Изображения страниц

Here within the fated sheath,
Hialmar's ruin lies beneath,
Wrapt in its own terrific fiame;
What maid but trembles at the name?

I tremble not the flame, tho' 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;
Grant an only child's request.

Rash Virgin, to thy pray’r I yield:
Lol Trifingus stands reveal'd!
Blazing like the noon-day Sun-

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 keen edge ('tis thus decreed) Thy sons, e'en Hydreks' self, shall bleed. HERVOR. I must to my ships repair; 'Tis nought to me; be that their 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.

Hie thee hence from death's domain,
With rev’rence keep Hialmar's bane;
Touch but the blade, a warrior dies,
On either edge quick poison lies:
Thou art of a race div
Take the gift the gods assign.

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: I must tread my destin'd road, And speed me from this drear abode ; For here, as still my steps I turn, Flaky fires around me burn.






By the Same.

Hear, ye Rulers of the North,
Spirits of exalted worth ;
By the silence of the night,
By subtle magic's secret rite;
By Pèolphan 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.

Mark the sable feline coat, Spotted girdle velvet-wrought; Mark the skin of glistening snake, Sleeping seiz'd in forest brake; Mark the radiant crystal stone, On which days Sovereign never shone, From the cavern dark and deep Digg'd i' th' hour of mortal sleep; 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. While the flame of resinous fire Mounts aloft in curling spire ; 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-thril

ling word.

« ПредыдущаяПродолжить »