Thou Har, who grip'st thy foeman
Right hard, and Rolf the bowman,
And many, many others,
The forky lightning's brothers!
Wake--not for banquet-table!
Wake--not with maids to gabble!
But wake for rougher sporting,
For Hildur's {40} bloody courting.

Now food forego and drinking;
On war be ye all thinking,
To serve the king who've bound ye
For roof and raiment found ye;
Reflect there's prize and booty
For all who do their duty;
Away with fear inglorious,
If ye would be victorious!

Great Rolf, the land who shielded,
And who its sceptre wielded,
Who freely fed and paid us,
With mail and swords array'd us,
Now lies on bier extended,
His life by treachery ended--
To us be like disaster,
Save we avenge our master.

THE HAIL-STORM.

From the Ancient Norse.

(This piece describes the disaster of Sigvald, Earl of Jomsborg, a
celebrated viking or pirate, who, according to tradition, was repulsed
from the coast of Norway by Hakon Jarl, with the assistance of Thorgerd, a
female demon, to whom Hakon sacrificed his youngest son, Erling.)

For victory as we bounded,
I heard, with fear astounded,
The storm, of Thorgerd's waking,
From Northern vapours breaking.
Sent by the fiend in anger,
With din and stunning clangour,
To crush our might intended,
Gigantic hail descended.

A pound the smallest pebble
Did weigh, and others treble;
Full dreadful was the slaughter;
And blood ran out like water,
Ran, reeking, red and horrid
From batter'd cheek and forehead.
But though so rudely greeted,
No Jomsborg man retreated.

The fiend, so fierce and savage,
To work us further ravage,
Shot lightning from each finger,
Which sped, and did not linger;
Then sank our brave in numbers
To cold, eternal slumbers;
There lay the good and gallant,
Unmatch'd for warlike talent.

Our captain this perceiving,
The signal made for leaving,
And with his ship departed,
Down-cast and broken-hearted;
We spread our sails to follow,--
And soon the breezes hollow,
From shores we came to harry,
Our luckless remnant carry.

THE KING AND CROWN.

From the Suabian.

The King who well crown'd does govern the land,
And whose fair crown well fill'd does stand--
That King adorns his crown, I trow;
And he who is thus by his crown adorn'd,
And for whose sake never that crown is scorn'd,
Does bear a well-fill'd crown on his brow.

ODE.

To a Mountain Torrent.
From the German of Stolberg.

O stripling imm