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“ Know'st thou not me?" the deep voice cried,
“So long enjoy’d, so oft misusedAlternate, in thy fickle pride;
Desired, neglected, and accused ?
“Before my breath, like blazing flax,
Man and his marvels pass away; And changing empires wane and wax,
Are founded, flourish, and decay.
“ Redeem mine hours—the space is brief
While in my glass the sand-grains shiver, And measureless thy joy or grief,
When Time and thou shalt part for ever!”
HE is gone to the mountain,
He is lost to the forest,
When our need was the sorest.
From the raindrops shall borrow,
To Duncan no morrow !
The hand of the reaper
Takes the ears that are hoary,
Wails manhood in glory.
The autumn winds rushing
Waft the leaves that are searest,
When blighting was nearest.
(1.) THE ONSET.
“But, see ! look up-on Flodden bent,
And sudden, as he spoke,
Was wreathed in sable smoke.
As down the hill they broke ; Nor martial shout, nor minstrel tone, Announced their march, their tread alone, At times one warning trumpet blown,
At times a stifled hum, Told England, from his mountain-throne
King James did rushing come.—
And such a yell was there,
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 shriek'd,
upstarting, “Get thee back into the tempest, and the night's Plutonian
shore ! Leave no black plume as in 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 thy form from off my door!”
Quoth the Raven : “Nevermore !"
And hi Pallid bust offlitting star
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!
THE KITTEN AND THE FALLING LEAVES.
SEE the kitten how she starts,
First at one, and then its fellow,
THE STREET MUSICIAN; OR, THE POWER
An Orpheus ! an Orpheus !—he works on the crowd,
What an eager assembly' what an empire is this!
That errand-bound 'prentice was passing in hasteWhat matter! he's caught, and his time runs to waste The newsman is stopp'd, though he stops on the fret, And the half-breathless lamplighter, he's in the net!
The porter sits down on the weight which he bore;
That tall man, a giant in bulk and in height,
Mark that cripple,-but little would tempt him to try
Now, coaches and chariots ! roar on like a stream;