Outside the crouching hut a white illumination suggested vague spectral forms whose unreal, phantasmal motions seemed to taunt my blindness, just as unheard voices mocked my eager listening. For countless moments I was still, as if Time and the tolling of her great bell were hushed into nothingness. And yet there was nothing which I might fear: the moon-chiselled shadows were unnatural in no contour, and veiled nothing from my eyes. The night was silent — I knew that despite my closed window — and all the stars were fixed mournfully in a listening heaven of dark grandeur. No motion from me then, or word now, could reveal my plight, or tell of the fear-racked brain imprisoned in flesh which dared not break the silence, for all the torture it brought. As if expectant of death, and assured that nothing could serve to banish the soul-peril I confronted, I crouched with a forgotten cigarette in my hand. A silent world gleamed beyond the cheap, dirty windows, and in one corner of the room a pair of dirty oars, placed there before my arrival, shared the vigil of my spirit. The lamp burned endlessly, yielding a sick light hued like a corpse’s flesh. Glancing at it now and again, for the desperate distraction it gave, I saw that many bubbles unaccountably rose and vanished in the kerosene-filled base. Curiously enough, there was no heat from the wick. And suddenly I became aware that the night as a whole was neither warm nor cold, but strangely neutral — as if all physical forces were suspended, and all the laws of a calm existence disrupted.
Then, with an unheard splash which sent from the silver water to the shore a line of ripples echoed in fear by my heart, a swimming thing emerged beyond the breakers. The figure may have been that of a dog, a human being, or something more strange. It could not have known that I watched — perhaps it did not care — but like a distorted fish it swam across the mirrored stars and dived beneath the surface. After a moment it came up again, and this time, since it was closer, I saw that it was carrying something across its shoulder. I knew, then, that it could be no animal, and that it was a man or something like a man, which came toward the land from a dark ocean. But it swam with a horrible ease.
As I watched, dread-filled and passive, with the fixed stare of one who awaits death in another yet knows he cannot avert it, the swimmer approached the shore — though too far down the southward beach for me to discern its outlines or features. Obscurely loping, with sparks of moonlit foam scattered by its quick gait, it emerged and was lost among the inland dunes.
Now I was possessed by a sudden recurrence of fear, which had died away in the previous moments. There was a tingling coldness all over me — though the room, whose window I dared not open now, was stuffy. I thought it would be very horrible if something were to enter a window which was not closed.
Now that I could no longer see the figure, I felt that it lingered somewhere in the close shadows, or peered hideously at me from whatever window I did not watch. And so I turned my gaze, eagerly and frantically, to each successive pane; dreading that I might indeed behold an intrusive regarding face, yet unable to keep myself from the terrifying inspection. But though I watched for hours, there was no longer anything upon the beach.
So the night passed, and with it began the ebbing of that strangeness — a strangeness which had surged up like an evil brew within a pot, had mounted to the very rim in a breathless moment, had paused uncertainly there, and had subsided, taking with it whatever unknown message it had borne. Like the stars that promise the revelation of terrible and glorious memories, goad us into worship by this deception, and then impart nothing. I had come frighteningly near to the capture of an old secret which ventured close to man’s haunts and lurked cautiously just beyond the edge of the known. Yet in the end I had nothing, I was given only a glimpse of the furtive thing; a glimpse made obscure by the veils of ignorance. I cannot even conceive what might have shown itself had I been too close to that swimmer who went shoreward instead of into the ocean. I do not know what might have come if the brew had passed the rim of the pot and poured outward in a swift cascade of revelation. The night ocean withheld whatever it had nurtured. I shall know nothing more.
Even yet I do not know why the ocean holds such a fascination for me. But then, perhaps none of us can solve those things — they exist in defiance of all explanation. There are men, and wise men, who do not like the sea and its lapping surf on yellow shores; and they think us strange who love the mystery of the ancient and unending deep. Yet for me there is a haunting and inscrutable glamour in all the ocean’s moods. It is in the melancholy silver foam beneath the moon’s waxen corpse; it hovers over the silent and eternal waves that beat on naked shores; it is there when all is lifeless save for unknown shapes that glide through sombre depths. And when I behold the awesome billows surging in endless strength, there comes upon me an ecstasy akin to fear; so that I must abase myself before this mightiness, that I may not hate the clotted waters and their overwhelming beauty.
Vast and lonely is the ocean, and even as all things came from it, so shall they return thereto. In the shrouded depths of time none shall reign upon the earth, nor shall any motion be, save in the eternal waters. And these shall beat on dark shores in thunderous foam, though none shall remain in that dying world to watch the cold light of the enfeebled moon playing on the swirling tides and coarse-grained sand. On the deep’s margin shall rest only a stagnant foam, gathering about the shells and bones of perished shapes that dwelt within the waters. Silent, flabby things will toss and roll along empty shores, their sluggish life extinct. Then all shall be dark, for at last even the white moon on the distant waves shall wink out. Nothing shall be left, neither above nor below the sombre waters. And until that last millennium, as after it, the sea will thunder and toss throughout the dismal night.
LIST OF SHORT STORIES IN CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER
The Little Glass Bottle
The Secret Cave
The Mystery of the Grave-Yard
The Mysterious Ship
The Beast in the Cave
The Alchemist
The Tomb
Dagon
A Reminiscence of Dr. Samuel Johnson
Sweet Ermengarde
Polaris
The Green Meadow
Beyond the Wall of Sleep
Memory
Old Bugs
The Transition of Juan Romero
The White Ship
The Doom That Came to Sarnath
The Statement of Randolph Carter
The Terrible Old Man
The Tree
The Cats of Ulthar
The Temple
Facts Concerning the Late Arthur Jermyn and His Family
The Street
Poetry and the Gods
Celephaïs
From Beyond
Nyarlathotep
The Picture in the House
The Crawling Chaos
Ex Oblivione
The Nameless City
The Quest of Iranon
The Moon-Bog
The Outsider
The Other Gods
The Music of Erich Zann
Herbert West — Reanimator
Hypnos
What the Moon Brings
Azathoth
The Horror at Martin’s Beach
The Hound
The Lurking Fear
The Rats in the Walls
The Unnamable
The Festival
Under the Pyramids
The Shunned House
The Horror at Red Hook
He
In the Vault
The Descendant
Cool Air
The Call of Cthulhu
Two Black Bottles
Pickman’s Model
The Silver Key
The Strange High House in the Mist
The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath
The Case of Charles Dexter Ward
The Colour Out of Space
The Very Old Folk
The Thing in the Moonlight
The Last Test
The History of the
Necronomicon
The Curse of Yig
Ibid
The Dunwich Horror
The Electric Executioner
The Mound
Medusa’s Coil
The Whisperer in Darkness
At the Mountains of Madness
The Shadow Over Innsmouth (Draft)
The Shadow Over Innsmouth
The Trap
The Dreams in the Witch House
The Man of Stone
The Horror in the Museum
Through the Gates of the Silver Key
Winged Death
Out of the Aeons
The Thing on the Doorstep
The Evil Clergyman
The Horror in the Burying-Ground
The Hoard of the Wizard-Beast
The Slaying of the Monster
The Book
The Tree on the Hill
The Battle that Ended the Century
The Shadow out of Time
Till A’ the Seas”
Collapsing Cosmoses
The Challenge from Beyond
The Disinterment
The Diary of Alonzo Typer
The Haunter of the Dark
In the Walls of Eryx
The Night Ocean
LIST OF SHORT STORIES IN ALPHABETICAL ORDER
A Reminiscence of Dr. Samuel Johnson
At the Mountains of Madness
Azathoth
Beyond the Wall of Sleep
Celephaïs
Collapsing Cosmoses
Cool Air
Dagon
Ex Oblivione
Facts Concerning the Late Arthur Jermyn and His Family
From Beyond
He
Herbert West — Reanimator
Hypnos
Ibid
In the Vault
In the Walls of Eryx
Medusa’s Coil
Memory
Nyarlathotep
Old Bugs
Out of the Aeons
Pickman’s Model
Poetry and the Gods
Polaris
Sweet Ermengarde
The Alchemist
The Battle that Ended the Century
The Beast in the Cave
The Book
The Call of Cthulhu
The Case of Charles Dexter Ward
The Cats of Ulthar
The Challenge from Beyond
The Colour Out of Space
The Crawling Chaos
The Curse of Yig
The Descendant
The Diary of Alonzo Typer
The Disinterment
The Doom That Came to Sarnath
The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath
The Dreams in the Witch House
The Dunwich Horror
The Electric Executioner
The Evil Clergyman
The Festival
The Green Meadow
The Haunter of the Dark
The History of the Necronomicon
The Hoard of the Wizard-Beast
The Horror at Martin’s Beach
The Horror at Red Hook
The Horror in the Burying-Ground
The Horror in the Museum
The Hound
The Last Test
The Little Glass Bottle
The Lurking Fear
The Man of Stone
The Moon-Bog
The Mound
The Music of Erich Zann
The Mysterious Ship
The Mystery of the Grave-Yard
The Nameless City
The Night Ocean
The Other Gods
The Outsider
The Picture in the House
The Quest of Iranon
The Rats in the Walls
The Secret Cave
The Shadow out of Time
The Shadow Over Innsmouth
The Shadow Over Innsmouth (Draft)
The Shunned House
The Silver Key
The Slaying of the Monster
The Statement of Randolph Carter
The Strange High House in the Mist
The Street
The Temple
The Terrible Old Man
The Thing in the Moonlight
The Thing on the Doorstep
The Tomb
The Transition of Juan Romero
The Trap
The Tree
The Tree on the Hill
The Unnamable
The Very Old Folk
The Whisperer in Darkness
The White Ship
Through the Gates of the Silver Key
Till A’ the Seas”
Two Black Bottles
Under the Pyramids
What the Moon Brings
Winged Death
The Poetry
598 Angell Street, Providence — Lovecraft’s home from 1904 to 1924, on the same street as his birthplace
The Poem of Ulysses
8th November, 1897
The night was darke! O readers, hark!
And see Ulysses’ fleet!
From trumpets sound back homeward bound
He hopes his spouse to greet.
Long hath he fought, put troy to naught
And levelled down its wall.
But Neptune’s wrath obstructs his path
And into snares he falls.
After a storme that did much harme
He comes upon an isle
Where men do roam, forgetting home,
And lotos doth beguile,
From these mean snares his men he tears
And puts them on the ships.
No leave he grants, and lotos plants
Must no more touch their lips.
And now he comes to Cyclops’ homes
Foul giants all are they
Each have one eye, and hard they ply
Great Vulcan to obey.
A Cyclops’ cave the wanderers brave
And find much milk & cheese
But as they eat, foul death they meet
For them doth Cyclops seize.
Each livelong day the Cyclops’ prey
Is two most notable Greeks
Ulysses brave he plans to save
And quick escape he seeks.
By crafty ruse he can confuse
The stupid giant’s mind
Puts out his eye with dreadful cry
And leaves the wretch behind.
Now next he finds the king of wands
Great AEolus’s home
The windy king to him doth bring
Wind-bangs to help him roam.
He now remains in fair domains
In Circe’s palace grand
His men do change in fashion strange
To beasts at her command.
But Mercury did set him free
From witcheries like this
Unhappy he his men to see
Engaged in swinish bliss
He drew his sword and spake harsh word
To Circe standing there
‘My Men set free,’ in wrath quote he
‘Thy damage quick repair!!!’
Then all the herd at her brief word
Became like men once more.
Her magic boat, she gives all treat
Within her palace door.
And now Ulysses starts in bliss
The Syrens for to pass
No sound his crew’s sharp ears imbues
For they are stop-ped fast.
Now Scylla’s necks menace his decks
Charybdis theats his ships
Six men are lost — O! dreadful cost
But he through danger slips.
At last from waves no ship he saves
But on Calypso’s isle
He drifts ashore and more & more
He tarries for a while.
At last from command he’s sent to land
To seek his patient wife,
But his raft breaks,
and now he takes
His life from Neptune’s strife.
He quickly lands on Scheria’s strands
And goes unto the king.
He tells his tale; all hold wassail;
And ancient bard doth song.
Now does he roam unto his home
Where suitors woo his spouse
In begger’s rags himself he drags
Unknown into his house
His arrows flew at that vile crew
Who sought to win his bride
Now all are killed and he is filled
With great and happy pride.
His swineheard first then his old nurse
Do recognise him well
Then does he see Penelope
With whom he’ll dwell.
Until black death does stop his breath A
nd take him from the earth;
He’ll ne’er roam far from Ithica,
The island of his birth ——
Ode to Selene or Diana
Immortal Moon, in maiden splendour shine.
Dispense thy beams, divine Latona’s child.
Thy silver rays all grosser things define,
And hide harsh truth in sweet illusion mild.
In thy soft light, the city of unrest
That stands so squalid in thy brother’s glare
Throws off its habit, and in silence blest
Becomes a vision, sparkling bright and fair.
The modern world, with all it’s care & pain,
The smoky streets, the hideous clanging mills,
Face ‘neath thy beams, Selene, and again
We dream like shepherds on Chaldæa’s hills.
Take heed, Diana, of my humble plea.
Convey me where my happiness may last.
Draw me against the tide of time’s rough sea
And let my sprirt rest amid the past.
Delphi Complete Works of H. P. Lovecraft (Illustrated) Page 209