THE RAVEN. 1. Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore— While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamberdoor. "'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, 'tapping at my chamber door Only this, and nothing more.' 2. And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple 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 chamberdoor Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamberdoor This it is, and nothing more.' 3. Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, 'Sir,' said I, or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamberdoor, That I scarce was sure I heard you'-here I opened wide the door Darkness there, and nothing more. 4. Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, Soon again I heard a tapping, something 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.' 5. 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 a minute stopped or stayed he; But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber-door Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door Perched, and sat, and nothing more. 6. Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore, Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, 'art sure no craven, Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the nightly shore Tell me what thy lordly name is on the night's Plutonian shore !' Quoth the Raven, 'Nevermore.' 7. Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, Though its answer little meaning-little relevancy bore; For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamberdoor Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door, With such name as 'Nevermore.' 8. But the Raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling, Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door; Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore Meant in croaking 'Nevermore.' SIMON LEE, THE OLD HUNTSMAN. 1. In the sweet shire of Cardigan, 2. No man like him the horn could sound, To blither tasks did Simon rouse 3. He all the country could outrun, Could leave both man and horse behind; And often, ere the chase was done, He reeled and was stone-blind. And still there's something in the world For when the chiming hounds are out, L 8 4. But oh, the heavy change !—bereft Of health, strength, friends and kindred, see Old Simon to the world is left In liveried poverty: His master's dead, and no one now 5. And he is lean and he is sick, His body dwindled and awry He has no son, he has no child ; Upon the village common. 6. Beside their moss-grown hut of clay, This scrap of land he from the heath Enclosed when he was stronger; But what avails the land to them Which he can till no longer? 7. Oft, working by her husband's side, |