 | Odes, English and Latin |  |
ODES.
CHIEFLY FROM THE NORSE TONGUE.
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ODE I. THE TWILIGHT OF THE GODS;
OR, THE DESTRUCTION OF THE WORLD.
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Argument.
The Twilight of the Gods, in the Northern Mythology, is that period when Lok, the evil Being, shall break his confinement; the human race, the stars, and the sun shall disappear; the earth sink in the seas, and fire consume the skies; even Odin himself, and all his kindred Gods, shall perish.
The following Ode contains a description of the events which, according to this dark mythology, will precede the destruction of the world.
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From the chambers of the East,
In robes of terror grimly drest,
Ymir hath his course begun,
Rival of th'unwearied Sun.
Now, in many a glist'ring wreath,
Above, around, and underneath,
The serpent dread, of dateless birth,
Girds the devoted globe of earth;
And, as charm'd by pow'rful spell,
Ocean heaves with furious swell:
While the vessel's floating pride
Stems duration's rounding tide.
In robes of terror grimly drest,
Ymir hath his course begun,
Rival of th'unwearied Sun.
Now, in many a glist'ring wreath,
Above, around, and underneath,
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Girds the devoted globe of earth;
And, as charm'd by pow'rful spell,
Ocean heaves with furious swell:
While the vessel's floating pride
Stems duration's rounding tide.
Trace again the solemn rhyme;
From Orient's ever-teeming clime
I see them come, an evil race,
Bold in heart, and stern in face:
In turbulent array they sweep,
Beneath them groans the burthen'd deep;
Fierce they rush, yet all obey
Monarch Lok's resistless sway.
Gaunt and wild with savage howl,
Mark the wolfish Fenris prowl;
With him stalks a furious train,
Panting for th'ensanguin'd plain:
Is Beliep's brother left behind?
No:—he flies on wings of wind.
From Orient's ever-teeming clime
I see them come, an evil race,
Bold in heart, and stern in face:
In turbulent array they sweep,
Beneath them groans the burthen'd deep;
Fierce they rush, yet all obey
Monarch Lok's resistless sway.
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Mark the wolfish Fenris prowl;
With him stalks a furious train,
Panting for th'ensanguin'd plain:
Is Beliep's brother left behind?
No:—he flies on wings of wind.
Ask ye what is done above?
No more in halls of joy and love,
The favour'd guests, profuse of soul,
Drain the skull or nectar'd bowl:
What Genii shake that nodding frame?
These are deeds without a name.
Struck with elemental jar,
Gods themselves come forth to war:
From their adamantine dome,
Giant tenants loosen'd roam,
And around each rock-hewn cell
With heaving groan, or fearful yell,
Declare what uncontrolled pow'r
Presiding rules the mortal hour.
These no acts of joy and love:
Know ye now what's done above?
No more in halls of joy and love,
The favour'd guests, profuse of soul,
Drain the skull or nectar'd bowl:
What Genii shake that nodding frame?
These are deeds without a name.
Struck with elemental jar,
Gods themselves come forth to war:
From their adamantine dome,
Giant tenants loosen'd roam,
And around each rock-hewn cell
With heaving groan, or fearful yell,
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Presiding rules the mortal hour.
These no acts of joy and love:
Know ye now what's done above?
From the regions of the South
Surtur bursts with fiery mouth:
High o'er yonder black'ning shade
Gleams the hallow'd sun-bright blade,
Which, in star-bespangled field,
Warrior Gods encount'ring wield.
From the red celestial store
Ministers of ruin pour;
Caverns yawning, mountains rending:
Conscious of the fate impending,
Ydrasil's prophetic ash
Nods to the air with sudden crash.
Monstrous female forms advance,
Stride the steed, and couch the lance;
Armed heroes throng the plain,
Harbingers of Hela's reign;
And see, from either verge of heaven,
That concave vast asunder riven.
Surtur bursts with fiery mouth:
High o'er yonder black'ning shade
Gleams the hallow'd sun-bright blade,
Which, in star-bespangled field,
Warrior Gods encount'ring wield.
From the red celestial store
Ministers of ruin pour;
Caverns yawning, mountains rending:
Conscious of the fate impending,
Ydrasil's prophetic ash
Nods to the air with sudden crash.
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Stride the steed, and couch the lance;
Armed heroes throng the plain,
Harbingers of Hela's reign;
And see, from either verge of heaven,
That concave vast asunder riven.
Why does beauteous Lina weep?
Whence those lorn notes in accent deep?
A day of war!—prepare, prepare:
Aloft in distant realms of air,
Mark the murd'rous monster stalk,
In printless majesty of walk.
Odin fearless meets the shock,
The towers of heaven around him rock;
Though arm'd in panoply divine,
He yields, and owns the fated sign;
To the mansions drear he turns:
In vain the beauteous Lina mourns.
Whence those lorn notes in accent deep?
A day of war!—prepare, prepare:
Aloft in distant realms of air,
Mark the murd'rous monster stalk,
In printless majesty of walk.
Odin fearless meets the shock,
The towers of heaven around him rock;
Though arm'd in panoply divine,
He yields, and owns the fated sign;
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In vain the beauteous Lina mourns.
Glowing with paternal fire,
Generous rage and fierce desire,
See Odin's offspring, Vidar bold,
His sanguine course unfalt'ring hold.
In vain 'gainst him, in fell accord,
Giant forms uplift the sword;
He locks his foe in iron sleep,
And stamps the filial vengeance deep.
Generous rage and fierce desire,
See Odin's offspring, Vidar bold,
His sanguine course unfalt'ring hold.
In vain 'gainst him, in fell accord,
Giant forms uplift the sword;
He locks his foe in iron sleep,
And stamps the filial vengeance deep.
Signs abroad portentous low'r;
'Tis desolation's fated hour.
From the cavern deep and dank,
Bonds that burst, and chains that clank,
Proclaim the griesly Form canine
Loosen'd from his long confine.
Fiery shapes the æther wing;
Surtur calls, they know their king:
Dark encircling clouds absorb
The lustre of light's central orb;
Conscious stars no more dispense
Their gently beaming influence;
But bursting from their shaken sphere,
Unsubstantial disappear.
No more this pensile mundane ball
Rolls through the wide aërial hall;
Ingulphed sinks the vast machine.
Who shall say, the things have been?
'Tis desolation's fated hour.
From the cavern deep and dank,
Bonds that burst, and chains that clank,
Proclaim the griesly Form canine
Loosen'd from his long confine.
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Surtur calls, they know their king:
Dark encircling clouds absorb
The lustre of light's central orb;
Conscious stars no more dispense
Their gently beaming influence;
But bursting from their shaken sphere,
Unsubstantial disappear.
No more this pensile mundane ball
Rolls through the wide aërial hall;
Ingulphed sinks the vast machine.
Who shall say, the things have been?
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ODE II. THE RENOVATION OF THE WORLD, AND FUTURE RETRIBUTION.
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Argument.
The Gods (or Dæmones) meet on the top of mount Inda, and sing the following prophetic song of triumph.
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Now the spirit's plastic might,
Brooding o'er the formless deep,
O'er the dusk abysm of night,
Bids creation cease to sleep!
Brooding o'er the formless deep,
O'er the dusk abysm of night,
Bids creation cease to sleep!
Instant from the riven main
Starts the renovated Earth;
Pine-clad mountain, shaded plain;
See, 'tis Nature's second birth!
Starts the renovated Earth;
Pine-clad mountain, shaded plain;
See, 'tis Nature's second birth!
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Gods on Inda spread the board;
Such was the supreme decree:
Swell the strains in full accord,
Strains of holiest harmony!
Such was the supreme decree:
Swell the strains in full accord,
Strains of holiest harmony!
“High the sparkling beverage pour;
“Be the song with horror fraught:
“Mark! the consecrated hour
“Lifts the soul to solemn thought.
“Be the song with horror fraught:
“Mark! the consecrated hour
“Lifts the soul to solemn thought.
“Odin first inspires the verse,
“Gor'd by the relentless fang;
“Æther felt the conflict fierce,
“Dying groan, and parting pang.
“Gor'd by the relentless fang;
“Æther felt the conflict fierce,
“Dying groan, and parting pang.
“Where is now his vaunted might?
“Where the terror of his eye?
“Fled for aye from scenes of light:
“Pour the sparkling beverage high.
“Where the terror of his eye?
“Fled for aye from scenes of light:
“Pour the sparkling beverage high.
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“Lo! they fleet in radiant round,
“Years of plenty, years of joy:
“Sorrow's place no more is found,
“Cares that vex, or sweets that cloy.
“Years of plenty, years of joy:
“Sorrow's place no more is found,
“Cares that vex, or sweets that cloy.
“From the kindly teeming soil,
“Ripen'd harvests wave unsown;
“Wherefore needs the peasant's toil?
“Nature works, and works alone.
“Ripen'd harvests wave unsown;
“Wherefore needs the peasant's toil?
“Nature works, and works alone.
“Ask ye, whose the scepter'd sway?
“'Tis to lordly Balder given:
“Mark him there, in bright array,
“Stalking through the halls of heaven.
“'Tis to lordly Balder given:
“Mark him there, in bright array,
“Stalking through the halls of heaven.
“Hoder holds united reign;
“Latest times their strength shall prove,
“Monarchs of the bleak domain.
“Know ye now what's done above?
“Latest times their strength shall prove,
“Monarchs of the bleak domain.
“Know ye now what's done above?
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“Is it blest delusion's hour?
“Rolls mine eye in frenzied trance?
“Beams of glory round me shower;
“Troops of radiant forms advance.
“Rolls mine eye in frenzied trance?
“Beams of glory round me shower;
“Troops of radiant forms advance.
“Founded on that firm-set rock,
“Rising view the dome of gold,
“Fix'd secure from wintry shock:
“There the good, and there the bold.
“Rising view the dome of gold,
“Fix'd secure from wintry shock:
“There the good, and there the bold.
“High in tracts of troubled air,
“Justice waves her awful sword:
“Vice appall'd, with hideous stare,
“Shrinks, ere spoke the dooming word.
“Justice waves her awful sword:
“Vice appall'd, with hideous stare,
“Shrinks, ere spoke the dooming word.
“In Nastronda's northern plain,
“Hark, th'invenom'd portals ope:
“Respite there is none of pain,
“Cheerless all, without a hope.
“Hark, th'invenom'd portals ope:
“Respite there is none of pain,
“Cheerless all, without a hope.
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“Dog-ey'd Lust, Adult'ry foul,
“Murder red with many a stain,
“At the fatal entrance scowl,
“Bound in adamantine chain.
“Murder red with many a stain,
“At the fatal entrance scowl,
“Bound in adamantine chain.
“Know ye what is done above?
“Know ye now the deeds of night?”
They spoke: the feast of joy and love
Glow'd on Inda's glist'ring height.
“Know ye now the deeds of night?”
They spoke: the feast of joy and love
Glow'd on Inda's glist'ring height.
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ODE III. DIALOGUE AT THE TOMB OF ARGANTYR.
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Argument.
Hervor repairs to the tomb of her father Argantyr, at the dead of night, and invokes his spirit to deliver up the magical sword Trifingus, which was buried with him.
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Thy daughter calls; Argantyr, break
The bonds of death; she calls, awake.
Reach me forth the temper'd blade,
Beneath thy marble pillow laid;
Which once a scepter'd warrior bore,
Forg'd by dwarfs in years of yore.
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Mingled with the valiant dead.
From under twisted roots of oak,
Blasted by the thunder's stroke,
Arise, arise, ye men of blood,
Ye who prepar'd the Vulture's food;
Give me the sword, and studded belt;
Armies whole their force have felt:
Or grant my pray'r, or mould'ring rot,
Your name, your deeds alike forgot.
Argantyr, rouse thee from thy rest;
Hear, and grant my firm request.
ARGANTYR.
Daughter, I hear the magic sound
Mutter'd o'er this sacred ground:
Why call'st thou thus? What dire intent
Is within thy bosom pent?
No friendly hand, no parent, gave
My bones to rest in hallow'd grave;
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Here by barbaric hands convey'd,
In this mansion cold, forlorn,
My gloomy ghost shall ever mourn.
Think not by unceasing pray'r,
Hence the charmed sword to bear;
For know, above in realms of light,
Trifingus is another's right.
HERVOR.
Ha! my Sire, what words accurst
Have from the lip of falsehood burst?
Thou know'st, with thee in darkness laid,
Sleeps the consecrated blade:
Yield it, 'tis th'appointed hour,
Or dread avenging Odin's pow'r.
ARGANTYR.
With awe my words prophetic hear;
Hervor, 'tis for thee I fear:
The fates have seal'd thy offspring's doom;
Trifingus brings them to the tomb.
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Talk not to me of future times:
I swear, by force of magic rhymes,
Repose the dead shall know no more,
Till thou the gifted sword restore.
ARGANTYR.
Maid, thy warlike soul I bless,
Who rov'st by night in armed dress,
With spell-wrought helmet, iron proof,
And garments wove in mystic woof;
Who dar'st in thrilling accents call
The dead from their sepulchral hall.
HERVOR.
No more this idle converse hold:
Once I thought thy spirit bold:
Give me forth the radiant brand;
Hear, and grant my just demand.
Yield it, 'tis th'appointed hour,
Or dread avenging Odin's pow'r.
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Here within the fated sheath,
Hialmar's ruin lies beneath,
Wrapt in its own terrific flame;
What maid but trembles at the name?
HERVOR.
I tremble not—the flame though bright,
Is but ineffectual light,
That plays around the buried corse,
With meteor glare devoid of force;
I'll grasp the sword in terror drest,
And give thy gloomy spirit rest.
ARGANTYR.
Rash virgin, to thy pray'r I yield:
Lo! Trifingus stands reveal'd,
Blazing like the noonday sun!
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King of men, 'tis nobly done:
This blade with rapt'rous joy I own,
A greater gift than Norway's throne.
ARGANTYR.
Fond, exulting daughter, know,
These transports work thee lasting woe;
By the dread sword ('tis thus decreed)
Thy sons, e'en Hydrek's self, shall bleed.
HERVOR.
I must to my ships repair;
Battle is the warrior's care.
If in the purple fount of life
They steep the steel in mortal strife;
By no ignoble stroke they fall,
And sink with joy to Odin's hall.
ARGANTYR.
Hie thee hence from death's domain,
With rev'rence keep Hialmar's bane;
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Take the gift the gods assign.
HERVOR.
Never shall Trifingus sleep,
But move with desolating sweep;
Never fear invade my breast,
Nor dying sons my peace molest;
If by Trifingus' stroke they fall,
They sink with joy to Odin's hall.
ARGANTYR.
Hark! e'en now with sullen moan,
Victims twelve beneath thee groan:
Armed in paternal might,
Go forth, my child, and dare the fight:
Angrim's portion'd wealth is thine;
Take the gift the gods assign.
HERVOR.
Now, in the silence of the tomb,
Dwell undisturb'd till final doom:
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And speed me from this drear abode:
For here, as still my steps I turn,
Flaky fires around me burn.
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ODE IV. BATTLE.
Who the deeds of war shall sing?—
Fingal struck the deep-ton'd string,
Valour's noblest, best reward,
Fingal chief, and Fingal bard.
Fingal struck the deep-ton'd string,
Valour's noblest, best reward,
Fingal chief, and Fingal bard.
Mark exulting heroes throng,
Starno bold, and Trenmor strong;
See the force of Gaul advance;
Fergus lifts the glittering lance;
Lowering there each warrior shield,
Like darken'd moon in starry field.
Hark! they join ('twas Swaran's word)
Man to man, and sword to sword;
Groans of dying armies fill
The deepen'd vale, the lofty hill,
As the whirlwind's rapid might
Breaks the silence of the night:
While pouring o'er the stained ground,
Sanguine torrents smoke around.
Starno bold, and Trenmor strong;
See the force of Gaul advance;
Fergus lifts the glittering lance;
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Like darken'd moon in starry field.
Hark! they join ('twas Swaran's word)
Man to man, and sword to sword;
Groans of dying armies fill
The deepen'd vale, the lofty hill,
As the whirlwind's rapid might
Breaks the silence of the night:
While pouring o'er the stained ground,
Sanguine torrents smoke around.
What spirit that, which mounts the blast?
His form with sorrow's clouds o'ercast,
His faded hue, and sullen state,
Speak the messenger of fate.
His form with sorrow's clouds o'ercast,
His faded hue, and sullen state,
Speak the messenger of fate.
As the ocean's troubled roar,
When surges sweep the whitening shore;
As on Morven's stormy brow
Thousand blasts in conflict blow;
As the thunder's rattling march,
Rending heav'n's affrighted arch;
O'er th'embattled crimson heath
Hurtles so the voice of Death.
When surges sweep the whitening shore;
As on Morven's stormy brow
Thousand blasts in conflict blow;
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Rending heav'n's affrighted arch;
O'er th'embattled crimson heath
Hurtles so the voice of Death.
33
ODE V. TUDOR.
Fill the horn of glossy blue,
Ocean's bright cærulean hue;
Briskly quaff the flav'rous mead,
'Tis a day to joy decreed.
High the fame of Tudor's birth,
Valour his, and conscious worth.
Ocean's bright cærulean hue;
Briskly quaff the flav'rous mead,
'Tis a day to joy decreed.
High the fame of Tudor's birth,
Valour his, and conscious worth.
Have you seen the virgin snow,
That tops old Aran's peering brow;
Or lucid web, by insect spun,
Purpureal gleam in summer sun?
With such, yet far diviner light,
Malvina hits the dazzled sight;
Such the reward, can Tudor's breast
Dare to court ignoble rest?
That tops old Aran's peering brow;
Or lucid web, by insect spun,
Purpureal gleam in summer sun?
34
Malvina hits the dazzled sight;
Such the reward, can Tudor's breast
Dare to court ignoble rest?
From the cliff sublime and hoary
See descending martial glory;
Armed bands aloft uprear
Crimson banner, crimson spear;
Venodotia's ancient boast
Meets the pride of London's host;
On they move with step serene,
And form a dreadly pleasing scene.
See descending martial glory;
Armed bands aloft uprear
Crimson banner, crimson spear;
Venodotia's ancient boast
Meets the pride of London's host;
On they move with step serene,
And form a dreadly pleasing scene.
Heard you that terrific clang?
Thro' the pathless void it rang:
Th'expecting raven screams afar,
And snuffs the reeking spoils of war.
Thro' the pathless void it rang:
Th'expecting raven screams afar,
And snuffs the reeking spoils of war.
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Have you e'er on barren strand
Ta'en your solitary stand,
And seen the whirlwind's spirit sped
O'er the dark green billowy bed?
Glowing in the thickest fight,
Such resistless Tudor's might.
Ta'en your solitary stand,
And seen the whirlwind's spirit sped
O'er the dark green billowy bed?
Glowing in the thickest fight,
Such resistless Tudor's might.
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ODE VI. AN INCANTATION. FOUNDED ON THE NORTHERN MYTHOLOGY.
Hear, ye Rulers of the North,
Spirits of exalted worth!
By the silence of the night,
By subtle magic's secret rite;
By Pëolphan, murky King,
Master of th'enchanted ring;
By all and each of hell's grim host,
Howling demon, tortur'd ghost;
By each spell and potent word,
Burst from lips of Glauron's Lord;
By Coronzon's awful power;
By the dread and solemn hour,
When Gual fierce, and Damael strong,
Stride the blast that roars along;
Or in fell descending swoop,
Bid the furious spirit stoop
O'er desolation's gloomy plain,
Haunt of warriors, battle-slain.
Now the world in sleep is laid,
Thorbiorga calls your aid.
Spirits of exalted worth!
By the silence of the night,
By subtle magic's secret rite;
By Pëolphan, murky King,
Master of th'enchanted ring;
By all and each of hell's grim host,
Howling demon, tortur'd ghost;
By each spell and potent word,
Burst from lips of Glauron's Lord;
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By the dread and solemn hour,
When Gual fierce, and Damael strong,
Stride the blast that roars along;
Or in fell descending swoop,
Bid the furious spirit stoop
O'er desolation's gloomy plain,
Haunt of warriors, battle-slain.
Now the world in sleep is laid,
Thorbiorga calls your aid.
Mark the sable feline coat,
Spotted girdle, velvet-wrought;
Mark the skin of glistening snake,
Sleeping seiz'd in forest brake,
And the chrystal radiant stone,
On which day's Sovereign never shone;
Mark the cross, in mystic round,
Meetly o'er the sandal bound,
And the symbols grav'd thereon,
Holiest Tetragrammaton!
Now while midnight torches gleam,
(Rivals of the moon's pale beam,
On ocean's unfrequented shore
Some moss-grown ruin silvering o'er,)
I scatter round this charmed room,
The fragrance of the myrrh's perfume;
And bending o'er this consecrated sword,
Confirm each murmur'd spell, each inly thrilling word.
Spotted girdle, velvet-wrought;
Mark the skin of glistening snake,
Sleeping seiz'd in forest brake,
And the chrystal radiant stone,
On which day's Sovereign never shone;
Mark the cross, in mystic round,
Meetly o'er the sandal bound,
And the symbols grav'd thereon,
Holiest Tetragrammaton!
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(Rivals of the moon's pale beam,
On ocean's unfrequented shore
Some moss-grown ruin silvering o'er,)
I scatter round this charmed room,
The fragrance of the myrrh's perfume;
And bending o'er this consecrated sword,
Confirm each murmur'd spell, each inly thrilling word.
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