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THE

DESCENT OF ODIN.

AN

ODE.

UPROS

PROSE the King of Men with speed,

And saddled ftrait his coal-black steed;
Down the yawning steep he rode,
That leads to * Hela's drear abode,

Him

* Niflheimr, the hell of the Gothic nations, confifted 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.

Him the Dog of Darkness spy'd,
His shaggy throat he open’d wide,
While from his jaws, with carnage fillid,
Foam and human

gore

diftill'd:
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 fhakes)
Till full before his fearless eyes

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The portals nine of hell arise,

Right against the eastern gate,
By the moss-grown pile he fate;
Where long of yore to sleep was laid
The dust of the prophetic Maid.

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Thrice pronounc'd, in accents dread,
The thrilling verse that wakes the Dead ;
Till from out the hollow ground
Slowly breath'd a fullen found.

Pr. What call unknown, what charms presum
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 fleep again.
Who is he, with voice unblest,

That calls me from the bed of reft ?

O. A Traveller, to thee unknown,
Is he that calls, a Warriour's Son.

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