The Raven


Edgar Allan Poe

Illustrated by
Gustave Doré

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This web edition published by eBooks@Adelaide .

Rendered into HTML by Steve Thomas .

Last updated Wednesday, February 26, 2014 at 13:38.

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work is in the “Public Domain” in Australia.
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eBooks@Adelaide
The University of Adelaide Library
University of Adelaide
South Australia 5005

List of Illustrations

  1. Cover
  2. List of illustrations with engravers - page 1
  3. List of illustrations with engravers - page 2
  4. Title Page
  5. Nevermore
  6. ANATKH (Inevitability)
  7. A Midnight Dreary
  8. Bleak December
  9. Vainly I had Sought to Borrow
  10. Sorrow for Lenore
  11. Nameless Here for Evermore
  12. Some Late Visitor
  13. Darkness there and Nothing More
  14. Dreams No Mortal Ever Dared to Dream Before
  15. Something at My Window Lattice
  16. Open here I Flung the Shutter
  17. Not the Least Obeisance Made He
  18. Perched Upon a Bust of Pallas
  19. Wandering from the Nightly Shore
  20. Other Friends Have Flown Before
  21. Fancy Unto Fancy
  22. Velvet Lining
  23. Respite and Nepenthe
  24. By Horror Haunted
  25. Balm in Gilead
  26. Whom the Angels Name Lenore
  27. Bird or Fiend!
  28. Back into the Tempest
  29. My Soul from out that Shadow
  30. The Secret of the Sphinx

Cover
Cover

List of illustrations with engravers - page 1
List of illustrations with engravers - page 1

List of illustrations with engravers - page 2
List of illustrations with engravers - page 2

Title Page
Title Page

Nevermore
Nevermore

ANATKH (Inevitability)
ANATKH (Inevitability)

The Raven

A Midnight Dreary
A Midnight Dreary

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 chamber door.

“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door —

Only this, and nothing more.”

Bleak December
Bleak December

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.

Vainly I had Sought to Borrow
Vainly I had Sought to Borrow

Sorrow for Lenore
Sorrow for Lenore

Nameless Here for Evermore
Nameless Here for Evermore

Some Late Visitor
Some Late Visitor

  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 chamber door —

Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; —

This it is, and nothing more.”

Darkness there and Nothing More
Darkness there and Nothing More

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 chamber door,

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

Darkness there, and nothing more.

Dreams No Mortal Ever Dared to Dream Before
Dreams No Mortal Ever Dared to Dream Before

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

Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals 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!”

This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!”—

Merely this, and nothing more.

Something at My Window Lattice
Something at My Window Lattice

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,

Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat 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
Open here I Flung the Shutter

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.

Not the Least Obeisance Made He
Not the Least Obeisance Made He

Perched Upon a Bust of Pallas
Perched Upon a Bust of Pallas

Wandering from the Nightly Shore
Wandering from the Nightly Shore

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.”

Other Friends Have Flown Before
Other Friends Have Flown Before

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only

That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.

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’.”

Fancy Unto Fancy
Fancy Unto Fancy

But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy 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.”

Velvet Lining
Velvet Lining

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 whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating o’er,

She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Respite and Nepenthe
Respite and Nepenthe

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.”

By Horror Haunted
By Horror Haunted

“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 implore —

Is there — is there balm in Gilead? — tell me — tell me, I implore!”

Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”

Balm in Gilead
Balm in Gilead

Whom the Angels Name Lenore
Whom the Angels Name Lenore

“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 —

Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.”

Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”

Bird or Fiend!
Bird or Fiend!

“Be that word our sign in 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!

Leave my loneliness unbroken! — quit the bust above my door!

Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!”

Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”

Back into the Tempest
Back into the Tempest

My Soul from out that Shadow
My Soul from out that Shadow

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting

On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;

And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,

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!

The Secret of the Sphinx
The Secret of the Sphinx

This web edition published by:

eBooks@Adelaide
The University of Adelaide Library
University of Adelaide
South Australia 5005