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day, (the day of the battle,) a Native of Caithness in Scotland faw at a distance a number of per

fons on horseback riding full speed towards a hill, and feeming to enter into it. Curiofity led him to follow them, till looking through an opening in the rocks he faw twelve gigantic figures resembling women: they were all employed about a loom; and as they wove, they fung the following dreadful Song; which when they had finished, they tore the web into twelve pieces, and (each taking her portion) galloped Six to the North and as many to the South.

THE

THE

FATAL SISTERS.

A N

O D E.

N

OW the ftorm begins to lower,

(Hafte, the loom of Hell prepare,)

* Iron-fleet of arrowy shower

Hurtles in the darken'd air.

Note The Valkyriur were female Divinities, Servants of Odin (or Woden) in the Gothic mythology. Their name fignifies Chufers of the flain. They were mounted on fwift horses, with drawn fwords in their hands; and in the throng of battle felected fuch as were deftined to flaughter, and conducted them to Valkalla, the hall of Odin, or paradife of the Brave; where they attended the banquet, and ferved the departed Heroes with horns of mead and ale.

* How quick they wheel'd; and flying, behind them shot Sharp fleet of arrowy shower-Milton's Par. Regained.

+ The noife of battle hurtled in the air. Shakesp. Jul. Cæfar. Glitt'ring

Glitt'ring lances are the loom,

Where the dusky warp we ftrain,

Weaving many a Soldier's doom,

Orkney's woe, and Randver's bane.

See the griefly texture grow,

("Tis of human entrails made,)

And the weights, that play below,

Each a gafping Warriour's head.

[blocks in formation]

Mifta black, terrific Maid,

Sangrida, and Hilda fee,

Join the wayward work to aid:

"Tis the woof of victory.

Ere the ruddy sun be set,

Pikes must shiver, javelins fing,

Blade with clattering buckler meet,

Hauberk crash, and helmet ring.

(Weave the crimson web of war)

Let us go, and let us fly,

Where our Friends the conflict share,

Where they triumph, where they die.

G

As

As the paths of fate we tread,

Wading thro' th' enfanguin'd field ;

Gondula, and Geira, fpread

O'er the youthful King your shield.

We the reins to flaughter give,

Ours to kill, and ours to fpare;

Spite of danger he shall live.

(Weave the crimson web of war.)

They, whom once the defart-beach

Pent within its bleak domain,

Soon their ample sway shall stretch

O'er the plenty of the plain.

Low

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