Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,

66

Sir," said I, or Madam, truly your forgiveness

I implore;

But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,

And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my

chamber-door,

That I scarce was sure I heard you."-Here I opened wide the door;

Darkness there and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,

Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;

But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,

And the only word there spoken was the whis

pered word" Lenore!"

This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word "Lenore!"—

Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,

Soon again I heard a tapping, somewhat louder than before.

"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at iny window-lattice;

Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore,

Let my heart be still a moment, and this mystery explore;

'Tis the wind, and nothing more!"

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,

In there stepp'd a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore.

Not the least obeisance made he; not an instant stopped or stayed he;

But with mien of lord or lady, perched above my

chamber-door,—

Perched upon a bust of Pallas, just above my chamber-door,

Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,

By the grave and stern decorum of the counte

nance it wore,

Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven,

Ghastly, grim, and ancient Raven, wandering from the Nightly shore,

Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore."

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,

Though its answer little meaning-little relevancy

bore;

For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being

Ever yet was blest with seeing bird above his chamber-door

Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber-door,

With such name as "Nevermore."

But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only

That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.

Nothing further then he uttered; not a feather then he fluttered

Till I scarcely more than muttered, "Other friends have flown before

On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before."

Then the bird said, "Nevermore."

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,

'Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,

Caught from some unhappy master whom unmercìful Disaster

Followed fast and followed faster till his song one burden bore

Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore

Of Never '-' Nevermore.''

But the Raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,

Straight I wheel'd a cushion'd seat in front of bird, and bust, and door;

Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking

Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird

of yore

What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore

Meant in croaking "Nevermore."

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing

To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my

bosom's core ;

This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining

On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamplight gloated o'er,

But whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating o'er

She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer

Swung by Seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor.

"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee-by these angels he hath sent thee

Respite-respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!

Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!"

Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, “thing of evil! prophet still, if bird or devil!—

Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,

Desolate, yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted

On this home by Horror haunted-tell me truly,

I implore

Is there is there balm in Gilead?-tell me, tel! me, I implore!”

Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil,-prophet still, if bird or devil!

By that Heaven that bends above us-by that God we both adore-

Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the dis

tant Aidenn,