Who th' avenger of his guilt, By whom shall Hoder's blood be spilt. O. Yet awhile my call obey, What Virgins these, in speechless wos, That their flaxen tresses tear, And snowy veils, that float in air. Tell me whence their sorrows rose: Pr. Ha! no traveller art thou, O. No boding maid of skill divine Pr. Hie thee hence, and boast at home, That never shall inquirer come To break my iron sleep again; Till Lok has burst his tenfold chain. ♦ Lok is the evil Being, who continues in chains till the Twilight of the Gods approaches, when he shall break his bonds; the humau race, the stars, and sun shall disappear; the earth sink in the seas, and fire consume the skies: even Odin himself and his kindred-deities shall perish. For a farther explanation of this mythology, see 'im Never, till substantial Night Has reassumed her ancient right; Till wrapp'd in flames, in ruin hurl'd, X. THE TRIUMPHS OF OWEN.❤ OWEN's praise demands my song, Big with hosts of mighty name, Catch the winds, and join the war : The Dragon-Son of Mona stands; troduction à l'Histoire de Dannemarc, par Mons. Mallet,' 1755, quarto; or rather a translation of it, published in 1770, and entitled, "Northern Antiquities,' in which some mistakes in the original are judiciously corrected. From Mr. Evans's Specimens of the Welsh Poetry; London, 1764, quarto. Owen succeeded his father Griffin in the principality of North Wales, A. D. 1120. This battle was fought near forty years afterward. + North Wales. ✰ Denmark. The red dragon is the device of Cadwallader, which all his descendants bore on their bauners. In glitt'ring arms and glory drest, Echoing to the battle's roar. Check'd by the torrent-tide of blood While, heap'd his master's feet around, XI. THE DEATH OF HOEL From the Welsh.* HAD I but the torrent's might, With headlong rage and wild affright To rush, and sweep them from the world! Too, too secure in youthful pride, By them my friend, my Hoel, died, He ask'd no heaps of hoarded gold ; * Of Aneurim, styled the Monarch of the Bards. He flourished about the time of Taliessin, A. D. 570. This Ode is extracted from the Godedin. (See Mr. Evans's Specimens, p. 71. and 73.) Alone in Nature's wealth array'd, He ask'd, and had the lovely Maid. Flush'd with mirth and hope they burn; SONNET* ON THE DEATH OF MR. RICHARD WEST IN vain to me the smiling Mornings shine, And redd'ning Phœbus lifts his golden fire: A different object do these eyes require; And new-born pleasure brings to happier men; The fields to all their wonted tribute bear; To warm their little loves the birds complain : more, because I weep in vain. the more, * See Menoirs, Sect. 3. EPITAPH I. ON MRS. CLARKE. Lo! where the silent Marble weeps, She felt the wound she left behind. Her infant image, here below, Sits smiling on a father's woe: Whom what awaits, while yet he strays A pang, to secret sorrow dear; A sigh; an unavailing tear; Till Time shall ev'ry grief remove, With Life, with Memory, and with Love, EPITAPH II.+ ON SIR WILLIAM WILLIAMS. HERE, foremost in the dangerous paths of fame, Young Williams fought for England's fair renown; His mind each muse, each grace adorn'd his frame, Nor Envy dared to view him with a frown. This lady, the wife of Dr. Clarke, physician at Epsom, died April 27, 1757; and is buried in the church of Beckenham, Kent. + This epitaph was written at the request of Mr. Frederick Montague, who intended to have inscribed it on a monument at Bellisle, at the siege of which this accomplished youth was killed, 1761; bot from some difficulty attending the erection of it, the design was not executed. |