Nemesis

Nemesisby H. P. Lovecraft
Story copied from the Wikisource.
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Through the ghoul-guarded gateways of slumber,  Past the wan-mooned abysses of night,I have lived o'er my lives without number,  I have sounded all things with my sight;And I struggle and shriek ere the daybreak, being driven to madness with fright.
I have whirled with the earth at the dawning,  When the sky was a vaporous flame;I have seen the dark universe yawning  Where the black planets roll without aim,Where they roll in their horror unheeded, without knowledge or lustre or name.
I had drifted o'er seas without ending,  Under sinister grey-clouded skies,That the many-forked lightning is rending,  That resound with hysterical cries;With the moans of invisible daemons, that out of the green waters rise.
I have plunged like a deer through the arches  Of the hoary primordial grove,Where the oaks feel the presence that marches,  And stalks on where no spirit dares rove,And I flee from a thing that surrounds me, and leers through dead branches above.
I have stumbled by cave-ridden mountains  That rise barren and bleak from the plain,I have drunk of the fog-foetid fountains  That ooze down to the marsh and the main;And in hot cursed tarns I have seen things, I care not to gaze on again.
I have scanned the vast ivy-clad palace,  I have trod its untenanted hall,Where the moon rising up from the valleys  Shows the tapestries things on the wall;Strange figures discordantly woven, that I cannot endure to recall.
I have peered from the casements in wonder  At the moldering meadows around,At the many-roofed village laid under  The curse of a grave-girdled ground;And from rows of white urn-carven marble, I listen intently for sound.
I have haunted the tombs of the ages,  I have flown on the pinions of fear,Where the smoke-belching Erebus rages;  Where the jokulls loom snow-clad and drear:And in realms where the sun of the desert consumes what it never can cheer.
I was old when the pharaohs first mounted  The jewel-decked throne by the Nile;I was old in those epochs uncounted  When I, and I only, was vile;And Man, yet untainted and happy, dwelt in bliss on the far Arctic isle.
Oh, great was the sin of my spirit,  And great is the reach of its doom;Not the pity of Heaven can cheer it,  Nor can respite be found in the tomb:Down the infinite aeons come beating the wings of unmerciful gloom.
Through the ghoul-guarded gateways of slumber,  Past the wan-mooned abysses of night,I have lived o'er my lives without number,  I have sounded all things with my sight;And I struggle and shriek ere the daybreak, being driven to madness with fright.
Category:HPL
Category:Poetry