At last, a clean version. Not filled up with distracting music -- we can hear the words ring out, in their own music, and their own ominous silent pauses.
Edgar Allan Poe *The Raven* Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore- While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. “’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door- Only this and nothing more.” Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December; And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow;-vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow-sorrow for the lost Lenore- For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore- Nameless here for evermore. And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain Thrilled me-filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating “’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door- Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;- This it is and nothing more.” Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, “Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, That I scarce was sure I heard you”-here I opened wide the door;- Darkness there and nothing more. Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing, Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before; But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token, And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore?” This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!”- Merely this and nothing more. Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before. “Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice; Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore- Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;- ’Tis the wind and nothing more!” Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter, In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore; Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he; But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door- Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door- Perched, and sat, and nothing more. Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore, “Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven, Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore- Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!” Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.” Much I marveled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, Though its answer little meaning-little relevancy bore; For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door- Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door, With such name as “Nevermore.” But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour. Nothing farther then he uttered-not a feather then he fluttered- Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have flown before- On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.” Then the bird said “Nevermore.” Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, “Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore- Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore Of ‘Never-nevermore’.” But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling, Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door; Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore- What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore Meant in croaking “Nevermore.” This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core; This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er, But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er, She shall press, ah, nevermore! Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. “Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee-by these angels he hath sent thee Respite-respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore; Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!” Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.” “Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!-prophet still, if bird or devil!- Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore, Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted- On this home by Horror haunted-tell me truly, I implore- Is there-is there balm in Gilead?-tell me-tell me, I implore!” Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.” “Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!-prophet still, if bird or devil! By that Heaven that bends above us-by that God we both adore- Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn, It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore- Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.” Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.” “Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting- “Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore! Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken! Leave my loneliness unbroken!-quit the bust above my door! Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!” Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.” And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door; And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming, And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor; And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor Shall be lifted-nevermore!
One of the saddest and most beautiful poems ever written read by a wonderfully talented man. His version moved me to tears like like none ever before. Rest in peace Edgar and Christopher.
My favourite poem, read so beautifully that for the very first time, I cried for the narrator's grief and love for the lost Lenore. I love Christopher Walken, and I adore Vincent Price; but no-one made Lenore real for me before.
Thanks for uploading a version with no lame, distracting music. I have added this video to a public playlist I created called "Edgar Allan Poe - Lost Love Poems", that puts together six different poems that Poe wrote about mourning the loss of the women that were dear to him. You could say that this seems to be the central theme of Poe's best poetry, and he continued to come back to it all throughout his life. He wrote "The Sleeper" when he was only 22 years old, for heaven's sake, and "Annabel Lee" was the last poem he ever wrote, in 1849, the year that he died.
The eloquent husk of his voice is captivating enough, but Christopher Lee lends it here to one of the great masterpieces of literature. What more can you want? Lee's profound artistry brings Poe's work to formidable, impassioned life. Mellow and menacing at the same time. I have tried it myself -- and I invite all who care to see more of the Raven to see what I have done with it. To anyone, I tell you -- this poem can take you as deep as you want to go. A daunting road inward.
A stunning reading of a fantastic poem. I'm a grown man sitting here with goosebumps at hearing the great Sir Christopher read this, fittingly enough close to midnight. Now I need a whisky!
The best reading of this poem I have ever heard. It brings to the fore the deep grief of the speaker--which, strangely, I hadn't really noticed before. Other readers have always focused on the horror aspect. But the horror comes from the grief and loss.
By far the most suitable voice out there, for reading. I imagine him as a grandfather, sitting on a rocking chair amidst the gathered grandchildren, who cower in fear or giggle with joy with every scene their bearded grandfather reads from the tome of Anderson, Grimm or Tolkien.
Archives of thoughts Past and present In love with the unknown So tomorrow we'll dance To the drums of the land May God hear our cries of war As the blood pours We strike with passion Create a deep impact Hate and love fall wayside Empty hearts Broken homes Building up just enough outrage To protest a little more Voice your pain Just remember tomorrow Will remain the same
An outstanding piece of work, read flawlessly by the master of the macabre. I'm sure Edgar Allan Poe would find the narration to his liking. Its as if this piece of poetry was created for the likes of Christopher Lee, or Vincent Price - owning a voice worthy of reading such a nerve tingling 'script'. Greatly appreciated and I should imagine, time consuming masterpiece........Thank you.
IChrisopher Lee nails this poem and reads it with the feeling that it should be read with. Everytime I remember or hear this poem being read, I feel the weighted stillness brought by on by the angel of death's presence, patiently waiting for another soul's time to come to pass. Thank you so much for uploading this, I'd been trying to find this version again for a while now :)
@jamesjuma1 I have always been a Christopher Lee fan, I grew up with Hammer Films, but this recitation is grand. Always thought Vincent Price was the end all for this poem but Mr. Lee gives him a real run for his money and then some.
Great! I did a similiar Version myself - I dare not to compare it to this Version. I leave this one to the audience and I myself will applaude to Mr Lee.
Yup, He plays Dracula a few times and he also plays Rochefort in The Three Musketeers and Th Four Musketeers. Scaramanga in "The Man with the Golden Gun" His List of Characters is absolutely amazing and he is such a versatile actor.
Finally .. a version without music :)
I had to sift through a dozen or so videos for this one
seriously!
People don't seem to understand that poetry is not song.
P
Vincient Prices doesn't have it either
At last, a clean version. Not filled up with distracting music -- we can hear the words ring out, in their own music, and their own ominous silent pauses.
The most beautiful English accent I have ever heard.
Edgar Allan Poe *The Raven*
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore-
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door-
Only this and nothing more.”
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;-vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow-sorrow for the lost Lenore-
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore-
Nameless here for evermore.
And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me-filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
“’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door-
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;-
This it is and nothing more.”
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you”-here I opened wide the door;-
Darkness there and nothing more.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore?”
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!”-
Merely this and nothing more.
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
“Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore-
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;-
’Tis the wind and nothing more!”
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door-
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door-
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore-
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
Much I marveled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning-little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door-
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as “Nevermore.”
But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing farther then he uttered-not a feather then he fluttered-
Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have flown before-
On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.”
Then the bird said “Nevermore.”
Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
“Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore-
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of ‘Never-nevermore’.”
But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore-
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking “Nevermore.”
This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,
But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!
Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
“Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee-by these angels he hath sent thee
Respite-respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore;
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!-prophet still, if bird or devil!-
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted-
On this home by Horror haunted-tell me truly, I implore-
Is there-is there balm in Gilead?-tell me-tell me, I implore!”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!-prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us-by that God we both adore-
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore-
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
“Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting-
“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken!-quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted-nevermore!
OldRoot
@@O1RDisPro Minecraft
More up to this.
One of the saddest and most beautiful poems ever written read by a wonderfully talented man. His version moved me to tears like like none ever before. Rest in peace Edgar and Christopher.
Tears... And nothing more
RIP Christopher Lee
My favourite poem, read so beautifully that for the very first time, I cried for the narrator's grief and love for the lost Lenore. I love Christopher Walken, and I adore Vincent Price; but no-one made Lenore real for me before.
We had to listen to this in my English class and I totally fell in love. Christopher Lee's voice has always been so fascinating to listen to.
I can't stop listening to the damn thing!!!
I would give everything I have to have this voice
edgar allan poe and christopher lee, such a dark and beautiful combination
Christopher reads fabulously i love his voice when he reads or sings,
A British actor's trained voice brings to life a classic of American poetry.
The best reading of this piece I have ever heard. Christopher lee is truly a masterful actor, & a personal favourite. Thank you for posting this.
Pure awesomeness. Lee and Poe- what a fantastic combination.
Thanks for uploading a version with no lame, distracting music. I have added this video to a public playlist I created called "Edgar Allan Poe - Lost Love Poems", that puts together six different poems that Poe wrote about mourning the loss of the women that were dear to him. You could say that this seems to be the central theme of Poe's best poetry, and he continued to come back to it all throughout his life. He wrote "The Sleeper" when he was only 22 years old, for heaven's sake, and "Annabel Lee" was the last poem he ever wrote, in 1849, the year that he died.
Poetry rolled of his tongue like magic. I think he even bested Morgan Freeman.
Agreed!
The eloquent husk of his voice is captivating enough, but Christopher Lee lends it here to one of the great masterpieces of literature. What more can you want? Lee's profound artistry brings Poe's work to formidable, impassioned life. Mellow and menacing at the same time. I have tried it myself -- and I invite all who care to see more of the Raven to see what I have done with it. To anyone, I tell you -- this poem can take you as deep as you want to go. A daunting road inward.
never miss vincent price on tmc doing Edgar Allen Poe's stories. Christoper doing a great reading
A stunning reading of a fantastic poem. I'm a grown man sitting here with goosebumps at hearing the great Sir Christopher read this, fittingly enough close to midnight.
Now I need a whisky!
"NEVERMORE", qouth the Raven.
A excellent reader, i enjoy listening to him all day and night.
One of my favourite Poe poems
Beyond grateful that he recorded this
I was really shocked when this moved me to tears but looking at the comments apparently I'm not the only one. Utterly beautiful
The best reading of this poem I have ever heard. It brings to the fore the deep grief of the speaker--which, strangely, I hadn't really noticed before. Other readers have always focused on the horror aspect. But the horror comes from the grief and loss.
By far the most suitable voice out there, for reading. I imagine him as a grandfather, sitting on a rocking chair amidst the gathered grandchildren, who cower in fear or giggle with joy with every scene their bearded grandfather reads from the tome of Anderson, Grimm or Tolkien.
I could listen to this man read anything.
Exceedingly beautiful.
Just incredible.
Poe is a great writer, and I think very few, if any man, has a more haunting voice than Lee! He is truly the best of his kind.
wonderful!! thank you for posting this
I'm glad you enjoyed it!
Archives of thoughts
Past and present
In love with the unknown
So tomorrow we'll dance
To the drums of the land
May God hear our cries of war
As the blood pours
We strike with passion
Create a deep impact
Hate and love fall wayside
Empty hearts
Broken homes
Building up just enough outrage
To protest a little more
Voice your pain
Just remember tomorrow
Will remain the same
Christopher Lee has one of the greatest voices ever!
This was one of the coolest things i have ever heard in my life!!! Love Poe and Lee
this poem has an incredibly powerful sadness and fear, its just indescribable
what a beautiful,expressive, noble voice!...
love his voice, amazing
It works so well! Brilliant find!
this is... amazing.
there really is nothing more to say to it. i'm absolutely stunned.
I can help but imagine Count Dooku reading this poem on a dark night in his palace on Serenno.
The best I've heard so far. Man...
This gives me chills! Wow!!
Brilliant casting, very well read, thank you
Such a good actor! One love Sir Lee!
Sr. Poe, you are in the eternity of poetry.
Happy 90th Birthday, Sir Christopher.
Stunning!
This remains one of the best horror voices in existence, in my opinion.
This mans swag is over 9000 :) He is, most definitely, an inspiration to us all.
Excellent. Thanks.
[Lenore] creeps me out! Brilliant!
awesome poem,awesome reading.
An outstanding piece of work, read flawlessly by the master of the macabre. I'm sure Edgar Allan Poe would find the narration to his liking. Its as if this piece of poetry was created for the likes of Christopher Lee, or Vincent Price - owning a voice worthy of reading such a nerve tingling 'script'. Greatly appreciated and I should imagine, time consuming masterpiece........Thank you.
exquisite, magnificent
This is the best reading of The Raven!
IChrisopher Lee nails this poem and reads it with the feeling that it should be read with.
Everytime I remember or hear this poem being read, I feel the weighted stillness brought by on by the angel of death's presence, patiently waiting for another soul's time to come to pass.
Thank you so much for uploading this, I'd been trying to find this version again for a while now :)
Quothe the Raven, "Eat my shorts!"
"Bart!"
Edgar Allen Poe kicks ass! Even 100+ plus years after his death,which is evident considering how many people he inspired to write!
Do you not enjoy it? You're here because anything Christopher Lee does is perfect ;)
Phenomenal
wonderful thank you
This is perfect.
Every good scary/creepy actor has done this poem....and it's always awesome to hear them all : D
Oh how I felt the madness and anger that the lover felt towards the end.
This is amazing
What a nice voice...!
This is my favourite.
Thanks this helped me a lot when I needed to learn this !
rest in peace :(
i played this with lana del rey's this is what makes us girls instrumental and it went along great.. it made it easier for me to memorize.
awesome!!!!!
@jamesjuma1 I have always been a Christopher Lee fan, I grew up with Hammer Films, but this recitation is grand. Always thought Vincent Price was the end all for this poem but Mr. Lee gives him a real run for his money and then some.
Damn I love that voice and accent, and that poem.
Great!
I did a similiar Version myself - I dare not to compare it to this Version.
I leave this one to the audience and I myself will applaude to Mr Lee.
Thank you!
So true!
I love this poem, Poe rules!
... soooo true!
This is beautifully read. I wish i had his voice gentle yet when angered it becomes fearsome.
Magic!
The best reciter of Ravena
Quite possibly my favorite reading of The Raven.
superb reading
Christopher... assolutamente fantastico.
Phantastic reading!! And I love his accent. That´s the only way, how to read "The Raven" by Edgar Allen Poe".
Yup, He plays Dracula a few times and he also plays Rochefort in The Three Musketeers and Th Four Musketeers. Scaramanga in "The Man with the Golden Gun" His List of Characters is absolutely amazing and he is such a versatile actor.
Perfect.
Would like Alan Rickman give this poem a try. Would be interesting.
Though this version if beautiful and very well done.
As someone who hates poetry, this is pretty spinechilling
Well....He's known for more than that but hey least you are listening to this awesome piece of work!!!
💙
Best read version of this poem
Few things are more spine chilling than Saruman reading Poe....
listen to this while listening to "Moonlight Sonata".Terrifyingly beautifull.
Anyone else get the sense that Christopher could have read off his grocery list, and it would have been the most interesting list in the world?
coz Lee is awesome!
Better than the last one i found the few even. They all had music!