lish university, endorsing it a half century later. As has been
intimated, this was unusual in the time in which they lived, when, in
Lowell's phrase, the "blight of propriety" was on all poetry. But it was
only the rude and savage in an unfamiliar literature that could give
pause in the age of Pope. The milder aspects of Old Norse song and saga
must await the stronger century to give them favor. "Behold, there was a
swarm of bees and honey in the carcass of the lion."

GEORGE HICKES (1642-1715).

The next book in the list that contains an English contribution to the
knowledge of our subject is the _Thesaurus_ of George Hickes. On p. 193
of Part I, there is a prose translation of "The Awakening of Angantyr,"
from the _Harvarar Saga_. Acknowledgment is given to Verelius for the
text of the poem, but Hickes seems to have chosen this poem as the gem
of the Saga. The translation is another proof of an antiquarian's taste
and judgment, and the reader does not wonder that it soon found a wider
audience through another publication. It was reprinted in the books of
1716 and 1770 in the above list. An extract or two will show that the
vigor of the old poem has not been altogether lost in the translation:

_Hervor_.--Awake Angantyr, Hervor the only daughter of thee and Suafu
doth awaken thee. Give me out of the tombe, the hardned[9] sword, which
the dwarfs made for Suafurlama. Hervardur, Hiorvardur, Hrani, and
Angantyr, with helmet, and coat of mail, and a sharp sword, with sheild
and accoutrements, and bloody spear, I wake you all, under the roots of
trees. Are the sons of Andgrym, who delighted in mischief, now become
dust and ashes, can none of Eyvors sons now speak with me out of the
habitations of the dead! Harvardur, Hiorvardur! so may you all be within
your ribs, as a thing that is hanged up to putrifie among insects,
unlesse you deliver me the sword which the dwarfs made ... and the
glorious belt.

_Angantyr_.--Daughter Hervor, full of spells to raise the dead, why
dost thou call so? wilt thou run on to thy own mischief? thou art mad,
and out of thy senses, who art desperatly resolved to waken dead men. I
was not buried either by father or other freinds. Two which lived after
me got Tirfing, one of whome is now possessor thereof.

_Hervor_.--Thou dost not tell the truth: so let Odin hide thee in the
tombe, as thou hast Tirfing by thee. Art thou unwilling, Angantyr, to
give an inheritance to thy only child?...

_An