Odes, English and Latin By Thomas James Mathias. Reprinted 1798 |
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| I. | ODE I. THE TWILIGHT OF THE GODS; |
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 | Odes, English and Latin |  |
1
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?
| Odes, English and Latin | |