[ti:the Conqueror Worm]
[ar:]
[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.