Ah, broken is the golden bowl! -- the spirit flown forever! Let the bell toll! -- a saintly soul floats on the Stygian river: -- And, Guy De Vere, hast @3thou@1 no tear? -- weep now or never more! See! on yon drear and rigid bier low lies thy love, Lenore! Come, let the burial rite be read -- the funeral song be sung! -- An anthem for the queenliest dead that ever died so young -- A dirge for her the doubly dead in that she died so young. "Wretches! ye loved her for her wealth and ye hated her for her pride; And, when she fell in feeble health, ye blessed her -- that she died: -- How @3shall@1 the ritual then be read -- the requiem how be sung By you -- by yours, the evil eye -- by yours the slanderous tongue That did to death the innocence that died and died so young?" @3Peccavimus:@1 -- yet rave not thus! but let a Sabbath song Go up to God so solemnly the dead may feel no wrong! The sweet Lenore hath gone before, with Hope that flew beside, Leaving thee wild for the dear child that should have been thy bride -- For her, the fair and debonair, that now so lowly lies, The life upon her yellow hair, but not within her eyes -- The life still there upon her hair, the death upon her eyes. "Avaunt! -- avaunt! to friends from fiends the indignant ghost is riven -- From Hell unto a high estate within the utmost Heaven -- From moan and groan to a golden throne beside the King of Heaven: -- Let @3no@1 bell toll, then, lest her soul, amid its hallowed mirth Should catch the note as it doth float up from the damned Earth! And I -- tonight my heart is light: -- no dirge will I upraise, But waft the angel on her flight with a Paean of old days!" |