The Works of Edgar Allan Poe — Volume 3

By Edgar Allan Poe

Page 43

pushed on for some time in a most pitiable state of
anxiety, until, at length, he found the pathway utterly blocked up, and
that there was no possibility of making any farther way by the course
in which he had set out. Overcome now by his feelings, he threw himself
among the lumber in despair, and wept like a child. It was at this
period that he heard the crash occasioned by the bottle which I had
thrown down. Fortunate, indeed, was it that the incident occurred--for,
upon this incident, trivial as it appears, the thread of my destiny
depended. Many years elapsed, however, before I was aware of this fact.
A natural shame and regret for his weakness and indecision prevented
Augustus from confiding to me at once what a more intimate and
unreserved communion afterward induced him to reveal. Upon finding his
further progress in the hold impeded by obstacles which he could not
overcome, he had resolved to abandon his attempt at reaching me, and
return at once to the forecastle. Before condemning him entirely on this
head, the harassing circumstances which embarrassed him should be taken
into consideration. The night was fast wearing away, and his absence
from the forecastle might be discovered; and indeed would necessarily be
so, if he should fail to get back to the berth by daybreak. His candle
was expiring in the socket, and there would be the greatest difficulty
in retracing his way to the hatchway in the dark. It must be allowed,
too, that he had every good reason to believe me dead; in which event
no benefit could result to me from his reaching the box, and a world of
danger would be encountered to no purpose by himself. He had repeatedly
called, and I had made him no answer. I had been now eleven days and
nights with no more water than that contained in the jug which he had
left with me--a supply which it was not at all probable I had hoarded in
the beginning of my confinement, as I had every cause to expect a speedy
release. The atmosphere of the hold, too, must have appeared to him,
coming from the comparatively open air of the steerage, of a nature
absolutely poisonous, and by far more intolerable than it had seemed to
me upon my first taking up my quarters in the box--the hatchways at that
time having been constantly open for many months previous. Add to these
considerations that of the scene of bloodshed and terror so lately
witnessed by my friend; his confinement, privations, and narrow

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Text Comparison with The Raven Illustrated

Page 0
"'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "Tapping at my chamber door-- Only this and nothing more.
Page 1
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.
Page 2
"Surely," said I, "surely that is Something at my window lattice; [Illustration: 0019] 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.
Page 3
" .
Page 4
" [Illustration: 0024] 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.
Page 5
" This I sat engaged in guessing, But no syllable expressing To the fowl whose fiery eyes now Burned into my bosom's core; This and more I sat divining, With my head at ease reclining On the cushion's velvet lining That the lamplight gloated o'er, But.
Page 6
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee By these angels he hath sent thee Respite--respite and Nepenthe From thy memories of Lenore! Let me quaff this kind Nepenthe, And forget this lost Lenore!" Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore.
Page 7
" "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-- [Illustration: 0032] Clasp a rare and radiant maiden Whom the angels name Lenore.
Page 8
And the lamplight 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! [Illustration: 0035].