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ULALUME: A BALLAD.
——
THE skies they were ashen and sober;
The leaves they were
crispéd
and sere —
The leaves they were
withering
and sere;
It was night in the lonesome October
Of my most immemorial year;
It was hard by the dim lake of Auber,
In the misty mid region
of Weir —
It was down by the dank tarn of Auber,
In the ghoul-haunted
woodland
of Weir.
Here once, through an alley Titanic,
Of cypress, I roamed with
my soul —
Of cypress, with
Psyché,
my soul.
These were days when my heart was volcanic
As the scoriac rivers that
roll —
As the lavas that restlessly
roll
Their sulphurous currents down Yaanek
In the ultimate climes of
the pole —
That groan as they roll down Mount Yaanek
In the realms of the boreal
pole.
Our talk had been serious and sober,
But our thoughts they were
palsied and sere —
Our memories were
treacherous
and sere —
For we knew not the month was October,
And we marked not the night
of the year —
(Ah, night of all nights
in the year!)
We noted not the dim lake of Auber,
(Though once we had
journeyed
down here)
—
Remember'd not the dank tarn of Auber,
Nor the ghoul-haunted
woodland
of Weir.
And now, as the night was senescent,
And star-dials pointed to
morn —
As the star-dials hinted
of morn —
At the end of our path a liquescent
And nebulous lustre was
born,
Out of which a miraculous crescent
Arose with a duplicate horn
—
Astarte's bediamonded crescent
Distinct with its duplicate
horn.
And I said — "She is warmer than Dian:
She rolls through an ether
of sighs —
She revels in a region of
sighs:
She has seen that the tears are not dry on
These cheeks, where the
worm never dies,
And has come past the stars of the Lion
To point us the path to
the skies —
To the Lethean peace of
the skies —
Come up, in despite of the Lion,
To shine on us with her
bright eyes —
Come up through the lair of the Lion,
With love in her luminous
eyes."
But Psyché, uplifting her finger,
Said — "Sadly this star
I mistrust —
Her pallor I strangely
mistrust:
Oh, hasten! — oh, let us not linger!
Oh, fly! — let us fly! — for
we must."
In terror she spoke, letting sink her
Wings till they trailed
in the dust —
In agony sobbed letting sink her
Plumes till they trailed
in the dust —
Till they sorrowfully
trailed
in the dust.
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I replied — "This is nothing but dreaming:
Let us on by this tremulous
light —
Let us bathe in this
crystalline
light!
Its sybilic splendor is beaming
With hope and in beauty
to-night:
See, it flickers up the
sky through the night!
Ah, we safely may trust to its gleaming,
And be sure it will lead
us aright —
We safely may trust to a gleaming
That cannot but guide us
aright,
Since it flickers up to
heaven through the night."
Thus I pacified Psyché and kissed her,
And tempted her out of her
gloom —
And conquered her scruples
and gloom;
And we passed to the end of the vista,
But were stopped by the
door of a tomb —
By the door of a legended
tomb;
And I said, "What is written, sweet sister,
On the door of this legended
tomb?"
She replied, "Ulalume — Ulalume —
'T is the vault of thy lost
Ulalume!"
Then my heart it grew ashen and sober
As the leaves that were
crispéd and sere —
As the leaves that were
withering and sere,
And I cried, "It was surely October
On this very night
of last year,
That I journeyed — I
journeyed
down here —
That I brought a dread
burden
down here —
On this night of all nights
in the year
Oh, what demon has tempted
me here?
Well I know, now, this dim lake of Auber,
This misty mid region of
Weir —
Well I know, now, this dank tarn of Auber,
In the ghoul-haunted
woodland
of Weir."
Said we then — the two, then — "Ah, can it
Have been that the
woodlandish
ghouls —
The pitiful, the merciful
ghouls —
To bar up our way and to ban it
From the secret that lies
in these wolds —
From the thing that lies
hidden in these wolds —
Have drawn up the spectre of a planet
From the limbo of lunary
souls —
This sinfully scintillant planet
From the hell of the
planetary
souls?" |
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