The Fall of the House of UsherEdgar Allan Poe1 Shaking off from my spirit what must have been a dream, I scanned more narrowly the real aspect of the building. Its principal feature seemed to be that of an excessive antiquity. The discoloration of ages had been great. Minute fungi overspread the whole exterior, hanging in a fine tangled web-work from the eaves. Yet all this was apart from any extraordinary dilapidation. No portion of the masonry had fallen; and there appeared to be a wild inconsistency between its still perfect adaptation of parts, and the crumbling condition of the individual stones. In this there was much that reminded me of the specious totality of old wood-work which has rotted for long years in some neglected vault, with no disturbance from the breath of the external air. Beyond this indication of extensive decay, however, the fabric gave little token of instability. Perhaps the eye of a scrutinizing observer might have discovered a barely perceptible fissure, which, extending from the roof of the building in front, made its way down the wall in a zigzag direction, until it became lost in the sullen waters of the tarn.2 Noticing these things, I rode over a short causeway to the house. A servant in waiting took my horse, and I entered the Gothic archway of the hall. A valet, of stealthy step, thence conducted me, in silence, through many dark and intricate passages in my progress to the studio of his master. Much that I encountered on the way contributed, I know not how, to heighten the vague sentiments of which I have already spoken. While the objects around me—while the carvings of the ceilings, the sombre tapestries of the walls, the ebon blackness of the floors, and the phantasmagoric armorial trophies which rattled as I strode, were but matters to which, or to such as which, I had been accustomed from my infancy—while I hesitated not to acknowledge how familiar was all this—I still wondered to find how unfamiliar were the fancies which ordinary images were stirring up. On one of the staircases, I met the physician of the family. His countenance, I thought, wore a mingled expression of low cunning and perplexity. He accosted me with trepidation and passed on. The valet now threw open a door and ushered me into the presence of his master.3 The room in which I found myself was very large and lofty. The windows were long, narrow, and pointed, and at so vast a distance from the black oaken floor as to be altogether inaccessible from within. Feeble gleams of encrimsoned light made their way through the trellised panes, and served to render sufficiently distinct the more prominent objects around; the eye, however, struggled in vain to reach the remoter angles of the chamber, or the recesses of the vaulted and fretted ceiling. Dark draperies hung upon the walls. The general furniture was profuse, comfortless, antique, and tattered. Many books and musical instruments lay scattered about, but failed to give any vitality to the scene. I felt that I breathed an atmosphere of sorrow. An air of stern, deep, and irredeemable gloom hung over and pervaded all.QuestionWhich statement BEST expresses the relationship between the diction and mood of this selection?ResponsesA The story's formal diction creates a sad mood.The story's formal diction creates a sad mood.B The story's formal diction creates a joyful mood.The story's formal diction creates a joyful mood.C The story's casual diction creates an angry mood.The story's casual diction creates an angry mood.D The story's formal diction creates an elegant mood.

The Fall of the House of Usher - 2Edgar Allan Poe1 DURING the whole of a dull, dark, and soundless day in the autumn of the year, when the clouds hung oppressively low in the heavens, I had been passing alone, on horseback, through a singularly dreary tract of country, and at length found myself, as the shades of the evening drew on, within view of the melancholy House of Usher. I know not how it was—but, with the first glimpse of the building, a sense of insufferable gloom pervaded my spirit. I say insufferable; for the feeling was unrelieved by any of that half-pleasurable, because poetic, sentiment, with which the mind usually receives even the sternest natural images of the desolate or terrible. I looked upon the scene before me—upon the mere house, and the simple landscape features of the domain—upon the bleak walls—upon the vacant eye-like windows—upon a few rank sedges—and upon a few white trunks of decayed trees—with an utter depression of soul which I can compare to no earthly sensation more properly than to the after-dream of the reveller upon opium—the bitter lapse into every-day life—the hideous dropping off of the veil. There was an iciness, a sinking, a sickening of the heart—an unredeemed dreariness of thought which no goading of the imagination could torture into aught of the sublime. What was it—I paused to think—what was it that so unnerved me in the contemplation of the House of Usher? It was a mystery all insoluble; nor could I grapple with the shadowy fancies that crowded upon me as I pondered. I was forced to fall back upon the unsatisfactory conclusion, that while, beyond doubt, there are combinations of very simple natural objects which have the power of thus affecting us, still the analysis of this power lies among considerations beyond our depth. It was possible, I reflected, that a mere different arrangement of the particulars of the scene, of the details of the picture, would be sufficient to modify, or perhaps to annihilate its capacity for sorrowful impression; and, acting upon this idea, I reined my horse to the precipitous brink of a black and lurid tarn that lay in unruffled lustre by the dwelling, and gazed down—but with a shudder even more thrilling than before—upon the remodelled and inverted images of the gray sedge, and the ghastly tree-stems, and the vacant and eye-like windows.2 Nevertheless, in this mansion of gloom I now proposed to myself a sojourn of some weeks. Its proprietor, Roderick Usher, had been one of my boon companions in boyhood; but many years had elapsed since our last meeting. A letter, however, had lately reached me in a distant part of the country—a letter from him—which, in its wildly importunate nature, had admitted of no other than a personal reply. The MS. gave evidence of nervous agitation. The writer spoke of acute bodily illness—of a mental disorder which oppressed him—and of an earnest desire to see me, as his best and indeed his only personal friend, with a view of attempting, by the cheerfulness of my society, some alleviation of his malady. It was the manner in which all this, and much more, was said—it was the apparent heart that went with his request—which allowed me no room for hesitation; and I accordingly obeyed forthwith what I still considered a very singular summons.QuestionWhich statement BEST summarizes the passage?ResponsesA A man is excited about visiting a house where his childhood friend lives and seeing him again.A man is excited about visiting a house where his childhood friend lives and seeing him again.B A man visits one of his childhood friends, Roderick Usher, in order to see him one last time before dying.A man visits one of his childhood friends, Roderick Usher, in order to see him one last time before dying.C A man approaches the luxurious home of a childhood friend after receiving word that the man has recently died.A man approaches the luxurious home of a childhood friend after receiving word that the man has recently died.D A man finds himself in a gloomy part of the country near his old friend Roderick Usher's home and decides to drop in.A man finds himself in a gloomy part of the country near his old friend Roderick Usher's home and decides to drop in.E A man approaches the foreboding home of his childhood friend for a lengthy visit after receiving word that the man has taken ill.A man approaches the foreboding home of his childhood friend for a lengthy visit after receiving word that the man has taken ill.

Select the correct answer.What word best describes the tone of this excerpt from "The Fall of the House of Usher" by Edgar Allan Poe?I looked upon the scene before me—upon the mere house, and the simple landscape features of the domain—upon the bleak walls—upon the vacant eye-like windows—upon a few rank sedges—and upon a few white trunks of decayed trees—with an utter depression of soul which I can compare to no earthly sensation more properly than to the after-dream of the reveller upon opium—the bitter lapse into everyday life—the hideous dropping off of the veil. There was an iciness, a sinking, a sickening of the heart—an unredeemed dreariness of thought which no goading of the imagination could torture into aught of the sublime. What was it—I paused to think—what was it that so unnerved me in the contemplation of the House of Usher? It was a mystery all insoluble; nor could I grapple with the shadowy fancies that crowded upon me as I pondered. I was forced to fall back upon the unsatisfactory conclusion, that while, beyond doubt, there are combinations of very simple natural objects which have the power of thus affecting us, still the analysis of this power lies among considerations beyond our depth. It was possible, I reflected, that a mere different arrangement of the particulars of the scene, of the details of the picture, would be sufficient to modify, or perhaps to annihilate its capacity for sorrowful impression; and, acting upon this idea, I reined my horse to the precipitous brink of a black and lurid tarn that lay in unruffled lustre by the dwelling, and gazed down—but with a shudder even more thrilling than before—upon the remodelled and inverted images of the gray sedge, and the ghastly tree-stems, and the vacant and eye-like windows. A. admiration B. terror C. hope D. discovery E. loss

Which concepts did Poe become obsessed with and incorporate into his writing?Group of answer choicessicknessgothic architecturegothic artdeathmacabre (dying)anarchy

Ruins of a Great Housethough our longest sun sets at right declensions andmakes but winter arches,it cannot be long before we lie down in darkness, andhave our light in ashes. . .Browne, Urn BurialStones only, the disjecta membra of this Great House,Whose moth-like girls are mixed with candledust,Remain to file the lizard’s dragonish claws.The mouths of those gate cherubs shriek with stain;Axle and coach wheel silted under the muckOf cattle droppings.Three crows flap for the treesAnd settle, creaking the eucalyptus boughs.A smell of dead limes quickens in the noseThe leprosy of empire.‘Farewell, green fields,Farewell, ye happy groves!’Marble like Greece, like Faulkner’s South in stone,Deciduous beauty prospered and is gone,But where the lawn breaks in a rash of treesA spade below dead leaves will ring the boneOf some dead animal or human thingFallen from evil days, from evil times.It seems that the original crops were limesGrown in that silt that clogs the river’s skirt;The imperious rakes are gone, their bright girls gone,The river flows, obliterating hurt.I climbed a wall with the grille ironworkOf exiled craftsmen protecting that great houseFrom guilt, perhaps, but not from the worm’s rentNor from the padded calvary of the mouse.And when a wind shook in the limes I heardWhat Kipling heard, the death of a great empire, theabuseOf ignorance by Bible and by sword.A green lawn, broken by low walls of stone,Dipped to the rivulet, and pacing, I thought nextOf men like Hawkins, Walter Raleigh, Drake,Ancestral murderers and poets, more perplex4edIn memory now by every ulcerous crime.The world’s green age then was rotting limeWhose stench became the charnel galleon’s text.The rot remains with us, the men are gone.But, as dead ash is lifted in a windThat fans the blackening ember of the mind,My eyes burned from the ashen prose of Donne.Ablaze with rage I thought,Some slave is rotting in this manorial lake,But still the coal of my compassion foughtThat Albion too was onceA colony like ours, ‘part of the continent, piece of themain’,Nook-shotten, rook o’erblown, derangedBy foaming channels and the vain expenseOf bitter faction.All in compassion endsSo differently from what the heart arranged:‘as well as if a manor of thy friend’s. . . ‘

Which concepts did Poe become obsessed with and incorporate into his writing?Group of answer choicesgothic artsicknessgothic architecturedeathmacabre (dying)anarchy