I had now gone so far as the conception of a Raven――the bird of ill omen――monotonously repeating the one word, “Nevermore,” at the conclusion of each stanza, in a poem of melancholy tone, and in length about one hundred lines. Now, never losing sight of the object _supremeness_, or perfection, at all points, I asked myself――“Of all melancholy topics, what, according to the _universal_ understanding of mankind, is the _most_ melancholy?” Death――was the obvious reply. “And when,” I said, “is this most melancholy of topics most poetical?” From what I have already explained at some length, the answer here also is obvious――“When it most closely allies itself to _Beauty_: the death, then, of a beautiful woman is, unquestionably, the most poetical topic in the world――and equally is it beyond doubt that the lips best suited for such topic are those of a bereaved lover.” I had now to combine the two ideas, of a lover lamenting his deceased mistress and a Raven continuously repeating the word, “Nevermore.” I had to combine these, bearing in mind my design of varying, at every turn, the _application_ of the word repeated; but the only intelligible mode of such combination is that of imagining the Raven employing the word in answer to the queries of the lover. And here it was that I saw at once the opportunity afforded for the effect on which I had been depending――that is to say, the effect of the _variation of application_. I saw that I could make the first query propounded by the lover――the first query to which the Raven should reply “Nevermore” that I could make this first query a commonplace one――the second less so――the third still less, and so on――until at length the lover, startled from his original _nonchalance_ by the melancholy character of the word itself――by its frequent repetition――and by a consideration of the ominous reputation of the fowl that uttered it――is at length excited to superstition, and wildly propounds queries of a far different character――queries whose solution he has passionately at heart――propounds them half in superstition, and half in that species of despair which delights in self-torture――propounds them not altogether because he believes in the prophetic or demoniac character of the bird (which, reason assures him, is merely repeating a lesson learned by rote) but because he experiences a frenzied pleasure in so modelling his questions as to receive from the _expected_ “Nevermore” the most delicious because the most intolerable of sorrow. Perceiving the opportunity thus afforded me――or, more strictly, thus forced upon me in the progress of the construction I first established in mind the climax, or concluding query――that query to which “Nevermore” should be