ODE IX. THE DESCENT OF ODIN. FROM THE NORSE TONGUE. UPROSE the King of Men with speed, (The groaning earth beneath him shakes,) Till full before his fearless eyes The portals nine of hell arise. Thrice he traced the Runic rhyme ; Thrice pronounced, in accents dread, The thrilling verse that wakes the dead; Till from out the hollow ground Slowly breath'd a sullen sound. Prophetess. What call unknown, what charms presume To break the quiet of the tomb ? And drags me from the realms of night? Who is he, with voice unblest, That calls me from the bed of rest? Odin. A traveller, to thee unknown, Is he that calls, a warrior's son. For whom yon glittering board is spread, Pr. Mantling in the goblet see Leave me, leave me to repose. O. Once again my call obey: What dangers Odin's child await, Pr. In Hoder's hand the hero's doom: His brother sends him to the tomb. Now my weary lips I close: Leave me, leave me to repose. O. Prophetess, my spell obey: By whom shall Hoder's blood be spilt. Pr. In the caverns of the west, O. Yet awhile my call obey: That their flaxen tresses tear, And snowy veils, that float in air? Pr. Ha! no traveller art thou, King of men, I know thee now ! Mightiest of a mighty line O. No boding maid of skill divine Art thou, nor prophetess of good; But mother of the giant-brood! Pr. Hie thee hence, and boast at home, That never shall inquirer come To break my iron-sleep again; Till Lok has burst his tenfold chain. Has re-assumed her ancient right; ODE X. THE TRIUMPHS OF OWEN. FROM THE WELCH. OWEN'S praise demands my song, 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 ploughs the wat'ry way; There the Norman sails afar Catch the winds, and join the war : Black and huge along they sweep, Burthens of the angry deep. Dauntless on his native sands The Dragon-Son of Mona stands |