Yet that terror was not fright,
  But a tremulous delight.

Here is the complete poem.  The young student of poetry may study it for himself, and discover, if he can, its shortcomings, as we have pointed out the faults in the poem “Alone.”

  In spring of youth it was my lot
  To haunt of the wide world a spot
  The which I could not love the less,—­
  So lovely was the loveliness
  Of a wild lake, with black rock bound,
  And the tall pines that towered around. 
  But when the night had thrown her pall
  Upon that spot as upon all,

  And the mystic wind went by
  Murmuring in melody,—­
  Then,—­ah, then I would awake
  To the terror of the lone lake. 
  Yet that terror was not fright,
  But a tremulous delight,—­
  A feeling not the jeweled mine
  Could teach or bribe me to define,—­
  Nor Love—­although the Love were thine.

  Death was in that poisonous wave,
  And its gulf a fitting grave
  For him who thence could solace bring
  To his lone imagining,—­
  Whose solitary soul could make
  An Eden of that dim lake.

These poems are chiefly interesting as they give us some idea of the nature of the young poet’s mind.  Poe had what may be called a scientific mind, infused through and through with poetry.  At times he was exact, keen-minded, and patient as the scientist; then again he wandered away into mere fanciful suggestion of things that “never were on land or sea.”  His scientific turn we see in his detective stories; his poetic nature we see struggling against this intellectual exactness in the following sonnet: 

  Science!  True daughter of Old Time thou art! 
    Who alterest all things with thy peering eyes. 
  Why preyest thou upon the poet’s heart,
    Vulture, whose wings are dull realities? 
  How should he love thee? or how deem thee wise,
    Who wouldst not leave him in his wandering
  To seek for treasure in the jeweled skies,
    Albeit he soared with an undaunted wing? 
  Hast thou not dragged Diana from her car? 
    And driven the Hamadryad from the wood
  To seek a shelter in some happier star? 
    Hast thou not torn the Naiad from her flood,
  The Elfin from the green grass, and from me
    The summer dream beneath the tamarind tree?

CHAPTER VIII

POE’S CHILD WIFE

While Poe was in Baltimore, after he had begun to earn something by his pen, he went to live with his aunt, Mrs. Clemm.  She was very poor, and whatever Poe earned went toward the support of the whole family, which included not only Poe and his aunt, but her young daughter Virginia, at this time only eleven years of age.

Virginia was an exceedingly delicate and beautiful girl.  She had dark hair and eyes, and a fine, transparent complexion.  She was very modest and quiet; but she had a fine mind, and a very sweet and winning manner.  She had also a poetic nature, and became an accomplished musician.