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Once Upon a Midnight

by Valentine Wolfe

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1.
The Tell Tale Heart His vulture eye is watching me And tempting me to sin What man could resist such devil bliss To give in to this mortal whim Madness winds around my mind Haunting me both day and night When the night comes black as pitch I’ll hear the groan of terror That dull blue eye with the hideous veil Chills the marrow in my bones The hellish tattoo of his heart increases Quicker, quicker every instant His vulture eye is watching me And tempting me to sin What man could resist such devil bliss To give in to this mortal whim 4 o’clock still dark as midnight Who’s come knocking at my door They want to check his chambers My manner must convince them At ease, at ease with the world But for the ringing in my ear I foamed- I raved- I swore (to cover) That beating from under the floor His vulture eye is watching me And tempting me to sin What man could resist such devil bliss To give in to this mortal whim
2.
Annabel Lee 03:48
Annabel Lee She was a child- I was a child In that kingdom by the sea How cruelly then she was taken from me My beautiful Annabel Lee When death came in to steal her from me I tried to put up a fight I was no match for that figure cloaked in black And I lost my bride to the night She was singing at her piano Such a beautiful sight to me But blood has now consumed our lives It is dripping from the keys Let me have under her own hand A letter bidding me goodbye I may die, my heart will break But I will say no more
3.
The Fall of the House of Usher it was a crack, it was a fissure running down the facade the vacant eye-like windows reflecting agony inside an unredeemed dreariness of thought and sensation the hideous dropping off of the veil Not hear it? yes, I hear it! Yes, I have heard it! long, long many minutes hours and days I dared not speak- I dared not miserable wretch that I am we have put her living in the tomb! Madeline- do I hear her footstep on the stair Madeline- do I hear the beating of her heart Madeline, Madeline O whither shall I fly? blood red moon show me the fissure splitting the house of Usher in two blood red moon just enough light to show the tarn swallow it whole
4.
The Masque of the Red Death There are chords in the heart of the most reckless which cannot be touched without emotion. Seven rooms full of color Prisms of light fall on the revelers Outside the corridor a brazier of fire Projects its rays through the tinted glass Gigantic clock made of ebony Pendulum swings to and fro When the hour is to be struck The revelers stop in their paces To and fro in the chambers Stalked a multitude of dreams And these dreams writhed about Taking their hue from the rooms There was much of the beautiful Much of the wanton Much of the bizarre Something of the terrible And not just a little of that which might have excited disgust And not just a little of that which might have excited disgust One last chamber, the black chamber With panes of scarlet, a deep blood color Spectral image tall and gaunt Shrouded as the grave Mask conceals a stiffened corpse Vesture shrouded in blood The Red Death had come Like a thief in the night And one by one the revellers dropped And died in the posture of the fall The ebony clock went out with the last And the flames of the tripod expired And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death Held dominion over all
5.
Morella 03:37
Morella hour after hour would I linger by her side and dwell upon the music of her voice until at length its melody was tainted with a terror and a shadow right there fell upon my soul I am dying, yet shall I live Her whom in life thou didst abhor In death thou shalt adore I am dying, yet shall I live Her whom in life thou didst abhor In death thou shalt adore Morella Morella as the years rolled away I gazed upon her every day then did I discover new points of resemblance in the child to her mother the melancholy and the dead I am dying, yet shall I live Her whom in life thou didst abhor In death thou shalt adore I am dying, yet shall I live Her whom in life thou didst abhor In death thou shalt adore Morella Morella Morella I am dying, yet shall I live Her whom in life thou didst abhor In death thou shalt adore
6.
The Lake 04:00
The Lake 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 loneliness 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 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 jewelled mine Could teach or bribe me to define Nor Love, although the Love were thine Death was in that poisonous wave, And in 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
7.
Ligeia 03:47
Ligeia Ligeia! Ligeia! My beautiful one Whose harshest idea Will to melody run O! is it thy will On the breezes to toss? Or, capriciously still, Like the lone albatross, Incumbent on night (As she on the air) To keep watch with delight On the harmony there? Ligeia! wherever Thy image may be No image shall sever Thy music from thee. Thou hast bound many eyes In a dreamy sleep But the strains still arise Which thy vigilance keep The sound of the rain Which leaps down to the flower And dances again In the rhythm of the shower Go! breathe on their slumber All softly in ear The musical number They slumbered to hear For what can awaken An angel so soon Whose sleep hath been taken Beneath the cold moon As the spell which no slumber Of witchery may test The rhythmical number Which lulled him to rest
8.
The Oval Portrait She was humble and obedient Sat meekly for weeks While the painter took glory in his work Went on from day to day She was a maiden of rarest beauty All light and smiles and frolicsome Loving and cherishing all things Hating the art as her rival He would not see the light which fell So ghastly in that turret Withered the health and spirit of his bride Who pined to all but him Vivid light presents a portrait Flashing candles on the canvas Dreamy stupor stealing over Senses that recede from me She was a maiden of rarest beauty All light and smiles and frolicsome Loving and cherishing all things Hating the art as her rival As the labor drew near its conclusion The painter wild with ardor He would not see the tints he used Were drawn from her cheeks And when but one stroke remained And then the tint was placed He stood entranced beside his work His wife sat pallid and dead
9.
The Bells 05:52
The Bells I. Hear the sledges with the bells Silver bells! What a world of merriment their melody foretells! How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, In the icy air of night! While the stars that oversprinkle All the heavens seem to twinkle With a crystalline delight; Keeping time, time, time, In a sort of Runic rhyme, To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells From the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells- From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells. II. Hear the mellow wedding bells Golden bells! What a world of happiness their harmony foretells! Through the balmy air of night How they ring out their delight! From the molten golden notes, And all in tune, What a liquid ditty floats To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats On the moon! Oh, from out the sounding cells, What a gush of euphony voluminously wells! How it swells! How it dwells! On the Future!- how it tells Of the rapture that impels To the swinging and the ringing Of the bells, bells, bells- Of the bells, bells, bells, bells Bells, bells, bells- To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells! III. Hear the loud alarum bells Brazen bells! What a tale of terror now, their turbulency tells! In the startled ear of night How they scream out their affright! Too much horrified to speak, They can only shriek, shriek, Out of tune, In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire, In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire, Leaping higher, higher, higher, With a desperate desire, And a resolute endeavor Now- now to sit or never, By the side of the pale-faced moon. Oh the bells, bells, bells! What a tale their terror tells Of Despair! How they clang, and clash, and roar! What a horror they outpour On the bosom of the palpitating air! Yet the ear, it fully knows, By the twanging, And the clanging, How the danger ebbs and flows; Yet the ear distinctly tells, In the jangling And the wrangling, How the danger sinks and swells, By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells- Of the bells- Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells- In the clamor and the clangor of the bells! IV. Hear the tolling of the bells Iron bells! What a world of solemn thought their monody compels! In the silence of the night, How we shiver with affright At the melancholy menace of their tone! For every sound that floats From the rust within their throats Is a groan. And the people- ah, the people- They that dwell up in the steeple, All alone, And who tolling, tolling, tolling, In that muffled monotone, Feel a glory in so rolling On the human heart a stone- They are neither man nor woman- They are neither brute nor human- They are Ghouls: And their king it is who tolls: And he rolls, rolls, rolls, Rolls A paean from the bells! And his merry bosom swells With the paean of the bells! And he dances, and he yells; Keeping time, time time, In a sort of Runic rhyme, To the paean of the bells- Of the bells: Keeping time, time, time, In a sort of Runic rhyme, To the throbbing of the bells- Of the bells, bells, bells- To the sobbing of the bells; Keeping time, time, time, As he knells, knells, knells, In a happy Runic rhyme, To the rolling of the bells- Of the bells, bells, bells: To the tolling of the bells- Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells, To the moaning and the groaning of the bells.
10.
Spirits of the Dead I. Thy soul shall find itself alone Mid dark thoughts of the gray tombstone Not one, of all the crowd, to pry Into thine hour of secrecy. II. Be silent in that solitude Which is not loneliness- for then The spirits of the dead who stood In life before thee are again In death around thee- and their will Shall overshadow thee: be still. III. The night, tho’ clear, shall frown And the stars shall not look down From their high thrones in the heaven With light like Hope to mortals given But their red orbs, without beam To thy weariness shall seem As a burning and a fever Which would cling to thee for ever. IV. Now are thoughts thou shalt not banish Now are visions ne’er to vanish From thy spirit shall they pass No more- like dew drop from the grass. V. The breeze- the breath of God is still And the mist upon the hill Shadowy- shadowy- yet unbroken A symbol and a token How it hangs upon the trees A mystery of mysteries!
11.
The Assignation Thou wast all that to me, love For which my soul did pine A green isle in the sea, love A fountain and a shrine All wreathed with fairy fruits and flowers And all the flowers were mine Ah, dream too bright to last Ah, starry hope, that didst arise But to be overcast! A voice from out the Future cries, “Onward” o’er the past (Dim gulf!) my spirit hovering lies Mute- motionless- aghast! For alas! alas! with me The light of life is over “No more- no more- no more.” (Such language holds the solemn sea To sands upon the shore) Shall bloom the thunder-blasted tree Or stricken eagle soar! Now all my hours are trances And all my nightly dreams Are where thy dark eye glances And where thy footstep gleams In what ethereal dances By what Italian streams Alas! for that accursed time They bore thee over the billow From Love to titled age and crime And an unholy pillow! From me, and from our misty clime Where weeps the silver willow!

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released September 1, 2013

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Valentine Wolfe Greenville, South Carolina

Two morbidly fascinated musicians combining ambient solo bass, brutal distortion, electronica, and 18th century opera to tell a story of the macabre.

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