Collected Works of Poe by Edgar Allan Poe (novel books to read .TXT) ๐
"'That they are fickle-minded and treacherous is as true as the Pentateuch," said Buzi-Ben-Levi, "but that is only toward the people of Adonai. When was it ever known that the Ammonites proved wanting to their own interests? Methinks it is no great stretch of generosity to allow us lambs for the altar of the Lord, receiving in lieu thereof thirty silver shekels per head !"
"Thou forgettest, however, Ben-Levi," replied Abel-Phittim, "that the Roman Pompey, who is now impiously besieging the city of the Most High, has no assurity that we apply not the lambs thus purchased for the altar, to the sustenance of the body, rather than of the spirit."
"Now, by the five corners of my beard!" shouted the Pharisee, who belonged to the sect called The Dashers (that little knot of saints whose manner of _dashing _and lacerating the feet against the pavement was long a thorn
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AL AARAAF* PART I.O ! NOTHING earthly save the ray (Thrown back from flowers) of Beauty's eye, As in those gardens where the day Springs from the gems of Circassy - O ! nothing earthly save the thrill Of melody in woodland rill - Or (music of the passion-hearted) Joy's voice so peacefully departed That like the murmur in the shell, Its echo dwelleth and will dwell - Oh, nothing of the dross of ours - Yet all the beauty - all the flowers That list our Love, and deck our bowers - Adorn yon world afar, afar - The wandering star.
'Twas a sweet time for Nesace - for there Her world lay lolling on the golden air, Near four bright suns - a temporary rest - An oasis in desert of the blest.
* A star was discovered by Tycho Brahe which appeared suddenly in the heavens - attained, in a few days, a brilliancy surpassing that of Jupiter - then as suddenly disappeared, and has never been seen since.Away - away - 'mid seas of rays that roll Empyrean splendor o'er th' unchained soul - The soul that scarce (the billows are so dense) Can struggle to its destin'd eminence - To distant spheres, from time to time, she rode, And late to ours, the favour'd one of God - But, now, the ruler of an anchor'd realm, She throws aside the sceptre - leaves the helm, And, amid incense and high spiritual hymns, Laves in quadruple light her angel limbs.
Now happiest, loveliest in yon lovely Earth, Whence sprang the "Idea of Beauty" into birth, (Falling in wreaths thro' many a startled star, Like woman's hair 'mid pearls, until, afar, It lit on hills Achaian, and there dwelt) She look'd into Infinity - and knelt. Rich clouds, for canopies, about her curled - Fit emblems of the model of her world - Seen but in beauty - not impeding sight Of other beauty glittering thro' the light - A wreath that twined each starry form around, And all the opal'd air in color bound. 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 - ๏ฟฝOf her who lov'd a mortal - and so died. The Sephalica, budding with young bees, Uprear'd its purple stem around her knees : * On Santa Maura - olim Deucadia. ๏ฟฝ Sappho.*And gemmy flower, of Trebizond misnam'd - Inmate of highest stars, where erst it sham'd All other loveliness : its honied dew (The fabled nectar that the heathen knew) Deliriously sweet, was dropp'd from Heaven, And fell on gardens of the unforgiven In Trebizond - and on a sunny flower So like its own above that, to this hour, It still remaineth, torturing the bee With madness, and unwonted reverie : In Heaven, and all its environs, the leaf And blossom of the fairy plant, in grief Disconsolate linger - grief that hangs her head, Repenting follies that full long have fled, Heaving her white breast to the balmy air, Like guilty beauty, chasten'd, and more fair : Nyctanthes too, as sacred as the light She fears to perfume, perfuming the night : ๏ฟฝAnd Clytia pondering between many a sun, While pettish tears adown her petals run : ๏ฟฝAnd that aspiring flower that sprang on Earth - And died, ere scarce exalted into birth, Bursting its odorous heart in spirit to wing Its way to Heaven, from garden of a king :
* This flower is much noticed by Lewenhoeck and Tournefort. The bee, feeding upon its blossom, becomes intoxicated. ๏ฟฝ Clytia - The Chrysanthemum Peruvianum, or, to employ a better-known term, the turnsol - which continually turns towards the sun, covers itself, like Peru, the country from which it comes, with dewy clouds which cool and refresh its flowers during the most violent heat of the day. - _B. de St. Pierre_. ๏ฟฝ There is cultivated in the king's garden at Paris, a species of serpentine aloes without prickles, whose large and beautiful flower exhales a strong odour of the vanilla, during the time of its expansion, which is very short. It does not blow till towards the month of July - you then perceive it gradually open its petals - expand them - fade and die. - _St. Pierre_.*And Valisnerian lotus thither flown From struggling with the waters of the Rhone : ๏ฟฝAnd thy most lovely purple perfume, Zante ! Isola d'oro ! - Fior di Levante ! ๏ฟฝAnd the Nelumbo bud that floats for ever With Indian Cupid down the holy river - Fair flowers, and fairy ! to whose care is given ๏ฟฝ To bear the Goddess' song, in odors, up to Heaven :
"Spirit ! that dwellest where, In the deep sky, The terrible and fair, In beauty vie ! Beyond the line of blue - The boundary of the star Which turneth at the view Of thy barrier and thy bar - Of the barrier overgone By the comets who were cast From their pride, and from their throne To be drudges till the last - To be carriers of fire (The red fire of their heart) With speed that may not tire And with pain that shall not part - * There is found, in the Rhone, a beautiful lily of the Valisnerian kind. Its stem will stretch to the length of three or four feet - thus preserving its head above water in the swellings of the river. ๏ฟฝ The Hyacinth. ๏ฟฝ It is a fiction of the Indians, that Cupid was first seen floating in one of these down the river Ganges - and that he still loves the cradle of his childhood. ๏ฟฝ And golden vials full of odors which are the prayers of the saints. - _Rev. St. John_.Who livest - that we know - In Eternity - we feel - But the shadow of whose brow What spirit shall reveal ? Tho' the beings whom thy Nesace, Thy messenger hath known Have dream'd for thy Infinity *A model of their own - Thy will is done, Oh, God ! The star hath ridden high Thro' many a tempest, but she rode Beneath thy burning eye ; And here, in thought, to thee - In thought that can alone Ascend thy empire and so be A partner of thy throne -
* The Humanitarians held that God was to be understood as having a really human form. - _Vide Clarke's Sermons_, vol. 1, page 26, fol. edit. The drift of Milton's argument, leads him to employ language which would appear, at first sight, to verge upon their doctrine ; but it will be seen immediately, that he guards himself against the charge of having adopted one of the most ignorant errors of the dark ages of the church. - _Dr. Sumner's Notes on Milton's Christian Doctrine_. This opinion, in spite of many testimonies to the contrary, could never have been very general. Andeus, a Syrian of Mesopotamia, was condemned for the opinion, as heretical. He lived in the beginning of the fourth century. His disciples were called Anthropmorphites. - _Vide Du Pin_. Among Milton's poems are these lines: - Dicite sacrorum pr๏ฟฝsides nemorum De๏ฟฝ, &c. Quis ille primus cujus ex imagine Natura solers finxit humanum genus ? Eternus, incorruptus, ๏ฟฝqu๏ฟฝvus polo, Unusque et universus exemplar Dei. - And afterwards, Non cui profundum C๏ฟฝcitas lumen dedit Dirc๏ฟฝus augur vidit hunc alto sinu, &c.*By winged Fantasy, My embassy is given, Till secrecy shall knowledge be In the environs of Heaven."
She ceas'd - and buried then her burning cheek Abash'd, amid the lilies there, to seek A shelter from the fervour of His eye ; For the stars trembled at the Deity. She stirr'd not - breath'd not - for a voice was there How solemnly pervading the calm air ! A sound of silence on the startled ear Which dreamy poets name "the music of the sphere." Ours is a world of words : Quiet we call "Silence" - which is the merest word of all. All Nature speaks, and ev'n ideal things Flap shadowy sounds from visionary wings - But ah ! not so when, thus, in realms on high The eternal voice of God is passing by, And the red winds are withering in the sky !
๏ฟฝ"What tho' in worlds which sightless cycles run, Link'd to a little system, and one sun - Where all my love is folly and the crowd Still think my terrors but the thunder cloud, The storm, the earthquake, and the ocean-wrath - (Ah ! will they cross me in my angrier path ?) What tho' in worlds which own a single sun The sands of Time grow dimmer as they run, * Seltsamen Tochter Jovis
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