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Delphi Complete Works of H. P. Lovecraft (Illustrated)

Page 209

by H. P. Lovecraft


  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.

 

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