Incipit
There is a lake in distant Zan, Beyond the wonted haunts of man, Where broods alone in a hideous state A spirit dead and desolate; A spirit ancient and unholy, Heavy with fearsome melancholy, Which from the waters dull and dense Draws vapors cursed with pestilence. Around the banks, a mire of clay, Sprawl things offensive in decay, And curious birds that reach that shore Are seen by mortals nevermore. Here shines by day the searing sun On glassy wastes beheld by none, And here by night pale moonbeams flow Into the deeps that yawn below. In nightmares only is it told What scene …
501 mots · Poésie · texte intégral sur Wikisource.
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Aucune entité de l’ontologie n’apparaît dans ce texte.