The Raven
Public-domain ebook
The Raven
Language: en1,545 downloads on Project Gutenberg
Subjects
In: Poetry·Classics of Literature·American Literature
Public-domain ebook sourced from Project Gutenberg #1065.
About this book
The work is a richly imagined extension of Edgar Allan Poe’s iconic poem, presented as a longer, lyrical narrative that plunges the reader into a night‑time tableau of haunted contemplation. It opens with a dense, incense‑scented atmosphere and a desperate speaker pleading for oblivion, only to be met repeatedly by the raven’s immutable refrain. The dialogue between the tormented narrator and the ever‑present bird is rendered in a heightened, almost theatrical cadence, weaving together pleas for relief, accusations of prophecy, and frantic invocations of divine and infernal forces. The repeated “Nevermore” anchors the piece, while the surrounding imagery of angels, tempest, and a desolate chamber establishes a vivid, gothic setting that promises a meditation on loss and longing.
The voice is unmistakably Poe‑an, employing a baroque, rhythmic diction that echoes the Romantic and early Victorian fascination with the supernatural. Its elaborate syntax, alliteration, and mythic references create a dream‑like, almost incantatory quality. Readers who relish dense, poetic language, atmospheric dread, and the interplay of melancholy and the uncanny will find this piece compelling, especially those drawn to 19th‑century American poetry that blurs the line between horror and lyrical fantasy.
Characters in The Raven
- LenorePale, delicate Victorian woman with long dark hair, flowing lace gown, wistful expression
- RavenLarge, glossy black crow perched on a bust, sharp beak, intelligent eyes, midnight feathers
- SeraphimRadiant angelic figure, luminous white robes, golden halo, feathered wings, ethereal presence
The opening · free to read
Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls 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 implore— Is 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 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.”
“Be that 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 has 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.”
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 lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadows on the floor; And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor Shall be lifted—nevermore!
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