Chapter I:
Barrows of Doom
Her dark presence
casts a shadow to this unholy ground...
Never had he
thrown a glimpse upon her,
yet... the Dead
Man is highly aware of the hellish aura that is embracing this nymph.
Here... upon these
gloomy barrows, he roams...
[Dead Man]:
“She comes inside our dreams
infects us with lust.
Swimming a universe where
dreams and shade combust.
But some resist
some wind away her mist.
Then she flies away
Searching her next prey”.
He stares at the
desolated fields around him...
just a reflection
of his own demise...
…she flies… she
flies obscure wings…
[Dread]: “Burned , down and, forsaken...
...alone to this world...”
An old friend is
now walking silently by his side...
A strong freezing
breeze blurs their vision,
making every step
heavier...
Looks that all
hope... has vanished.
There is only one
who can withstand these devilish mountains...
Only he who
absorbs the darkness, can expel its effects...
[Dead Man]: “Heading forward against the wind”
[Dread, Narcotic Sylph]:
“He's on time again”
[Dead Man]: “Another year will pass us by”
[Dread, Narcotic Sylph]:
“When our fears descent”
[Dead Man]: “Whistling something to our ears
[Dread, Narcotic Sylph]: “skies
are painted red”
[Dead Man]: “Wave crushed rocks will
[Dead Man, Dread, Narcotic Sylph]: someday
turn to sand”.
[Dread]:
“Leaving me here,
with a burden,
of everything,
you choose to leave unsaid”.
[Dead Man]:
“Heading forward against the wind,
I can smell the wrath of death.
Beware by her disastrous grief.
City's dust now lifts up in the air”.
And there
approaches...
…Demon of the
Cosmic Depths…
[Inner Demon]: “I
won't crawl,
I will ground your strong and monstrous wall.
Char your fane,
Let me introduce you to my friend:
Pain...”
This is the end of
the line...
To move forward
there is force they must discover within...
Realizing the very
core of their existential nature.
“Liberation and Rebellion ever bound chained,
days of salvation steam are not far away.
Your empire from our hands will soon fall astray.
Lifeless bodies in the streets like leaves they will
lay”.
“damned,
conformed,
dethroned,
entombed”.
“Our
demolished future lies ahead,
embracing our uncleaned deep plagues.
Beside these cold biers we wait.
We are turncoats but we’re not dead.
Even if our shadow selves were there,
We’ll stand our ground, won't leave again.
Are hearts are black and so they will,
we are undead by darkness led”.
The mountain is
defeated.
Finding strength
through the apocrypha of rage.
This first journey
comes to an end... they thought.
There is madness
in the air of these lands.
A small taste of
what awaits.
Correlating
contents of the mind once unexplored.
...a healthy
reaction to a state of being, conceived as reality...
Lunacy... is an
interesting perspective...
[Dread]: “I 'm lost
in a void
that spins
round and round my head.
I sink in silence,
base of my torment.
Overwhelmed,
by my own defence.
Effects of blown smoke,
filth my cement cage.
Ambient where I,
probably have passed my very last days”.
[Dead Man]:
“No mission,
no handles of expression.
Unable...
but still protected”.
Following the
light…
the star of
Carmine gleams their path…
...majestic
Rubical Skies spread in the horizon…
…carving a course
of valour…
… a course of
freedom…
…a long road to
conquer the Shrine…
And so it begins…
…a quest to
abandon this dreary realm…
…to reach…
…the Portal of the
Seven Gates…
[Inner Demon]: “No mission,
No handles of
expression.
I raise defences,
but no one
attacks”.
[Dead Man]: “I’m lost
in a void,
that spins on and
on.
Unable to walk,
Don't know what
for”.
Even the smallest,
harmless evil will eventually grow.
Under convenient
circumstances... it shall rise to
become monstrous...
...and inside
these woods... monstrosity crafts horror...
[Inner Demon]:
“The seeds
grows up high”
“watered
with pain”.
“Head for the sky”
“building this reign”.
The hideous scent
of melting flesh...
Panic and
exhaustion...
Breathing burns...
[Dread]: “Heat’s
still melting my world down, no sight of motion,
how had I end up like
this? Ragged and exhausted.
In this system there’s
no choice, but get in their line.
How more years have I
to pass, can't find my way out”.
[Dead Man]: “But
Still, how can you drill...
...into my soul”?
“Creation breaks
down.
No one recalls
the world they
were drown
naïve for its
loss”.
Consumed by the
forest, and into its shadows we shall march...
[Inner Demon]:
“Days will come when people won't need to
remember your dark reign
Eyes from
corners record your moves, watching every game you play
Come on, stand
up, struggle, strike me, hit with all I can take
Your chopped
heads will be the price, my blood red walls will decorate
I will be
mortemous nightmare, till your souls in shadows lay”
Approaching a
glade, they see a far raging sea.
Enormous waves
caressing the horizon's line...
The curves of this
sidereal cosmos are inchmeal unfolding before their eyes...
[Dead Man]:
“The wind pulls my hair back.
The sea
ejaculates her wrath.
Creatures pass me by,
like
the last day I saw light.
[Dead Man, Narcotic Sylph]: Brainless but awake,
drift
and crawling to forsake,
their
passed physic pain,
now
their kingdom back they’ll take.
Forests
dark as hate.
Shades
and mourns they keep exhale.
I know that I’ll break,
I will
soon be far away”.
Not out of the
woods nonetheless... there is motion through the leaves...
Devilish creatures
are circling them slowly...
Inner Demon steps
forward...
The metallic sound
of his drawing sword forces enemies a step back...
(Battle of the Glade)
[Inner Demon]: “We
crush
with warmth.
I
plea
for strength.
No bless
from gods,
just pierce
and death.
We beset them
and slay the rest.
We eat the dead,
our war growls dwell”.
The wooden kingdom
perish in demonic flames...
...out of the
frying-pan and into the fire we run...
[Dead Man]:
“In front of me burn
The fires of town.
I am still standing,
for that I am proud.
After the fall,
Demons are gone,
walking alone
but strange sounds chills my bones”.
Nearly cornered...
Armed undeads
creep out of the mist...
[Inner Demon]:
“Their eyes like flames
From woods they crop up
now time to haste
to burke their sly trap”.
Stop!
This is a dead
end.
Swords!
“Horned gods varnate my obscure birth
Formed to burn the filthy white reign
I am no more than a war puck
from my cradle designed to slay
In this world we have one master
who will force you to disaster”.
[Dead Man]:
“In this war they’re destined to bow
show no mercy, strike your best blow”.
Blade against
blade.
Blade against
rotted flesh.
Congealed black
blood spills upon trees and rocks...
[Inner Demon]:
“The battle starts
My safeguard
Is the faith on my god”.
[Dread]: “I am deadly hurt, I,
have few seconds left
Till my corpse fall astray, till my soul fade away...”
Chapter III:
Curves of Sidereal Cosmos
With Dread
wounded, our fellowship walks out of the Forest.
Where they
expected ease, there is ethereal turbulence.
A spinning ambient
disturbs their path.
One could never
describe anything as terrible and impressive...
This cosmos... is
elliptic.
[Dead Man]: “Into
the afterward,
into a cyclone wall,
vortex covers my sight.
I leave my past behind.
Our machinations rust.
Still we’re running fast”.
Their eyes,
perversely shaken open,
gazed for and
instant upon a sight
which no human
creature could even imagine without panic,
fear and physical
exhaustion.
[Inner Demon]: “Paint
yourself”.
[Dead Man]: “Let
your body led”.
[Inner Demon]: “Feel the
divine absence”.
[Dead Man]:
“Neither alive nor dead”.
Existence is
indeed an irony, but the joke is on any form of being.
“Created for denial, through a...
Deconstructed trial”.
Ocean is more
ancient than the rocks embracing it.
The ocean bed
remains a void left unseen.
What there lies,
can be reflected in the night sky.
It holds the
secrets of the unknown.
Freighted with the
memories and the dreams of Time.
[Dread]: “Sense of Time
is a cosmic curve.
Conscience of life
is a strange mislead.
Now I 'm lost
in this wayward sphere.
Constant frost,
and the landscape becomes clear”.
Creation is
shattering.
The weight of
their dying companion is slowing down their course.
Gravity changes
polarity and the world is magnetizing upwards.
[Inner Demon]: “Run”!
Struggling to
overcome the ethereal chaos, what shall be done appears much clear.
“Into the
flow.
Emblem of Crow.
Driven away,
I will not bow.
I did not passed
fire and death
to intercept
this everflow.
Picture that's lost
through burning roads
unfolds a scar
driving me mad.
Can I prevail?
I am betrayed
from my own god?
I will fight back.
Memories run, flashback in my head,
with blackened dreamworlds that now are shred.
Moray scent, but how can this be?
We spilled them all, thought we were free.
Here they come, ready and strong
with luster shields, soon they will fall.
Why I should, hazard to fall for
the filthy sake, of these turncoats”?
And there is
peace...
And now we can
hear...
This is the music
of the stars...
The only sound...
gently... cracking the silence.
[Dead Man]:
“Choose to withdraw.
Godless,
and alone”
Laying Dread upon
the black silk of starlight, they could almost feel the vibe...
The vibe of this
vast, mysterious emptiness... grieving.
Fewer, they keep
their course in this darkest hour...
“Longing that
this interminable route will soon end,
but no end line can be found or be seen anywhere”.
Through blackest
night, a deep rage for the greater powers of this realm is growing steadily...
[Inner Demon]: “Power of
darkness will ease my torment.
Ever existed, great masters will fall that I swear”.
Just a glimpse
behind...
[Dead Man]: “All
I have seen,
pain I feel,
won't obstruct me
I will soon be healed”.
A horrific dark
castle stands before them.
Just as soon they
realize...
...good and evil
are symmetrical reflections of one consistent entity...
[Inner Demon]:
“Now I 'm
complete,
I know I'll defeat,
but that won't stop me to make demons bleed”.
“Soon I’ll
revenge.
My weapons are edged.
I'll bring you both down, the sky will paint red”.
Renouncing all
masters, self-commanded, they enter...
That was the hour
when both let out a mighty shout...
(Battle for the Shrine)
[Dead Man, Inner Demon]: “No
more am your seed”
Inner Demon growls.
The front gate
shatters to pieces.
The only light
there was, came from hundreds of never melting candles...
Possessed
corpses... countless...
Armed to the
teeth... marching against them.
Shall the
bloodbath begin.
Skulls... body
parts... land to a black blooded ground.
Not such pitiful
creature, alive or dead could ever stand against the Fellowship.
Piles of corpses
form...
Denying slavery...
fighting to be masters of their own existence...
...to claim the
Shrine...
"Through this
Plutonian realm... Charge and Slay"
[Inner
Demon]: “This combat feels like,
they all wait in some line
to be slayed from my hands
half of them are dropped dead”
“I storm
Inside
They’re more
Let's strike”
Suddenly, new
devilry appears.
Flying but
cumbrous demons hit their wings with great force,
shaking brutally
this misty dark place...
“Floor now is
filled up with
corpses and bloodbath
I see no other, I enter
a dark path”
Their path leads them in a vast hall,
so high, its end cannot be seen.
There stands the Portal of the Seven Gates.
There he awaits.
Guardian of the Shrine.
“There's his
imposing black throne
He's standing under the dome”
[Stellar Reflection]: “Descend and
shattered my home
Now it is time we draw swords”
Gargoyles come to life.
Inner Demon slays his way through, heading for the Guardian.
Dead Man takes a strong handful of claws in the face.
An unknown morph flies through the fog.
Her azure wings vibrate the aether.
Unexpectedly, power breaks in his hands.
An ancient witchery falls upon the battlefield.
The Guardian draws an enormous bow against Dead Man.
The arrow lands into its target's chest with brutal force.
Inner Demon shatters to rocks the last of them.
The statues are spent.
He strokes his wings to meet the Guardian Lord.
The metallic sound of drawing sword echoes inside Dead Man's head while
his vision becomes blur.
He falls to his knees.
The two devils raise their swords ready to destroy.
It was the very moment when their blades met,
Space-Time continuum created a massive vortex.
It was the time... when Dead Man whispered his last breath...
[Dead Man, Narcotic Sylph]:
“Clench of fist
[Dead Man]: crescent of heartbeat
[Dead Man, Narcotic Sylph]: nightmare's
bottom
[Dead Man]: I am home”
Chapter IV:
Tumulus
Consciousness spins in disarray.
Vague are the divinations between illusion and reality.
The original horror of any physical life form... speaks to thee...
What one may think of his final resting place... could be just...
...a Dead Man's Dream...
[Tumulus]:
“Closed into me
but your ghost is free
Eyes open but you can't see
you cannot move and flee”
Awareness should
burden only the living.
Yet... here lies
the consistency of biological expression.
[Inner Demon]: “Plagues
taint all over thee,
pain won't make you weep
no matter how much you bleed.
Your true scars are much more deep,
so tell me how does it feel
now that you’ve become a seed”?
The core of
philosophy confess that Death,
may be not more
than an instrument,
corresponding to
Entropy.
[Tumulus]:
“For, I shall be your home
Within me laid, and alone
Drown, through shades and mourn
The ever-flow awaits...
… I am the
tomb”.
The Elliptic
Cosmos holds the coverlet, beneath which it's dead
dream lightly,
walking through the Seven Portals.
Eventually
withering... transcending all chemical proportions.
[Inner Demon]: “Rot...
away...
you hold all Time ahead to decay”
Her dark presence
casts a shadow to this unholy ground...
Never had he
thrown a glimpse upon her,
yet... the Dead
Man is highly aware of the hellish aura that is embracing this nymph.
[Inner Demon]: “She
flies”
[Tumulus]:
“with her strange blue wings
from the crystal seas
darkened and released
came for thee, now...”
[Inner Demon]:
“...feast”
[Tumulus]: “Breath deep in her mist
let her feed you grief
summon her with screams
to your sleep of dreams...”
This is her touch…
As he felt floating on thin air…
…a gentle breeze lifted everything higher…
[Tumulus]:
“Now fall, be born again...
… take her hand...
[Tumulus, Narcotic Sylph]: ...don't you dread...
“… let your soul led... ”
“Daylight leaves its last breath,
and we are lost in dark clouds.
You kept old forsaken cries deep inside…
Our mental flame spills upon melodies.
At night you were flying,
with dawn light you fell…
I felt your dying breath…
...piercing deep, into my heart…
And as I hold you dearly…
…shall my tears ease your weary soul…
…as they fall upon your eyes…
As far as I have strength I will carry you…
Till my broken body shatters down…
And if it must… let the cosmic slaughter take us both…
The rain pours down heavily…
…and still… there is peace…
This shall be our last kiss my love…
Let it be…
…our dead dream…”
Chapter V:
Raven
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.'
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;
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, `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 darkness 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.
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, 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.
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 blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door -
Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as `Nevermore.'
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."'
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 foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
`Wretch,' I cried, `thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he has 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 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!
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 shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!
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.'
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;
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, `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 darkness 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.
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, 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.
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 blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door -
Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as `Nevermore.'
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."'
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 foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
`Wretch,' I cried, `thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he has 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 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!
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 shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!
