Читать книгу Selections from Poe - Эдгар Аллан По, Edgar Allan Poe, Marta Fihel - Страница 27

By a route obscure and lonely,

Haunted by ill angels only,

Where an Eidolon, named Night,

On a black throne reigns upright,

I have reached these lands but newly

From an ultimate dim Thule:

From a wild weird clime that lieth, sublime,

  Out of Space – out of Time.

Bottomless vales and boundless floods,

And chasms and caves and Titan woods,

With forms that no man can discover

For the tears that drip all over;

Mountains toppling evermore

Into seas without a shore;

Seas that restlessly aspire,

Surging, unto skies of fire;

Lakes that endlessly outspread

Their lone waters, lone and dead, —

Their still waters, still and chilly

With the snows of the lolling lily.

By the lakes that thus outspread

Their lone waters, lone and dead, —

Their sad waters, sad and chilly

With the snows of the lolling lily;

By the mountains – near the river

Murmuring lowly, murmuring ever;

By the gray woods, by the swamp

Where the toad and the newt encamp;

By the dismal tarns and pools

    Where dwell the Ghouls;

By each spot the most unholy,

In each nook most melancholy, —

There the traveller meets aghast

Sheeted Memories of the Past:

Shrouded forms that start and sigh

As they pass the wanderer by,

White-robed forms of friends long given,

In agony, to the Earth – and Heaven.

For the heart whose woes are legion

'T is a peaceful, soothing region;

For the spirit that walks in shadow

'T is – oh, 't is an Eldorado!

But the traveller, travelling through it,

May not – dare not openly view it;

Never its mysteries are exposed

To the weak human eye unclosed;

So wills its King, who hath forbid

The uplifting of the fringéd lid;

And thus the sad Soul that here passes

Beholds it but through darkened glasses.

By a route obscure and lonely,

Haunted by ill angels only,

Where an Eidolon, named Night,

On a black throne reigns upright,

I have wandered home but newly

From this ultimate dim Thule.