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![[down]](http://www.thomasgray.org.uk/images/bottom.gif) | T | E | T/E | | "The Descent of Odin. An Ode" |
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| | | | | | (From the Norse-Tongue,) in Bartholinus, |
| | | | | | de causis contemnendae mortis; Hafniae, |
| | | | | | 1689, Quarto. |
| | | | | | |
| | | | | | Upreis Odinn allda gautr, &c. |
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| | | E | | 1 | Uprose the King of Men with speed, |
| | | E | | 2 | And saddled straight his coal-black steed; |
| | | E | | 3 | Down the yawning steep he rode, |
| | | E | | 4 | That leads to Hela's drear abode. |
| | T | E | T/E | 5 | Him the dog of darkness spied, |
| | | | | 6 | His shaggy throat he opened wide, |
| | | E | | 7 | While from his jaws, with carnage filled, |
| | | E | | 8 | Foam and human gore distilled: |
| | | E | | 9 | Hoarse he bays with hideous din, |
| | | | | 10 | Eyes that glow and fangs that grin; |
![[up]](http://www.thomasgray.org.uk/images/top.gif) | T | | | 11 | And long pursues with fruitless yell |
![[down]](http://www.thomasgray.org.uk/images/bottom.gif) | | | | 12 | The father of the powerful spell. |
| | | | | 13 | Onward still his way he takes, |
| | T | E | T/E | 14 | (The groaning earth beneath him shakes,) |
| | | | | 15 | Till full before his fearless eyes |
| | | E | | 16 | The portals nine of hell arise. |
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| | | E | | 17 | Right against the eastern gate, |
| | | E | | 18 | By the moss-grown pile he sate, |
| | | E | | 19 | Where long of yore to sleep was laid |
| | | E | | 20 | The dust of the prophetic maid. |
| | | E | | 21 | Facing to the northern clime, |
| | | E | | 22 | Thrice he traced the runic rhyme; |
| | T | E | T/E | 23 | Thrice pronounced, in accents dread, |
| | | E | | 24 | The thrilling verse that wakes the dead; |
| | | E | | 25 | Till from out the hollow ground |
| | | E | | 26 | Slowly breathed a sullen sound. |
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| | T | E | T/E | 27 | Pr[ophetess]. What call unknown, what charms, presume |
![[up]](http://www.thomasgray.org.uk/images/top.gif) | | E | | 28 | To break the quiet of the tomb? |
![[down]](http://www.thomasgray.org.uk/images/bottom.gif) | T | E | T/E | 29 | Who thus afflicts my troubled sprite, |
| | | E | | 30 | And drags me from the realms of night? |
| | | E | | 31 | Long on these mouldering bones have beat |
| | | E | | 32 | The winter's snow, the summer's heat, |
| | | E | | 33 | The drenching dews, and driving rain! |
| | | E | | 34 | Let me, let me sleep again. |
| | T | | | 35 | Who is he, with voice unblest, |
| | | | | 36 | That calls me from the bed of rest? |
| | | | | | |
| | | E | | 37 | O[din]. A Traveller, to thee unknown, |
| | | E | | 38 | Is he that calls, a Warrior's son. |
| | | | | 39 | Thou the deeds of light shalt know; |
| | | E | | 40 | Tell me what is done below, |
| | T | E | T/E | 41 | For whom yon glittering board is spread, |
| | T | E | T/E | 42 | Dressed for whom yon golden bed. |
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| | | E | | 43 | Pr. Mantling in the goblet see |
| | | E | | 44 | The pure beverage of the bee, |
![[up]](http://www.thomasgray.org.uk/images/top.gif) | | E | | 45 | O'er it hangs the shield of gold; |
![[down]](http://www.thomasgray.org.uk/images/bottom.gif) | | E | | 46 | 'Tis the drink of Balder bold: |
| | T | | | 47 | Balder's head to death is given. |
| | T | E | T/E | 48 | Pain can reach the sons of Heaven! |
| | | | | 49 | Unwilling I my lips unclose: |
| | | | | 50 | Leave me, leave me to repose. |
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| | T | E | T/E | 51 | O. Once again my call obey. |
| | T | E | T/E | 52 | Prophetess, arise and say, |
| | | | | 53 | What dangers Odin's child await, |
| | | | | 54 | Who the author of his fate. |
| | | | | | |
| | | E | | 55 | Pr. In Hoder's hand the hero's doom: |
| | | | | 56 | His brother sends him to the tomb. |
| | | | | 57 | Now my weary lips I close: |
| | | | | 58 | Leave me, leave me to repose. |
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| | T | | | 59 | O. Prophetess, my spell obey, |
| | T | | | 60 | Once again arise and say, |
![[up]](http://www.thomasgray.org.uk/images/top.gif) | T | | | 61 | Who the avenger of his guilt, |
![[down]](http://www.thomasgray.org.uk/images/bottom.gif) | T | | | 62 | By whom shall Hoder's blood be spilt. |
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| | | E | | 63 | Pr. In the caverns of the west, |
| | T | E | T/E | 64 | By Odin's fierce embrace compressed, |
| | T | E | T/E | 65 | A wondrous boy shall Rinda bear, |
| | | E | | 66 | Who ne'er shall comb his raven-hair, |
| | | E | | 67 | Nor wash his visage in the stream, |
| | | E | | 68 | Nor see the sun's departing beam: |
| | T | E | T/E | 69 | Till he on Hoder's corse shall smile |
| | | E | | 70 | Flaming on the funeral pile. |
| | | | | 71 | Now my weary lips I close: |
| | | | | 72 | Leave me, leave me to repose. |
| | | | | | |
| | | | | 73 | O. Yet a while my call obey. |
| | T | | | 74 | Prophetess, awake and say, |
| | | E | | 75 | What virgins these, in speechless woe, |
| | T | E | T/E | 76 | That bend to earth their solemn brow, |
| | T | E | T/E | 77 | That their flaxen tresses tear, |
![[up]](http://www.thomasgray.org.uk/images/top.gif) | | E | | 78 | And snowy veils, that float in air. |
![[down]](http://www.thomasgray.org.uk/images/bottom.gif) | T | | | 79 | Tell me whence their sorrows rose: |
| | | | | 80 | Then I leave thee to repose. |
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| | | | | 81 | Pr. Ha! no Traveller art thou, |
| | | E | | 82 | King of Men, I know thee now, |
| | T | E | T/E | 83 | Mightiest of a mighty line— |
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| | | | | 84 | O. No boding maid of skill divine |
| | | | | 85 | Art thou, nor prophetess of good; |
| | | E | | 86 | But mother of the giant-brood! |
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| | T | | | 87 | Pr. Hie thee hence and boast at home, |
| | | | | 88 | That never shall enquirer come |
| | | E | | 89 | To break my iron-sleep again, |
| | T | E | T/E | 90 | Till Lok has burst his tenfold chain; |
| | | E | | 91 | Never, till substantial Night |
| | T | E | T/E | 92 | Has reassumed her ancient right; |
| | | E | | 93 | Till wrapped in flames, in ruin hurled, |
![[up]](http://www.thomasgray.org.uk/images/top.gif) | T | E | T/E | 94 | Sinks the fabric of the world. |