To the pale realms of shade, where each shall take Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night, Ex. CXXXVIII.—THE RAVEN. EDGAR A. POE. ONCE upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, as Over many a quaint and curigus volume of forgotten lore, ping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door ""Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door Only this, and nothing more." Only t Ah, distinctly remember, it was in the bleak December, pill And each seperate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the' floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had tried to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow-sorrow for the lost Le.oral nore >\\ For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Le nore Nameless here for evermore. And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain Thrilled me-filled me with fantastic terrors never felt bei fore; So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeat ing, "Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber doorSome late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;— This it is, and nothing more." Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, "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 lass the door; Darkness there, and nothing more, J Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wonder- 24 ing, fearing, Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal fever dared to dream 1 But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token, And the only word there spoken was the whispered word "Lenore!"all whising This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word < "Lenore!" Merely this, and nothing more, Le Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, Soon I heard again a tapping somewhat louder than before. "Surely," said I, "rely that is something at my window lattice; osp 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 stepped 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 Tord or lady, perched above my chamber door Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door, Perched, and sat, and nothing more. and sat, and not Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore, "Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, “art sure no craven, Get Ghastly grim and ancient raven, wandering from the Nightly shore Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore ?" Quoth the raven, “Nevermore." Much I marveled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door, low But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only tered Till I scarcely more than muttered, "Other friends have flown before; On the morrow he will leave me as my hopes have flown be- Then the bird said, "Nevermore." Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, 66 store Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden lom bore Till the dirges of his hope the melancholy burden bore Of Never Nevermore.” ” But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling, and door; Then upon the yelvet sinking, I betook myself to linking of yore This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing core: This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining 1 graf Then, methought the air grew denser, perfumed from an un seen censer, Swung by angels whose faint footfalls tinkled on the tufted ash, “Wretch, I cried,)" thy God hath lent thee—by these an- Respite-respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore! (Quoth the raven, "Nevermore." as before. Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!-prophet still, if bird or Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee In this home undaunted, on this desert land enchanted, by horror haunted-tell me truly, I imploreIs there is there balm in Gilead?-tell me tell me, I im plore !" 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 distant Aidenn, nore Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels name aspor asp One and Quoth the raven) "Nevermore." "Get thee back into the tempest, and the Night's Plutonian Leave no black płume as a token of that he thy soul hath Jem Leave my loneliness unbroken!-quit the bust above my door! Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from Quoth the raven, "Nevermore." And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming, And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor; And my soul from out that shadow, that lies floating on the floor, Shall be lifted-nevermore. Ex. CXXXIX.—P HA ETHON. JOHN G. SAXE. DAN PHAETHON so the histories run Now old Father Phoebus, ere railways begun Drove a very fast coach by the name of "The Sun ;" (On Sundays and all, in a heathenish way,) Of lanterns that shone with a brilliant display, Now Phaethon begged of his doting old father, To darken the brow of the son of the Sun! 66 'By the terrible Styx!" said the angry sire, I swear I will grant you whate'er you desire!" The youngster said, |