The Raven; with literary and historical commentary. Эдгар Аллан По

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СКАЧАТЬ not only are there resemblances in thought, but a marked resemblance in rhythm and metre, to Poe's words and work in this stanza of Mrs. Browning's poem:—

      "Eyes, he said, now throbbing through me! are ye eyes that did undo me?

       Shining eyes like antique jewels set in Parian statue-stone!

       Underneath that calm white forehead, are ye ever burning torrid

       O'er the desolate sand desert of my heart and life undone?"

      Here is, veritably, a stanza, to parallel in versification and ideas Poe's lines,—

      "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."

      This stanza far more likely than that containing the first cited line of Mrs. Browning, would have suggested the metrical method, the rhythm, and the additional rhymes in the first and third lines. But there the suggestion ends; all beyond that is apparently Poe's own. It is, of course, possible that other sources of the inspiration of the Raven are discoverable although not yet discovered, but, when all the germs have been ​analyzed and all the suggested sources scrutinized what a wealth of imagination and a power of words remain the unalienable property of Poe—this builder of "pyramids for immortality."

      Every poem must have been suggested by something, but how rarely do suggestions—whence-so-ever drawn—from Nature or Art—culminate in works so magnificent as this—the melodious apotheosis of Melancholy! This splendid consecration of unforgetful, undying sorrow!

      As has already been pointed out Poe made no claim to originality as regarded either the rhythm or the metre of the Raven: the measures of each of the lines composing the stanzas of his poem had been often used before, but to cite his own words with respect to this feature of the work, "what originality the Raven has, is in their combination into stanza, nothing even remotely approaching this combination has ever been attempted. The effect of this originality of combination is," as he justly claims, "aided by other unusual and some altogether novel effects, arising from an extension of the application of the principles of rhyme and alliteration."

      This is, indeed, a modest method of placing before his public the markedly original variations from known and well-worn forms of versification. "The possible varieties of metre and stanza are," as Poe remarks, "absolutely infinite, and yet, for centuries, no man, in verse, has ever done, or ever seemed to think of doing, an original thing. The fact is" asserts the poet "that originality (unless in minds of very unusual force) is by no means a matter, as some suppose, of impulse or intuition. In general, to be found, it must be ​elaborately sought, and although a positive merit of the highest class, demands in its attainment less of invention than of negation."

      In proof of Poe himself having possessed this "merit of the highest class," it is but necessary to refer to the Raven. Not only is the whole conception and construction of the poem evidence of his inventive originality, not only are the artistic alliteration, the profusion of open vowel sounds and the melodious metre, testimony to his sense of beauty, but, by the introduction of the third rhyme into the fourth line of the stanza, and by the new, the novel, insertion of a fifth line between that fourth line and the refrain, he did really do, what, as he pointed out, no man had done for centuries, an original thing in verse!

      1 ↑ The Fortnightly Review, July 1st, 1880.

      2 ↑ No. 2473, page 395, March 20th, 1875.

      3 ↑ For the satisfaction of the reader the whole of this poem is given at pp. 35—39.

      4 ↑ First published version.

      The Raven

       Table of Contents

      For other versions of this work, see The Raven (Poe).

      ​

THE RAVEN. I. NCE upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary 1 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." II. Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,7 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. ​ III. And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain 13 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." IV. Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, 19 "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. V. Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing, 25 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. ​ VI. Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, 31 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!" VII. Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter, 37 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. VIII. Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, 43 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." ​ IX. Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, 49 Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore; For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being Ever yet was blessed СКАЧАТЬ В начало < 1 2 3 4 5 > В конец