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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 this melancholy vaul