We noted not the dim lake of Auber (Though once we had journeyed down here), Remembered not the dank tarn of Auber Nor the ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir. And now, as the night was senescent And star-dials pointed to morn, As the star-dials hinted of morn, At the end of our path a liquescent And nebulous lustre was born, Out of which a miraculous crescent Arose with a duplicate horn, Astarte's bediamonded crescent Distinct with its duplicate horn. And I said "She is warmer than Dian: She rolls through an ether of sighs, She revels in a region of sighs: She has seen that the tears are not dry on These cheeks, where the worm never dies, To shine on us with her bright eyes: But Psyche, uplifting her finger, Said "Sadly this star I mistrust, Her pallor I strangely mistrust: Oh, hasten!-oh, let us not linger! Oh, fly!- let us fly!- for we must." In terror she spoke, letting sink her Plumes till they trailed in the dust, I replied -"This is nothing but dreaming: With hope and in beauty to-night: See, it flickers up the sky through the night! Ah, we safely may trust to its gleaming, And be sure it will lead us aright: We safely may trust to a gleaming That cannot but guide us aright, Since it flickers up to Heaven through the night." Thus I pacified Psyche and kissed her, And tempted her out of her gloom, But were stopped by the door of a tomb, And I said "What is written, sweet sister, On the door of this legended tomb?" - Ulalume "T is the vault of thy lost Ulalume!" Then my heart it grew ashen and sober As the leaves that were crispèd and sere, As the leaves that were withering and sere, And I cried "It was surely October - On this very night of last year That I journeyed-I journeyed down here, Well I know, now, this dank tarn of Auber, |