A Remarkable Poem.
The Louisville Commercial publishes the following original poem, written by a man so in sane that he is kept in a strait-jacket-the writer being R. Alston Lavender Jr., a maniac in the lunatic asylum at Raleigh, N. C. It was the fancy of the writer that his body was the occasional dwelling-place of the spirit of Edgar A. Poe, and on one of these occasions. When the spirit was in him, he seized a pen and dashed off the following:
Fires within my brain were burning,
Scorning life, despairing, yearning,
Hopeless, blinded in my anguish,
Through by body's open door,
Came a Raven, foul and sable,
Like those evil birds of fable
Downward swooping where the drooping
Specters haunt the Stygian shore
Ghosts of agony departed,
Festering wounds that long had smarted,
Broken vows, returnless moaning,
Griefs, and miseries of yore
By some art revived, undaunted,
I gaze steadfast, the enchanted
Black, internal Raven uttered
A wild dirge - not --Evermore
Gazing steady, gazing madly
On the bird I spoke, and sadly
Broken down, too deep for scorning.
Sought for mercy to implore.
Turning to the bird I blessed it-
In my bosom I caressed it-
Still it pierced my heart, and reveled
In the palpitating gore.
I grew mad: the crowning fancies,
Black weeds they-not blooming pansies
Made me think the bird a spirit.
Bird, I cried, be bird no more;
Take a shape-be man, be devil.
Be a snake' rise in they revel!
From thy banquet rise-be human!
I have seen thee oft before;
Thou art a bird, but something more.
Tapping, tapping, striking deeper,
Rousing pain, my body's keeper,
Thou hast oft erewhile sought entrance
At the heart's great palace door.
Leave me, leave me gloomy demon,
Fiend or spirit most in human:
Strike me through, but first unvailing,
Let me scan thee o'er and o'er—
Thou art a bird, but something more.
Still with sable pinions flapping
The great Raven tapping, tapping,
Struck into my breast his talons.
Vast his wings outspread, and o'er
All my nature cast a pallor,
But, I strove, with dying valor.
With the poiganaid of repulsion
Striking through the form it wore -
Of a bird, and something more.
O! thou huge infernal Raven,
Image that Hell's King hath graven,
Image growing more gigantic,
Nursed beyond the Stygian shore,
Leave me, leave me, I beseech thee;
I cried madly, then earth opened,
With a brazen earthquake roar.
Downward, downward, circling, speeding,
Cries of anguish still unheeding,
Striking through me with his talons,
Still the Raven shape he bore,
Onto Erebus we drifted,
His huge wings by thunders lifted,
Beat' gainst drifts of white flamed light'ing
Sprinkled red wit human gore,
"Twas a bird, but demon more.
I'm no bird, "an angel brother,"
A bright spirit and none other.
I have waited, blissful tended
Thee for thirty years and more,
In thy wild, illusive madness
In thy blight, disease, and sadness,
I have sounded, tapping,
At thy spirit’s Eden door
Not a bird. But angel more
In my Palmyrenian splendor,
In Zenobian reguanee tender,
More than Roman though Aurelian,
Wee the kingly name I bore,
I have left my angel palace,
Dropping in thy sorrow’s chalice
Consolation; oh, 'twas blessed
Sweet thy pillow to bend o'ver,
Not a bird, love's angel more.
Shining down with light Elysian,
Through the pearly gates of vision,
On thy tranced soul lighted fancy,
When across thy chamber floor,
Fell the spirit moonlight laden
Laden with soft dews from Aidenn,
Shaken downward, still Nepe the
Drunk by dreaming bards of yore.
Ended is life's mocking fever,
Where through citron groves forever
Blow the spice winds, and the love-birds
Tell their raptures o'er and o'er
From earth's hell by Afrits haunted,
From its evil disenchanted,
I hate borne thee, gaze upon me,
Didst thou see me ne’er before?
Then I wakened, if to waken
Be to dwell by grief forsaken,
With the god who dwelt with angels
In the shining age of yore
And I stood sublime, victorious,
While below lay earth with glorious
Realms of angels shining
Crown-like on her temples evermore,
Not on earth an Eden more.
Earth, I cried, thy clouds are shadows
From the Asphodelion meadows
Of sky-world. Floating downward,
Early rains that from them pour,
Love’s own heaven thy mother bore thee
And the Father God bends o'er thee
'tis his hand that crown thy forehead
Thou shalt live forevermore-
Not on earth, an Eden more.
As a gem hath many gleamings
And a day hath many beamings,
And a garden many roses
Thrilled with sweetness to the core
So the soul hath many ages
And the life's book many pages
But the heart's great gospel opens
Where the Seraphim adore.
Not on earth, an Eden more
I will write a book hereafter,
Cheerful as a baby's laughter,
When its mother's breast o'er leans it
On the sainted spirit shore,
Like Apollo, the far data,
I, the poet and the martyr,
Will chant peans of soul music
That shalt live forevermore,
Not a friend, a brother more.
Title: A Remarkable Poem.
Author: R. Alston Lavender Jr. Published in The Louisville Commercial
Location: Raleigh, N. C
Year: Unknown
Media: Newspaper article, glued to Page 174 of the Ledger of Captain W. B.
Blair
Support this project and click below
Copyright 2002-6 ©
This compilation is for individual research or private study only. Any unauthorized reproduction, distribution, public performance, display, or modifications of the materials contained in is website, is subject to copyright law.