Removed the weight, and gave the prisoner breath, —" O King of Russia," with a thundering sound Bellow'd the ghastly Fiend, " at length thou'rt found. "Receive the ruler of mankind, and know, 66 My name is Time, thy ever-dreaded foe. "These feet are founder'd, and the wings you see "Worn to the pinions in pursuit of thee; 66 Through all the world in vain for ages sought, "But Fate has doom'd thee now, and thou art caught." Then round his neck his arms he nimbly cast, And seized him by the throat, and grasp'd him fast; 'Till forced at length the soul forsook its seat, Scarce had the cursed spoiler left his prey, When, so it chanced, young Zephyr pass'd that way; Too late his presence to assist his friend, A sad, but helpless witness of his end. He chafes, and fans, and strives in vain to cure His streaming wounds; the work was done too sure, Now lightly with a soft embrace uprears With decent care, close by the fountain's side, To that sad solitude the weeping Dame, Wild with her loss, and swoln with sorrow, came. That fatal hour the palace gates she barr'd, With crowds of black misfortunes placed between ; And fears, and jealousies, and dark despair. No. XLII. THE FATAL SISTERS. FROM THE NORSE TONGUE. -GRAY. To be found in the Orcades of Thormodus Torfæus; Hafnia, 1697, folio; and also in Bartholinus: Vitt er orpit fyrir valfalli, &c. In the eleventh century Sigurd, Earl of the Orkney Islands, went with a fleet of ships and a considerable body of troops into Ireland, to the assistance of Sictryg with the silken beard, who was then making war on his father-inlaw, Brian, King of Dublin: the Earl and all his forces were cut to pieces, and Sictryg was in danger of a total defeat; but the enemy had a greater loss in the death of Brian their king, who fell in the action. On Christmas-day (the day of the battle), a native of Scotland saw, at a distance, a number of persons on horseback riding full speed towards a hill, and seeming to enter it. Curiosity led him to follow them, till looking through an opening in the rocks, he saw twelve gigantic figures resembling women: they were all employed about a loom; and as they wove, they sung 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. These were the Valkyriur, 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. Now the storm begins to lower, (Haste, the loom of hell prepare,) Iron-sleet of arrowy shower Hurtles in the darken'd air. Glittering lances are the loom, Where the dusky warp we strain, Weaving many a soldier's doom, Orkney's woe, and Randver`s bane. See the grisly texture grow! ('Tis of human entrails made) And the weights, that play below, Each a gasping warrior's head. Shafts for shuttles, dipp'd in gore, Shoot the trembling cords along. Sword, that once a monarch bore, Keep the tissue close and strong. Mista, black terrific Maid, Sangrida, and Hilda, see! Join the wayward work to aid : 'Tis the woof of victory. |