human
Can you write me a poem about state and raven?
assistant
Sure, here's a poem about state and raven:
  pondered, weak and weary,<br>
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.<br>
&ldquo; &rsquo;Tis some visitor,&rdquo; I muttered,
&ldquo;tapping at my chamber door&mdash;<br>
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the
Eagerly I wished the morrow;&mdash;vainly I had sought to
borrow<br>
From my books surcease of sorrow&mdash;sorrow for the lost
Lenore&mdash;<br>
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name
Lenore&mdash;<br>
curtain<br>
Thrilled me&mdash;filled me with fantastic terrors never felt
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood
repeating<br>
&ldquo; &rsquo;Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;<br>
&ldquo;Sir,&rdquo; said I, &ldquo;or Madam, truly your
forgiveness I implore;<br>
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,<br>
That I scarce was sure I heard you&rdquo;&mdash;here I opened
wide the door;&mdash;<br>
wondering, fearing,<br>
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word,
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word,
Soon again I heard a tapping something louder than before.<br>
&ldquo;Surely,&rdquo; said I, &ldquo;surely that is something at
my window lattice;<br>
Let me see, then, what thereat is and this mystery
explore&mdash;<br>
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore.<br>
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber
&ldquo;Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,&rdquo; I said,
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night&rsquo;s Plutonian
Though its answer little meaning&mdash;little relevancy bore;<br>
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber
That one word, as if its soul in that one word he did
Nothing further then he uttered; not a feather then he
fluttered&mdash;<br>
Till I scarcely more than muttered: &ldquo;Other friends have
flown before&mdash;<br>
On the morrow <i>he</i> will leave me, as my Hopes have flown
&ldquo;Doubtless,&rdquo; said I, &ldquo;what it utters is its
only stock and store,<br>
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster<br>
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore<br>
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking<br>
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of
expressing<br>
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom&rsquo;s
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining<br>
On the cushion&rsquo;s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted
&ldquo;Wretch,&rdquo; I cried, &ldquo;thy God hath lent
thee&mdash;by these angels he hath sent thee<br>
Respite&mdash;respite and nepenthe from thy memories of
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost
evil!&mdash;prophet still, if bird or devil!&mdash;<br>
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here
Desolate, yet all undaunted, on this desert land
enchanted&mdash;<br>
On this home by Horror haunted&mdash;tell me truly, I
implore&mdash;<br>
Is there&mdash;<i>is</i> there balm in Gilead?&mdash;tell
me&mdash;tell me, I implore!&rdquo;<br>
evil!&mdash;prophet still, if bird or devil!<br>
By that Heaven that bends above us&mdash;by that God we both
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name
Lenore&mdash;<br>
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name
&ldquo;Get thee back into the tempest and the Night&rsquo;s
Plutonian shore!<br>
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul has
Leave my loneliness unbroken!&mdash;quit the bust above my
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my
sitting<br>
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;<br>
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon&rsquo;s that is
dreaming<br>
And the lamp-light o&rsquo;er him streaming throws his shadow on
the floor;<br>
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the
floor<br>
devastated the country. No pestilence had ever been so fatal, or
so hideous. Blood was its Avatar and its seal&mdash;the redness
and the horror of blood. There were sharp pains, and sudden
dizziness, and then profuse bleeding at the pores, with
dissolution. The scarlet stains upon the body and especially upon
seizure, progress, and termination of the disease, were the
incidents of half an hour.</p>
presence a thousand hale and light-hearted friends from among the
deep seclusion of one of his castellated abbeys. This was an
extensive and magnificent structure, the creation of the
prince&rsquo;s own eccentric yet august taste. A strong and lofty
having entered, brought furnaces and massy hammers and welded the
abbey was amply provisioned. With such precautions the courtiers
might bid defiance to contagion. The external world could take
care of itself. In the meantime it was folly to grieve, or to
think. The prince had provided all the appliances of pleasure.
There were buffoons, there were improvisatori, there were
ballet-dancers, there were musicians, there was Beauty, there was
seclusion, and while the pestilence raged most furiously abroad,
that the Prince Prospero entertained his thousand friends at a
masked ball of the most unusual magnificence.</p>
tell of the rooms in which it was held. These were seven&mdash;an
the walls on either hand, so that the view of the whole extent is
The apartments were so irregularly disposed that the vision
embraced but little more than one at a time. There was a sharp
turn at every twenty or thirty yards, and at each turn a novel
effect. To the right and left, in the middle of each wall, a tall
pursued the windings of the suite. These windows were of stained
glass whose color varied in accordance with the prevailing hue of
eastern extremity was hung, for example, in blue&mdash;and
vividly blue were its windows. The second chamber was purple in
its ornaments and tapestries, and here the panes were purple. The
white&mdash;the sixth with violet. The seventh apartment was
closely shrouded in black velvet tapestries that hung all over
the ceiling and down the walls, falling in heavy folds upon a
carpet of the same material and hue. But in this chamber only,
the color of the windows failed to correspond with the
decorations. The panes here were scarlet&mdash;a deep blood
color. Now in no one of the seven apartments was there any lamp
or candelabrum, amid the profusion of golden ornaments that lay
scattered to and fro or depended from the roof. There was no
light of any kind emanating from lamp or candle within the suite
of chambers. But in the corridors that followed the suite, there
stood, opposite to each window, a heavy tripod, bearing a brazier
glaringly illumined the room. And thus were produced a multitude
of gaudy and fantastic appearances. But in the western or black
chamber the effect of the fire-light that streamed upon the dark
hangings through the blood-tinted panes, was ghastly in the
extreme, and produced so wild a look upon the countenances of
those who entered, that there were few of the company bold enough
western wall, a gigantic clock of ebony. Its pendulum swung to
and fro with a dull, heavy, monotonous clang; and when the
minute-hand made the circuit of the face, and the hour was to be
stricken, there came from the brazen lungs of the clock a sound
which was clear and loud and deep and exceedingly musical, but of
the musicians of the orchestra were constrained to pause,
momentarily, in their performance, to hearken to the sound; and
thus the waltzers perforce ceased their evolutions; and there was
chimes of the clock yet rang, it was observed that the giddiest
grew pale, and the more aged and sedate passed their hands over
their brows as if in confused revery or meditation. But when the
echoes had fully ceased, a light laughter at once pervaded the
assembly; the musicians looked at each other and smiled as if at
their own nervousness and folly, and made whispering vows, each
to the other, that the next chiming of the clock should produce
in them no similar emotion; and then, after the lapse of sixty
minutes (which embrace three thousand and six hundred seconds of
the Time that flies), there came yet another chiming of the
clock, and then were the same disconcert and tremulousness and
meditation as before.</p>
revel. The tastes of the duke were peculiar. He had a fine eye
for colors and effects. He disregarded the <i>decora</i> of mere
fashion. His plans were bold and fiery, and his conceptions
glowed with barbaric lustre. There are some who would have
thought him mad. His followers felt that he was not. It was
necessary to hear and see and touch him to be <i>sure</i> that he
the seven chambers, upon occasion of this great
given character to the masqueraders. Be sure they were grotesque.
phantasm&mdash;much of what has been since seen in
&ldquo;Hernani.&rdquo; There were arabesque figures with unsuited
madman fashions. There were much of the beautiful, much of the
wanton, much of the <i>bizarre</i>, something of the terrible,
and not a little of that which might have excited disgust. To and
dreams. And these&mdash;the dreams&mdash;writhed in and about,
taking hue from the rooms, and causing the wild music of the
orchestra to seem as the echo of their steps. And, anon, there
strikes the ebony clock which stands in the hall of the velvet.
And then, for a moment, all is still, and all is silent save the
voice of the clock. The dreams are stiff-frozen as they stand.
But the echoes of the chime die away&mdash;they have endured but
an instant&mdash;and a light, half-subdued laughter floats after
them as they depart. And now again the music swells, and the
dreams live, and writhe to and fro more merrily than ever, taking
from the tripods. But to the chamber which lies most westwardly
of the seven, there are now none of the maskers who venture; for
the night is waning away; and there flows a ruddier light through
appals; and to him whose foot falls upon the sable carpet, there
comes from the near clock of ebony a muffled peal more solemnly
emphatic than any which reaches <i>their</i> ears who indulge in
the more remote gaieties of the other apartments.</p>
beat feverishly the heart of life. And the revel went whirlingly
on, until at length there commenced the sounding of midnight upon
evolutions of the waltzers were quieted; and there was an uneasy
cessation of all things as before. But now there were twelve
strokes to be sounded by the bell of the clock; and thus it
happened, perhaps, that more of thought crept, with more of time,
And thus too, it happened, perhaps, that before the last echoes
of the last chime had utterly sunk into silence, there were many
individuals in the crowd who had found leisure to become aware of
of no single individual before. And the rumor of this new
presence having spread itself whisperingly around, there arose at
disapprobation and surprise&mdash;then, finally, of terror, of
horror, and of disgust.</p>
well be supposed that no ordinary appearance could have excited
such sensation. In truth the masquerade license of the night was
nearly unlimited; but the figure in question had out-Heroded
Herod, and gone beyond the bounds of even the prince&rsquo;s
indefinite decorum. There are chords in the hearts of the most
reckless which cannot be touched without emotion. Even with the
utterly lost, to whom life and death are equally jests, there are
seemed now deeply to feel that in the costume and bearing of the
stranger neither wit nor propriety existed. The figure was tall
and gaunt, and shrouded from head to foot in the habiliments of
the grave. The mask which concealed the visage was made so nearly
closest scrutiny must have had difficulty in detecting the cheat.
the face, was besprinkled with the scarlet horror.</p>
image (which, with a slow and solemn movement, as if more fully
to sustain its role, stalked to and fro among the waltzers) he
was seen to be convulsed, in the first moment with a strong
shudder either of terror or distaste; but, in the next, his brow
reddened with rage.</p>
courtiers who stood near him&mdash;&ldquo;who dares insult us
with this blasphemous mockery? Seize him and unmask
him&mdash;that we may know whom we have to hang, at sunrise, from
Prince Prospero as he uttered these words. They rang throughout
the seven rooms loudly and clearly, for the prince was a bold and
of pale courtiers by his side. At first, as he spoke, there was a
intruder, who, at the moment was also near at hand, and now, with
who put forth hand to seize him; so that, unimpeded, he passed
within a yard of the prince&rsquo;s person; and, while the vast
assembly, as if with one impulse, shrank from the centres of the
rooms to the walls, he made his way uninterruptedly, but with the
the first, through the blue chamber to the purple&mdash;through
the purple to the green&mdash;through the green to the
orange&mdash;through this again to the white&mdash;and even
thence to the violet, ere a decided movement had been made to
arrest him. It was then, however, that the Prince Prospero,
maddening with rage and the shame of his own momentary cowardice,
him on account of a deadly terror that had seized upon all. He
bore aloft a drawn dagger, and had approached, in rapid
impetuosity, to within three or four feet of the retreating
figure, when the latter, having attained the extremity of the
velvet apartment, turned suddenly and confronted his pursuer.
There was a sharp cry&mdash;and the dagger dropped gleaming upon
the sable carpet, upon which, instantly afterward, fell prostrate
the black apartment, and, seizing the mummer, whose tall figure
stood erect and motionless within the shadow of the ebony clock,
gasped in unutterable horror at finding the grave cerements and
corpse-like mask, which they handled with so violent a rudeness,
untenanted by any tangible form.</p>
revellers in the blood-bedewed halls of their revel, and died
each in the despairing posture of his fall. And the life of the
ebony clock went out with that of the last of the gay. And the
flames of the tripods expired. And Darkness and Decay and the Red
borne as I best could, but when he ventured upon insult, I vowed
revenge. You, who so well know the nature of my soul, will not
suppose, however, that I gave utterance to a threat. <i>At
length</i> I would be avenged; this was a point definitely
settled&mdash;but the very definitiveness with which it was
resolved, precluded the idea of risk. I must not only punish, but
overtakes its redresser. It is equally unredressed when the
avenger fails to make himself felt as such to him who has done
given Fortunato cause to doubt my good will. I continued, as was
my wont, to smile in his face, and he did not perceive that my
smile <i>now</i> was at the thought of his immolation.</p>
other regards he was a man to be respected and even feared. He
prided himself on his connoisseurship in wine. Few Italians have
the true virtuoso spirit. For the most part their enthusiasm is
adopted to suit the time and opportunity&mdash;to practise
imposture upon the British and Austrian <i>millionaires</i>. In
painting and gemmary, Fortunato, like his countrymen, was a
quack&mdash;but in the matter of old wines he was sincere. In
this respect I did not differ from him materially: I was skilful
in the Italian vintages myself, and bought largely whenever I
the carnival season, that I encountered my friend. He accosted me
wore motley. He had on a tight-fitting parti-striped dress, and
his head was surmounted by the conical cap and bells. I was so
pleased to see him, that I thought I should never have done
wringing his hand.</p>
How remarkably well you are looking to-day! But I have received a
Impossible! And in the middle of the carnival!&rdquo;</p>
silly enough to pay the full Amontillado price without consulting
one has a critical turn, it is he. He will tell
match for your own.&rdquo;</p>
insufferably damp. They are encrusted with nitre.&rdquo;</p>
Amontillado! You have been imposed upon. And as for Luchesi, he
cannot distinguish Sherry from Amontillado.&rdquo;</p>
on a mask of black silk, and drawing a <i>roquelaire</i> closely
about my person, I suffered him to hurry me to my palazzo.</p>
merry in honor of the time. I had told them that I should not
return until the morning, and had given them explicit orders not
to stir from the house. These orders were sufficient, I well
knew, to insure their immediate disappearance, one and all, as
soon as my back was turned.</p>
Fortunato, bowed him through several suites of rooms to the
archway that led into the vaults. I passed down a long and
winding staircase, requesting him to be cautious as he followed.
We came at length to the foot of the descent, and stood together
on the damp ground of the catacombs of the Montresors.</p>
orbs that distilled the rheum of intoxication.</p>
back; your health is precious. You are rich, respected, admired,
beloved; you are happy, as once I was. You are a man to be
missed. For me it is no matter. We will go back; you will be ill,
nothing; it will not kill me. I shall not die of a
I had no intention of alarming you unnecessarily; but you should
use all proper caution. A draught of this Medoc will defend us
from the damps.&rdquo;</p>
long row of its fellows that lay upon the mould.</p>
me familiarly, while his bells jingled.</p>
repose around us.&rdquo;</p>
and numerous family.&rdquo;</p>
foot crushes a serpent rampant whose fangs are imbedded in the
fancy grew warm with the Medoc. We had passed through walls of
piled bones, with casks and puncheons intermingling, into the
inmost recesses of the catacombs. I paused again, and this time I
hangs like moss upon the vaults. We are below the river&rsquo;s
bed. The drops of moisture trickle among the bones. Come, we will
and threw the bottle upwards with a gesticulation I did not
grotesque one.</p>
beneath the folds of my <i>roquelaire</i>.</p>
&ldquo;But let us proceed to the Amontillado.&rdquo;</p>
We continued our route in search of the Amontillado. We passed
through a range of low arches, descended, passed on, and
descending again, arrived at a deep crypt, in which the foulness
of the air caused our flambeaux rather to glow than flame.</p>
less spacious. Its walls had been lined with human remains, piled
Paris. Three sides of this interior crypt were still ornamented
in this manner. From the fourth the bones had been thrown down,
and lay promiscuously upon the earth, forming at one point a
mound of some size. Within the wall thus exposed by the
displacing of the bones, we perceived a still interior recess, in
itself, but formed merely the interval between two of the
colossal supports of the roof of the catacombs, and was backed by
endeavoured to pry into the depth of the recess. Its termination
the feeble light did not enable us to see.</p>
Amontillado. As for Luchesi&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
heels. In an instant he had reached the extremity of the niche,
and finding his progress arrested by the rock, stood stupidly
bewildered. A moment more and I had fettered him to the granite.
In its surface were two iron staples, distant from each other
about two feet, horizontally. From one of these depended a short
chain, from the other a padlock. Throwing the links about his
waist, it was but the work of a few seconds to secure it. He was
too much astounded to resist. Withdrawing the key I stepped back
from the recess.</p>
you cannot help feeling the nitre. Indeed, it is <i>very</i>
damp. Once more let me <i>implore</i> you to return. No? Then I
must positively leave you. But I must first render you all the
little attentions in my power.&rdquo;</p>
recovered from his astonishment.</p>
of which I have before spoken. Throwing them aside, I soon
uncovered a quantity of building stone and mortar. With these
materials and with the aid of my trowel, I began vigorously to
wall up the entrance of the niche.</p>
discovered that the intoxication of Fortunato had in a great
measure worn off. The earliest indication I had of this was a low
cry of a drunken man. There was then a long and obstinate
silence. I laid the second tier, and the third, and the fourth;
and then I heard the furious vibrations of the chain. The noise
lasted for several minutes, during which, that I might hearken to
upon the bones. When at last the clanking subsided, I resumed the
and the seventh tier. The wall was now nearly upon a level with
my breast. I again paused, and holding the flambeaux over the
mason-work, threw a few feeble rays upon the figure within.</p>
from the throat of the chained form, seemed to thrust me
violently back. For a brief moment I hesitated&mdash;I trembled.
Unsheathing my rapier, I began to grope with it about the recess;
reapproached the wall. I replied to the yells of him who
clamored. I re-echoed&mdash;I aided&mdash;I surpassed them in
volume and in strength. I did this, and the clamorer grew
finished a portion of the last and the eleventh; there remained
but a single stone to be fitted and plastered in. I struggled
with its weight; I placed it partially in its destined position.
But now there came from out the niche a low laugh that erected
the hairs upon my head. It was succeeded by a sad voice, which I
had difficulty in recognizing as that of the noble Fortunato. The
indeed&mdash;an excellent jest. We shall have many a rich laugh
about it at the palazzo&mdash;he! he! he!&mdash;over our
Amontillado. But is it not getting late? Will not they be
awaiting us at the palazzo, the Lady Fortunato and the rest? Let
impatient. I called aloud:</p>
aperture and let it fall within. There came forth in reply only a
Against the new masonry I re-erected the old rampart of bones.
For the half of a century no mortal has disturbed them. <i>In