Luyện nghe bài hát Act One

THE The chorus has often an unenviable role to play,
often a distasteful task to
summoned as to uncounted crime,
the silent accomplice of all,
then she and comments on the action.
She hears... observes, but must never her emotions
She moves, unseen, the characters oblivion of her
a simple device.
She cannot hide, cannot sides.
It his curse she must stay and comment on the action...
A young man Montresor lately received an urgent
letter a dear friend of childhood,
Roderick by name,
In which his begged him to come
with all speed to the seat.
So, during the whole of a dull, and soundless day
in the of the year,
when the clouds oppressively low in the heavens,
he had been through
a singularly dreary tract of
he found himself,
as the of night drew on,
within view of the house of Usher
That must be the house.
There is no within many miles.
But not... It's just an empty shell,
devoid of
a sterile outcrop of amid the mire.
But can be no doubt, this is the house!
And yet it so dark, so forbidding , so dead.
great crumbling facade,
windows like vacant eyes
that upon the stagnant,
blackness of the lake...
I have seen anything like it!
The gloom, the rotting of the place...
It be my imagination,
the and the cold...
Yet still, far the plane of thought
and against my will,
my heart begins to
in mad anticipation of the
and I am forced to
a consciousness of
a cold and fear,
nameless, formless, to the bone...
No, it's just the leaden air makes me
forget myself, the and the dusk.
This must be all sets my teeth on edge
and the hairs at the of my neck to attention.
And of his sister?
This does not of her
but I understand she, too, lives him
in the House of Usher,
home of the family for hundred years or more.
a strange place, a strange house,
an even stranger
all saints or mad,
not an man among them;
all...
But, all as it is,
the race has put forth no enduring branch.
And so from sire to son, from to son
the patrimony and the have been passed.
Through all ancestry no cousins,
of bastards
disturb the singular
of the tree.
then, so I am here; I have come;
and it is too late, to to run.
But what a sight,
palace crouching in the night...
Ah, there! A light!
I am awaited; I am
I shall not my friend.
End of Act One