Эдгар Аллан По

The Complete Poetry of Edgar Allan Poe (Illustrated Edition)


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Abash'd, amid the lilies there, to seek A shelter from the fervor 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 the 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! "What tho' in worlds which sightless cycles run13, 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, Yet thine is my resplendency, so given To bear my secrets thro' the upper Heaven. Leave tenantless thy crystal home, and fly, With all thy train, athwart the moony sky— Apart—like fire-flies in Sicilian night14, And wing to other worlds another light! Divulge the secrets of thy embassy To the proud orbs that twinkle—and so be To ev'ry heart a barrier and a ban Lest the stars totter in the guilt of man!" Up rose the maiden in the yellow night, The single-mooned eve!-on earth we plight Our faith to one love—and one moon adore— The birth-place of young Beauty had no more. As sprang that yellow star from downy hours, Up rose the maiden from her shrine of flowers, And bent o'er sheeny mountain and dim plain Her way—but left not yet her Therasæan reign15.

       II

      High on a mountain of enamell'd head—

       Such as the drowsy shepherd on his bed

       Of giant pasturage lying at his ease,

       Raising his heavy eyelid, starts and sees

       With many a mutter'd "hope to be forgiven"

       What time the moon is quadrated in Heaven—

       Of rosy head, that towering far away

       Into the sunlit ether, caught the ray

       Of sunken suns at eve—at noon of night,

       While the moon danc'd with the fair stranger light—

       Uprear'd upon such height arose a pile

       Of gorgeous columns on th' unburthen'd air,

       Flashing from Parian marble that twin smile

       Far down upon the wave that sparkled there,

       And nursled the young mountain in its lair.