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The foreft bends beneath the weight of
And, as at intervals the cold winds blow,
No longer bursting o'er their rugged mound
The fhivering herds to diftant vales repair; And the gaunt wolf, while thro' the depth of aira
Glides the pale moon, her beams in hatred views,
The Weird fifters to a coaft fo dire, Congenial to their fouls, at times retire; And view, their only pleasure to destroy, The wreck of nature with malignant joy.
There, a vaft cave, unknown to mortal eyes,
Huge incicles, impending from the heigh,
And fhoot their many-colour'd rays around.
With quenchlefs hatred to mankind inspir'd,
The fifters meet; then mix'd with vap'rous
Flames bursting thro' the central point, illume The difmal cavern; while from realms profound
Spirits unbleft arife, and wheel around
In myftic dance. There now in orgies dire,
At which, if acted in day's facred light,
The fun, with horror ftruck, had backward
Or veil'd in dark'ning clouds his blazing head.
Still from the Daemons, by their potent
Controll'd, dark words of doubtful import fell,
They beat their breasts, and rend their fnaky
Draw from their mangled fides the gufhing blood,
Invoke their kindred fiends with fiercer cries.
And the red flame with keener radiance glows.
Sleeps vengeance then, ye fons of baleful night,
Exclaims fierce Urda, by the lurid light
Dimly defcried; Oh fhame, oh dire difgrace!
Say, have I weav'd in fate's myfterious loom
In vain? No, yet again our knight renown'd
Take him, my fifters, to your guardian care.
But, whilft his breaft with high-wrought fury
Hurl him, like heaven's red bolt, to blaft our
I breathe the scent of carnage! death pursues
Thefe hated clouds, and on the profpect close 2
Her form of terror mid encircling clouds,
Stretch'd on his couch the Saxon monarch
The fhades of darknefs fwim before his eyes.
Of magic charms prolongs life's tranfient hour.
Awaking from his death-like fwoon, his eyes
He wildly cafts around him; whilst arise
A marble pillar huge, of fnow-white hue,
And by them ftood fair maids, their valour's pri
With plaufive fmiles, and love-illumin'd eyes.
Around his couch, to fight a beauteous
Of gentle youths, attending spirits stand.
But tho', whate'er could give to trouble
Whate'er the wifh could form, or fancy please,
Nor vifionary. fcenes, nor lofty ftrain,
And the bright forms of hero's, conqueft-crown'd,
As will'd the fraudful fifters, in his heart-
Immortal Goddeffes,*) whofe guardian pow
In wrath he cries, o'er - watch'd my natal hour,
And havock reign'd, is this your guardian aid?
Impaffive, if in arins and love I fail?
Thro' you, on Ligon's Isle the proffer'd fight
I fhunn'd; thro' you am deem'd a recreant
Perish the thought! a life preferv'd with shame
My foul difdains
Be Hengift's death, or fame!"
Before his view, earth trembling 'wide around, Valdandi, Skulda, thro' the rifted ground
*) Starchaterus, a Swedish Champion, feems to allude to