Before the thought comes that he Is but his wardrobe locked; — he is
IT was many and many a year ago, In a kingdom by the sea, That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabel Lee; And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.
I was a child and she was a child, In this kingdom by the sea: But we love with a love that was more than love-
I and my Annabel Lee;
With a love that the wingèd seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.
And this was the reason that, long ago,
In the kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of the cloud, chilling My beautiful Annabel Lee; So that her highborn kinsmen came And bore her away from me, To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea.
The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
Went envying her and meYes! that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea) That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.
But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those that were older than we - Of many far wiser than we- And neither the angels in heaven above,
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!
Hear the loud alarum 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,
In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire,
In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire
Leaping higher, higher, higher, With a desperate desire,
And a resolute endeavor Now now to sit or never, By the side of the pale-faced moon. Oh, the bells, bells, bells! What a tale their terror telis Of despair!
How they clang, and clash, and roar!
What a horror they outpour On the bosom of the palpitating air!
Yet the ear it fully knows,
By the twanging,
And the clanging.
How the danger ebbs and flows; Yet the ear distinctly tells,
In the jangling,
And the wrangling,
How the danger sinks and swells, By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells -
In the clamor and the clangor of the bells!
Hear the tolling of the bells Iron bells!
And who tolling, tolling, tolling, In that muffled monotone, Feel a glory in their rolling
On the human heart a stone- They are neither man nor woman— They are neither brute nor human; They are ghouls:
And their king it is who tolls; And he rolls, rolls, rolls, Rolls
A pæan from the bells! And his merry bosom swells
With the pean of the bells! And he dances, and he yells; Keeping time, time, time, In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the pean of the bells- Of the bells:
Keeping time, time, time, In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the throbbing of the bells- Of the bells, bells, bells -
To the sobbing of the bells; Keeping time, time, time,
As he knells, knells, knells,
ONCE upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore- While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, 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."
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow;- vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore - For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore Nameless here for ever more.
And the silken, sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain Thrilled me -filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating "Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door- Some 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 the door;- Darkness there and nothing more.
Deep into the 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 whispered 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 my 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 stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore. Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute 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 countenance 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!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore.”
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 blessed 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 that placid bust, spoke only That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour. Nothing farther 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."
« AnteriorContinuar » |