The Poe Show
Listen to the classic horror stories and macabre poems of Edgar Allan Poe, renowned 19th century authors and more in a solemnly dark tone you've never heard before! Featuring the works of Edgar Allan Poe, Charlotte Perkins Gilman, H.P. Lovecraft, J.S. Le Fanu and many more. New episodes the 7th & 21st of every month! Music and narration for episodes by Tynan Portillo. Intro music by Emmett Cooke on PremiumBeat.
The Poe Show
Poem: The Haunted Palace
A poem which explores the burden of depression and degradation of mental illness. What is more in line with Edgar Allan Poe? Having been originally published in the first edition of The Fall of the House of Usher, this poem is a beauty with the kind of history you don't want to miss.
Visit The Poe Show YouTube Channel: https://www.youtube.com/@thepoeshowpodcast
TikTok: @poeshowpodcast
Instagram & Threads: @thepoeshowpodcast
Email: poeshowpod@gmail.com
All links and available platforms: https://linktr.ee/poeshowpodcast
Episode music and narration by Tynan Portillo. Intro music by Emmett Cooke on PremiumBeat.
Tynan Portillo presents...featuring the best horror stories of the 19th century...welcome to The Poe Show podcast. Narrated by Tynan Portillo.
Today's episode, The Haunted Palace by Edgar Allan Poe.
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!
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 wingèd odor went away.
Wanderers in that happy valley,
Through two luminous windows, saw
Spirits moving musically
To a lute’s well-tunèd law,
Round about a throne where, sitting,
Porphyrogene!
In state his glory well befitting,
The ruler of the realm was seen.
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.
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 ghastly rapid river,
Through the pale door
A hideous throng rush out forever,
And laugh—but smile no more.
