Better this magic than the charms of the volume and the vessel.

Hour after hour has gone; thou hast lighted the lamp; night sees thee yet at thy labour.

Merciful Heaven! what chills the atmosphere; why does the lamp grow wan; why does thy hair bristle?
There!--there!--there! at the casement! It gazes on thee, the dark, mantled, loathsome thing! There, with their devilish mockery and hateful craft, glare on thee those horrid eyes! He stood and gazed,--it was no delusion.

It spoke not, moved not, till, unable to bear longer that steady and burning look, he covered his face with his hands.

With a start, with a thrill, he removed them; he felt the nearer presence of the nameless.