A Parody of, The Raven, by Edgar Allen Poe.
Once upon a Bel Tine dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a cracked and flaking volume of quite ancient man,
Whie I studied, swiftly reading, wond'ring when I would be eating,
suddenly there came a beating, pounding near, and close at hand.
"Tis some Aes Sedai," I muttered, "Beating near and close at hand
Only this, and nothing grand."
And if I can remember right, it was on the Winternight
And the good sun's dying light was casting shadows on the land.
Eagerly I wished for Bel Tine, hoping then, that I would be fine,
knowing then i well would dine, dine on turkey, gravy, ham.
Hungrily consume my dinner, being, turkey, gravy, ham...
I sighed and thought "That would be grand."
But the somehow stony glower, of the sun on the White Tower
Thrilled me, filled me with the fears that so long have haunted man.
And so to still my heart from beating, I arose and stood repeating,
"Tis some Aes Sedai who's beating, beating near and close at hand.
Some late Aes Sedai entreating entrance close at hand...
Only this, and this not planned."
Presently, my ire heating, as the Sedai kept on beating
"Hey!" said I, "be quiet! This is all that I command!
For I'm trying to do some reading, and I'm trying to start my eating,
and it's hard when you're here, beating, beating near and close at hand
I can scarcely eat or study with you beating close at hand!"
Looked out my door, and saw no man.
Deep ino the darkness peering, long i stood there, wondering, fearing,
Doubting, thinking thoughts no Warder ever dared to think before.
But the silence that was all. And the Shadows on the wall,
and my first thought? A Myrddraal! Here inside this sacred land!
This was my thought, and it chilled me, Myrdraal in this sacred land.
I considered telling Rand....
I turned around and closed the door, and stood there breathing like before,
and soon again I felt a tapping, directly underneath my hand.
I thought it was the knock of doom, knocking there outside my room,
wanting IN to take me ZOOM, to the fabled AFTERLAND
To take my soul to beyond death, and to the fabled AFTERLAND
Quite a nasty little plan.
Open here I flung the door, and stepped up to swing my sword,
and Inside stepped a stately fellow, nicely dressed, with a deep tan.
Not the least obeisance made he, not a minute stopped or stayed he,
But with the grace of Lord and Lady, sat upon my ottoman.
Sat upon my comfy footrest, which is called an ottoman,
Sat and grinned, and watched his hands.
Then this man, who was confusing, all my fighting into losing
By the brash and quite brave actions that he controlled with his hand
"Though you dress, and with such order, thou," quoth I "art sure no Warder.
Tall with your hair in disorder, wandering in this Sacred land...
Tell me what thy lordly name is, in the night of this sacred land.
Quoth the fellow, "Shia'tan."
Much I fretted, hearing that word, wishing he were some sort of bird,
then I could take and strangle him, or break his neck inside my hand.
For we cannot help agreeing, that no living human being
ever yet was cursed with seeing a fellow speak that evil name.
Man or beast, who (if they could) would surely speak that evil name.
That evil name... "Shai'tan"
And the Darkfriend, sitting lonely on the ottoman spoke only
That one name, and nothing more, as if his soul was in that hand.
Not a finger then he lifted, not a centimeter shifted,
till I watched and saw him gifted, with the pow'r o' the Dark One's hand.
"On the morrow, he will leave me. He will leave this sacred land."
Then the man said "Shai'tan."
Startled at the stillness broken, by such an evil word thus spoken,
Hopefully, I thought, It would ne'er utter another strand.
Caught by that Dark and Dismal Master, led there by merciless Disaster
Followed fast, and haunted faster, till he came to the blasted land
Till the trials of his life brought him to the blasted land...
of Shai... Shai'tan.
But this man, who still confusing all my reas'ning into losing
Straight I placed a wooden chair in front of guy, and Ottoman.
Then upon the hard wood sitting, I be took myself to splitting
Theory against theory, witting, wondering what this relaxed man,
This grinning, gainly, lanky, gaunt and Ominous relaxed man
meant in saying, Shai'tan.
Thus I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing,
to the man whose cold, cold eyes now glared at me, then at his hands.
This and more I sat diving with my head at ease reclining
on the hard and splintered lining that was lit up by my lamp.
But whose hard and splintered lining, that was lit up by the lamp,
She shall ne'er, e'er be damp!
Then, methought, the air grew laden, as if this man was chan'ling Saidin
Given to him by the Dark One, living in the blasted land.
"Wretch," I cried, "The Dark One lent thee, by Forsaken hath he sent thee,
respite, respite, and Nepenthe, from the Sacredness of this land
Quaff oh Quaff this kind Nepenthe, and leave for all this Sacred Land!"
Quoth the Darkfriend, "Shai'tan."
"DARKFRIEND!" said I, "thing of evil! Darkfriend Still, if man or devil,
Whether Dark One sent, or whether you were tossed here, washed ashore...
To the Tow'r, yet you aren't daunted, though you are by the Dark One Haunted,
Surely you must be enchanted, swear to me, and on my hand,
Is there, is there a tel'aran'rhiod? Tell me, swear it on my hand!
Quoth the Darkfriend, "Shai'tan."
"DARKFRIEND!" said I, "thing of evil! Darkfriend Still, if man or devil,
By that sky that bends above us, by the Creator and the Land,
tell this soul with Sorrow laden, if within the distant Aiden
it shall know a sacred maiden, Chissa, by name, from this land.
Know the rare and radian maiden known as Chissa, in this land..."
Quoth the Darkfriend, "Shai'tan!"
"Be that word our sign in parting! Man, or beast," I shreiked up starting
"Get thyself out of my quarters, and get off this sacred land!
Leave no dragon fang as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken
Leae my emptiness unbroken- quit my room and off my land!
Take thy form from in my room, and get off my ottoman!
Quoth the Darkfriend, "Shai'tan."
And the Darkfriend, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
In my room, right by my chair, still perched upon my ottoman.
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
and the lamplight over him streaming, throws a shadow from the stand
And my soul, from out that shadow that is streaming from the stand
now belongs... to Shai'tan.
