the works of edgar allan poe-3-第52章
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Ligeia's beauty passed into my spirit； there dwelling as in a shrine；
I derived； from many existences in the material world； a sentiment
such as I felt always aroused within me by her large and luminous
orbs。 Yet not the more could I define that sentiment； or analyze； or
even steadily view it。 I recognized it； let me repeat； sometimes in
the survey of a rapidly…growing vine in the contemplation of a
moth； a butterfly； a chrysalis； a stream of running water。 I have
felt it in the ocean； in the falling of a meteor。 I have felt it in
the glances of unusually aged people。 And there are one or two stars
in heaven （one especially； a star of the sixth magnitude； double
and changeable； to be found near the large star in Lyra） in a
telescopic scrutiny of which I have been made aware of the feeling。 I
have been filled with it by certain sounds from stringed instruments；
and not unfrequently by passages from books。 Among innumerable other
instances； I well remember something in a volume of Joseph Glanvill；
which （perhaps merely from its quaintness who shall say？） never
failed to inspire me with the sentiment； 〃And the will therein
lieth； which dieth not。 Who knoweth the mysteries of the will； with
its vigor？ For God is but a great will pervading all things by nature
of its intentness。 Man doth not yield him to the angels； nor unto
death utterly； save only through the weakness of his feeble will。〃
Length of years； and subsequent reflection； have enabled me to trace；
indeed； some remote connection between this passage in the English
moralist and a portion of the character of Ligeia。 An intensity in
thought； action； or speech； was possibly； in her； a result； or at
least an index； of that gigantic volition which； during our long
intercourse； failed to give other and more immediate evidence of its
existence。 Of all the women whom I have ever known； she； the
outwardly calm； the ever…placid Ligeia； was the most violently a prey
to the tumultuous vultures of stern passion。 And of such passion I
could form no estimate； save by the miraculous expansion of those
eyes which at once so delighted and appalled me by the almost
magical melody； modulation； distinctness and placidity of her very
low voice and by the fierce energy （rendered doubly effective by
contrast with her manner of utterance） of the wild words which she
habitually uttered。
I have spoken of the learning of Ligeia： it was immense such as I
have never known in woman。 In the classical tongues was she deeply
proficient； and as far as my own acquaintance extended in regard to
the modern dialects of Europe； I have never known her at fault。
Indeed upon any theme of the most admired； because simply the most
abstruse of the boasted erudition of the academy； have I ever found
Ligeia at fault？ How singularly how thrillingly； this one point in
the nature of my wife has forced itself； at this late period only；
upon my attention！ I said her knowledge was such as I have never
known in woman but where breathes the man who has traversed； and
successfully； all the wide areas of moral； physical； and mathematical
science？ I saw not then what I now clearly perceive； that the
acquisitions of Ligeia were gigantic； were astounding； yet I was
sufficiently aware of her infinite supremacy to resign myself； with a
child…like confidence； to her guidance through the chaotic world of
metaphysical investigation at which I was most busily occupied during
the earlier years of our marriage。 With how vast a triumph with
how vivid a delight with how much of all that is ethereal in hope
did I feel； as she bent over me in studies but little sought
but less known that delicious vista by slow degrees expanding
before me； down whose long； gorgeous； and all untrodden path； I might
at length pass onward to the goal of a wisdom too divinely precious
not to be forbidden！
How poignant； then； must have been the grief with which； after some
years； I beheld my well…grounded expectations take wings to
themselves and fly away！ Without Ligeia I was but as a child groping
benighted。 Her presence； her readings alone； rendered vividly
luminous the many mysteries of the transcendentalism in which we were
immersed。 Wanting the radiant lustre of her eyes； letters； lambent
and golden； grew duller than Saturnian lead。 And now those eyes shone
less and less frequently upon the pages over which I pored。 Ligeia
grew ill。 The wild eyes blazed with a too too glorious effulgence；
the pale fingers became of the transparent waxen hue of the grave；
and the blue veins upon the lofty forehead swelled and sank
impetuously with the tides of the gentle emotion。 I saw that she must
die and I struggled desperately in spirit with the grim Azrael。
And the struggles of the passionate wife were； to my astonishment；
even more energetic than my own。 There had been much in her stern
nature to impress me with the belief that； to her； death would have
come without its terrors； but not so。 Words are impotent to convey
any just idea of the fierceness of resistance with which she wrestled
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
