 | [Poe, in] Edgar Allan Poe |  |
94
POE.
Two mighty spirits dwelt in him:
One, a wild demon, weird and dim,
The darkness of whose ebon wings
Did shroud unutterable things:
One, a fair angel, in the skies
Of whose serene, unshadowed eyes
Were seen the lights of Paradise.
One, a wild demon, weird and dim,
The darkness of whose ebon wings
Did shroud unutterable things:
One, a fair angel, in the skies
Of whose serene, unshadowed eyes
Were seen the lights of Paradise.
To these, in turn, he gave the whole
Vast empire of his brooding soul;
Now, filled with strains of heavenly swell,
Now, thrilled with awful tones of hell:
Wide were his being's strange extremes,
'Twixt nether glooms, and Eden gleams
Of tender, or majestic dreams.
Vast empire of his brooding soul;
Now, filled with strains of heavenly swell,
Now, thrilled with awful tones of hell:
Wide were his being's strange extremes,
'Twixt nether glooms, and Eden gleams
Of tender, or majestic dreams.
But sapped by want, and riven by wrong,
His heart-chords took life's minor song,
Till rhythms of anguish only passed
Athwart their tortured strength, at last:
The angel fled with sigh and moan;
The demon spurned his vacant throne,
And ruled those dark domains alone.
His heart-chords took life's minor song,
Till rhythms of anguish only passed
Athwart their tortured strength, at last:
The angel fled with sigh and moan;
The demon spurned his vacant throne,
And ruled those dark domains alone.
Then, to the poet's brain there came
Nought but fierce visions, breathing flame;
Spectres of gibbering horror pale,
All creatures of the house of bale:
His fate remorseless urged him o'er
Oceans that stretched without a shore,
Whose swart waves whispered “Nevermore!”
Nought but fierce visions, breathing flame;
Spectres of gibbering horror pale,
All creatures of the house of bale:
His fate remorseless urged him o'er
Oceans that stretched without a shore,
Whose swart waves whispered “Nevermore!”
Ever, that whisper wandered low,
Across life's weltering ebb and flow;
It touched at length—a sad refrain—
The sources of his deepest pain,
Set their dull currents rippling by
In concords far too sweet to die,
Wedding despair to harmony.
Across life's weltering ebb and flow;
It touched at length—a sad refrain—
The sources of his deepest pain,
Set their dull currents rippling by
In concords far too sweet to die,
Wedding despair to harmony.
95
Henceforth, with pinions seldom furled,
His sombre “Raven” roams the world:
All stricken peoples pause to hear
The echo of his burden drear;
For ah! the deathless type is he
Of pangs we may not shun, nor flee,—
And grief's stern immortality.
His sombre “Raven” roams the world:
All stricken peoples pause to hear
The echo of his burden drear;
For ah! the deathless type is he
Of pangs we may not shun, nor flee,—
And grief's stern immortality.
Paul H. Hayne.
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