2. "Rise, rise! even now thy father comes, a ransomed man

this day!

Mount thy good horse, and thou and I will meet him on his way."

Then lightly rose that loyal son, and bounded on his steed,

And urged as if with lance in rest, the charger's foamy speed.

3. And lo! from far, as on they pressed, there came a glittering band,

With one that 'midst them stately rode, as leader in the land!

"Now haste, Bernardo, haste! for there, in very truth, is he,

The father whom thy faithful heart hath yearned so long to see."

4. His dark eye flashed, his proud breast heaved, his cheek's hue came and went;

He reached that gray-haired chieftain's side, and there dismounting, bent;

A lowly knee to earth he bent, his father's hand he tookWhat was there in its touch that all his fiery spirit shook?

5. That hand was cold-a frozen thing-it dropped from his like lead!

He looked up to the face above-the face was of the dead? A plume waved o'er the noble brow-the brow was fixed and white;

He met, at last, his father's eyes-but in them was no sight!

6. Up from the ground he sprang and gazed—but who could paint that gaze?

They hushed their very hearts, that saw its horror and

amaze

They might have chained him, as before that stony form he stood;

For the power was stricken from his arm, and from his lip the blood.

7. "Father!" at last he murmured low, and wept like child

hood then:

Talk not of grief till thou hast seen the tears of warlike men!

He thought on all his glorious hopes, and all his young

renown

He flung his falchion from his side, and in the dust sat down.

8. Then covering with his steel-gloved hands his darkly mournful brow,

"No more, there is no more," he said, "to lift the sword for now;

My king is false--my hope betrayed! My father!-O the worth,

The glory, and the loveliness are passed away from earth!

9. "I thought to stand where banners waved, my sire, beside thee yet!

I would that there our kindred blood on Spain's free soil had met!

Thou wouldst have known my spirit then; for thee my fields were won;

And thou hast perished in thy chains, as though thou hadst no son!

10. Then, starting from the ground once more, he seized the monarch's rein,

Amid the pale and wildered looks of all the courtier train; And with a fierce o'ermastering grasp, the rearing warhorse led,

And sternly set them face to face the king before the dead.

11. "Came I not forth, upon thy pledge, my father's hand to kiss?

Be still, and gaze thou on, false king! and tell me, what is this?

The voice, the glance, the heart I sought-give answer, where are they?

If thou wouldst clear thy perjured soul, send life through this cold clay!

12. "Into these glassy eyes put light-be still! keep down thine ire!

Bid these white lips a blessing speak-this earth is not my sire;

Give me back him for whom I strove, for whom my blood was shed!

Thou canst not?—and a king!-his dust be mountains on thy head!"

13. He loosed the steed-his slack hand fell; upon the silent face

He cast one long, deep, troubled look, then turned from that sad place;

His hope was crushed; his after fate untold in martial strain;

His banner led the spears no more amid the hills of Spain.

The Raven.

EDGAR A. POE.

1. 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, "tapping at my chamber door

Only this, and nothing more."

2. 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 named Lenore

Nameless here for evermore

3. And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple cur

tain,

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: That it is, and nothing more."

4. Presently my soul grew stronger: hesitating then no longer, 'Sir," said I, or Madam, truly your forgiveness I

66

implore;

66

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.

5. 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.

6. 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 ať my window lattice;

Let me see then what thereat is, and this mystery exploreLet my heart be still a moment, and this mystery

explore;

'Tis the wind, and nothing more."

7. Open then 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 an instant 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.

8. 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!"

9. Much I marveled 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 upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door

With such a name as (6 Nevermore!"

10. But the raven sitting ionely on the placid bust, spoke only That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.