The Tiffin tribune. (Tiffin, Ohio) 1868-1887, 1871-07-13
Bona Eide Circulation, 1.7OI.


/ vertising medium has no superior. II Ia
large circulation, and j. read by a Thrift
energetic class Of people AdYerlisenel
Inserted as low a. IN any nrst-elaks paper.
l SEQUEL TO THE CRAVEN"
The Present age, published in Chica.
gives the following remarkable poem In
late Issue, stating that it was written by
man 80 insane that he had 10 he confined
a straight jacket. He fancied il was dietat
by the spirit of Edgar A. Poe. II has nev
/, Been published before, aud will doubtless
\ tract much sttention. The author is Ais
Lavender, ira maniac in the Lunatie As
Ium al Raleigh, North Carolina:
Fires within my brain were burning,
seorning life, despairing, yearning,
1 Hopeless, blinded In my anguish,
Through my body's open door
Came Raven, foul and sable,
Like those evil birds Of fable,
Downward swOOping where ilie dropping
Spectres haunt the Stygian shore.
Ghosts Of agonIes departed,
fostering wounds that long have sInarted,
Broken vows, retlrnless mornings,
Griefs aud mlseries Of yore.
By some art revived, undaunt@d,
gazed steadfast; the enchanted,
Black Internal Raven uttered
A wild dirge-nOt -EverInore.
Gazing steady, gazing madly
On the bird, spoke, and sadly
Broken down, too deep for seOrningt
Sought for mercy TO implOre.
Turning 20 the bird blessed It.
In my bosom earessed a.;
/ still Il pierced my heart and reveled
In the palpitating gore,
/ grew mad the cr, Rning fancles
Black weeds they II blooming pansies,
Made me think the ird a spirit.
Bird, cried, he bi no more;
Take shape-be m. D, be Devil,
Be & snake; rise In { y revel!
From thy banquet ,e-be human!
/ ! 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 ere while sought entrance
Al the hearts great palace door.
Leave me, leave me, gloomy demon,
Fiend or spirit, most inhuman;
Strike me through, but first unveiling,
Let me scan thee DER and DER
Thou art bird, but something more.
still tine sable piniOns tapping,
The great Raven tapping, tapping,
Struck into my breast his talons.
Vast his wings Outspread and DER
All my nature cast a palIOr,
But strove, with dying'valor,
| With the ponlard OF repulsion
Striking through the form it wore
OF a bird, and something more.
OH thou huge, Internal Raven,
Image that aelPs King hath craven,
Image growing more gigantic,
Nursed beyond the stygian shore
Leave me, leave me, I Deseech thee;
1 would not OF wrong impeach thee;
I cried madly, then earth opened,
With a brezen earthquake roa-.
Downward, downward, cireling, speeding,
Cries of anguish still unhseding
Striking through me with his talOns,
Still the Raven shape he bore.
Unto Erebus we drlfted,
His huge wings by thunder lifted,
Beat 'gainst drifts OF white famed lightning
SpTinkled red with human gore,
Twas bird, but demon more.
I'm no bird, "an angel brother"
A bright spirit and no other,
have waited, blissful tended
Thee for thirty years and more,
In thy wild illusiye madness,
In thy blight, disease and sadness,
L !. -n..H
u thy spirits Eden door,
Not bird, but angel more.
In my Palmyrenian splendor,
In ZenObian regnance tender,
More than Roman thought AureliRn,
Were the Kingly name bore,
1 have left my angel palace,
Dropping in thy sorrows chalice
Consolation; an twas blessed,
Sweet thy pillow to bend DER,
Not a bird, loves 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 Nepenthe
Drunk by dreaming bards of yOre.
Ended is life's mOeking fever
Where through citron groves forever
Blow the spice winds, and the love birds
Tell their raptures Ger and DER,
From earth's hell by Afrits haunted,
From its evil dlsenchanted,
have born thee, gaze upon me,
Didst thou see me neer before?
Then Weakened, IL 10 Waken
Be 10 dwell by grief, forsaksn,
With the God who dwelt with angels
In the shining age OF yore.
And / stood sublime, victorious,
While below lay earth with glorious
Realms of angels shining
Crown-lize on her temples evermore,
Not on earth, an Eden more.
Earth, cried, thy clouds are shadows
From the AspOdeIian meadows
OF the slIy-world floating downward,
Early rains that fro N them pour,
Loves own heaven y mother bore thee,
And the Father God 'ends DER thee,
'Tis this hand that crowns thy forehead,
Thou shall live for evermOre,
Not on earth, an Eden more.
AS a gem has many gleamings,
And a day hath many beamings,
And garden many roses
Thrilled with sweetness to the core.
40 the soul hath many ages,
And the life's book many pages,
But the hearts great gospel opens
Where the Seraphims adore,
Not on earth, an Eden more.
will write a book hereafter,
Cheerful as a baby's laughter
When its mothers breast DER leans it.
On the sainted spirit shore,
Like Apollo, the fair data,
!, the poet and the martyr,
WIN chant pseaus OF soul music
That shall live for everInOre,
Not a friend, a brother mo-e.