The tales and poems of Edgar Allan Poe, with biogr. essay by J.H. Ingram, Volume 41884 |
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Page 12
... turned off to the westward , up this stream , pushed through the Mountains in latitude 56 , then proceeded to the south until he struck a river which he called the Salmon ( now Frazer's ) and following this , finally reached the Pacific ...
... turned off to the westward , up this stream , pushed through the Mountains in latitude 56 , then proceeded to the south until he struck a river which he called the Salmon ( now Frazer's ) and following this , finally reached the Pacific ...
Page 25
... turned to the stern , and the pole inserted in the river , reaching the bottom ; a firm hold being thus taken , the boatman apply the heads of the poles to the shoulder , which is protected by a cushion , and , pushing in this manner ...
... turned to the stern , and the pole inserted in the river , reaching the bottom ; a firm hold being thus taken , the boatman apply the heads of the poles to the shoulder , which is protected by a cushion , and , pushing in this manner ...
Page 45
... turning in , in the cabin . Our spirits were much depressed by the bad weather , and the Canadians especially were in a miserable state of dejection . We had now come to a narrow part of the river where the current was strong , and the ...
... turning in , in the cabin . Our spirits were much depressed by the bad weather , and the Canadians especially were in a miserable state of dejection . We had now come to a narrow part of the river where the current was strong , and the ...
Page 49
... turned outwards in wet . This robe is large enough to envelop the whole body , and is frequently ornamented with porcupine quills ( which make a rattling noise as the warrior moves ) as well as with a great variety of rudely painted ...
... turned outwards in wet . This robe is large enough to envelop the whole body , and is frequently ornamented with porcupine quills ( which make a rattling noise as the warrior moves ) as well as with a great variety of rudely painted ...
Page 52
... them , in the most ludicrous amaze- ment . Presently they commenced an agitated conver- sation among themselves , and at last finding that nothing could be made of us , fairly turned their 52 THE JOURNAL OF JULIUS RODMAN .
... them , in the most ludicrous amaze- ment . Presently they commenced an agitated conver- sation among themselves , and at last finding that nothing could be made of us , fairly turned their 52 THE JOURNAL OF JULIUS RODMAN .
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.