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Till I scarcely more than muttered, “Other , On this home by horror haunted, tell me truly, friends have flown before,
I implore, On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes Is there — is there balm in Gilead ? — tell me, have flown before."
-- tell me, I implore !" Then the bird said, “Nevermore !"
Quoth the raven, · Nevermore !" Startled at the stillness, broken by reply so aptly Prophet !” said I, “thing of evil ! - prophet spoken,
still, if bird or devil ! “Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only By that heaven that bends above us, stock and store,
God we both adore, Caught from some unhappy master, whom un- Tell this soul with sorrow laden, if, within the merciful disaster
distant Aidenn, Followed fast and followed faster, till his song It shall clasp a sainted maiden, whom the anone burden bore,
gels name Lenore, Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy bur- Clasp a fair and radiant maiden, whom the anden bore,
gels name Lenore !” Of 'Nevermore, nevermore!'
Quoth the raven, “Nevermore !" But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into “Be that word our sign of parting, bird or smiling,
fiend !" I shrieked, upstarting, Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of “Get thee back into the tempest and the night's bird and bust and door,
Plutonian shore ! Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy to linking
soul hath spoken ! Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous Leave my loneliness unbroken ! — quit the bust bird of yore
above my door! What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and Take thy beak from o’t my heart, and take thy ominous bird of yore —
form from off my door !.” Meant in croaking “Nevermore !"
Quoth the raven, “Nevermore !" This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable and the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, expressing
still is sitting To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into on the pallid bust of Pallas, just above my
chamber door ; This and more I sat divining, with my head at And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon ease reclining
that is dreaming, On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp. And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws light gloated o'er,
his shadow on the floor ; But whose velvet violet lining, with the lamp. And my soul from out that shadow that lies light gloating o'er,
floatir on the floor
Shall be lifted nevermore!
from an unseen censer, Swung by seraphim, whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor.
SONG OF THE SEA BY THE ROYAL "Wretch," I cried, “thy God hath lent thee,
GARDEN AT NAPLES. by these angels he hath sent thee Respite, — respite and nepenthe from the mem I HAVE swung for ages to and fro; ories of Lenore !
I have striven in vain to reach thy feet, Quaff, 0, quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget O Garden of joy! whose walls are low, this lost Lenore !”.
And odors are so sweet.
I palpitate with fitful love; "Prophet!" said I, “thing of evil ! - prophet
I sigh and sing with changing breath ; still, if bird or devil!
I raise my hands to heaven above, Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest I smite my shores beneath !
tossed thee here ashore, Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land In vain, in vain ! while far and fine, enchanted,
To curb the madness of my sweep,
EDGAR ALLAN POE.
The earthquake heralds my coming power,
The avalanche bounds away,
Proclaim my kingly sway.
When my quivering sword leaps out O'er the hills that echo my thunder drum,
And rend with my joyous shout.
Ye stand in your fear aghast,
Or shiver the stately mast.
The letters of high command,
Were traced by my burning hand. And oft in fire have I wrote since then
What angry Heaven decreed ;
Were all too blind to read.
And kings no more shall bind,
The forward march of mind.
Are from my pinions hurled ;
Shall rise upon the world.
GEORGE W. CUTTER.
ORIGIN OF THE OPAL,
Runs the white limit of a line
I may not overleap.
Once thou wert sleeping on my breast,
Till fiery Titans lifted thee
Out of the loving sea.
I strive in vain to reach thy feet,
And odors are so sweet!
ROSSITER W. RAYMOND.
SONG OF THE LIGHTNING.
** PUCK. I 'll put a girdle round about the earth In forty minutes."
MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM.
AWAY ! away! through the sightless air
Stretch forth your iron thread ! For I would not dim my sandals fair
With the dust ye tamely tread ! Ay, rear it up on its million piers,
Let it circle the world around, And the journey ye make in a hundred years
I'll clear at a single bound !
Ye have fettered with iron skill
Or grind in the noisy mill,
Why, a single shaft of mine
To the depths of the ocean's brine !
No! no! I'm the spirit of light and love !
To my unseen hand 't is given
And polish the stars of heaven !
On the horizon far below,
With my red and dazzling glow.
I light it with a glare,
Through the darkly curtained air !
The piles of a thousand years,
Beneath my glittering spears.
From the peaks of eternal snow, The blazing folds of my fiery flag
lllume the world below.
A DEW-DROP came, with a spark of flame
He had caught from the sun's last ray, To a violet's breast, where he lay at rest
Till the hours brought back the day. The rose looked down, with a blush and frown;'
But she smiled all at once, to view
Reflected back by the dew.
At the sky, so soft and blue ;
Was seen by the idler too.
Of a sudden raged around ;
Next morning, an opal found.
THE ORIGIN OF GOLD.
The Fallen looked on the world and sneered. “ I can guess," he muttered, “why God is feared,
For the eyes of mortal are fain to shun
FAIRY LORE FROM SHAKESPEARE. The midnight heaven that hath no sun.
THE FAIRIES' LULLABY.
MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM."
Enter TITANIA, with her train.
TITANIA. Come, now a roundel, and a fairy song; And turn the eyes of the world from God.”
Then, for the third part of a minute, hence ; He stood on the height when the sun went down, Some, war with rear-mice for their leathern wings
Some to kill cankers in the musk-rose buds ; He tore one plume from the day's bright crown, To make my small elves coats ; and some, keep The proud beam stooped till he touched its brow,
back And the print of his fingers are on it now;
The clamorous owl, that nightly hoots, and And the blush of its anger forevermore
wonders Burns red when it passes the western door. The broken feather above him whirled,
At our quaint spirits. Sing me now asleep;
Then to your offices, and let me rest.
1 FAIRY. You spotted snakes, with double tongue, Where the burning splinters struck wave and rock!
Thorny hedge-hogs, be not seen ; The green earth shuddered, and shrank and paled,
Neuts, andblind-worms, do no wrong; The wave sprang up, and the mountain quailed ;
Come not near our fairy queen. Look on the hills, let the scars they bear Measure the pain of that hour's despair.
CHORUS. Philomel, with melody,
Sing in our sweet lullaby ; The Fallen watched while the whirlwind fanned Lulla, lulla, lullaby ; lulla, lulla, lullaby : The pulsing splinters that ploughed the sand ;
Never harm, Sullen he watched while the hissing waves
Nor spell nor charm, Bore them away to the ocean caves ;
Come our lovely lady nigh;
So, good night, with lullaby.
2 Fairy. Weaving spiders, come not here ; Proudly the links of its chain shall shine ;
Hence, you long-legged spinners, Lighted with gems shall its dungeon be,
hence! But the pride of its beauty shall kneel to me."
Beetles black, approach not near ; That splintered light in the earth grew cold,
Worm, nor snail, do no offence. And the diction of mortals hath called it gold.
CHORUS. Philomel, with melody, etc.
SARAH E. CARMICHAEL, of Utah.
MAIDEN MEDITATION, FANCY FREE.
MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM."
We the fairies blithe and antic,
Stolen sweets are always sweeter ;
OBERON. My gentle Puck, come hither. Thou
THOMAS RANDOLPH (Latin). Trans
lation of LEIGH HUNT.
And loosed his love-shaft smartly from his bow, | This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs,
WHERE THE BEE SUCKS.
FROM "THE TEMPEST.”
WHERE the bee sucks, there suck 1:
In a cowslip's bell I lie ;
There I couch when owls do cry.
After summer, merrily.
Merrily, merrily shall I live now,
Under the blossom that hangs on the bough. FROM “ROMEO AND JULIET."
COME UNTO THESE YELLOW SANDS.
FROM "THE TEMPEST."
COME unto these yellow sands,
And then take hands;
The wild waves whist,
Hark, hark !
O THEN I see, Queen Mab hath been with you. I
OVER HILL, OVER DALE.
Thorough bush, thorough brier,
Thorough flood, thorough fire,
In those freckles live their savors :
FULL FATHOM FIVE.
FROM "THE TEMPE6T."
Full fathom five thy father lies;
Of his bones are coral made;
Those are pearls that were his eyes :
Nothing of him that doth fade, But doth suffer a sea-change Into something rich and strange. Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell: Hark! now I hear them,-ding-dong, bell.
SHED no tear! O, shed no tear !
Shed no tear.
Overhead ! look overhead !
Adieu, adieu !
The spice-tree lives in the garden green ;
Beside it the fountain flows;
And sings his melodious woes.
Within the bounds of an earthly king; No lovelier skies have ever shone
Than those that illumine its constant spring. That coil-bound stem has branches three ;
On each a thousand blossoms grow; And, old as aught of time can be,
The root stands fast in the rocks below.
In the spicy shade ne'er seems to tire
The fount that builds a silvery dome; And flakes of purple and ruby fire
Gush out, and sparkle amid the foam. The fair white bird of flaming crest,
And azure wings bedropt with gold, Ne'er has he known a pause of rest,
But sings the lament that he framed of old :
O princess bright ! how long the night
Since thou art sunk in the waters clear! How sadly they flow from the depth below, –
How long must I sing and thou wilt not hear?
“The waters play, and the flowers are gay,
And the skies are sunny above ;
And I, too, cease to mourn my love.
“0, many a year, so wakeful and drear,
I have sorrowed and watched, beloved, for thee ! But there comes no breath from the chambers of
death, While the lifeless fount gushes under the tree.”
The skies grow dark, and they glare with red ;
The tree shakes off its spicy bloom ; The waves of the fount in a black pool spread ;
And in thunder sounds the garden's doom.
Down springs the bird with a long shrill cry,
Into the sable and angry flood; And the face of the pool, as he falls from high,
Curdles in circling stains of blood.
But sudden again upswells the fount;
Higher and higher the waters flow, — In a glittering diamond arch they mount,
And round it the colors of morning glow.
Finer and finer the watery mound
Softens and melts to a thin-spun veil, And tones of music circle around,
And bear to the stars the fountain's tale.
And swift the eddying rainbow screen
Falls in dew on the grassy floor ; Under the spice-tree the garden's queen Sits by her lover, who wails no more.
THE VALLEY BROOK.
Fresh from the fountains of the wood
A rivulet of the valley came,
Flushed with the morning's ruddy flame.
The air was fresh and soft and sweet ;
The slopes in spring's new verdure lay,
Bloomed the young violets of May.
No sound of busy life was heard
Amid those pastures lone and still,