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[ti:the Conqueror Worm] |
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[ar:] |
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[al:] |
[00:20.22] |
Lo! 'tis a gala night |
[00:24.87] |
Within the lonesome latter years! |
[00:29.83] |
An angel throng, bewinged, bedight |
[00:34.60] |
In veils, and drowned in tears, |
[00:40.20] |
Sit in a theatre, to see |
[00:44.04] |
A play of hopes and fears, |
[00:50.34] |
While the orchestra breathes fitfully |
[00:56.77] |
The music of the spheres. |
[01:21.64] |
Mimes, in the form of God on high, |
[01:26.50] |
Mutter and mumble low, |
[01:31.31] |
And hither and thither fly - |
[01:36.18] |
Mere puppets they, who come and go |
[01:41.01] |
At bidding of vast formless things |
[01:45.88] |
That shift the scenery to and fro, |
[01:51.33] |
Flapping from out their Condor wings |
[01:58.17] |
Invisible Woe! |
[02:01.22] |
That motley drama - oh, be sure |
[02:06.29] |
It shall not be forgot! |
[02:10.29] |
With its Phantom chased for evermore, |
[02:14.95] |
By a crowd that seize it not, |
[02:20.97] |
Through a circle that ever returneth in |
[02:25.89] |
To the self-same spot, |
[02:29.64] |
And much of Madness, and more of Sin, |
[02:35.77] |
And Horror the soul of the plot. |
[02:40.26] |
And much of Madness, and more of Sin, |
[02:45.75] |
And Horror the soul of the plot. |
[03:11.97] |
But see, amid the mimic rout |
[03:16.27] |
A crawling shape intrude! |
[03:21.14] |
A blood-red thing that writhes from out |
[03:26.14] |
The scenic solitude! |
[03:31.01] |
It writhes! - it writhes! - with mortal pangs |
[03:35.61] |
The mimes become its food, |
[03:40.57] |
And seraphs sob at vermin fangs |
[03:45.55] |
In human gore imbued. |
[04:15.15] |
Out - out are the lights - out all! |
[04:19.71] |
And, over each quivering form, |
[04:24.47] |
The curtain, a funeral pall, |
[04:29.43] |
Comes down with the rush of a storm, |
[04:34.14] |
While the angels, all pallid and wan, |
[04:39.16] |
Uprising, unveiling, affirm |
[04:43.77] |
That the play is the tragedy, "Man," |
[04:48.67] |
And its hero the Conqueror Worm. |