98 pROCEKDiNGS manche;ste;r institute; 



dimness of old, fell back into the regions of Hesper, and took 

 away all its manifold golden and gorgeous glories from the Val- 

 ley of the Many-Coloured Grass." 



The glow, the splendid, dreamy, simulated character of his 

 landscapes has never been equalled or approached. The super- 

 natural quiver, the lurid quality of his descriptions is sometimes 

 terrific and unearthly. 



The I^ady Madeline of Usher has been buried alive in a vault 

 of the castle. Her nervously diseased brother fears it, but 

 does nothing. He speaks : 



" Is she not hurrying to upbraid me for my haste ? Have I 

 not heard her footstep on the stair? Do I not distinguish that 

 heavy and horriole beating of her heart? Madman!" Here he 

 sprang furiously to his feet, and shrieked out his S3dlables, as if 

 in the effort he were giving up his soul, ''Madman! I tell you 

 that she now sta7ids without the do07^!'' 



As if in the superhuman energy of his utterance there had 

 been found the potency of a spell, the huge, antique panels to 

 which the speaker pointed threw slowly back, upon the instant, 

 their ponderous and ebony jaws. It was the work of the rush- 

 ing gust ; but then, without those doors, there af?^ stand the lofty 

 and enshrouded figure of the lady Madeline of Usher. * * * * 



From that chamber and from that mansion I fled aghast. The 

 storm was still abroad in all its v/rath as I found myself crossing 

 the old causeway. Suddenly there shot along the path a wild 

 light, and I turned to see whence a gleam so unusual could have 

 issued, for the vast house and its shadows were alone behind me. 

 The radiance was that of the full, setting, and blood-red moon, 

 which now shone vividly through that once barely discernible 

 fissure, of which I have before spoken as extending from the 

 roof of the building in a zigzag direction to the base. While I 

 gazed this fissure rapidly widened ; there came a fierce breath 

 of the whirlwind ; the entire orb of the satellite burst at once up- 

 on my sight ; my brain reeled as I saw the mighty walls rush- 

 ing asunder ; there was a long, tumultuous shouting sound like 

 the voice of a thousand waters, and the deep and dark tarn at 

 my feet closed sullenly and silently over the fragments of the 

 ''House of Usher.'' 



Here we may find the power of bis poetr3^ The effect and 

 impression wrought by this luxuriance of imagination is greater 

 than any idea or meaning in it. The poetry of Poe, once we 



