Графични страници
PDF файл

O. Yet a while my call obey.
Prophetefs, awake, and say,

What virgins thefe, in fpeechlefs woe,
That bend to earth their folemn brow,
That their flaxen treffes tear,

And snowy veils, that float in air.
Tell me whence their forrows rofe:
Then I leave thee to repofe.

PR. Ha! no traveller art thou
King of men, I know thee now,
Mightiest of a mighty line-

O. No boding maid of skill divine Art thou, nor prophetefs of good; But mother of the giant-brood!

PR. Hie thee hence, and boast at home,

That never shall enquirer come

To break my iron-sleep again;

Till Lok has burst his tenfold chain.

Never, till fubftantial night

Has reaffum'd her ancient right;

Till wrap'd in flames, in ruin hurl'd,
Sinks the fabric of the world.

*Lok is the Evil Being, who continues in chains till the twilight of the gods approaches, when he fhall break his bonds; the human race, the ftars, and fun, shall disappear; the earth fink in the feas, and fire confume the skies: even Odin himself and his kindred deities fhall perish. For a farther explanation of this mythology, fee Mallet's Introduction to the Hiftory of Denmark, 1755, Quarto.


[merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small]

Mr. EVANS's Specimens of the Welsh Poetry a LONDON, 1764, Quarto.


WEN'S praise demands my fong,
Owen fwift, and Owen strong;

Faireft flower of Roderic's ftem,,

Gwyneth's fhield, and Britain's gem.

He nor heaps his brooded stores,
Nor all profufely pours;

Lord of every regal art,
Liberal hand, and open heart.

Big with hosts of mighty name,
Squadrons three against him came
This the force of Eirin hiding,
Side by fide as proudly riding,
On her fhadow long and gay

Lochlin plows the watery way;

Owen fucceeded his father Griffin in the principality of North-Wales, A. D. 1120.

fought near forty years afterwards.


This battle was


[blocks in formation]

There the Norman fails afar

Catch the winds, and join the war :
Black and huge along they sweep,
Burthens of the angry deep.

Dauntless on his native fands
* The Dragon-son of Mona stands,
In glittering arms and glory dreft,
High he rears his ruby creft.

There the thundering ftrokes begin,
There the press, and there the din ;
Talymalfra's rocky shore
Echoing to the battle's roar.

Where his glowing eye-balls turn,
Thousand banners round him burn.
Where he points his purple spear,
Hafty, hafty rout is there,
Marking with indignant eye
Fear to stop, and to fhame fly.
There Confufion, Terror child,
Conflict fierce, and Ruin wild,
Agony, that pants for breath,

Despair and honourable Death.

* The red dragon is the device of Cadwallader, which all his defcendants bore on their banners.



The Progrefs of Poefy. A Pindaric Ode


DE on the Spring,


Ode on the Death of a Favourite Cat,

Ode on a Distant Profpect of Eton-College,
Hymn to Adversity,

Elegy writtten in a Country Church-Yard,
The Epitaph,

[blocks in formation]

The Bard. A Pindaric Ode,


[merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small]


« ПредишнаНапред »