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Quoth The Raven

by NimphaioN

supported by
Knightmetal
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Knightmetal One of my favorite albums that fully captures the mood & honors Edgar Allen Poe. The vocals & music serve to set a tone & atmosphere that truly would be an evil grin on Edgar Allen Poe & Raven is the best track here. Enjoy the dark. Favorite track: Raven.
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1.
Who entereth herein, a conqueror hath bin; Who slayeth the dragon, the shield he shall win! During the whole of a dull, dark, and soundless day in the autumn of the year, when the clouds hung oppressively low in the heavens, I had been passing alone, on horseback, through a singularly dreary tract of country; and at length found myself, as the shades of the evening drew on, within view of the melancholy House of Usher. I know not how it was — but, with the first glimpse of the building, a sense of insufferable gloom pervaded my spirit. I say insufferable; for the feeling was unrelieved by any of that half-pleasurable, because poetic, sentiment, with which the mind usually receives even the sternest natural images of the desolate or terrible. I looked upon the scene before me — upon the mere house, and the simple landscape features of the domain — upon the bleak walls — upon the vacant eye-like windows — upon a few rank sedges — and upon a few white trunks of decayed trees — with an utter depression of soul which I can compare to no earthly sensation more properly than to the after-dream of the reveller upon opium… What was it — I paused to think — what was it that so unnerved me in this terrible House of Usher?
2.
Lo! It is a gala night Within the latter years! An angel throng, bewinged, bedight In veils, and drowned in tears, Sit in a theatre, to see A play of hopes and fears, While the orchestra breathes roughly The music of the spheres Mimes, in the form of God on high, Mutter and mumble low, And hither, oh and thither fly — Mere puppets they, who come and go At bidding of vast formless things That shift the scenery to-fro, Flapping from out their Condor wings Invisible, Oh Woe! That motley drama! — oh, be sure It shall not be forgot! With its Phantom chased for ever more, By a crowd seize it not Salve Deus Magnus Vermis! Devoratrix nostrum cordis! Nos quaerere nam permis Ut sint servitori vobis! Through a circle that ever returneth Into the self-same spot, And much of Madness, and more of Sin And Horror the soul of plot But see, amid the mimic rout, A crawling shape intrude! A blood-red thing that writhes from out The scenic solitude! It writhes! It writhes! — with mortal pangs The mimes become its food, And angels sob at vermin fangs In human gore imbued Nos - filii ex libero Et numquid universali, Quid facere quod anima Regendisque ex stellis, Et Gloria terrena dulcis Vermis-victum dedit nos Gloria amore fetus luce et tenebris, oh! Worm in fiery crown Rules this world of light Kiss His knees and vow Glorify His might! Out are the lights — out all! And o'er each quivering form, The curtain, a funeral pall, Comes down with the rush of a storm! And the angels, all pallid and wan, Uprising, unveiling, affirm That the play is the tragedy "Man", And its hero the Conqueror Worm; And the demons, all ruby and fanned They abandon, condemn, disaffirm That their play is the comedy "Man" And its king is the Conqueror Worm!
3.
Lenore 06:15
Ah, broken is the golden bowl! The spirit flown forever! Let the bell toll! – a saintly soul floats on the Stygian river; And, Guy de Vere, hast thou no tear? – weep now or nevermore! See! On yon drear and rigid bier low lies thy love, Lenore! “Come! Let the burial rite be read – the funeral song be sung! – An anthem for the queenliest dead that ever died so young” A dirge for her the doubly dead in that she died so young A wistful song of lovers fed with blood from necks that hung! My lovely nymph that shone like star fell on the earth with pun And my salt tears run like river, and darkened beaming God of Light and Sun… Sun! CHORUS: Peccavimus; but rave not thus! And let a Sabbath song Go up to God so solemnly the dead may feel no wrong The sweet Lenore hath "gone before", with Hope, that flew beside, Leaving thee wild for the child that should have been thy bride For her, the fair and debonair, that now so lowly lies, The life upon her yellow hair but not within her eyes The life still there, upon her hair – the death upon her eyes… The death still there, upon her wear – and eyes are full of cries! "Wretches! Ye lov’d her for her wealth and hated for her pride, And when she fell in feeble health, ye bless’d her – that she died! How shall the ritual, be read?” – The requiem be sung. For everlasting martyrdom the sins were madly done And hellish bells around your soul forevermore had rung! CHORUS "Avaunt! Avaunt! From fiends below, the irate ghost is riven – From grief and groan, to golden throne, beside the King of Heaven! From Hell unto a high estate far up within the Well – From good and laugh, to skull-clad throne, beside the King of Hell!” Let no bell toll, then – lest her soul, amid its hallowed mirth, Should catch the note as it doth float up from the damnèd Earth! And I! – to-night my heart is light! – No dirge will I upraise, But waft the angel on her flight with Paean of old days! CHORUS “Let no bell toll, then – lest her soul, amid its hallowed mirth, Should catch the note as it doth float up from the damnèd Earth!”
4.
...Once it smiled a silent dell Where the people did not dwell; They had gone unto the wars, Trusting to the mild-eyed stars Nightly, from their azure towers, To keep watch above the flowers, In the midst of which all day The red sun lazily lay The red sunlight lazily lay… Now each visitor confess The sad valley’s restlessness Nothing there is motionless In this dale of hopelessness! Hopelessness in portliness Of isle that show Despair and woe O'er the violets that lie In myriad types of the human eye – O'er the lilies there that wave And weep above a nameless grave! They wave from out their fragrant tops Eternal dews come down in drops They weep from off their delicate stems Perennial tears descend in gems CHORUS: By no wind are stirred those trees That palpitate like the chill seas Around the misty Hebrides! Ah, by no wind those clouds are driven That rustle through unquiet Heaven Around the misty Hebrides! Hebrides... Winds are dancing o'er the vales of woe And spinning clouds full of tears Restless tears… Around only death a-flying And wilted flowers clothed these isles And souls howl song of perish ‘Neath the weeping moon Nightly, from their azure towers, To keep watch above the flowers, In the midst of which all day The red sun lazily lay Nothing saves the airs that brood O'er magic solitude Waves and winds are bloody rude In this season's servitude ...Once it smiled a silent dell Where the people did not dwell; They had gone unto the wars, Trusting to the mild-eyed stars! Now each visitor confess The sad valley’s restlessness Nothing there is motionless In this dale of hopelessness... Hopelessness sans chrominance Upon that isle So un-hostile! O’er the violets that lie In myriad types of the human eye – O’er the lilies there that wave And weep above a nameless grave! They wave from out their fragrant tops Eternal dews come down in drops They weep from off their delicate stems Perennial tears descend in gems CHORUS: By no wind are stirred those trees That palpitate like the chill seas Around the misty Hebrides! Ah, by no wind those clouds are driven That rustle through unquiet Heaven Around the misty Hebrides! Ah, by no wind are stirred those trees That palpitate like the chill seas Around the misty Hebrides! Ah, by no wind those clouds are driven Uneasily, from morn till even Around the misty Hebrides! Hebrides... “And I lay here on the rivage Of gloomy island’s barren earth I lay in slumber, age-old servage To tristy Goddess of love’s dearth…”
5.
Raven 12:32
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, O'er a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore — While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door Ah, distinctly I remember it’s in darkened bleak December; And pythonic 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 — This is all and nothing more Quoth the Raven “Nevermore” 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 — Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, “Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; I implore… Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wond’ring, fearing, Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before; Then this ebon bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore, ‘Tis the wind and nothing more! Nothing more! Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many 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. Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore! Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.” “Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven, Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wand’ring from the Nightly shore — Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, Though its answer little meaning — little relevancy bore” Yeah, for we can’t help agreeing that no living human being Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door — Nevermore! Nevermore! 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 — 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 — 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 eerie bird of yore — What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and haunted 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 mem’ries of Lenore; Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!” Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.” «It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore — Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.” 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!" Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn, It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore! Lenore! “Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil! — Prophet still, if bird or devil! — Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore, “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; Quoth the Raven “Nevermore” “I dreamed to see someday the poet, Who's heart is ruby, awful-woed This piece of wisdom – his soul’s roar My hat is off to mr. Poe!”
6.
The Sleeper 06:48
At midnight, in the month of June, I stand beneath the mystic moon. An opiate vapour, dewy, dim, Exhales from out her golden rim, And, softly dripping, drop by drop, Upon the quiet mountain top, Steal drowsily and musically Into the universal grand valley The rosemary nods upon the grave; The lily lolls upon the wave; Wrapping fog about its breast, The ruin moulders into rest… Looking like Lethe, see! The lake! A conscious slumber seems to take, And would not, for the world, awake. All beauty sleeps! – And lo! Where lies Mary on highs This beauty dies… Anemones Of clemencies Oh, lady bright! Can it be right – The window open to the night? The wanton airs, from the tree-top, Laughingly through the lattice drop – The bodiless airs, a wizard rout, Flit through thy chamber in and out, And wave the curtain canopy So fitfully – so fearfully – Above the closed and fringéd lid 'Neath which thy slumb'ring soul lies hid, That, o'er the floor and down the wall, Like ghosts the shadows rise and fall! Anemones Of clemencies Oh, lady dear, hast thou no fear? Why and what art thou dreaming here? Sure thou art come o'er far-off seas A wonder to these garden trees! Strange is thy pallor! Strange thy dress! Strange, above all, thy length of tress… Tress And this all solemn silentness! The lady sleeps! Oh, may her sleep, Which is enduring, so be deep! Deep! Heaven have her in its sacred keep! This chamber changed for one more holy, This bed for one more melancholy (Melancholy…) Is it a mirth or a whole folly? I pray to God that she may lie Forever with unopened eye, While the pale sheeted ghosts go by! My love, she sleeps! Oh, may her sleep, As it is lasting, so be deep! Soft may the worms about her creep! Far in the forest, dim and old, For her may some tall vault unfold – Some vault that oft hath flung its black And wing’d panels’ fluttering back, Triumphant, o'er the crested palls, Of her grand kindred funerals - Some sepulchre, remote, alone, Against whose portal she hath thrown, In childhood, there’s an idle stone – Some tomb from out whose sounding door Thrilling to think, poor child of sin! It was the dead who groaned within… My friend! Take your staff, go wander through the valley, and in the longest night you shall fall into the deep eternal sleep… In this dream, try to see all the most beautiful and desirable that the soul yearns for centuries. Find happiness and truth in this unforgettable dream that gods give man only once!
7.
Thy soul shall find itself alone ‘Mid dark thoughts of the gray tombstone — Not one, of all the crowd, to pry Into thine hour of secrecy Aye!! Be silent in that solitude, Which is not loneliness — for then The spirits of the dead who stood In life before thee are again In death around thee — and their will Shall overshadow thee: be still The night, tho’ clear, light shall frown — And the stars shall look not down From their high thrones in the heaven, With light like Hope to mortals given But their red orbs, without beam, To thy weariness shall seem As a burning and a fever Which would cling to thee for ever Now are thoughts thou shalt not banish, Now are visions ne’er to vanish; From thy spirit shall they pass No more — like dew-drop from the grass The breeze — the breath of God — is still — And the mist upon the hill, How it hangs upon the trees, A mystery of mysteries! Thy soul shall find itself alone ‘Mid dark thoughts of the gray tombstone — Not one, of all the crowd, to pry Into thine hour of secrecy Aye!! Spirits of the Dead! Spirits of the Dead! Spirits of the Dead! The night, tho’ clear, light shall frown — And the stars shall look not down From their high thrones in the heaven, With light like Hope to mortals given — But their red orbs, without beam, To thy weariness shall seem As a burning and a fever Which would cling to thee for ever. For ever…
8.
Annabel Lee 06:29
It was many and many a year ago, In a kingdom by the sea, That a maiden there lived whom you may know By the name of Annabel Lee; And this maiden she lived with no other thought Than to love and be loved by me... …with no other thought Than to love and be loved by me! I was a child and she was a child, In this kingdom by the sea, But we loved with a love that was more than love — I and my Annabel Lee — (But we loved with a love that was more than love — I and my Annabel Lee —) With a love that the wing’d seraphim of Heaven Covetèd her and me... And this was the reason that, long ago, In this kingdom by the sea, A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling My beautiful Annabel Lee; So that her highborn kinsmen came And bore her away from me, To shut her up in a sepulchre In this kingdom by the sea... So that her highborn kinsmen came And bore her away from me, To shut her up in a sepulchre In this kingdom by the sea! CHORUS: For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side Of my beautiful Annabel Lee; Of my darling — my darling — my life and my bride, In her sepulchre there by the sea — In her tomb by the sounding sea! My Annabel Lee… The angels, not half so happy in Heaven, Went envying her and me — Yes! — That was the reason as all men know, In this kingdom by the sea That the wind came out of the cloud by night, Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee!! And neither the angels in Heaven above Nor the demons down under the sea Can ever dissever my soul from the soul Of the beautiful Annabel Lee!!!
9.
Take this kiss upon the brow! And, in parting from you now, Thus much let me avow — You’re not wrong, who really deem That my days have been a dream; Yet if hope has flown away In a night, or in a day, In a vision, or in none, Is it therefore the less gone? All that we see or seem Is a dream within a dream… I stand amid the roar Of a surf-tormented shore, And I hold within my hand Grains of the golden sand — How few! Yet how they creep Through my fingers to the deep, Through my heart that beats so creep While I weep — while I weep! O God! Can I not grasp Them with a tighter clasp? O God! Can I not save One from the ruthless wave? Is all we see or seem But a dream within a dream? But a dream within a dream…

about

Ladies and gentlemen!
MoreHate Productions presents the third album of Shuya' poe-tic black metal band NIMPHAION "Quoth the Raven".
Covered by the veil of the web and the true Gothic atmosphere of the 19th century, the music of the band is written here entirely on the original verses of the great American poet Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849), a vivid representative of decadent romanticism in literature.
The atmosphere of darkness, despair, lost love and the beauty of desolation is perfectly transferred to "Quoth the Raven", which truly turned out to be a real requiem for the poet. The band approached to reproduction of deeply spiritual Poe's ideas with a maximum of composer and vocal scrupulousness, so this musical piece should come to the taste of connoisseurs of beautiful melodic black metal and lovers of dark poetry.

credits

released April 13, 2018

NIMPHAION is:

Demether Grail – vocals and declamations
Vadim Malyshev – guitars and keys
Ilya Evstigneev – bass
Alex Pozhivilko – drums

All musical scores by Vadim Malyshev (except 6,7 - Vadim Malyshev & Ilya Evstigneev)
Verses by Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849), interpreted and supplemented by Demether Grail
Album’s recorded at Nimphaion Studio in 2015-2016 years A.D.
Mixed and mastered by Arsafes
Artwork by Vadim Malyshev

In the memory of E.A. Poe

Contacts:
www.facebook.com/Nimphaion/
vk.com/nimphaion

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NimphaioN Shuya, Russian Federation

NIMPHAION – a symphonic black metal band from Shuya (Russia) formed in 2001.

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