the works of edgar allan poe-3-第49节

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itself　the　icy　chilliness；　the　livid　hue；　the　intense　rigidity；　the
sunken　outline；　and　all　the　loathsome　peculiarities　of　that　which　has
been；　for　many　days；　a　tenant　of　the　tomb。

And　again　I　sunk　into　visions　of　Ligeia　　and　again；　（what　marvel
that　I　shudder　while　I　write；）　again　there　reached　my　ears　a　low　sob
from　the　region　of　the　ebony　bed。　But　why　shall　I　minutely　detail　the
unspeakable　horrors　of　that　night？　Why　shall　I　pause　to　relate　how；
time　after　time；　until　near　the　period　of　the　gray　dawn；　this　hideous
drama　of　revivification　was　repeated；　how　each　terrific　relapse　was
only　into　a　sterner　and　apparently　more　irredeemable　death；　how　each
agony　wore　the　aspect　of　a　struggle　with　some　invisible　foe；　and　how
each　struggle　was　succeeded　by　I　know　not　what　of　wild　change　in　the
personal　appearance　of　the　corpse？　Let　me　hurry　to　a　conclusion。

The　greater　part　of　the　fearful　night　had　worn　away；　and　she　who　had
been　dead；　once　again　stirred　　and　now　more　vigorously　than
hitherto；　although　arousing　from　a　dissolution　more　appalling　in　its
utter　hopelessness　than　any。　I　had　long　ceased　to　struggle　or　to
move；　and　remained　sitting　rigidly　upon　the　ottoman；　a　helpless　prey
to　a　whirl　of　violent　emotions；　of　which　extreme　awe　was　perhaps　the
least　terrible；　the　least　consuming。　The　corpse；　I　repeat；　stirred；
and　now　more　vigorously　than　before。　The　hues　of　life　flushed　up　with
unwonted　energy　into　the　countenance　　the　limbs　relaxed　　and；
save　that　the　eyelids　were　yet　pressed　heavily　together；　and　that　the
bandages　and　draperies　of　the　grave　still　imparted　their　charnel
character　to　the　figure；　I　might　have　dreamed　that　Rowena　had　indeed
shaken　off；　utterly；　the　fetters　of　Death。　But　if　this　idea　was　not；
even　then；　altogether　adopted；　I　could　at　least　doubt　no　longer；
when；　arising　from　the　bed；　tottering；　with　feeble　steps；　with　closed
eyes；　and　with　the　manner　of　one　bewildered　in　a　dream；　the　thing
that　was　enshrouded　advanced　boldly　and　palpably　into　the　middle　of
the　apartment。

I　trembled　not　　I　stirred　not　　for　a　crowd　of　unutterable　fancies
connected　with　the　air；　the　stature；　the　demeanor　of　the　figure；
rushing　hurriedly　through　my　brain；　had　paralyzed　　had　chilled　me
into　stone。　I　stirred　not　　but　gazed　upon　the　apparition。　There　was
a　mad　disorder　in　my　thoughts　　a　tumult　unappeasable。　Could　it；
indeed；　be　the　living　Rowena　who　confronted　me？　Could　it　indeed　be
Rowena　at　all　　the　fair…haired；　the　blue…eyed　Lady　Rowena　Trevanion
of　Tremaine？　Why；　why　should　I　doubt　it？　The　bandage　lay　heavily
about　the　mouth　　but　then　might　it　not　be　the　mouth　of　the
breathing　Lady　of　Tremaine？　And　the　cheeks…there　were　the　roses　as　in
her　noon　of　life　　yes；　these　might　indeed　be　the　fair　cheeks　of　the
living　Lady　of　Tremaine。　And　the　chin；　with　its　dimples；　as　in
health；　might　it　not　be　hers？　　but　had　she　then　grown　taller　since
her　malady？　What　inexpressible　madness　seized　me　with　that　thought？
One　bound；　and　I　had　reached　her　feet！　Shrinking　from　my　touch；　she
let　fall　from　her　head；　unloosened；　the　ghastly　cerements　which　had
confined　it；　and　there　streamed　forth；　into　the　rushing　atmosphere　of
the　chamber；　huge　masses　of　long　and　dishevelled　hair；　it　was　blacker
than　the　raven　wings　of　the　midnight！　And　now　slowly　opened　the　eyes
of　the　figure　which　stood　before　me。　〃Here　then；　at　least；〃　I
shrieked　aloud；　〃can　I　never　　can　I　never　be　mistaken　　these　are
the　full；　and　the　black；　and　the　wild　eyes　　of　my　lost　love　　of
the　lady　　of　the　LADY　LIGEIA。〃

~~~　End　of　Text　~~~



MORELLA

Itself；　by　itself；　solely；　one　everlasting；　and　single。

PLATO：　SYMPOS。

WITH　a　feeling　of　deep　yet　most　singular　affection　I　regarded　my
friend　Morella。　Thrown　by　accident　into　her　society　many　years　ago；
my　soul　from　our　first　meeting；　burned　with　fires　it　had　never　before
known；　but　the　fires　were　not　of　Eros；　and　bitter　and　tormenting　to
my　spirit　was　the　gradual　conviction　that　I　could　in　no　manner　define
their　unusual　meaning　or　regulate　their　vague　intensity。　Yet　we　met；
and　fate　bound　us　together　at　the　altar；　and　I　never　spoke　of　passion
nor　thought　of　love。　She；　however；　shunned　society；　and；　attaching
herself　to　me　alone　rendered　me　happy。　It　is　a　happiness　to　wonder；
it　is　a　happiness　to　dream。

Morella's　erudition　was　profound。　As　I　hope　to　live；　her　talents　were
of　no　common　order　　her　powers　of　mind　were　gigantic。　I　felt　this；
and；　in　many　matters；　became　her　pupil。　I　soon；　however；　found　that；
perhaps　on　account　of　her　Presburg　education；　she　placed　before　me　a
number　of　those　mystical　writings　which　are　usually　considered　the
mere　dross　of　the　early　German　literature。　These；　for　what　reason　I
could　not　imagine；　were　her　favourite　and　constant　study　　and　that
in　process　of　time　they　became　my　own；　should　be　attributed　to　the
simple　but　effectual　influence　of　habit　and　example。

In　all　this；　if　I　err　not；　my　reason　had　little　to　do。　My
convictions；　or　I　forget　myself；　were　in　no　manner　acted　upon　by　the
ideal；　nor　was　any　tincture　of　the　mysticism　which　I　read　to　be
discovered；　unless　I　am　greatly　mistaken；　either　in　my　deeds　or　in　my
thoughts。　Persuaded　of　this；　I　abandoned　myself　implicitly　to　the
guidance　of　my　wife；　and　entered　with　an　unflinching　heart　into　the
intricacies　of　her　studies。　And　then　　then；　when　poring　over
forbidden　pages；　I　felt　a　forbidden　spirit　enkindling　within　me　
would　Morella　place　her　cold　hand　upon　my　own；　and　rake　up　from　the
ashes　of　a　dead　philosophy　some　low；　singular　words；　whose　strange
meaning　burned　themselves　in　upon　my　memory。　And　then；　hour　after
hour；　would　I　linger　by　her　side；　and　dwell　upon　the　music　of　her
voice；　until　at　length　its　melody　was　tainted　with　terror；　and　there
fell　a　shadow　upon　my　soul；　and　I　grew　pale；　and　shuddered　inwardly
at　those　too　unearthly　tones。　And　thus；　joy　suddenly　faded　into
horror；　and　the　most　beautiful　became　the　most　hideous；　as　Hinnon
became　Ge…Henna。

It　is　unnecessary　to　state　the　exact　character　of　those　disquisitions
which；　growing　out　of　the　volumes　I　have　mentioned；　formed；　for　so
long　a　time；　almost　the　sole　conversation　of　Morella　and　myself。　By
the　learned　in　what　might　be　termed　theological　morality　they　will　be
readily　conceived；　and　by　the　unlearned　they　would；　at　all　events；　be
little　understood。　The　wild　Pantheism　of　Fichte；　the　modified
Paliggenedia　of　the　Pythagoreans；　and；　above　all；　the　doctrines　of
Identity　as　urged　by　Schelling；　were　generally　the　points　of
discussion　presenting　the　most　of　beauty　to　the　imaginative　Morella。
That　identity　which　is　termed　personal；　Mr。　Locke；　I　think；　truly
defines　to　consist　in　the　saneness　of　rational　being。　And　since　by
person　we　understand　an　intelligent　essence　having　reason；　and　since
there　is　a　consciousness　which　always　accompanies　thinking；　it　is
this　which　makes　us　all　to　be　that　which　we　call　ourselves；　thereby
distinguishing　us　from　other　beings　that　think；　and　giving　us　our
personal　identity。　But　the　principium　indivduationis；　the　notion　of
that　identity　which　at　death　is　or　is　not　lost　for　ever；　was　to　me；
at　all　times；　a　consideration　of　intense　interest；　not　more　from　the
perplexing　and　exciting　nature　of　its　consequences；　than　from　the
marked　and　agitated　manner　in　which　Morella　mentioned　them。

But；　indeed；　the　time　had　now　arrived　when　the　mystery　of　my　wife's
manner　oppressed　me　as　a　spell。　I　could　no　longer　bear　the　touch　of
her　wan　fingers；　nor　the　low　tone　of　her　musical　language；　nor　the
lustre　of　her　melancholy　eyes。　And　she　knew　all　this；　but　did　not
upbraid；　she　seemed　conscious　of　my　weakness　or　my　folly；　and；
smiling；　called　it　fate。　She　seemed　also　conscious　of　a　cause；　to　me
unknown；　for　the　gradual　alienation　of　my　regard；　but　she　gave　me　no
hint　or　token　of　its　nature。　Yet　was　she　woman；　and　pined　away　daily。
In　time　the　crimson　spot　settled　steadily　upon　the　cheek；　and　the
blue　veins　upon　the　pale　forehead　became　prominent；　and　one　instant
my　nature　melted　into　pity；　but　in；　next　I　met　the　glance　of　her
meaning　eyes；　and　then　my　soul　sickened　and　became　giddy　with　the
giddiness　of　one　who　gazes　downward　into　some　dreary　and　unfathomable
abyss。

Shall　I　then　say　that　I　longed　with　an　earnest　and　consuming　desire
for　the　moment　of　Morella's　decease？　I　did；　but　the　fragile　spirit
clung　to　its　tenement　of　clay　for　many　days；　for　many　weeks　and
irksome　months；　until　my　tortured　nerves　obtained　the　mastery　over　my
mind；　and　I　grew　furious　through　delay；　and；　with　the　heart　of　a
fiend；　cursed　the　days　and　the　hours　and　the　bitter　moments；　which
seemed　to　lengthen　and　lengthen　as　her　gentle　life　declined；　like
shadows　in　the　dying　of　the　day。

But　one　autumnal　evening；　when　the　winds　lay　still　in　heaven；　Morella
called　me　to　her　bedside。　There　was　a　dim　mist　over　all　the　earth；
and　a　warm　glow　upon　the　waters；　and　amid　the　rich　October　leaves　of
the　forest；　a　rainbow　from　the　firmament　had　surely　fallen。

〃It　is　a　day　of　days；〃　she　said；　as　I　approached；　〃a　day　of　all　days
either　to　live　or　die。　It　is　a　fair　day　for　the　sons　of　earth　and
life　　ah；　more　fair　for　the　daughters　of　heaven　and　death！〃

I　kissed　her　forehead；　and　she　con