Now my weary lips I close:

Leave me, leave me to repose.

ODIN.

Yet a while my call obey; Prophetess, awake, and say,

What virgins these, in speechless woe, That bend to earth their solemn brow, That their flaxen tresses tear,

And snowy veils that float in air?

Tell me whence their sorrows rose :

Then I leave thee to repose.

PROPHETESS.

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

ODIN.

No boding maid of skill divine Art thou, nor prophetess of good; But mother of the giant brood!

PROPHETESS.

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;
Never, till substantial Night

Has reassumed her ancient right;
Till wrapt in flames, in ruin hurl'd,
Sinks the fabric of the world.

A FRAGMENT. FROM THE WELSH.

OWEN'S praise demands my song,
Owen swift, and Owen strong;
Fairest flower of Roderic's stem,
Gwyneth's shield, and Britain's gem.
He nor heaps his brooded stores,
Nor on all profusely pours;
Lord of every regal heart,
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 wat'ry way;
There the Norman sails afar

Catch the winds and join the war ;
Black and huge along they sweep,
Burdens of the angry deep.

Dauntless on his native sands
The dragon-son of Mona stands ;
In glitt❜ring arms and glory drest,
High he rears his ruby crest.

There the thund'ring strokes begin,
There the press, and there the din;
Talymalfra's rocky shore

Echoing to the battle's roar.

Check'd by the torrent-tide of blood, Backward Meinai rolls his flood;

While, heap'd his master's feet around, Prostrate warriors gnaw the ground. Where his glowing eye-balls turn, Thousand banners round him burn: Where he points his purple spear,

Hasty, hasty rout is there,

Marking with indignant eye