The tales and poems of Edgar Allan Poe, with biogr. essay by J.H. Ingram, Volume 41884 |
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Page 11
... hundred miles from Kams- chatka , was arrested by an officer of the Empress , who had changed her mind , and now forbade his proceeding . He was put into a close carriage , and driven day and night , without stopping , till he reached ...
... hundred miles from Kams- chatka , was arrested by an officer of the Empress , who had changed her mind , and now forbade his proceeding . He was put into a close carriage , and driven day and night , without stopping , till he reached ...
Page 14
... hundred and thirty miles above the mouth of the river - thence , bending to the south - west across the desert , over the mountains about where the head waters of the Platte and Yellowstone take rise , and , along the south branch of ...
... hundred and thirty miles above the mouth of the river - thence , bending to the south - west across the desert , over the mountains about where the head waters of the Platte and Yellowstone take rise , and , along the south branch of ...
Page 16
... hundred dollars ; when we proceeded to Petite Côte for the purpose of getting our equipments , and raising as many men as we could for the voyage . * Petite Côte is a small place on the north bank of the Missouri , about twenty miles ...
... hundred dollars ; when we proceeded to Petite Côte for the purpose of getting our equipments , and raising as many men as we could for the voyage . * Petite Côte is a small place on the north bank of the Missouri , about twenty miles ...
Page 18
... hundred miles up the river ( should we proceed so far ) and then we hoped to procure an Indian occasionally to interpret , should it be necessary ; but we had resolved to avoid , as far as possible , any meetings with the Indians , and ...
... hundred miles up the river ( should we proceed so far ) and then we hoped to procure an Indian occasionally to interpret , should it be necessary ; but we had resolved to avoid , as far as possible , any meetings with the Indians , and ...
Page 23
... hundred weight of pork , six hundred weight of biscuit , and six hundred weight of pemmican . This we had made at Petite Côte , by the Canadians , who told us that it was used by the North - West Fur Com- pany in all their long voyages ...
... hundred weight of pork , six hundred weight of biscuit , and six hundred weight of pemmican . This we had made at Petite Côte , by the Canadians , who told us that it was used by the North - West Fur Com- pany in all their long voyages ...
Common terms and phrases
14 King William Agathos Al Aaraaf angels ANNABEL LEE appearance Assiniboins Baldazzar beautiful beaver bells boat breast Canadians Charmion dark dear Dian death dream earth edition encampment Etchings eyes fancy feet fell flowers friends Goodfellow Greely hath heart Heaven HENRI VAN LAUN Hop-Frog hundred Indians island Israfel J. C. Nimmo Jacinta King William Street Lake Lalage length light look miles Missouri moon Mountains never Nevermore night Nimmo and Bain o'er odour Oinos Old Charley ourang-outangs party passed PAUL AVRIL Pennifeather PETER ANTHONY MOTTEUX Petite Côte piroque poem poetical Politian Publications of J. C. Rattleborough river Rodman savages seemed shadow shore Shuttleworthy sigh Sioux slumber sorrow soul speak spirit stars strange stream sweet terror Tetons thee thine things Thornton thou art thought trees truth unto voice voyage wild wind wings words
Popular passages
Page 223 - ONCE upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore, While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping — rapping at my chamber door. "'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door — Only this, and nothing more.
Page 232 - Iron bells! What a world of solemn thought their monody compels ! In the silence of the night How we .shiver with affright At the melancholy menace of their tone ! For every sound that floats From the rust within their throats Is a groan.
Page 212 - Death has left on her Only the beautiful. "Still, for all slips of hers, One of Eve's family — Wipe those poor lips of hers Oozing so clammily, "Loop up her tresses Escaped from the comb, Her fair auburn tresses; Whilst wonderment guesses Where was her home ? "Who was her father? Who was her mother? Had she a sister? Had she a brother?
Page 234 - The skies they were ashen and sober; The leaves they were crisped and sere — The leaves they were withering and sere; It was night in the lonesome October Of my most immemorial year...
Page 241 - And this maiden she lived with no other thought Than to love, and be loved by me ! I was a child, and she was a child, In this kingdom by the sea; But we loved with a love that was more than love, I and my Annabel Lee — With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven Coveted her and me.
Page 231 - 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...
Page 212 - Touch her not scornfully; Think of her mournfully, Gently and humanly, Not of the stains of her; All that remains of her Now is pure womanly.
Page 230 - Oh, from out the sounding cells, What a gush of euphony voluminously wells! How it swells ! How it dwells On the Future...
Page 307 - ... That gently, o'er a perfumed sea, The weary, way-worn wanderer bore To his own native shore. On desperate seas long wont to roam, Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face, Thy Naiad airs have brought me home To the glory that was Greece, And the grandeur that was Rome. Lo! in yon brilliant window-niche How statue-like I see thee stand, The agate lamp within thy hand! Ah, Psyche, from the regions which Are Holy Land! Israfel And the angel Israfel, whose heart-strings are a lute, and who has the sweetest...
Page 257 - Lo! Death has reared himself a throne In a strange city lying alone Far down within the dim West, Where the good and the bad and the worst and the best Have gone to their eternal rest. There shrines and palaces and towers (Time-eaten towers that tremble not!) Resemble nothing that is ours. Around, by lifting winds forgot, Resignedly beneath the sky The melancholy waters lie.