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Angrim's portion'd wealth is thine;
Now, in the silence of the tomb,
THE NORTHERN MYTHOLOGY.
By the Same.
HEAR, ye Rulers of the North,
Spirits of exalted worth;
By the silence of the night,
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,
Mark the sable feline coat,
Digg'd i' th' hour of mortal sleep;
Meetly o'er the sandal bound,
Now while midnight torches gleam,
I scatter round this charmed room,
CAROUSAL OF ODIN.
BY THE REV. THOMAS PENROSE.
FILL the honey'd bev'rage high,
The portal hinges grate,-they come-
In various armour, various vest,
With helm and morion, targe and shield,
Some quivering launces couch, some biting maces wield: All march with haughty step, all proudly shake the
The feast begins, the scull goes round,
The gust of war subsides-E’en now
The grim chief curls his cheek, and smooths his rugged brow.
"Shame to your placid front, ye men of death!" Cries HILDA, with disorder'd breath.
Hell echoes back her scoff of shame
To the inactive rev'ling Champion's name. "Call forth the song," she scream'd ;-the minstrels
The theme was glorious war, the dear delight
"Joy to the soul," the Harpers sung,
"The steel-clad Knight, in vigour's bloom,
"Foremost rides, the flower and boast
"Of the bold determin'd host!"
With greedy ears the guests each note devour'd, Each struck his beaver down, and grasp'd his faith
The fury mark'd th' auspicious deed,
And bad the Scalds proceed.
"Joy to the soul! a joy divine l
"When trumpets clang, and bugles sound;
"When strokes of death are dealt around ;