the works of edgar allan poe-3-第42部分

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could　form　no　estimate；　save　by　the　miraculous　expansion　of　those
eyes　which　at　once　so　delighted　and　appalled　me　　by　the　almost
magical　melody；　modulation；　distinctness　and　placidity　of　her　very
low　voice　　and　by　the　fierce　energy　（rendered　doubly　effective　by
contrast　with　her　manner　of　utterance）　of　the　wild　words　which　she
habitually　uttered。

I　have　spoken　of　the　learning　of　Ligeia：　it　was　immense　　such　as　I
have　never　known　in　woman。　In　the　classical　tongues　was　she　deeply
proficient；　and　as　far　as　my　own　acquaintance　extended　in　regard　to
the　modern　dialects　of　Europe；　I　have　never　known　her　at　fault。
Indeed　upon　any　theme　of　the　most　admired；　because　simply　the　most
abstruse　of　the　boasted　erudition　of　the　academy；　have　I　ever　found
Ligeia　at　fault？　How　singularly　　how　thrillingly；　this　one　point　in
the　nature　of　my　wife　has　forced　itself；　at　this　late　period　only；
upon　my　attention！　I　said　her　knowledge　was　such　as　I　have　never
known　in　woman　　but　where　breathes　the　man　who　has　traversed；　and
successfully；　all　the　wide　areas　of　moral；　physical；　and　mathematical
science？　I　saw　not　then　what　I　now　clearly　perceive；　that　the
acquisitions　of　Ligeia　were　gigantic；　were　astounding；　yet　I　was
sufficiently　aware　of　her　infinite　supremacy　to　resign　myself；　with　a
child…like　confidence；　to　her　guidance　through　the　chaotic　world　of
metaphysical　investigation　at　which　I　was　most　busily　occupied　during
the　earlier　years　of　our　marriage。　With　how　vast　a　triumph　　with
how　vivid　a　delight　　with　how　much　of　all　that　is　ethereal　in　hope
　did　I　feel；　as　she　bent　over　me　in　studies　but　little　sought　
but　less　known　　that　delicious　vista　by　slow　degrees　expanding
before　me；　down　whose　long；　gorgeous；　and　all　untrodden　path；　I　might
at　length　pass　onward　to　the　goal　of　a　wisdom　too　divinely　precious
not　to　be　forbidden！

How　poignant；　then；　must　have　been　the　grief　with　which；　after　some
years；　I　beheld　my　well…grounded　expectations　take　wings　to
themselves　and　fly　away！　Without　Ligeia　I　was　but　as　a　child　groping
benighted。　Her　presence；　her　readings　alone；　rendered　vividly
luminous　the　many　mysteries　of　the　transcendentalism　in　which　we　were
immersed。　Wanting　the　radiant　lustre　of　her　eyes；　letters；　lambent
and　golden；　grew　duller　than　Saturnian　lead。　And　now　those　eyes　shone
less　and　less　frequently　upon　the　pages　over　which　I　pored。　Ligeia
grew　ill。　The　wild　eyes　blazed　with　a　too　　too　glorious　effulgence；
the　pale　fingers　became　of　the　transparent　waxen　hue　of　the　grave；
and　the　blue　veins　upon　the　lofty　forehead　swelled　and　sank
impetuously　with　the　tides　of　the　gentle　emotion。　I　saw　that　she　must
die　　and　I　struggled　desperately　in　spirit　with　the　grim　Azrael。
And　the　struggles　of　the　passionate　wife　were；　to　my　astonishment；
even　more　energetic　than　my　own。　There　had　been　much　in　her　stern
nature　to　impress　me　with　the　belief　that；　to　her；　death　would　have
come　without　its　terrors；　　but　not　so。　Words　are　impotent　to　convey
any　just　idea　of　the　fierceness　of　resistance　with　which　she　wrestled
with　the　Shadow。　I　groaned　in　anguish　at　the　pitiable　spectacle。
would　have　soothed　　I　would　have　reasoned；　but；　in　the　intensity　of
her　wild　desire　for　life；　　for　life　　but　for　life　　solace　and
reason　were　the　uttermost　folly。　Yet　not　until　the　last　instance；
amid　the　most　convulsive　writhings　of　her　fierce　spirit；　was　shaken
the　external　placidity　of　her　demeanor。　Her　voice　grew　more　gentle　
grew　more　low　　yet　I　would　not　wish　to　dwell　upon　the　wild　meaning
of　the　quietly　uttered　words。　My　brain　reeled　as　I　hearkened
entranced；　to　a　melody　more　than　mortal　　to　assumptions　and
aspirations　which　mortality　had　never　before　known。

That　she　loved　me　I　should　not　have　doubted；　and　I　might　have　been
easily　aware　that；　in　a　bosom　such　as　hers；　love　would　have　reigned
no　ordinary　passion。　But　in　death　only；　was　I　fully　impressed　with
the　strength　of　her　affection。　For　long　hours；　detaining　my　hand；
would　she　pour　out　before　me　the　overflowing　of　a　heart　whose　more
than　passionate　devotion　amounted　to　idolatry。　How　had　I　deserved　to
be　so　blessed　by　such　confessions？　　how　had　I　deserved　to　be　so
cursed　with　the　removal　of　my　beloved　in　the　hour　of　her　making　them；
But　upon　this　subject　I　cannot　bear　to　dilate。　Let　me　say　only；　that
in　Ligeia's　more　than　womanly　abandonment　to　a　love；　alas！　all
unmerited；　all　unworthily　bestowed；　I　at　length　recognized　the
principle　of　her　longing　with　so　wildly　earnest　a　desire　for　the　life
which　was　now　fleeing　so　rapidly　away。　It　is　this　wild　longing　　it
is　this　eager　vehemence　of　desire　for　life　　but　for　life　　that　I
have　no　power　to　portray　　no　utterance　capable　of　expressing。

At　high　noon　of　the　night　in　which　she　departed；　beckoning　me；
peremptorily；　to　her　side；　she　bade　me　repeat　certain　verses　composed
by　herself　not　many　days　before。　I　obeyed　her。　　They　were　these：

Lo！　'tis　a　gala　night
　　　Within　the　lonesome　latter　years！
An　angel　throng；　bewinged；　bedight
　　　In　veils；　and　drowned　in　tears；
Sit　in　a　theatre；　to　see
　　　A　play　of　hopes　and　fears；
While　the　orchestra　breathes　fitfully
　　　The　music　of　the　spheres。

Mimes；　in　the　form　of　God　on　high；
　　　Mutter　and　mumble　low；
And　hither　and　thither　fly；
　　　Mere　puppets　they；　who　come　and　go
At　bidding　of　vast　formless　things
　　　That　shift　the　scenery　to　and　fro；
Flapping　from　out　their　Condor　wings
　　　Invisible　Wo！

That　motley　drama！　　oh；　be　sure
　　　It　shall　not　be　forgot！
With　its　Phantom　chased　forever　more；
　　　By　a　crowd　that　seize　it　not；
Through　a　circle　that　ever　returneth　in
　　　To　the　self…same　spot；
And　much　of　Madness　and　more　of　Sin
　　　And　Horror　the　soul　of　the　plot。

But　see；　amid　the　mimic　rout；
　　　A　crawling　shape　intrude！
A　blood…red　thing　that　writhes　from　out
　　　The　scenic　solitude！
It　writhes！　　it　writhes！　　with　mortal　pangs
　　　The　mimes　become　its　food；
And　the　seraphs　sob　at　vermin　fangs
　　　In　human　gore　imbued。

Out　　out　are　the　lights　　out　all！
　　　And　over　each　quivering　form；
The　curtain；　a　funeral　pall；
　　　Comes　down　with　the　rush　of　a　storm；
And　the　angels；　all　pallid　and　wan；
　　　Uprising；　unveiling；　affirm
That　the　play　is　the　tragedy；　〃Man；〃
　　　And　its　hero　the　Conqueror　Worm。

〃O　God！〃　half　shrieked　Ligeia；　leaping　to　her　feet　and　extending　her
arms　aloft　with　a　spasmodic　movement；　as　I　made　an　end　of　these　lines
　〃O　God！　O　Divine　Father！　　shall　these　things　be　undeviatingly
so？　　shall　this　Conqueror　be　not　once　conquered？　Are　we　not　part
and　parcel　in　Thee？　Who　　who　knoweth　the　mysteries　of　the　will　with
its　vigor？　Man　doth　not　yield　him　to　the　angels；　nor　unto　death
utterly；　save　only　through　the　weakness　of　his　feeble　will。〃

And　now；　as　if　exhausted　with　emotion；　she　suffered　her　white　arms　to
fall；　and　returned　solemnly　to　her　bed　of　death。　And　as　she　breathed
her　last　sighs；　there　came　mingled　with　them　a　low　murmur　from　her
lips。　I　bent　to　them　my　ear　and　distinguished；　again；　the　concluding
words　of　the　passage　in　Glanvill　　〃Man　doth　not　yield　him　to　the
angels；　nor　unto　death　utterly；　save　only　through　the　weakness　of　his
feeble　will。〃

She　died；　　and　I；　crushed　into　the　very　dust　with　sorrow；　could　no
longer　endure　the　lonely　desolation　of　my　dwelling　in　the　dim　and
decaying　city　by　the　Rhine。　I　had　no　lack　of　what　the　world　calls
wealth。　Ligeia　had　brought　me　far　more；　very　far　more　than　ordinarily
falls　to　the　lot　of　mortals。　After　a　few　months；　therefore；　of　weary
and　aimless　wandering；　I　purchased；　and　put　in　some　repair；　an　abbey；
which　I　shall　not　name；　in　one　of　the　wildest　and　least　frequented
portions　of　fair　England。　The　gloomy　and　dreary　grandeur　of　the
building；　the　almost　savage　aspect　of　the　domain；　the　many　melancholy
and　time…honored　memories　connected　with　both；　had　much　in　unison
with　the　feelings　of　utter　abandonment　which　had　driven　me　into　that
remote　and　unsocial　region　of　the　country。　Yet　although　the　external
abbey；　with　its　verdant　decay　hanging　about　it；　suffered　but　little
alteration；　I　gave　way；　with　a　child…like　perversity；　and　perchance
with　a　faint　hope　of　alleviating　my　sorrows；　to　a　display　of　more
than　regal　magnificence　within。　　For　such　follies；　even　in
childhood；　I　had　imbibed　a　taste　and　now　they　came　back　to　me　as　if
in　the　dotage　of　grief。　Alas；　I　feel　how　much　even　of　incipient
madness　might　have　been　discovered　in　the　gorgeous　and　fantastic
draperies；　in　the　solemn　carvings　of　Egypt；　in　the　wild　cornices　and
furniture；　in　the　Bedlam　patterns　of　the　carpets　of　tufted　gold！　I
had　become　a　bounden　slave　in　the　trammels　of　opium；　and　my　labors
and　my　orders　had　taken　a　coloring　from　my　dreams。　But　these
absurdities　must　not　pause　to　detail。　Let　me　speak　only　of　that　one
chamber；　ever　accursed；　whither　in　a　moment　of　mental　alienation；　I
led　from　the　altar　as　my　bride　　as　the　successor　of　the　unforgotten
Ligeia　　the　fair…haired　and　blue…eyed　Lady　Rowena　Trevanion；　of
Tremaine。

There　is　no　individual　portion　of　the　architecture　and　decoration　of
that　bridal　chamber　which　is　not　now　visibly　before　me。　Where　were
the　souls　of　the　haughty　family　of　the　bride；　when；　through　thirst　of
gold；　they　permitted　to　pass　the　threshold　of　an　apartment　so
bedecked；　a　maiden　and　a　daughter　so　beloved？　I　have　said　that　I
minutely　remember　the　details　of　the　chamber　　yet　I　am　sadly
forgetful　on　topics　of　deep　moment　　and　here　there　was　no　system；
no　keeping；　in　the　fantastic　display；　to　take　hold　upon　the　memory。
The　room　lay　in　a　high　turret　of　the　castellated　abbey；　was
pentagonal　in　shape；　and　of　capacious　size。　Occupying　the　whole
southern　face　of　the　pentagon　was　the　sole　window　　an　immense　sheet
of　unbroken　glass　from　Venice　　a　single　pane；　and　tinted　of　a
leaden　hue；　so　that　the　rays　of　either　the　sun　or　moon；　passing
through　it；　fell　with　a　ghastly　lustre　on　the　objects　within。　Over
the　upper　portion　of　this　huge　window；　extended　the　trellice…work　of
an　aged　vine；　which　clambered　up　the　massy　walls　of　the　turret。　The
ceiling；　of　gloomy…looking　oak；　was　excessively　lofty；　vaulted；　and
elaborately　fretted　with　the　wildest　and　most　grotesque　specimens　of
a　semi…Gothic；　semi…Druidical　device。　From　out　the　most　central
recess　of　t