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DESCENT OF ODIN.

Α Ν Ο D Ε.

N

(From the NORSE - TONGUE,)

In BARTHOLINUS, de caufis contemnendæ mortis;

HAFNIN, 1689, Quarto.

UPREIS ODINN ALLDA GAUIR, &c.

U PROSE the King of Men with speed,

And Idled strait his coal-black steed;
Down the yawning steep he rode,
That leads to * Hela's drear abode,
Him the Dog of Darkness spied,
His shaggy throat he open’d wide,
While from his jaws, with carnage fill'ů,
Foam and human gore distillid:
Hoarse he bays with hideous din,
Eyes that glow, and fangs that grin ;
And long pursues, with fruitless yell,
The Father of the powerful spell.

Nifheimr, 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 Lattle : Over it presided Hela, the Goddess of Death.

Onwar

Onward still his way he takes,
(The groaning earth beneath him shakes,)

Till full before his fearless eyes
The portals nine of hell arise.

Right against the eastern gate,
By the moss-grown pile he sate ;
Where long of yore to sleep was laid
The dust of the prophetic maid.
Facing to the northern clime,
Thrice he trac'd the Runic rhyme;
Thrice pronounc'd, in accents dread,
The thrilling verse that wakes the dead;
Till from out the hollow ground
Slowly breath'd a fullen sound,

Pr. What call unknown, what charms presume
To break the quiet of the tomb ?
Who thus afflicts

my

troubled fprite,
And drags me from the realms of night?
Long on these mouldering bones have beat
The winter's Inow, the summer's heat,
The drenching dews, and driving rain!
Let me, let me sleep again.
Who is he with voice unblest,
That calls me from the bed of reft?

O. A traveller, i to thee unknown,
Is he that calls, a warrior's son.
Tho's the deeds of light shalt know.;
Tell me what is done below,

whom yon glittering board is spread,
for whom yon golden bed,

Pr. Mantling

Pr. Manlling in the goblet, fee
The pure beverage of the bee,
D'er it hangs the thield of gold;
"'Tis the drink of Balder bold :
Balder's head to death is given.
Pain can reach the fons of heaven !
Unwilling I my lips unclofe.:
Leave me, leave me to repose.

o. Once again my call obey.
Prophetess, arise, and say,
What dangers Odin's child await,
Who the author of his fate ?

Pr. In Hoder's hand the hero's doom :
His brother sends him to the tomb.
Now my weary lips I clofe :
-Leave

me,

leave me, to repose.
0. Prophetess, my fpell obey.
Once again arife, and say,
Who th'avenger of his guilt,
By whom shall Hoder's blood be spilt.

Pr. In the caverns of the west,
By Odin's fierce embrace compreft,
A wondrous boy fall Rinda bear,
Who ne'er fhall comb his raven-hair,
Nor wash his visage in the ftream,
Nor see the fun's departing beam ;
Till he on Hoder's corse shall smile
Flaming on the funeral pile.
Now my weary lips I close : -
Leave me, leave me, to repose.

1

0. Yet a while my call obey,
Prophetess, awake, and say,
What virgins these, in speechless woe,
That bend to earth their folemn brow,
That their flaxen tresses tear,
And snowy veils, that float in air.
Tell me whence their sorrows rofe :
Then I leave thee to repose.

Pr. Ha! no traveller art thou
King of men, I know thee now,.
Mightiest of a mighty line-

0. No boding maid of skill divine Art thoug, nor prophetess of good ; But mother of the giant-brood !

Pr. Hie thee hence, and boast at home,
That never shall enquirer come
To break my iron-Neep again;
Till * Lok has burst his tenfold chain.,
Never, till substantial night
Has reassum'd her ancient right;
Till wrap'd in flames, in ruin hurl'd,
Sinks the fabric of the world.

* Lok is the Evil Being, who continues in chains till the twilight of the gods approaches, when he shall break his bonds; the human race, the stars, and fun, hall disappear ; the earth fink in the seas, and fire consume the skies : even Odin himself and his kindred deities shall perish. For a farther explanation of this muvthology, Tee Mallet's Introduction to the History of Park, 1755, Quarto.

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TRIUMPHS OF OWEN*.

A F R A G M E N T.

FROM

Mr. Evans's Specimens of the Welsh Poetry

LONDON, 1764, Quarto.

WEN'S praise demands my song,

Owen swift, and Owen strong ;
Fairest flower of Roderic's item,
+ Gwyneth's shield, and Britain's gem.
He nor heaps his brooded fores,
Nor all profusely pours;
Lord of every regal art,
Liberal hand, and open

heart.
Big with hosts of mighty name,
Squadrons three against him came;
This the force of Eirin hiding,

Side by side as proudly riding,
On her shadow long and gay
| Lochlin plows the watery way ;

Owen succeeded his father Griffin in the principality of North-Wales, A. D. 1120.

This battle was fought near forty years afterwards. † North-Wales. I Denmark. Bb

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