(Porphyrogene!)
               In state his glory well befitting,
                 The ruler of the realm was seen.

                           IV.               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.

                            V.               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.

                           VI.               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.

I well remember that suggestions arising from this ballad, led us into a train of thought wherein there became manifest an opinion of Usher's which I mention not so much on account of its novelty (for other men* have thought thus,) as on account of the pertinacity with which he maintained it.  This opinion, in its general form, was that of the sentience of all vegetable things. But, in his disordered fancy, the idea had assumed a more daring character, and trespassed, under certain conditions, upon the kingdom of inorganization.  I lack words to express the full extent, or the earnest abandon of his persuasion.  The belief, however, was 

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