As the paths of Fate we tread,

Wading through the' ensanguined field,

Gondula, and Geira, spread

O'er the youthful king your shield.

We the reins to slaughter give,

Ours to kill and ours to spare:

Spite of danger he shall live.

(Weave the crimson web of war.)

They, whom once the desert beach
Pent within its bleak domain,

Soon their ample sway shall stretch
O'er the plenty of the plain.

Low the dauntless earl is laid,

Gored with many a gaping wound :

Fate demands a nobler head;

Soon a king shall bite the ground.

Long his loss shall Eirin weep,

Ne'er again his likeness see;

Long her strains in sorrow steep : Strains of immortality!

Horror covers all the heath,

Clouds of carnage blot the sun. Sisters, weave the web of death. 'Sisters, cease; the work is done.

Hail the task, and hail the hands! Songs of joy and triumph sing!

Joy to the victorious bands;

Triumph to the younger king.

Mortal, thou that hearest the tale,

Learn the tenor of our song. Scotland, through each winding vale

Far and wide the notes prolong.

Sisters, hence with spurs of speed:

Each her thundering falchion wield;

Each bestride her sable steed.

Hurry hurry to the field!

The Descent of Odin.

FROM THE NORSE TONGUE.

The original is to be found in Bartholinus, De Causis contemnendæ Mortis ; Hafniæ, 1689, quarto, p. 632.

Upreis Odinn allda gautr, &c.

UPROSE the king of men with speed,

And saddled straight his coal-black steed:

Down the yawning steep he rode,

That leads to Hela's drear abode.1

1 Niflheliar, the hell of the Gothic nations, consisted of nine worlds, to which were devoted all such as died of sickness, old age, or by any other means than in battle. Over it presided Hela, the goddess of death. MASON. Hela, in the Edda, is described with a dreadful countenance, and her body half flesh-color, and half blue. GRAY.

Him the dog of darkness spied;1

His shaggy throat he open'd wide,
While from his jaws, with carnage fill'd,
Foam and human gore distill'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 shakes),

Till full before his fearless eyes

The portals nine of hell arise.

Right against the eastern gate,

By the moss-grown pile he sate;

Where long of yore to sleep was laid

The dust of the prophetic maid.

1 The Edda gives this dog the name of Managarmar. He fed upon the

lives of those that were to die. MASON.