PART THIRD.

ANGURBOÐI.

Á NGURBOÐI.

Seið hon kvnni,

Seið hon leikin ; ·

Æ var hon angan

Illrar þióðar.-Völuspá, st. xx.

THE sea-king stood beneath the oak in thought;
A sudden change was in his spirit wrought;
Feeling and faith he could not reconcile,

And much he muttered in his heathen style.

"Daughters of Dvalinn! what hath roused your

wrath?

How durst

ye

lead such foe across my path?

Ye were his death; yet had it not been known,

Ere this Edgiva had been all my own;

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But I have blabbed like Alvis-now the light

Betrays my nature to her startled sight!
And will she fly with me? for life confide

In him through whom her only brother died?
I knew him not-if I had known, my pride
Would scorn like nithing soul my work to hide :
Let life, love, faith, and fame-let all betray-
No deed of mine shall ever shun the day!

Christians may prate-no blood in battle spilt
Can stain the hero's wreath with hues of guilt;

The soul in danger's joy to heaven that fled,

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Will thank the arm that freed it from all dread. 20

In this belief the sword is still my choice.

O'er chieftain slain in war should all rejoice;

His ruddy death to Gladsheim speeds his ghost:
Of Vali's fall his foemen yet shall boast;

All tread the path of Fate; and why repine?
The Nornir shall not mark my soul decline,

Though young Verthandi hath no smiling brow;
And Skulda-once so bright-is frowning now.

I know all things on earth must have their term;
Tears will not soften Fate, nor scorn confirm.

Many on Skulda's gifts too surely count;

Many too fondly weep by Urda's fount:

Youth slights the homely sweets that rise around,
And thinks more fragrant far will yet be found:

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With sinking soul, weak frame, and failing eyes, 35
Age for the apples of Iduna sighs.

O youth, clasp now each joy while sweet is left!
And, age! forsake a world of bliss bereft !
Give not to Hela though thy feeble breath,
But mount to Odin from the field of death!"
Thus spoke the pagan; yet it must be told
That doubt had nathless shook his doctrines bold;
Though his wild soul too deeply they imbued

To be by less than power divine subdued.
Awful are noble minds by faith undone ;

Oft they who might be like the genial sun,
Resemble light torn from its golden shroud,
Entwined about the heavy thunder-cloud

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