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Him the Dog of Darkness spied,
His fhaggy throat he open'd wide,
While from his jaws, with carnage fill'd,
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 ftill 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 mofs-grown pile he fate :
Where long of yore to fleep was laid
The duft of the prophetic Maid.
Facing to the northern clime,

'Thrice he trac'd the runic rhime;
Thrice pronounc'd, in accents dread,
The thrilling verfe that wakes the Dead:
Till from out the hollow ground
Slowly breath'd a fullen found.

PR. What call unknown, what charms To break the quiet of the tomb? [prefume Who thus afflicts my troubled fprite, And drags me from the realms of night? Long on thefe mouldring bones have beat The winter's fnow, the fummer's heat, The drenching dews, and driving rain! Let me, let me fleep again.

Who is he with voice unbleft,

That calls me from the bed of rest?

OD. A Traveller, to thee unknown,
Is he that calls, a Warrior's Son.
Thou the deeds of light fhalt know:
Tell me what is done below,

For whom yon glitt'ring board is spread,
Drefs'd for whom yon golden bed?

PR. Mantling in the goblet fee
The pure bev'ridge of the bee,
O'er it hangs the shield of gold;
'Tis the drink of Balder bold:
Balder's head to death is giv'n.

Pain can reach the fons of Heav'n!

Unwilling I my lips unclose :
Leave me, leave me to repofe.

OD. Once again my call obey.
Prophetefs, arife, and fay,
What dangers Odin's Child await,
Who the author of his fate.

PR. In Hoder's hand the Hero's doom: His brother fends him to the tomb.

Now my weary lips I close :

Leave me, leave me to repose.

OD. Prophetefs, my spell obey.

Once again arife, and say,

Who th' avenger of his guilt,

By whom shall Hoder's blood be fpilt.

PR. In the caverns of the west,
By Odin's fierce embrace compreft,
A wond'rous boy fhall Rinda bear,
Who ne'er fhall comb his raven-hair,
Nor wash his vifage in the stream,
Nor fee the fun's departing beam; -

'Till he on Hoder's corfe fhall smile
Flaming on the 'fun'ral pile.

Now my weary lips I close;
Leave me, leave me to repose,

OD. Yet a while my call obey.
Prophetefs, awake, and say;

What Virgins thefe, in fpeechlefs woe,
That bend to earth their folemn brow.
That their flaxen treffes tear,

And fnowy veils, that float in air.
Tell me whence their forrows rofe:
Then I leave thee to repose.

PR. Ha! no Traveller art thou,
King of Men, I know thee now,
Mightieft of a mighty line-

OD. 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 Enquirer come

To break my iron-sleep again,.

Till Lok + has burst his ten-fold chain :
Never, till fubftantial Night

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

+ Lok is the Evil Being, who continues in chains till the Twilight of the Gods approaches, when he shall break his bonds; the human race, the ftars and fun shall disappear; the earth fink in the feas, and fire confume the fkies: even Odin himself, and his kindred deities, fhall perish. For a farther explanation of this mythology, fee Mallet's Introduction to the Hiftory of Denmark, 1755, Quarto.

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