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ODE V.

THE

CAROUSAL OF ODIN.

BY THE REV. THOMAS PENROSE.

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Fill the honey'd bev'rage high,
Fill the sculls, 'tis Odin's cry:
Heard ye not the powerful call,
Thund'ring thro' the vaulted hall ?
“ Fill the meath, and spread the board,
“ Vassals of the griesly Lord.”-

The portal hinges grate,—they come-
The din of voices rocks the dome.
In stalk the various forms, and, drest
In various armour, various vest,

With helm and morion, targe and shield,
Some quivering launces couch, some biring maces wield:
All march with haughty step, all proudly shake the

crest.

The feast begins, the scull goes round,
Laughter shouts-the shouts resound.

The
gust

of war subsides-E'en now The grim chiefcurls 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

came

The theme was glorious war, the dear delight
Of shining best in field, and daring most in fight.

"Joy to the soul,” the Harpers sung,
“ When embattl'd ranks among,
“ The steel-clad Knight, in vigour's bloom,
(Banners waving o'er his plume)
" Foremost rides, the flower and boast

“ Of the bold determin’d host !" With greedy ears the guests each note devourd, Each struck his beaver down, and grasp'd his faith

ful sword.
The fury mark'd th' auspicious deed,
And bad the Scalds proceed.

“ Joy to the soul ! a joy divine !
“ When conflicting armies join ;
“ When trumpets clang, and bugles sound;
" When strokes of death are dealt around ;

“ When the sword feasts, yet craves for more ; “ And every gauntlet drips with gore."

The charm prevail'd, up rush'd the madden'd throng,
Panting for carnage, as they fuam'd along.
Fierce Odin's self led forth the frantic band,
To scatter havock wide o'er many a guilty land.

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BY WILLIAM WHITEHEAD, ESQ.

[Late Poet-Laureat. )

MORNING rose ; the issuing sun
Saw the dreadful fight begun;
And that sun's descending ray
Clos'd the battle, clos'd the day.

Fflamdwyn pour'd his rapid bands,
Legion's four, o'er Reged's lands.
The numerous host, from side to side,
Spread destruction wild and wide,
From Argoed's summits, forest-crown'd,
To steep Arfynydd's utmost bound.
Short their triumph, short their sway,
Born and ended with the day!
Flush'd with conquest FAamdwyn said,
Boastful at his army's head,
“ Strive not to oppose the stream,

lives redeem. Give me pledges Fflamdwyn cried; Never, Urien's son replied,

Redeem your

lands, your

Owen of the mighty stroke;
Kindling, as the hero spoke,
Cenau, Coel's blooming heir,
Caught the Aame and grasp'd the spear;
Shall Coel's issue pledges give
To the insulting foe, and live?
Never such be Britons' shame,
Never, till this mangled frame,
Like some vanquish'd lion, lie
Drench'd in blood, and bleeding die.

“ Day advanc'd : and ere the sun Reach'd the radiant point of noon, Urien came with fresh supplies : Rise, ye sons of Cambria, rise, Spread your banners to the foe, Spread them on the mountain's brow; Lift your lances high in air, Friends and brothers of the war; Rush like torrents down the steep, Thro’ the vales in myriads sweep; Ffiamdwyn never can sustain The force of our united train."

Havoc, havoc rag'd around,
Many a carcase strew'd the ground:
Ravens drank the purple flood,
Raven plumes were dyed in blood;

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