An Elegy for One Roderick Usher, or 'The Haunted Palace' Lyrics

A round of applause for our good pal Frankenstein!

Oh, settle down, settle down

I know, Frankenstein's the scientist

Oh… me?

No, no, no, no

Don't be absurd

I've no tales to tell nor songs to sing

Well… not of my own

So how about I regale you with a story of a dear friend of mine?

My name… remains unimportant

But this is An Elegy for One Roderick Usher, or 'The Haunted Palace'

I staggered, as it were, 'pon yon shambled, pallid house

Not in gait, but in the soul

So desolate can an image of once proud distinction be

When interned beneath time's sacramentary toll

Insufferable, the sight of such a miserable wretch as he

A friend at once alive and stone-cold dead

A musician of the string, he compelled his guitar to sing

And at last – and for the first – I heard such frightful, dreadful, doleful, dismal

Intensely conscious dread

He said

"In the greenest of our valleys

By good angels tenanted

Once a fair and stately palace

Radiant palace – reared its head

In the monarch Thought's dominion

It stood there!

Never seraph spread a pinion

Over fabric half so fair"

Madeline. O, poor Madeline. Such an anguished visage worn

A depression deeply soaked and yet so fresh

Ever will the memory of the pair of kin forlorn

Stake its claim upon my being; on my flesh

My pal and I, we mused, we dined

We spoke and laughed – or at least we tried

But we all know now, time's never been our friend

Merely days passed us by. Madeline passed. Roderick cried

Thinking back, it must be then the name of 'Usher' met its end

"Banners yellow, glorious, golden

On its roof did float and flow

(This – all this – was in the olden

Time long ago)

And every gentle air that dallied

In that sweet day

Along the ramparts plumed and pallid

A winged odor went away

Wanderers in that happy valley

Through two luminous windows saw

Spirits moving musically

To a lute's well-tunéd law

Round about a throne, where sitting

(Porphyrogene!)

In state his glory well befitting

The ruler of the realm was seen"

Encoffined; lain entombed 'neath the mansion she once knew

Lady Madeline seemed naught but full of life

Such, I've heard is the irony of the cataleptic's rue

A corpse that conceals the living's strife

But I admit, from that night forward, comfort seldom graced my heart

Till one dark night had wrung my senses warped and wry

In my folly, I'd thought a story could act to soothe my hysteric friend and I

Even then, I knew it futile, but I'd be damned if I could not at least try

"And all with pearl and ruby glowing

Was the fair palace door

Through which came flowing, flowing, flowing

And sparkling evermore

A troop of Echoes, whose sweet duty

Was but to sing

In voices of surpassing beauty

The wit and wisdom of their king"

And Ethelred, drunkened; full of might

Sought the hermit and sought to find a fight

And so he wrenched and ripped through the wooden screen with strength befit him

But the champion stood enraged; amazed

To find flaring scales and tongue ablaze

And a shield of shining brass, legend enwritten

"Who entereth herein, a conqueror hath bin

Who slayeth the dragon, the shield he shall win"

And as the legend was fulfilled

Ethelred's ears were at once filled

With shriek so horrid and harsh; such piercing din

Bolstered by success, Ethelred gloried in excess

Kicked the carcass out path to his new boon

But tarry not did it

And instead, silver floor it hit

And let a mighty, ringing screech pervade the room

Now, skeptical am I of things called 'paranormal'

Or at least, back then, that was the case

But as the sounds described on page became choral

I saw hysteria painted on his face

Looking past my eye, not far beyond me

Just as he screamed, she sought her brother

And not seconds later, they lie, two lifeless bodies

Each dead and decayed as the other

I fled, afraid and aghast

And watched a crack begin to tear

None but I can say in truth they bore witness

To the fall of the House of Usher

"But evil things, in robes of sorrow

Assailed the monarch's high estate

(Ah, let us mourn, for never morrow

Shall dawn upon him, desolate!)

And, round about his home, the glory

That blushed and bloomed

Is but a dim-remembered story

Of the old time entombed

And travellers now within that valley

Through the red-litten windows, see

Vast forms that move fantastically

To a discordant melody

While, like a rapid ghastly river

Through the pale door

A hideous throng rush out forever

And laugh – but smile no more"