No more I weep. They do not sleep. Avengers of their native land: II. "Weave the warp, and weave the woof, [ring > Shrieks of an agonizing king; She-wolf of France +, with unrelenting fangs, A mazement in his van, with Flight combin'd; Long years of havoc urge their destin'd course, Edward the Black Prince, dead some time before his father. Revere his consort's faith, his father's + fame, Ruinous civil wars of York and Lancaster. ** Henry the Sixth, George Duke of Clarence, Edward the Fifth, Richard Duke of York, &c. beieved to be murdered secretly in the Tower of London. The oldest part of that structure is vulgarly attributed to Julius Cæsar. Now, brothers, bending o'er th' accursed loom, Stamp we our vengeance deep, and ratify his doom. The silver-boar was the badge of Richard the Third; whence he was usually known in his own time by the name of The Boar. Eleanor of Castile died a few years after the Edward the Second, cruelly butchered in conquest of Wales. The heroic proof she gave of her affection for her lord is well known. The mo Berkley castle. Triumphs of Edward the Third in France. + Henry the Fifth. Henry the Sixth, very near being canonized. The line of Lancaster had no right of inheritance to the crown. The white and red roses, devices of York and Lancaster. adul-numents of his regret, and sorrow for the loss of her, are still to be seen at Northampton, Geddington, Waltham, and other places. ** It was the common belief of the Welsh nation, that King Arthur was still alive in Fairy-land, and should return again to reign over Britain. ++ Both Merlin and Taliessin had prophesied, that the Welsh should regain their sovereignty over this island; which seemed to be accomplished in the house of Tudor. # Taliessin, chief of the bards, flourished in the sixth century. His works are still preserved, and his memory held in high veneration among his countrymen. Gales from blooming Eden bear; cloud, Rais'd by thy breath, has quench'd the orb of day? The different doom our Fates assign. Be thine Despair, and scepter'd Care: He spoke, and headlong from the mountain's height THE FATAL SISTERS. § AN ODE. [From the Norse-Tongue.] IN THE ORCADES of thoRMODUS TORFÆUS; HAFNIÆ, 1697, FOLIO; AND ALSO IN BARTHOLINUS. Vitt er oprit fyrir valfalli, &c. Now the storm begins to lour, (Haste, the loom of Hell prepare,) Iron-sleet of arrowy shower Hurtles in the darken'd air. Glittering lances' are the loom, Where the dusky warp we strain, Weaving many a soldier's doom, Orkney's woe, and Randver's bane. See the griesly texture grow, ('T is of human entrails made,) And the weights that play below, Each a gasping warrior's head. Shafts for shuttles, dipt in gore, Shoot the trembling cords along; Sword, that once a monarch bore, Keep the tissue close and strong. Shakspeare. + Milton. They The succession of poets after Milton's time. $ The Valkyriur were female divinities, servants of Odin (or Woden) in the Gothic mythology. Their name signifies choosers of the slain. were mounted on swift horses, with drawn swords in their hands; and in the throng of battle selected such as were destined to slaughter, and conducted them to Valkalla, the hall of Odin, or paradise of the brave; where they attended the banquet, and served the departed heroes with horns of mead and ale. Mista, black terrific maid, Sangrida, and Hilda, see, Join the wayward work to aid: 'Tis the woof of victory. Ere the ruddy Sun be set, Pikes must shiver, javelins sing, Blade with clattering buckler meet, Hauberk crash, and helmet ring. (Weave the crimson web of war,) Let us go, and let us fly,. Where our friends the conflict share, Where they triumph, where they die. As the paths of Fate we tread, 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, Gor'd 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! Horrour 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 hear'st the tale, Learn the tenour of our song. Scotland, through each winding vale Far and wide the notes prolong. Sisters, hence, with spurs of speed; THE DESCENT OF ODIN. AN ODE. [From the same.] IN BARTHOLINUS, DE CAUSIS CONTEMNENDÆ MORTIS ; HAFNIE, 1689, QUARTO. Upreis Odinn allda gauir, &c. UPROSE the King of Men with speed, Right against the eastern gate, [sume, Pr. What call unknown, what charms preTo break the quiet of the tomb? Who thus afflicts my troubled sprite, And drags me from the realms of night? Long on these mouldering bones have beat The winter's snow, the summer's heat, The drenching dews, and driving rain! Let me, let me sleep again. Who is he, with voice unblest, 0. A traveller, to thee unknown, Is he that calls, a warrior's son. Thou the deeds of light shalt know; Tell me what is done below, For whom yon glittering board is spread, Pr. Mantling in the goblet see 0. Once again my call obey, Prophetess, arise, and say, Niflheimr, 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. What dangers Odin's child await, Who the author of his fate? 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. 0. Prophetess, my spell obey: Once again arise, and say, Who th' avenger of his guilt, By whom shall Hoder's blood be spilt? Pr. In the caverns of the west, By Odin's fierce embrace comprest, A wondrous boy shall Rinda bear, Who ne'er shall comb his raven-hair, Nor wash his visage in the stream, Nor see the Sun's departing beam: Till he on Hoder's corse shall smile Flaming on the funeral pile, Now my weary lips I close: Leave me, leave me, to repose. 0. Yet awhile 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. Pr. Ha! no traveller art thou, 1 0. 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 ten-fold chain. Never, till substantial Night Has re-assum'd her ancient right; Till wrapp'd in flames, in ruin hurl'd, Sinks the fabric of the world. THE TRIUMPHS OF OWEN. A FRAGMENT. FROM MR. EVANS'S SPECIMENS OF THE WELSH POETRY; LONDON, 1764, QUARTO. OWEN's praise demands my song, 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 stars, and Sun, shall disappear; the earth sink in the seas, and fire consume the skies: even Odin himself and his kindred deities shall perish. For a further explanation of this mythology, see Mallet's Introduction to the History of Denmark, 1755, quarto. Owen succeeded his father Griffin in the prinThis battle cipality of North Wales, A. D. 112. was fought near forty years afterwards. § North Wales. He nor heaps his brooded stores, * Dauntless on his native sands The dragon-son † of Mona stands; * Denmark. + The red dragon is the device of Cadwallader, which all his descendants bore on their banners. In glittering arms and glory drest, TOBIAS SMOLLETT. TOMAS SMOLLETT, well known in his time for the variety and multiplicity of his publications, was born in 1720, at Dalquhurn, in the county of Dumbarton. He was educated under a surgeon in Glasgow, where he also attended the medical lectures of the University; and at this early period he gave some specimens of a talent for writing verses. As it is on this ground that he has obtained a place in the present collection, we shall pass over his various characters of surgeon's mate, physician, historiographer, politician, miscellaneous writer, and especially novellist, and consider his claims as a minor poet of no mean rank. He will be found, THE TEARS OF SCOTLAND. MOURN, hapless Caledonia, mourn Thy banish'd peace, thy laurels torn! The wretched owner sees afar 663 What boots it then, in every clime, The rural pipe and merry lay in this collection, as the author of "The Tears of Scotland," the "Ode to Leven-Water," and some other short pieces, which are polished, tender, and picturesque; and, especially, of an "Ode to Independence," which aims at a loftier flight, and perhaps has few superiors in the lyric style. Smollett married a lady of Jamaica: he was, unfortunately, of an irritable disposition, which involved him in frequent quarrels, and finally shortened his life. He died in the neighbourhood of Leghorn, in October, 1771, in the fifty-first year of his age. O baneful cause, oh, fatal morn, The pious mother doom'd to death, While the warm blood bedews my veins, ODE TO LEVEN-WATER. ON Leven's banks, while free to rove, Pure stream! in whose transparent wave My youthful limbs I wont to lave; |