| Thro' the ghoul-guarded gateways of slumber
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| Past the wan-moon'd abysses of night
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| I have liv’d o’er my lives without number
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| I have sounded all things with my sight;
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| And I struggle and shriek ere the daybreak, being driven to madness with fright
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| I have whirl’d with the earth at the dawning
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| When the sky was a vaporous flame;
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| I have seen the dark universe yawning
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| Where the black planets roll without aim;
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| Where they roll in their horror unheeded, without knowledge or lustre or name
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| I had drifted o’er seas without ending
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| Under sinister grey-clouded skies
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| That the many-fork'd lightning is rending
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| That resound with hysterical cries;
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| With the moans of invisible daemons that out of the green waters rise
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| I have plung’d like a deer thro' the arches
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| Of the hoary primoridal grove
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| Where the oaks feel the presence that marches
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| And stalks on where no spirit dares rove;
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| And I flee from a thing that surrounds me, and leers thro' dead branches above
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| I have stumbled by cave-ridden mountains
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| That rise barren and bleak from the plain
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| I have drunk of the fog-foetid fountains
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| That ooze down to the marsh and the main;
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| And in hot cursed tarns I have seen things I care not to gaze on again
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| I have scann’d the vast ivy-clad palace
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| I have trod its untenanted hall
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| Where the moon writhing up from the valleys
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| Shews the tapestried things on the wall;
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| Strange figures discordantly woven, which I cannot endure to recall
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| I have peer’d from the casement in wonder
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| At the mouldering meadows around
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| At the many-roof'd village laid under
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| The curse of a grave-girdled ground;
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| And from rows of white urn-carven marble
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| I listen intently for sound
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| I have haunted the tombs of the ages
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| I have flown on the pinions of fear
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| Where the smoke-belching Erebus rages
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| Where the jokulls loom snow-clad and drear:
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| And in realms where the sun of the desert
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| Consumes what it never can cheer
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| I was old when the Pharaohs first mounted
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| The jewel-deck'd throne by the Nile;
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| I was old in those epochs uncounted
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| When I, and I only, was vile;
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| And Man, yet untainted and happy
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| Dwelt in bliss on the far Arctic isle |