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 The mask of the Red Death .. by Edgar Allan Poe

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أوسمة أوسمة : مراقب مميز
الإسم بالكامل : عروة عبدالمنعم الطاهر
عدد المساهمات : 289
نقاط التقييم : 5455
تاريخ التسجيل : 02/01/2010
العمر : 38
الموقع : Sudan
العمل/الترفيه : Pharmacist

The mask of the Red Death .. by Edgar Allan Poe Empty
مُساهمةموضوع: The mask of the Red Death .. by Edgar Allan Poe   The mask of the Red Death .. by Edgar Allan Poe I_icon_minitimeالثلاثاء يوليو 26, 2011 1:37 am

Edgar Allan Poe :
The Masque of the Red Death
<1>
The 'Red Death' had long devastated the country.
No pestilence had ever been so fatal, or so hideous.
Blood was its Avatar and its seal - the madness and the horror of blood.
There were sharp pains, and sudden dizziness, and then profuse bleeding at the pores, with dissolution.
The scarlet stains upon the body and especially upon the face of the victim, were the pest ban which shut him out from the aid and from the sympathy of his fellow-men.
And the whole seizure, progress, and termination of the disease, were incidents of half an hour.
But Prince Prospero was happy and dauntless and sagacious.
When his dominions were half depopulated, he summoned to his presence a thousand hale and light- hearted friends from among the knights and dames of his court, and with these retired to the deep seclusion of one of his crenellated abbeys.
This was an extensive and magnificent structure, the creation of the prince's own eccentric yet august taste.
A strong and lofty wall girdled it in.
This wall had gates of iron.
The courtiers, having entered, brought furnaces and massy hammers and welded the bolts.
They resolved to leave means neither of ingress nor egress to the sudden impulses of despair or of frenzy from within.
The abbey was amply provisioned. With such precautions the courtiers might bid defiance to contagion.
The external world could take care of itself.
In the meantime it was folly to grieve or to think.
The prince had provided all the appliances of pleasure.
There were buffoons, there were improvisatori, there were ballet-dancers, there were musicians, there was Beauty, there was wine.
All these and security were within.
Without was the 'Red Death.'
It was toward the close of the fifth or sixth month of his seclusion that the Prince Prospero entertained his thousand friends at a masked ball of the most unusual magnificence.
It was a voluptuous scene, that masquerade.
But first let me tell of the rooms in which it was held.
There were seven - an imperial suite, In many palaces, however, such suites form a long and straight vista, while the folding doors slide back nearly to the walls on either hand, so that the view of the whole extant is scarcely impeded.
Here the case was very different; as might have been expected from the duke's love of the 'bizarre.'
The apartments were so irregularly disposed that the vision embraced but little more than one at a time.
There was a sharp turn at the right and left, in the middle of each wall, a tall and narrow Gothic window looked out upon a closed corridor of which pursued the windings of the suite.
These windows were of stained glass whose colour varied in accordance with the prevailing hue of the decorations of the chamber into which it opened.
That at the eastern extremity was hung, for example, in blue - and vividly blue were its windows.
The second chamber was purple in its ornaments and tapestries, and here the panes were purple.
The third was green throughout, and so were the casements.
The fourth was furnished and lighted with orange - the fifth with white - the sixth with violet.
The seventh apartment was closely shrouded in black velvet tapestries that hung all over the ceiling and down the walls, falling in heavy folds upon a carpet of the same material and hue.
But in this chamber only, the colour of the windows failed to correspond with the decorations.
The panes were scarlet - a deep blood colour.
Now in no one of any of the seven apartments was there any lamp or candelabrum, amid the profusion of golden ornaments that lay scattered to and fro and depended from the roof.
There was no light of any kind emanating from lamp or candle within the suite of chambers.
But in the corridors that followed the suite, there stood, opposite each window, a heavy tripod, bearing a brazier of fire, that projected its rays through the tinted glass and so glaringly lit the room.
And thus were produced a multitude of gaudy and fantastic appearances.
But in the western or back chamber the effect of the fire-light that streamed upon the dark hangings through the blood-tinted panes was ghastly in the extreme, and produced so wild a look upon the countenances of those who entered, that there were few of the company bold enough to set foot within its precincts at all. It was within this apartment, also, that there stood against the western wall, a gigantic clock of ebony. It pendulum swung to and fro with a dull, heavy, monotonous clang; and when the minute-hand made the circuit of the face, and the hour was to be stricken, there came from the brazen lungs of the clock a sound which was clear and loud and deep and exceedingly musical, but of so peculiar a note and emphasis that, at each lapse of an hour, the musicians of the orchestra were constrained to pause, momentarily, in their performance, to hearken to the sound; and thus the waltzers perforce ceased their evolutions; and there was a brief disconcert of the whole gay company; and while the chimes of the clock yet rang. it was observed that the giddiest grew pale, and the more aged and sedate passed their hands over their brows as if in confused reverie or meditation.
But when the echoes had fully ceased, a light laughter at once pervaded the assembly; the musicians looked at each other and smiled as if at their own nervousness and folly, and made whispering vows, each to the other, that the next chiming of the clock should produce in them no similar emotion; and then, after the lapse of sixty minutes (which embrace three thousand and six hundred seconds of Time that flies), there came yet another chiming of the clock, and then were the same disconcert and tremulousness and meditation as before.
But, in spite of these things, it was a gay and magnificent revel.
The tastes of the duke were peculiar.
He had a fine eye for colour and effects.
He disregarded the 'decora' of mere fashion.
His plans were bold and fiery, and his conceptions glowed with barbaric lustre.
There are some who would have thought him mad.
His followers felt that he was not.
It was necessary to hear and see and touch him to be sure he was not
الرجوع الى أعلى الصفحة اذهب الى الأسفل
http://www.ma3arif.ahlamontada.net
د. عروة
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مراقب عام
د. عروة


أوسمة أوسمة : مراقب مميز
الإسم بالكامل : عروة عبدالمنعم الطاهر
عدد المساهمات : 289
نقاط التقييم : 5455
تاريخ التسجيل : 02/01/2010
العمر : 38
الموقع : Sudan
العمل/الترفيه : Pharmacist

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مُساهمةموضوع: رد: The mask of the Red Death .. by Edgar Allan Poe   The mask of the Red Death .. by Edgar Allan Poe I_icon_minitimeالسبت يوليو 30, 2011 12:43 am

< 2 >
He had directed, in great part, the movable embellishments of the seven chambers, upon occasion of this great fete; and it was his own guiding taste which had given character to the masqueraders.
Be sure they were grotesque.
There were much glare and glitter and piquancy and phantasm - much of what has been seen in 'Hernani.' There were arabesque figures with unsuited limbs and appointments.
There were delirious fancies such as the madman fashions. There were much of the beautiful, much of the wanton, much of the bizarre, something of the terrible, and not a little of that which might have excited disgust.
To and fro in the seven chambers stalked, in fact, a multitude of dreams.
And these the dreams - writhed in and about, taking hue from the rooms, and causing the wild music of the orchestra to seem as the echo of their steps.
And, anon, there strikes the ebony clock which stands in the hall of the velvet.
And then, for a moment, all is still, and all is silent save the voice of the clock.
The dreams are stiff- frozen as they stand.
But the echoes of the chime die away - they have endured but an instant - and a light half-subdued laughter floats after them as they depart.
And now the music swells, and the dreams live, and writhe to and fro more merrily than ever, taking hue from the many-tinted windows through which stream the rays of the tripods.
But to the chamber which lies most westwardly of the seven there are now none of the maskers who venture, for the night is waning away; and there flows a ruddier light through the blood- coloured panes; and the blackness of the sable drapery appalls; and to him whose foot falls on the sable carpet, there comes from the near clock of ebony a muffled peal more solemnly emphatic than any which reaches their ears who indulge in the more remote gaieties of the other apartments.
But these other apartments were densely crowded, and in them beat feverishly the heart of life.
And the revel went whirlingly on, until at length there commenced the sounding of midnight upon the clock.
And then the music ceased, as I have told; and the evolutions of the waltzers were quieted; and there was an uneasy cessation of all things as before.
But now there were twelve strokes to be sounded by the bell of the clock; and thus it happened, perhaps that more of thought crept, with more of time into the meditations of the thoughtful among those who revelled.
And thus too, it happened, that before the last echoes of the last chime had utterly sunk into silence, there were many individuals in the crowd who had found leisure to become aware of the presence of a masked figure which had arrested the attention of no single individual before.
And the rumour of this new presence having spread itself whisperingly around, there arose at length from the whole company a buzz, or murmur, of horror, and of disgust
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The mask of the Red Death .. by Edgar Allan Poe
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