Silence, a fable by Edgar Allan Poe. The mountain, pinnacles, slumber,
valleys, crags and caves are silent. Listen to me, said the
demon, as he placed his hand upon my head. The region of which
I speak is a dreary region in Libya, by the borders of the river
Zaire. And there is no quiet there, nor silence. The waters of
the river have a saffron and sickly yew, and they flow not onward to
the sea, but palpitate forever and forever beneath the ret eye of the sun,
with a tumultuous and convulsive motion, for many miles. On either side
of the river's oozy bed is a pale desert of gigantic water lilies. They
sigh one unto the other in that solitude, and stretch towards the heaven their
long and ghastly necks, and not to and fro their everlasting heads. And
there is an indistinct murmur which cometh out from among them, like the rushing
of supterene water. And they sigh one unto the other. But there is
a boundary to theiron, the boundary of the dark, horrible, lofty forest.
There, like the waves about the hebrides. The low underwoot is agitated
continually, but there is no wind throughout the heaven. And the tall primeval
trees rock eternally hither and thither with a crashing and mighty sound, and from
their high summits, one by one drop everlasting dews. And at the roots
strange poisonous flowers lie writhing and perturbed slumber. And overhead, with a rustling
and loud noise, the gray clouds rush westwardly forever until they roll a cataract
over the fiery wall of the horizon. But there is no wind throughout the
heaven, and by the shores of the river Zyra, there is neither quiet
nor silence. It was night, and the rain fell, and falling it
was rain, but having fallen it was blood. And I stood in the
morass among the tall lilies, and the rain fell upon my hat, and
the lily sighed one into the other in the solemnity of their desolation. And
all at once the moon arose through the thin, ghastly mist and was crimson
in color. And mine eyes fell upon a huge gray rock which stood by
the shore of the river, and was lighted by the light of the moon,
and the rock was gray and ghastly and tall, and the rock was
gray. Upon its front were characters engraven in the stones. And I walked
through the morass of water lilies until I came close in to the shore,
that I might read the characters upon the stone. But I could not decipher
them. And I was going back into the morass when the moon shone with
a fuller ret and I turned and looked again upon the rock and upon the
characters, and the characters were desert. And I looked upwards, and there
stood a man upon the summit of the rock. And I hid myself among
the water lilies, that I might discover the action of the man. And
the man was tall and stately in form, and wrapped up from his shoulders
to his feet in the toga of old Rome. And the outlines of his
figure were indistinct, But his features were the features of a deity. For
the mantle of the night, and of the mist, and of the moon,
and of the dew had left uncovered the features of his face. And
his brow was lofty with thought, and his eye wild with care. And
in the few furrows upon his cheek I read the fables of sorrow and the
weariness and disgusted with mankind, and the longing after solitude. And the man
sat on the rock and leaned his hat upon his hand, and looked out
upon the desolation. He looked down into the low and quiet shriverery, and
up into the tall primeval trees, and up high at the rustling heaven,
and into the crimson moon. And I lay close within shelter of the lilies,
and observed the actions of the man. And the man trembled in the
solitude. But the knight waned, and he sat upon the rock. And
the man turned his attention from the heaven and looked out upon the dreary river
Zayra, and upon the yellow, ghastly waters, and upon the pale legions
of the water lily. And the man listened to the sighs of the water
lilies, and to the murmur that came up from among them. And I
lay close within my covert and observed the actions of the man. And the
man trembled in the solitude. But the night waned, and he sat upon
the rock. Then I went down into the recesses of the Moras and waded
afar in among the wilderness of the lilies, and called into the hippopotamy,
which dwelt among the fence in the recesses of the morahs. And the Hippopotamy
heard my cow and came with the behemoth unto the foot of the rock,
and roared loudly and fearfully beneath the moon. And I lay close within my
covert and observed the actions of the man. And the man tramped in the
solitude, but the night went, and he sat upon the rock. Then
I cursed the elements with the curs of tumult, and the frightful tempest gathered
in the heaven where before there had been no wind, and the heaven became
livid with the violence of the tempest. And the rain beat upon the head
of the man, and the floods of the river came down, and the
river was tormented into foam, and the water lily shrieked within their beds,
and the forests crumbled before the wind, and the thunder rolled, and the
lightning fell, and the rock rocked to its foundation. And I lay close
within my covert and observed the actions of the man. And the man trembled
in the solitude, but the night went and he sat upon the rock.
Then I grew angry and cursed with the curs of silence the river and the
lilies, and the wind and the forest, and the heaven and the thunder
and the sighs of the water lilies. And they became a cursed and were
still. And the moon ceased to totter up its pathway to heaven, and
the thunder died away, and the lightning did not flash, and the clouds
hung motionless, and the waters sunk to their level and remained, and the
trees ceased to rock, and the water lilies sighed no more, and the
murmur was heard no longer from among them, nor any shadow of sound throughout
the vast illimitable desert. And I looked upon the characters of the rock,
and they were changed, and the characters were silence. And my eyes fell
upon the countenance of the man, and his countenance was one with terror.
And hurriedly he raised his head from his hand and stood forth upon the rock
and listened. But there was no voice throughout the vast illimitable desert, and
the characters upon the rock were silence. And the man shuddered and turned his
face away, and flat afar off in haste, so that I beheld him
no more. Now there are fine tills in the volumes of the Magi,
in the iron bound, melancholy volumes of the Magi. Therein I say,
I glorious histories of the heaven and of the Earth, and of the mighty
Sea, and of the Genii that overruled the sea and the earth and the
lofty heaven. There was much lore too in the sayings which were set by
the sybyls, and holly holy things were heard of old by the dim leaves
that trembled around the Dona. But as Allah liveth that fable which the Damon
told me as he sat by my sight in the shadow of the tomb,
I hold to be the most wonderful of all. And as the demon made
an end of his story, he fell back within the cavity of the tomb
and laughed. And I could not laugh with the demon. And he cursed
me because I could not laugh. And the lynx which dwelleth for ever in
the tomb, came out therefrom and lay down at the feet of the demon
and looked at him steadily in the face, and of silence, a fable