The Works of Edgar Allan Poe - Volume 2


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a deadly locution. I saw them fashion the syllables of my name; and I  
shuddered because no sound succeeded. I saw, too, for a few moments of  
delirious horror, the soft and nearly imperceptible waving of the sable  
draperies which enwrapped the walls of the apartment. And then my vision  
fell upon the seven tall candles upon the table. At first they wore the  
aspect of charity, and seemed white and slender angels who would save  
me; but then, all at once, there came a most deadly nausea over my  
spirit, and I felt every fibre in my frame thrill as if I had touched  
the wire of a galvanic battery, while the angel forms became meaningless  
spectres, with heads of flame, and I saw that from them there would be  
no help. And then there stole into my fancy, like a rich musical note,  
the thought of what sweet rest there must be in the grave. The thought  
came gently and stealthily, and it seemed long before it attained full  
appreciation; but just as my spirit came at length properly to feel and  
entertain it, the figures of the judges vanished, as if magically, from  
before me; the tall candles sank into nothingness; their flames went out  
utterly; the blackness of darkness supervened; all sensations appeared  
swallowed up in a mad rushing descent as of the soul into Hades. Then  
silence, and stillness, night were the universe.  
I had swooned; but still will not say that all of consciousness was  
lost. What of it there remained I will not attempt to define, or even  
to describe; yet all was not lost. In the deepest slumber--no! In  
delirium--no! In a swoon--no! In death--no! even in the grave all is  
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