Page:The Raven; with literary and historical commentary.djvu/123

 Rh {| align="center" THE CRAVEN.

Once upon a midnight lately, might be seen a figure stately, In the Tuileries sedately poring over Roman lore; Annotating, scheming, mapping, Cæsar's old positions sapping, When there came a something rapping, spirit-rapping at the door. "'Tis some minister," he muttered, "come, as usual, me to bore."

Back to Cæsar's life returning, with a soul for ever yearning, Towards the steps his promise-spurning prototype had trod before. But the silence was soon broken; through the stillness came a token Life had moved again, or spoken on the other side the door. "Surely I've no trusty servant," said he, "to deny my door

Rising, of some trespass certain, slow he draws the purple curtain, On whose folds the bees uncertain look like wasps, and nothing more: Open flings the chamber portal, with a chill which stamps him mortal. Can his senses be the sport all of his eyes! For there before He sees an eagle perching on a bust of Janus at the door:


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