Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted— On this home by Horror haunted-tell me truly, I imploreIs there is there balm in Gilead?-tell me tell 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 distant

Aidenn,

It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name

Lenore

Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.'

Quoth the Raven Nevermore.'

'Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked, upstarting

'Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian

shore!

Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!

Leave my loneliness unbroken!-quit the bust above my door!

Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'

Quoth the Raven 'Nevermore.'

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber

door;

And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,

And the lamp-light 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!

THE skies they were ashen and sober;
The leaves they were crisped and sere-
The leaves they were withering and sere;
It was night in the lonesome October

Of my most immemorial year;
It was hard by the dim lake of Auber,
In the misty mid region of Weir-
It was down by the dank tarn of Auber,
In the ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir.

Here once, through an alley Titanic,
Of cypress, I roamed with my Soul-
Of cypress, with Psyche, my Soul.
These were days when my heart was volcanic
As the scoriac rivers that roll-

As the lavas that restlessly roll
Their sulphurous currents down Yaanek
In the ultimate climes of the pole-
That groan as they roll down Mount Yaanek
In the realms of the boreal pole.

Our talk had been serious and sober,

But our thoughts they were palsied and sere-
Our memories were treacherous and sere-

For we knew not the month was October,
And we marked not the night of the year-
(Ah, night of all nights in the year!)
We noted not the dim lake of Auber—
(Though once we had journeyed down here)-
Remembered not the dank tarn of Auber,
Nor the ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir.

And now, as the night was senescent
And star-dials pointed to morn—
As the star-dials hinted of morn-
At the end of our path a liquescent
And nebulous lustre was born,

Out of which a miraculous crescent
Arose with a duplicate horn-
Astarte's bediamonded crescent
Distinct with its duplicate horn.

And I said 'She is warmer than Dian:
She rolls through an ether of sighs-
She revels in a region of sighs:

She has seen that the tears are not dry on
These cheeks, where the worm never dies
And has come past the stars of the Lion
To point us the path to the skies-
To the Lethean peace of the skies—
Come up, in despite of the Lion,

To shine on us with her bright eyes-
Come up through the lair of the Lion,
With love in her luminous eyes.'

But Psyche, uplifting her finger,
Said Sadly this star I mistrust-
Her pallor I strangely mistrust:-
Oh, hasten!-oh, let us not linger!
Oh, fly !—let us fly!-for we must.'
In terror she spoke, letting sink her
Wings until they trailed in the dust-
In agony sobbed, letting sink her

Plumes till they trailed in the dust—
Till they sorrowfully trailed in the dust.

I replied 'This is nothing but dreaming:
Let us on by this tremulous light!
Let us bathe in this crystalline light!
Its Sibyllic splendor is beaming

With Hope and in Beauty to-night:-
See!-it flickers up the sky through the night!

'Ah, we safely may trust to its gleaming,

And be sure it will lead us aright—

We safely may trust to a gleaming

That cannot but guide us aright,

Since it flickers up to Heaven through the night,'

758

Thus I pacified Psyche and kissed her,
And tempted her out of her gloom-
And conquered her scruples and gloom;
And we passed to the end of the vista,
But were stopped by the door of a tomb-
By the door of a legended tomb;

And I said 'What is written, sweet sister,
On the door of this legended tomb?'
She replied-Ulalume-Ulalume-
'Tis the vault of thy lost Ulalume!'

Then my heart it grew ashen and sober

As the leaves that were crisped and sere-
As the leaves that were withering and sere,
And I cried-'It was surely October

On this very night of last year
That I journeyed-I journeyed down here→
That I brought a dread burden down here—
On this night of all nights in the year,
Ah, what demon has tempted me here?
Well I know, now, this dim lake of Auber-
This misty mid region of Weir-

Well I know, now, this dank tarn of Auber,
This ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir.'

THE BELLS

I

HEAR the sledges with the bells

Silver bells!

What a world of merriment their melody foretells!
How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle,

In the icy air of night!
While the stars that oversprinkle
All the heavens, seem to twinkle
With a crystalline delight;

Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,

To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells
From the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells-

From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.

II

Hear the mellow wedding bells-
Golden bells!

What a world of happiness their harmony foretells!
Through the balmy air of night
How they ring out their delight!—
From the molten-golden notes,
And all in tune,

What a liquid ditty floats

To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats
On the moon!

Oh, from out the sounding cells,
What a gush of euphony voluminously wells!
How it swells!

How it dwells

On the Future !-how it tells
Of the rapture that impels
To the swinging and the ringing
Of the bells, bells, bells-

Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells-

To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells!

III

Hear the loud alarum bells-
Brazen bells!

What a tale of terror, now their turbulency tells!
In the startled ear of night

How they scream out their affright!

Too much horrified to speak,
They can only shriek, shriek,

Out of tune,