Speaker 1: 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