Page:The Works of the Late Edgar Allan Poe (Volume II).djvu/68

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a route obscure and lonely, Haunted by ill angels only, Where an Eidolon, named , On a black throne reigns upright, I have reached these lands but newly From an ultimate dim Thule— From a wild weird clime that lieth, sublime, Out of —out of.

Bottomless vales and boundless floods, And chasms, and caves, and Titan woods, With forms that no man can discover For the dews that drip all over; Mountains toppling evermore Into seas without a shore; Seas that restlessly aspire, Surging, unto skies of fire; Lakes that endlessly outspread Their lone waters—lone and dead,— Their still waters—still and chilly With the snows of the lolling lily.

By the lakes that thus outspread Their lone waters, lone and dead,—