Al Aaraaf (1829)
This poem is based on stories from the Qurâan, and tells of the afterlife in the place called Al Aaraaf. Poe included it as the major poem in his 1829 collection Al Aaraaf, Tamerlane, and Minor Poems.
Part I
O! nothing earthly save the ray
(Thrown back from flowers) of Beautyâs eye,
As in those gardens where the day
Springs from the gems of Circassyâ
O! nothing earthly save the thrill
Of melody in woodland rillâ
Or (music of the passion-hearted)
Joyâs voice so peacefully departed
That like the murmur in the shell,
Its echo dwelleth and will dwellâ
Oh, nothing of the dross of oursâ
Yet all the beautyâall the flowers
That list our Love, and deck our bowersâ
Adorn yon world afar, afarâ
The wandering star.
âTwas a sweet time for Nesaceâfor there
Her world lay lolling on the golden air,
Near four bright sunsâa temporary restâ
An oasis in desert of the blest.
Awayâawayââmid seas of rays that roll
Empyrean splendor oâer thâ unchained soulâ
The soul that scarce (the billows are so dense)
Can struggle to its destinâd eminenceâ
To distant spheres, from time to time, she rode
And late to ours, the favorâd one of Godâ
But, now, the ruler of an anchorâd realm,
She throws aside the sceptreâleaves the helm,
And, amid incense and high spiritual hymns,
Laves in quadruple light her angel limbs.
Now happiest, loveliest in yon lovely Earth,
Whence sprang the âIdea of Beautyâ into birth,
(Falling in wreaths throâ many a startled star,
Like womanâs hair âmid pearls, until, afar,
It lit on hills Achaian, and there dwelt)
She looked into Infinityâand knelt.
Rich clouds, for canopies, about her curledâ
Fit emblems of the model of her worldâ
Seen but in beautyânot impeding sight
Of other beauty glittering throâ the lightâ
A wreath that twined each starry form around,
And all the opalâd air in color bound.
All hurriedly she knelt upon a bed
Of flowers: of lilies such as rearâd the head
On the fair Capo Deucato, and sprang
So eagerly around about to hang
Upon the flying footsteps ofâdeep prideâ
Of her who lovâd a mortalâand so died.
The Sephalica, budding with young bees,
Upreared its purple stem around her knees:â
And gemmy flower, of Trebizond misnamâdâ
Inmate of highest stars, where erst it shamâd
All other loveliness:â its honied dew
(The fabled nectar that the heathen knew)
Deliriously sweet, was droppâd from Heaven,
And fell on gardens of the unforgiven
In Trebizondâand on a sunny flower
So like its own above that, to this hour,
It still remaineth, torturing the bee
With madness, and unwonted reverie:
In Heaven, and all its environs, the leaf
And blossom of the fairy plant in grief
Disconsolate lingerâgrief that hangs her head,
Repenting follies that full long have Red,
Heaving her white breast to the balmy air,
Like guilty beauty, chastenâd and more fair:
Nyctanthes too, as sacred as the light
She fears to perfume, perfuming the night:
And Clytia, pondering between many a sun,
While pettish tears adown her petals run:
And that aspiring flower that sprang on Earth,
And died, ere scarce exalted into birth,
Bursting its odorous heart in spirit to wing
Its way to Heaven, from garden of a king:
And Valisnerian lotus, thither flownâ
From struggling with the waters of the Rhone:
And thy most lovely purple perfume, Zante!
Isola dâoro!âFior di Levante!
And the Nelumbo bud that floats for ever
With In...