Satan Has His Companions, Fellow-devils, To Admire

I Collected The Instruments Of Life Around Me, That I Might Infuse A Spark Of Being Into The Lifeless Thing That Lay At My Feet. It Was Already One In The Morning; The Rain Pattered Dismally Against The Panes, And My Candle Was Nearly Burnt Out, When, By The Glimmer Of The Half-extinguished Light, I Saw The Dull Yellow Eye Of The Creature Open; It Breathed Hard, And A Convulsive Motion Agitated Its Limbs.

Oh! Be Men, Or Be More Than Men. Be Steady To Your Purposes And Firm As A Rock. This Ice Is Not Made Of Such Stuff As Your Hearts May Be; It Is Mutable And Cannot Withstand You If You Say That It Shall Not. Do Not Return To Your Families With The Stigma Of Disgrace Marked On Your Brows. Return As Heroes Who Have Fought And Conquered, And Who Know Not What It Is To Turn Their Backs On The Foe.

I Saw -- With Shut Eyes, But Acute Mental Vision -- I Saw The Pale Student Of Unhallowed Arts Kneeling Beside The Thing He Had Put Together. I Saw The Hideous Phantasm Of A Man Stretched Out, And Then, On The Working Of Some Powerful Engine, Show Signs Of Life, And Stir With An Uneasy, Half-vital Motion.

Thus Strangely Are Our Souls Constructed, And By Slight Ligaments Are We Bound To Prosperity And Ruin.

My Dreams Were At Once More Fantastic And Agreeable Than My Writings.