POE'S " RAVEN."

Waikato Times, Volume IV, Issue 234, 8 November 1873, Page 2

POE'S " RAVEN."

(Home Joubnai — New York paper.) Therk is no poem in the English language whose real monnmg hns caused more diversity of opinion in the literary world than Poe's weird, fantastic, rhythmetic poem, " The Ruven." We will endeavour, with all humility, to produce the key to unlock the mystery. Let us call to mind the story of Poe's youthful passion for a noble and puro-minded maiden, who died at the age of twenty years. When nil her cherished hopds and aspirations for the beloved ono, whose fame was dearer to her than fortune, or even life itself, were blasted, and she discovered that, faithless to his promise of reformation from hit follies, lie still remained on terms of intimacy with low companions, she gate up all hopes, and died of a broken heart. This so affected the poet that, although he had rever been unwind to her, either by word or deed, his chief fault, in this case, being deficiency of moral courage, his conscience whispered that lie was morally guilty of her death, and for many years lie could not shake off the depression of heart he felt whenever his thoughts went back to her whom be had loved and lost. The real meaning of the " Haven " is remorse ; and any one who aspires to the merit of reciting tlie poem correctly must remember that when Poe says, " Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget I his lost Leuore," he does not mean that' he should drink of any beverage like the hemlock of Socrates, or a medicine to lull pain, but the nepenthe of the mind, forgetfulness ; because if he could forgot Lenore he would be happy. We will now, is briefly as possible, describe the poem. Let us bear in mind that Poe was a spjfitualist, and that the "Raven " is a spiritual narration. Toe poet was sitting in his study late at night, and had been reading, no* books for anu ement, or even instruction, but tales of Egyptian mysteries (old forgotten lorp), that told of the invocation Of spirits from the tomb. Hearing a «light noise, and his , lmtEriuation baing excited by what he h:id been readme, be thought, "Ckii that be a spirit at the door, or did I only fancy I heard a noise ? " Endeavouring to shake off his feats, ho tried to perauade himself that it was only some friend or visitor calliug at that late hour. His thoughts then recurred to that loved being whose body was in the earth, but whose spirit had ascended to its' kindred in Heaven, and had received a new name in tho spiritual world. Her name was Alice while on earth, but she was now ren lined Lenore. His imagination being so fully excited, even the rustling of the curtain thrilled him, and filled him with the most fantastic terror ; so that as to reassure his heart he tried to convince himself that it was only a friend at the door, and he aJdresses the supposed visitor, and begs pardon for not answering the request for admission, de then throws the door wide open, and, to bi« surprise, he can neither see any one, or even hear the rustle of the garment of a person retiring. Standing still, and for a long time peering into the darkness, full of wonder, fear and doubt, his thoughts recur to the loved one who every would come to Ins stuty.Sahd with "her gentle voice soothe his cures, and encourago him to persevere in his noble struggle for fame. Forgetting that she is dead, he, in a low tone of voice, utters her name " Lenore ; " no real voice replies, but his heart answers, like » n echo, that Lenore is dead, and will return I no more. He then, with hir soul burning within him, returns into his chamber, and again fancies he bears the ; knocking ; but this time it appears to proceed from the window, and he throws it wide open, when, to his intense aiti mu-hment, a ghostly bird, in tho shape of a raren, enters the room, and without noticing the poet in any war, perches itself upon the bust of the goddess Pallas, that w*s placed over the door of the chamber. H»j addressee the bud, and requests it to tell him its name. The bird answers, " Nevermore." He marvels at the answer given, but thinks there can be no meaning in it, and mutters to himself that other friends have flod before, and that on the morrow this new friend will also leave him. But when the bird replies that it will never do so, he is startled at receiving such an apt reply to his remark. He then seats himself upon the couch where he had passed so many happy hours of intellectual i enjoyment witli the loving maiden who cheered his lonely lot with her smiles, and wondered what tho bird meant by croaking Nevermore. Realising all he had lost when Lenore died, and lull of remorse, he imagines that the air becomes denser, and that the footsteps of the angels are audible around him. He then bids his heart take courage, because God has sent him the blessing of forgetfulness. Butr.the Raven tells him that he is mistaken. Ho appeals to the bird, and acknowledges that he is a prophet, and asks it if hr> truly repents will he not be forgiven. The Raven answers, Never. He then implores the bird to inform him if he shall be reunited in the land of spirits to the maiden he ndorcs. The Raven replies, No! Full of indignation at tho reply, so cuntrary to the teachings of Christianity, he denounces tho bird, and tells it to take its beak from out his heart, and return to tho kingdom of darkness whence it came. The bird replies that it will nevor leave him. Imagining that he must Imve committed the unpardonable sin, he gives way to tho anguish of his soul ; and in the deepest dpspondency he feels that the Raven, or remorse, will bo sitting upon his heart for ever, and that his soul will never be lifted frpin utter despair. Some elocutionists, in their rendition of the poem, do not gra*p the real meaning of the poet ; tiiey recite it as if nil they describe is a literal fact, and that while Poe is in his chamber a real bird enters at the window and converses with him. The proof of this assertion is to be found in their manner of delivery of the last verso of the poem ; for when they sny (after imploring tho raven to take its beak from ont their heart), " But the r*ycn. never flitting, Still is sitting, --till is sitting OiTthe pallid buit of Pallas, Just «bo\e my chamber door," — they point to tho burst of Pallas over the door of the chamber, instead of placing their hands upon the breast, and pressing them convulsively against the region of the heart, thus explaining to the audience that remorse is there. Their error must be manifest to every intelligent mind, ior this reason. If the' Raven remained sitting upon the bust of Pallas over the door of the chamber, Poe had but to leave the room, and bidding the bird good-night, walk away in peace and tranquility of mind, leaving his tormentor behind him. On the contrary, if the spiritual bird, or remorse, was sitting upon the spiritual bust of Pallas, then the undying beak of the bird would, like the vulture of Prometheus, devour all the aspirations of his souf;jind make a chaos of his minrl. The exquisito art of the poet is nowhere more evident than in hi* description of the raven sitting upon the bust of Pallas, as he thus gradually enables the intelligent and in quiring mind to grasp its spiritual and real meaning. If he | nad described the bird as first nlighting upon his breast and plunging his beak into his heart, then depicted it as perched upon the b"\st of Pallas over the door of his chamber, the description would have been incorrect, because remorse does not affect the heart until after it has afflicted the mind.^The. first visitation 'of this awful quest would b* to the brain ; then, when convinced of the truth of its accusations, the anguuli of the heart would follow.

A lnan who had his new list exchanged for nn old one in a barber* iliop, tdvertiuos that unless it it reiu«n< <l hf will forward to the wife of the perion who took t tiic X tlt-r foui»J concenlcd in the lining of the old on*.