The Works of Edgar Allan Poe — Volume 3

By Edgar Allan Poe

Page 21

slow degrees,
dreading every moment that I should swoon amid the narrow and intricate
windings of the lumber, in which event I had nothing but death to expect
as the result. At length, upon making a push forward with all the energy
I could command, I struck my forehead violently against the sharp corner
of an iron-bound crate. The accident only stunned me for a few moments;
but I found, to my inexpressible grief, that the quick and violent
roll of the vessel had thrown the crate entirely across my path, so as
effectually to block up the passage. With my utmost exertions I could
not move it a single inch from its position, it being closely wedged
in among the surrounding boxes and ship-furniture. It became necessary,
therefore, enfeebled as I was, either to leave the guidance of the
whipcord and seek out a new passage, or to climb over the obstacle, and
resume the path on the other side. The former alternative presented too
many difficulties and dangers to be thought of without a shudder. In my
present weak state of both mind and body, I should infallibly lose
my way if I attempted it, and perish miserably amid the dismal and
disgusting labyrinths of the hold. I proceeded, therefore, without
hesitation, to summon up all my remaining strength and fortitude, and
endeavour, as I best might, to clamber over the crate.

Upon standing erect, with this end in view, I found the undertaking even
a more serious task than my fears had led me to imagine. On each side of
the narrow passage arose a complete wall of various heavy lumber, which
the least blunder on my part might be the means of bringing down upon my
head; or, if this accident did not occur, the path might be effectually
blocked up against my return by the descending mass, as it was in front
by the obstacle there. The crate itself was a long and unwieldy box,
upon which no foothold could be obtained. In vain I attempted, by every
means in my power, to reach the top, with the hope of being thus enabled
to draw myself up. Had I succeeded in reaching it, it is certain that
my strength would have proved utterly inadequate to the task of getting
over, and it was better in every respect that I failed. At length, in
a desperate effort to force the crate from its ground, I felt a strong
vibration in the side next me. I thrust my hand eagerly to the edge
of the planks, and found that a very

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Text Comparison with Le Corbeau = The Raven

Page 0
_ Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Page 1
c'était en le glacial Décembre: et chaque tison, mourant isolé, ouvrageait son spectre sur le sol.
Page 2
_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.
Page 3
" _Alors cet oiseau d'ébène induisant ma triste imagination au sourire, par le grave et sévère décorum de la contenance qu'il eut: «Quoique ta crête soit chue et rase, non! dis-je, tu n'es pas pour sûr un poltron, spectral, lugubre et ancien Corbeau, errant loin du rivage de Nuit--dis-moi quel est ton nom seigneurial au rivage plutonien de Nuit.
Page 4
Nothing further 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.
Page 5
_ Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer, Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
Page 6
«Misérable, m'écriai-je, ton Dieu t'a prêté--il t'a envoyé, par ces anges, le répit--le répit et le népenthès dans ta mémoire de Lénore! Bois! oh! bois ce bon népenthès et oublie cette Lénore perdue!» Le Corbeau dit: «Jamais plus!»_ "Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!--prophet still, if bird or devil!-- Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore, Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted-- On this home by Horror haunted--tell me truly, I implore-- Is there--_is_ there balm in Gilead?--tell me--tell me, I implore!" Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore.
Page 7
«Recule en la tempête et le rivage plutonien de Nuit! Ne laisse pas une plume noire ici comme un gage du mensonge qu'a proféré ton âme.