Ворон

By a route obscure and lonely,
Haunted by ill angels only,
Where an Eidolon, named NIGHT,
On a black throne reigns upright,
        I have reached these lands but newly
        From an ultimate dim Thule —
From a wild weird clime that lieth, sublime,
        Out of Space – out of Time.

Bottomless vales and boundless floods,
And chasms, and caves, and Titan woods,
With forms that no man can discover
For the dews that drip all over;
Mountains toppling evermore
Into seas without a shore;
Seas that restlessly aspire,
Surging, unto skies of fire;
Lakes that endlessly outspread
Their lone waters – lone and dead, —
Their still waters – still and chilly
With the snows of the lolling lily.

By the lakes that thus outspread
Their lone waters, lone and dead, —
Their sad waters, sad and chilly
With the snows of the lolling lily, —
By the mountains – near the river
Murmuring lowly, murmuring ever, —
By the grey woods, – by the swamp
Where the toad and the newt encamp, —
By the dismal tarns and pools
        Where dwell the Ghouls, —
By each spot the most unholy —
In each nook most melancholy, —
There the traveller meets aghast
Sheeted Memories of the Past —
Shrouded forms that start and sigh
As they pass the wanderer by —
White-robed forms of friends long given,
In agony, to the Earth – and Heaven.

For the heart whose woes are legion
’Tis a peaceful, soothing region —
For the spirit that walks in shadow
’Tis-oh, ’tis an Eldorado!
But the traveller, travelling through it,
May not – dare not openly view it;
Never its mysteries are exposed
To the weak human eye unclosed;
So wills its King, who hath forbid
The uplifting of the fringed lid;
And thus the sad Soul that here passes
Beholds it but through darkened glasses.
By a route obscure and lonely,
Haunted by ill angels only,
Where an Eidolon[87], name NIGHT,
On a black throne reigns upright,
I have wandered home but newly
From this ultimate dim Thule.

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