O’er the lifeless bird then kneeling, all his grief within me feeling, And my soul within me moving all its longing to fulfil, On her velvet wing I laid her, in a grave my hands had made her, Underneath the little cedar, and beside the running rill:―― Odorous leaves her shroud and pillow, and her dirge the running rill―― Buried I the Whippoorwill. * * * * * _Evening Mirror_, New York, May 30, 1845. This somewhat dull imitation consists of twenty-four verses in all, the extracts sufficiently indicate its style. The numerous parodies to be found in the American papers as early as 1845 attest how rapidly “The Raven” had acquired popularity. ―――――――― The following clever parody appeared originally in “Cruikshank’s Comic Almanac” for 1853, but it was reproduced in “The Piccadilly Annual,” published in 1870 by John Camden Hotten. The parody was written by Robert Brough, and was most humorously illustrated by H. G. Hine:―― THE VULTURE: AN ORNITHOLOGICAL STUDY. (_After the late Edgar A. Poe._) The Vulture is the most cruel, deadly, and voracious of birds of prey. He is remarkable for his keen scent, and for the tenacity with which he invariably clings to the victim on whom he has fixed his gripe. He is not to be shaken off whilst the humblest pickings remain. He is usually to be found in an indifferent state of feather.――_New Translation of Cuvier._ Once upon a midnight chilling, as I held my feet unwilling O’er a tub of scalding water, at a heat of ninety-four; Nervously a toe in dipping, dripping, slipping, then out-skipping, Suddenly there came a ripping, whipping, at my chambers door. “’Tis the second floor,” I mutter’d, “flipping at my chambers door―― Wants a light――and nothing more!” Ah! distinctly I remember, it was in the chill November, And each cuticle and member was with influenza sore; Falt’ringly I stirr’d the gruel, steaming, creaming o’er the fuel, And anon removed the jewel that each frosted nostril bore, Wiped away the trembling jewel that each redden’d nostril bore―― Nameless here for evermore! And I recollect a certain draught that fann’d the window curtain Chill’d me, fill’d me with the horror of two steps across the floor, And, besides, I’d got my feet in, and a most refreshing heat in, To myself I sat repeating――“If I answer to the door―― Rise to let the ruffian in who seems to want to burst the door, I’ll be ――――” that and something more.