The Raven(乌鸦)

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THE RAVEN

THE RAVENTHE RAVEN

THE RAVEN

Edgar Allan Poe

THE RAVEN

THE RAVENTHE RAVEN

THE 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 visiter," 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 visiter entreating

entrance at my chamber door-- Some late visiter 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 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.

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 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

THE RAVEN

THE RAVENTHE RAVEN

THE RAVEN

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 the 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 upon the sculptured bust

above his chamber door,With such name as "Nevermore."

But the Raven, sitting lonely on that placid bust, spoke only That one

word, as if its soul in that one word he did outpour Nothing farther 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 boreOf '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 yoreMeant 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'erShe 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,"

THE RAVEN

THE RAVENTHE RAVEN

THE RAVEN

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 floorShall be lifted--nevermore!

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摘要：

THERAVENTHERAVENTHERAVENTHERAVEN1THERAVENEdgarAllanPoeTHERAVENTHERAVENTHERAVENTHERAVEN2Onceuponamidnightdreary,whileIpondered,weakandweary,Overmanyaquaintandcuriousvolumeofforgottenlore--WhileInodded,nearlynapping,suddenlytherecameatapping,Asofsomeonegentlyrapping,rappingatmychamberdoor."'Tissomevis...

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The Raven(乌鸦)

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