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diff --git a/1065-h/1065-h.htm b/1065-h/1065-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a194310 --- /dev/null +++ b/1065-h/1065-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,233 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Raven, by Edgar Allan Poe</title> + +<style type="text/css"> + +body { margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + text-align: justify; } + +h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: +normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;} + +h1 {font-size: 300%; + margin-top: 0.6em; + margin-bottom: 0.6em; + letter-spacing: 0.12em; + word-spacing: 0.2em; + text-indent: 0em;} +h2 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +h3 {font-size: 130%; margin-top: 1em;} +h4 {font-size: 120%;} +h5 {font-size: 110%;} + +.no-break {page-break-before: avoid;} /* for epubs */ + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} + +hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + +p {text-indent: 0em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} + +</style> + +</head> + +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1065 ***</div> + +<table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto" cellpadding="4" border="3"> +<tr> +<td> +THIS EBOOK WAS ONE OF PROJECT GUTENBERG’S EARLY FILES. THERE IS +AN IMPROVED ILLUSTRATED EDITION OF THIS TITLE WHICH MAY VIEWED AT EBOOK <big><b><a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/45484/45484-h/45484-h.htm"> +[ #45484 ]</a></b></big> +</td> +</tr> +</table> + +<h1>The Raven</h1> + +<h2 class="no-break">by Edgar Allan Poe</h2> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p> +Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,<br /> +Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—<br /> +While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,<br /> +As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.<br /> +“’Tis some visiter,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 20%">Only this and nothing more.”</span> +</p> + +<p> +Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,<br /> +And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.<br /> +Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow<br /> +From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—<br /> +For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 20%">Nameless here for evermore.</span> +</p> + +<p> +And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain<br /> +Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;<br /> +So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating<br /> +“’Tis some visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door—<br /> +Some late visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 20%">This it is and nothing more.”</span> +</p> + +<p> +Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,<br /> +“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;<br /> +But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,<br /> +And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,<br /> +That I scarce was sure I heard you”—here I opened wide the door—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 20%">Darkness there and nothing more.</span> +</p> + +<p> +Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,<br /> +Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;<br /> +But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,<br /> +And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore?”<br /> +This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!”—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 20%">Merely this and nothing more.</span> +</p> + +<p> +Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,<br /> +Soon again I heard a tapping something louder than before.<br /> +“Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice;<br /> +Let me see, then, what thereat is and this mystery explore—<br /> +Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 20%">’Tis the wind and nothing more.”</span> +</p> + +<p> +Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,<br /> +In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore.<br /> +Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he,<br /> +But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door—<br /> +Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 20%">Perched, and sat, and nothing more.</span> +</p> + +<p> +Then the ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,<br /> +By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,<br /> +“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven,<br /> +Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore—<br /> +Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 20%">Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”</span> +</p> + +<p> +Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,<br /> +Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore;<br /> +For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being<br /> +Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door—<br /> +Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 20%">With such name as “Nevermore.”</span> +</p> + +<p> +But the Raven, sitting lonely on that placid bust, spoke only<br /> +That one word, as if its soul in that one word he did outpour<br /> +Nothing farther then he uttered; not a feather then he fluttered—<br /> +Till I scarcely more than muttered: “Other friends have flown before—<br /> +On the morrow <i>he</i> will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.”<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 20%">Then the bird said “Nevermore.”</span> +</p> + +<p> +Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,<br /> +“Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store,<br /> +Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster<br /> +Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore—<br /> +Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 20%">Of ‘Never—nevermore.’”</span> +</p> + +<p> +But the Raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,<br /> +Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;<br /> +Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking<br /> +Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore—<br /> +What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 20%">Meant in croaking “Nevermore.”</span> +</p> + +<p> +This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing<br /> +To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;<br /> +This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining<br /> +On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,<br /> +But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 20%"><i>She</i> shall press, ah, nevermore!</span> +</p> + +<p> +Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer<br /> +Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.<br /> +“Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee—by these angels he hath sent thee<br /> +Respite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!<br /> +Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!”<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 20%">Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”</span> +</p> + +<p> +“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!—<br /> +Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,<br /> +Desolate, yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted—<br /> +On this home by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore—<br /> +Is there—<i>is</i> there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!”<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 20%">Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”</span> +</p> + +<p> +“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!<br /> +By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore—<br /> +Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,<br /> +It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore—<br /> +Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.”<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 20%">Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”</span> +</p> + +<p> +“Be that our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting—<br /> +“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!<br /> +Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul has spoken!<br /> +Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door!<br /> +Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!”<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 20%">Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”</span> +</p> + +<p> +And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting<br /> +On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;<br /> +And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming<br /> +And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadows on the floor;<br /> +And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 20%">Shall be lifted—nevermore!</span> +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1065 ***</div> +</body> + +</html> |