The marble floor was swept by many a long dark stole, As the kneeling priests, round him that slept, sang mass for the parted soul:

And solemn were the strains they poured in the stillness of the night,

With the cross above, and the crown, and sword,—and the silent King in sight.

There was heard a heavy clang, as of steel-girt men the tread; And the tombs and the hollow pavement rang, with a sounding thrill of dread.

And the holy chant was hushed awhile, as, by the torches flame,

A gleam of arms, up the sweeping aisle, with a mail-clad Leader came.

He came with haughty look, a dark glance high and clear; But his proud heart 'neath his breast-plate shook, when he stood beside the bier.

He stood there still, with drooping brow, and clasped hands o'er it raised;

For his Father lay before him low-it was Coeur de Lion gazed.

And silently he strove with the workings of his breast; But there's more in late repentant love, than steel may keep suppressed.

And his tears brake forth at last like rain

breath in awe,

-men held their

For his face was seen by his warrior-train, and he recked not

that they saw.

He looked upon the dead! and sorrow seemed to lie,

A weight of sorrow, even as lead, pale on the fast-shut eye. He stooped and kissed the frozen cheek, and the hand of lifeless clay,

Till bursting words-yet all too weak-gave his soul's passion way.

'Oh, Father! is it vain, this late remorse and deep?

Speak to me, Father! once again!—I weep--behold, I weep!

Alas! my guilty pride and ire! Were but this work undone, I would give England's crown, my sire! to hear thee bless thy son !

'Speak to me !-Mighty grief ere now the dust hath stirred! Hear me but hear me!-Father, Chief, my King! I must be heard!

Hushed, hushed?-how is it that I call, and that thou

answerest not?

When was it thus ?-Woe, woe for all the love my soul forgot!

'Thy silver hairs I see, so still, so sadly bright!

And, Father, Father! but for me, they had not been so white!

I bore thee down, high heart! at last no longer couldst thou strive

Oh! for one moment of the past, to kneel, and say, "Forgive!"

'Thou that my boyhood's guide didst take fond joy to be !The times I've sported at thy side, and climbed thy parent knee !

And now, before the blessed shrine, my Sire, I see thee lie,

How will that sad still face of thine look on me till I die !' Mrs. Hemans.

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and

weary,

Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten loreWhile I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,

As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.

''Tis some visitor,' I muttered,

door

tapping at my chamber

Only this, and nothing more.'

Ah! distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor;

Eagerly I wished the morrow;-vainly I had sought to borrow

From my books surcease of sorrow-sorrow for the lost Lenore

For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore

Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple

curtain

Thrilled me-filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;

P

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.'

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, Sir,' said I,

6

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 chamber

door,

That I scarce was sure I heard you :'—here I opened wide the door ;

Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing,

Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;

But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no

token,

And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, 'Lenore!'

Thus I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word,

'Lenore !'

Merely this, and nothing more.

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.' Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt

and flutter,

In there stept 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 above a bust of Pallas, just above my chamber

door

Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

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.' 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 blest with seeing bird above his chamber
door-

Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,

With such name as 'Nevermore.' But the Raven, sitting lonely on that placid bust, spoke only That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did out

pour.

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.'

Then the bird said, 'Nevermore.' Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, 'Doubtless,' said I, 'what it utters is its only stock and store,

Caught from some unhappy master, whom unmerciful disaster

Followed fast and followed faster, till his songs one burden

bore

Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore,
Of 'Never-nevermore.'

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.'

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 lamp-light gloated o'er, But whose velvet violet lining, with the lamp-light gloating o'er,

She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then methought the air grew denser, perfumed from an

unseen censer

Swung by seraphim, whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor.

'Wretch,' I cried, thy God hath lent thee—by these angels He hath sent thee

Respite-respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!

Quaff, oh, quaff, this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore !'

Quoth the Raven, 'Nevermore.'

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 imploreIs there is there balm in Gilead ?-tell me tell me, I implore!'

Quoth the Raven, 'Nevermore.' '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 Aiden,

It shall clasp a sainted maiden, whom the angels name Lenore

Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels name Lenore?'

Quoth the Raven, 'Nevermore.'

'Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked, upstarting

'Get thee back into the tempest and the night's Plutonian shore !

Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken !