To be found in BARTHOLINUS, de causus

contemnendæ mortis; HAFNIÆ, 1689, Quarto.

THE

DESCENT OF ODIN.

AN O D E.

U PROSE the King of men with speed,
And saddled 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 opened wide,

* Niflheimr, the hell of the Gothic nations, consisted of nine worlds, to which were devoted all such as died of fickness, old age, or by any other means than in battle. Over it presided HELA, the Goddess of Death.

While from his jaws, with carnage filld,
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.
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 fat,
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.

PROPHET ES S..

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 !
Let me, let me sleep again.
Who is he, with voice unbleft,
That calls me from the bed of rest ?

ino

ODIN,