Low the dauntlefs Earl is laid, Gor'd with many a gaping wound : Fate demands a nobler head; Soon a King shall bite the ground. Long his lofs fhall Eirin weep, Ne'er again his likeness fee; Long her ftrains in forrow steep, Strains of Immortality! Horror covers all the heath, Clouds of carnage blot the fun. Sifters, weave the web of death; Sifters, cease, the work is done.. G 2 Hail Hail the talk, and hail the hands! Songs of joy and triumph fing! Joy to the victorious bands; Triumph to the younger King. Mortal, thou that hear'ft the tale, Learn the tenour of our fong. Far and wide the notes prolong. Sifters, hence with fpurs of fpeed: Each her thundering faulchion wield; Each beftride her fable fteed. Hurry, hurry to the field. THE THE DESCENT of ODIN. ANODE, (From the NORSE-TONGUE,) I N BARTHOLINUS, de caufis contemnendæ mortis ; HAFNIE, 1689, Quarto. UPREIS OPINN ALLDA GAUTR, &c. THE DESCENT of ODIN. AN OD E. U Prose the King of Men with speed, And faddled ftrait his coal-black fteed; Down the yawning fteep he rode, That leads to * HELA's drear abode. * Niflheimr, the hell of the Gothic nations, confifted of nine worlds, to which were devoted all fuch as died of fickness, oldage, or by any other means than in battle: Over it prefided HELA, the Goddess of Death. |