Le Corbeau = The Raven

By Edgar Allan Poe

Page 2

plus.»_

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 whispered word, "Lenore!"
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!"--
Merely this and nothing more.

_Loin dans l'ombre regardant, je me tins longtemps à douter,
m'étonner et craindre, à rêver des rêves qu'aucun mortel n'avait osé
rêver encore; mais le silence ne se rompit point et la quiétude ne
donna de signe: et le seul mot qui se dit, fut le mot chuchoté
«Lénore!» Je le chuchotai--et un écho murmura de retour le mot
«Lénore!»--purement cela et rien de plus._

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."

_Rentrant dans la chambre, toute mon âme en feu, j'entendis bientôt
un heurt en quelque sorte plus fort qu'auparavant. «Sûrement, dis-je,
sûrement c'est quelque chose à la persienne de ma fenêtre. Voyons
donc ce qu'il y a et explorons ce mystère--que mon coeur se calme
un moment et explore ce mystère; c'est le vent et rien de plus.»_

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 lord and lady, perched above my chamber door--
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door--

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Text Comparison with The Works of Edgar Allan Poe — Volume 5

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Take her up tenderly; Lift her with care; Fashion'd so slenderly, Young, and so fair! Ere her limbs frigidly Stiffen too rigidly, Decently,--kindly,-- Smooth and compose them; And her eyes, close them, Staring so blindly! Dreadfully staring Through muddy impurity, As when with the daring Last look of despairing Fixed on futurity.
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1845 POEMS OF LATER LIFE THE RAVEN.
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And he dances, and he yells; Keeping time, time, time, In a sort of Runic rhyme, To the paean 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, In a happy Runic rhyme, To the rolling of the bells-- Of the bells, bells, bells:-- To the tolling of the bells-- Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells-- To the moaning and the groaning of the bells.
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Not mother, with her first-born on her knee, Thrills with intenser love than I for thee.
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Duke.
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I say established; for it is with literature as with law or empire-an established name is an estate in tenure, or a throne in possession.
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Part II.
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Slowly, silently we wandered From the open cottage door, Underneath the elm's long branches To the pavement bending o'er; Underneath the mossy willow And the dying sycamore.