel wings-
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And sound alone that from the spirit sprang
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Bore burthen to the charm the maiden sang:
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"'Neath the blue-bell or streamer-
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Or tufted wild spray
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That keeps, from the dreamer,
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The moonbeam away-
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Bright beings! that ponder,
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With half closing eyes,
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On the stars which your wonder
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Hath drawn from the skies,
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Till they glance thro' the shade, and
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Come down to your brow
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Like- eyes of the maiden
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Who calls on you now-
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Arise! from your dreaming
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In violet bowers,
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To duty beseeming
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These star-litten hours-
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And shake from your tresses
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Encumber'd with dew
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The breath of those kisses
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That cumber them too-
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(O! how, without you, Love!
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Could angels be blest?)
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Those kisses of true Love
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That lull'd ye to rest!
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Up!- shake from your wing
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Each hindering thing:
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The dew of the night-
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It would weigh down your flight
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And true love caresses-
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O, leave them apart!
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They are light on the tresses,
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But lead on the heart.
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Ligeia! Ligeia!
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My beautiful one!
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Whose harshest idea
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Will to melody run,
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O! is it thy will
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On the breezes to toss?
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Or, capriciously still,
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Like the lone Albatros,
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Incumbent on night
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(As she on the air)
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To keep watch with delight
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On the harmony there?
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Ligeia! wherever
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Thy image may be,
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No magic shall sever
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Thy music from thee.
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Thou hast bound many eyes
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In a dreamy sleep-
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But the strains still arise
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Which thy vigilance keep-
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The sound of the rain,
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Which leaps down to the flower-
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And dances again
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In the rhythm of the shower-
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The murmur that springs
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From the growing of grass
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Are the music of things-
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But are modell'd, alas!-
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Away, then, my dearest,
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Oh! hie thee away
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To the springs that lie clearest
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Beneath the moon-ray-
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To lone lake that smiles,
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In its dream of deep rest,
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At the many star-isles
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That enjewel its breast-
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Where wild flowers, creeping,
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Have mingled their shade,
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On its margin is sleeping
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Full many a maid-
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Some have left the cool glade, and
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Have slept with the bee-
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Arouse them, my maiden,
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On moorland and lea-
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Go! breathe on their slumber,
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All softly in ear,
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Thy musical number
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They slumbered to hear-
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For what can awaken
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An angel so soon,
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Whose sleep hath been taken
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Beneath the cold moon,
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As the spell which no slumber
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Of witchery may test,
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The rhythmical number
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Which lull'd him to rest?"
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Spirits in wing, and angels to the view,
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A thousand seraphs burst th' Empyrean thro',
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Young dreams still hovering on their drowsy flight-
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Seraphs in all but "Knowledge," the keen light
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That fell, refracted, thro' thy bounds, afar,
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O Death! from eye of God upon that star:
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Sweet was that error- sweeter still that death-
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Sweet was that error- even with us the breath
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Of Science dims the mirror of our joy-
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To them 'twere the Simoom, and would destroy-
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For what (to them) availeth it to know
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That Truth is Falsehood- or that Bliss is Woe?
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Sweet was their death- with them to die was rife
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With the last ecstasy of satiate life-
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Beyond that death no immortality-
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But sleep that pondereth and is not "to be'!-
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And there- oh! may my weary spirit dwell-
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Apart from Heaven's Eternity- and yet how far from Hell!
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What guilty spirit, in what shrubbery dim,
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Heard not the stirring summons of that hymn?
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But two: they fell: for Heaven no grace imparts
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To those who hear not for their beating hearts.
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A maiden-angel and her seraph-lover-
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O! where (and ye may seek the wide skies over)
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Was Love, the blind, near sober Duty known?
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Unguided Love hath fallen- 'mid "tears of perfect moan."
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He was a goodly spirit- he who fell:
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A wanderer by moss-y-mantled well-
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A gazer on the lights that shine above-
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A dreamer in the moonbeam by his love:
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What wonder? for each star is eye-like there,
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And looks so sweetly down on Beauty's hair-
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And they, and ev'ry mossy spring were holy
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To his love-haunted heart and melancholy.
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The night had found (to him a night of woe)
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Upon a mountain crag, young Angelo-
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Beetling it bends athwart the solemn sky,
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And scowls on starry worlds that down beneath it lie.
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Here sat he with his love- his dark eye bent
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With eagle gaze along the firmament:
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Now turn'd it upon her- but ever then
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It trembled to the orb of EARTH again.
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"Ianthe, dearest, see- how dim that ray!
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How lovely 'tis to look so far away!
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She seem'd not thus upon that autumn eve
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I left her gorgeous halls- nor mourn'd to leave.
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That eve- that eve- I should remember well-
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The sun-ray dropp'd in Lemnos, with a spell
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On th' arabesque carving of a gilded hall
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Wherein I sate, and on the draperied wall-
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And on my eyelids- O the heavy light!
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How drowsily it weigh'd them into night!
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On flowers, before, and mist, and love they ran
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With Persian Saadi in his Gulistan:
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But O that light!- I slumber'd- Death, the while,
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Stole o'er my senses in that lovely isle
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So softly that no single silken hair
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Awoke that slept- or knew that he was there.
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"The last spot of Earth's orb I trod upon
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Was a proud temple call'd the Parthenon;
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More beauty clung around her column'd wall
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Than ev'n thy glowing bosom beats withal,
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And when old Time my wing did disenthral
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Thence sprang I- as the eagle from his tower,
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And years I left behind me in an hour.
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What time upon her airy bounds I hung,
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One half the garden of her globe was flung
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Unrolling as a chart unto my view-
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Tenantless cities of the desert too!
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Ianthe, beauty crowded on me then,
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And half I wish'd to be again of men."
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"My Angelo! and why of them to be?
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A brighter dwelling-place is here for thee-
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And greener fields than in yon world above,
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And woman's loveliness- and passionate love."
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"But, list, Ianthe! when the air so soft
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Fail'd, as my pennon'd spirit leapt aloft,
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Perhaps my brain grew dizzy- but the world
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I left so late was into chaos hurl'd-
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Sprang from her station, on the winds apart.
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And roll'd, a flame, the fiery Heaven athwart.
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Methought, my sweet one, then I ceased to soar
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And fell- not swiftly as I rose before,
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But with a downward, tremulous motion thro'
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Light, brazen rays, this golden star unto!
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Nor long the measure of my falling hours,
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For nearest of all stars was thine to ours-
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Dread star! that came, amid a night of mirth,
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A red Daedalion on the timid Earth."
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"We came- and to thy Earth- but not to us
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Be given our lady's bidding to discuss:
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We came, my love; around, above, below,
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Gay fire-fly of the night we come and go,
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Nor ask a reason save the angel-nod
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She grants to us, as granted by her God-
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But, Angelo, than thine grey Time unfurl'd
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Never his fairy wing O'er fairier world!
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Dim was its little disk, and angel eyes
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Alone could see the phantom in the skies,
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When first Al Aaraaf knew her course to be
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Headlong thitherward o'er the starry sea-
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But when its glory swell'd upon the sky,
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As glowing Beauty's bust beneath man's eye,
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We paused before the heritage of men,
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And thy star trembled- as doth Beauty then!"
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Thus, in discourse, the lovers whiled away
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The night that waned and waned and brought no day.
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They fell: for Heaven to them no hope imparts
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Who hear not for the beating of their hearts.
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-THE END-
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.
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