They, whom once the desert-beach Fent within its bleak domain, Soon their ample sway shall stretch O'er the plenty of the plain. Low the dauntless Earl is laid, Gor'd with many a gaping wound: Fate demands a nobler head; Soon a King shall bite the ground. Long his loss shall Eirin weep, Long her strains in sorrow steep, Strains of Immortality! Horror covers all the heath, Clouds of carnage blot the sun. Sisters, weave the web of death; Hail the task, and hail the hands! Songs of joy and triumph sing! Joy to the victorious bands; Triumph to the younger King. Mortal, thou that hear'st the tale, Scotland, thro' each winding vale Sisters, hence with spurs of speed: ODE IX. THE DESCENT OF ODIN*. From the Norse-Tongue. UPROSE the King of Men with speed, And saddled strait his coal-black steed; That leads to +HELA's drear abode. Him the Dog of Darkness spied, His shaggy throat he open'd wide, * The original is to be found in BARTHOLINUS, de causis contemnendæ mortis; HAFNIE, 1689, Quarto. UPREIS ODINN ALLDA GAUTR, &c. + Niflheimr, the hell of the Gothic nations, consisted of nine worlds, to which were devoted all such as died of sickness, old age, or by any other means than in battle: over it presided HELA, the Goddess of Death. While from his jaws, with carnage fill'd, Hoarse he bays with hideous din, (The groaning earth beneath him shakes,) Till full before his fearless eyes The portals nine of hell arise. Right against the eastern gate, Thrice he trac'd the Runic rhyme; Thrice pronounc'd, in accents dread, The thrilling verse that wakes the Dead; Slowly breath'd a sullen sound. Pr. What call unknown, what charms presume To break the quiet of the tomb? Who thus afflicts my troubled sprite, And drags me from the realms of night? Long on these mould'ring bones have beat The winter's snow, the summer's heat, The drenching dews, and driving rain! Who is he, with voice unblest, That calls me from the bed of rest? O. A Traveller, to thee unknown, Is he that calls, a Warrior's Son. For whom yon glitt'ring board is spread, Pr. Mantling in the goblet see Unwilling I my lips unclose: Leave me, leave me to repose. O. Once again my call obey. Prophetess, arise, and say, What dangers Odin's Child await, |