Gored with many a gaping wound:
Fate demands a nobler head;
Soon a king shall bite the ground.

12 Long his loss shall Eirin[4] weep,
Ne'er again his likeness see;
Long her strains in sorrow steep,
Strains of immortality!

13 Horror covers all the heath,
Clouds of carnage blot the sun:
Sisters! weave the web of death:
Sisters! cease; the work is done.

14 Hail the task and hail the hands!
Songs of joy and triumph sing!
Joy to the victorious bands,
Triumph to the younger king!

15 Mortal! thou that hear'st the tale,
Learn the tenor of our song;
Scotland! through each winding vale
Far and wide the notes prolong.

16 Sisters! hence with spurs of speed;
Each her thundering falchion wield;
Each bestride her sable steed:
Hurry, hurry, to the field.

[Footnote 1: 'Norse tongue:' to be found in the Orcades of Thormodus
Torfaeus, Hafniae, 1697, folio; and also in Bartholinus.]

[Footnote 2: 'Person:' Percy, author of 'Reliques of Ancient English
Poetry.']

[Footnote 3: 'Figures:' the Valkyriur were female divinities, servants
of Odin (or Woden) in the Gothic mythology. Their name signifies
'Choosers of the Slain.' They were mounted on swift horses, with drawn
swords in their hands, and in the throng of battle selected such as
were destined to slaughter, and conducted them to Valkalla, (the Hall
of Odin, or Paradise of the Brave), where they attended the banquet,
and served the departed heroes with horns of mead and ale.]

[Footnote 4: 'Eirin:' Ireland.]

* * * * *

VIII.--THE DESCENT OF ODIN.

FROM THE NORSE TONGUE.[1]

'Upreis Odinn
Allda gautr.'

Uprose the King of Men with speed,
And saddled straight his coal-black steed;
Down the yawning steep he rode
That leads to Hela's[2] drear abode.
Him the Dog of Darkness spied;
His shaggy throat he open'd wide,
While from his jaws, with carnage fill'd,
Foam and human gore distill'd:
Hoarse he bays with hideous din,
Eyes that glow and fangs that grin, 10
And long pursues with fruitless yell
The Father of the powerful spell.
Onward still his way he takes,
--The groaning earth beneath him shakes,--
Till full before his fearless eyes
The portals nine of Hell arise.
Right against the eastern gate,
By the moss-grown pile he sate,
Whe