As the paths of fate we tread,

Wading thro' th' enfanguin'd field:

Gondula, and Geira, spread

O'er the youthful King your fhield.

We the reins to flaughter give,

Ours to kill, and ours to spare:

Spite of danger he shall live.

(Weave the crimfon 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

Hail the task, and hail the hands!

Songs of joy and triumph fing!

Joy to the victorious bands;

Triumph to the younger King.

Mortal, thou that hear'ft the tale,

Learn the tenour of our fong.

Scotland, thro' each winding vale

Far and wide the notes prolong.

Sifters, hence with fpurs of fpeed:

Each her thundering faulchion wield;

Each beftride her fable fteed.

Hurry, hurry to the field.

THE

THE

DESCENT of ODIN.

AN ODE,

(From the NORSE-TONGUE,)

IN

BARTHOLINUS, de caufis contemnendæ mortis ; HAFNIE, 1689, Quarto.

UPREIS ODINN ALLDA GAUtr, &c.

G 3