Tempers Flare

[Guest Your Humble Host Roderick]

But evil things, in robes of sorrow,

    Assailed the monarch's high estate.

(Ah, let us mourn ! — for never sorrow

    Shall dawn upon him desolate !)

And round about his home the glory

    That blushed and bloomed,

Is but a dim-remembered story

    Of the old time entombed.

And travellers, now, within that valley,

    Through the red-litten windows see

Vast forms, that move fantastically

    To a discordant melody,

While, like a ghastly rapid river,

    Through the pale door

A hideous throng rush out forever

    And laugh — but smile no more.

<{POST_SNAPBACK}>

At last ... a 'voice' of reason for the times.

During the whole of a dull, dark, and soundless day in the autumn of the year, when the clouds hung oppressively low in the heavens, I had been passing alone, on horseback, through a singularly dreary tract of country; and at length found myself, as the shades of the evening drew on, within view of the melancholy House of Usher. I know not how it was -- but, with the first glimpse of the building, a sense of insufferable gloom pervaded my spirit.

......................

"But lo! a stir is in the air!

The wave! there is a ripple there!

As if the towers had thrown aside,

In slightly sinking, the dull tide —

As if the turret-tops had given

A vacuum in the filmy heaven:

The waves have now a redder glow —

The very hours are breathing low —

And when, amid no earthly moans,

Down, down that town shall settle hence,

Hell rising from a thousand thrones

Shall do it reverence,

And Death to some more happy clime

Shall give his undivided time. "

I yield the floor to you, my Grace...... for I feel I am revealed.

"Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken........

Disaster Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore--

Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore , Of 'Never--nevermore.'"

[Guest BlueTideBacker]

At last ... a 'voice' of reason for the times.

During the whole of a dull, dark, and soundless day in the autumn of the year, when the clouds hung oppressively low in the heavens, I had been passing alone, on horseback, through a singularly dreary tract of country; and at length found myself, as the shades of the evening drew on, within view of the melancholy House of Usher. I know not how it was -- but, with the first glimpse of the building, a sense of insufferable gloom pervaded my spirit.

......................

"But lo! a stir is in the air!

  The wave! there is a ripple there!

As if the towers had thrown aside,

  In slightly sinking, the dull tide —

As if the turret-tops had given

  A vacuum in the filmy heaven:

The waves have now a redder glow —

  The very hours are breathing low —

And when, amid no earthly moans,

  Down, down that town shall settle hence,

Hell rising from a thousand thrones

  Shall do it reverence,

And Death to some more happy clime

  Shall give his undivided time. "

I yield the floor to you, my Grace......  for I feel I am revealed.

"Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken........

Disaster      Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore--

Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore , Of 'Never--nevermore.'"

<{POST_SNAPBACK}>

That must have been some council meeting !!

[Guest Guest]

That must have been some council meeting !!

<{POST_SNAPBACK}>

The Harrison Phantom has arisen from his long slumber and is now back. Are youstill getting ******* from ******?

KOTW Note: The above post was edited for content.

[Guest a place for GRACE]

There was an iciness, a sinking, a sickening of the heart — an unredeemed dreariness of thought which no goading of the imagination could torture into aught of the sublime.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

All that we see or seem

Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar

Of a surf-tormented shore,

And I hold within my hand

Grains of the golden sand —

How few! yet how they creep

Through my fingers to the deep,

While I weep — while I weep!

Oh, God! can I not grasp

Them with a tighter clasp?

Oh, God! can I not save

One from the pitiless wave?

Is all that I see or seem

But a dream within a dream?

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

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 for evermore,

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 angels 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.

"Marcher dans mon palais", dire la araignee a la mouche.

[Guest Harrison Phantom]

The Harrison Phantom has arisen from his long slumber and is now back. Are youstill getting ******* from ******?

KOTW Note: The above post was edited for content.

<{POST_SNAPBACK}>

I've been away for a while but now I'm back. Prediction: Heads have only

begun to roll.