Did HENRY first deceive me: What winning words to him were giv'n! He swore, by all the pow'rs of HEAV'N, That he would never leave me.

With fondest truth

I lov'd the youth:

My soul to guilt a stranger,
Knew not, in those too simple hours,
That oft beneath the sweetest flow'rs
Is couch'd the deadliest danger.

With him to roam

I fled my home;

I burst the bonds of duty;

I thought my days in joy would roll;
But HENRY hid a demon's soul

Beneath an angel's beauty!

Shall this poor heart

E'er cease to smart?

Oh never! never! never!

Did av'rice whisper thee, or pride,
False HENRY! for a wealthier bride

To cast me off for ever?

My sire was poor:
No golden store

Had he, no earthly treasure:
I only could his griefs assuage,
The only pillar of his age,
His only source of pleasure.

With anguish wild,

He miss'd his child,

And long in vain he sought her: The fiercest thunderbolts of heav'n Shall on thy guilty head be driv'n, Thou DISOBEDIENT DAUGHTER !

I feel his fears,
I see his tears,

I hear his groans of sadness: My cruel falsehood seal'd his doom: He seems to curse me from the tomb, And fire my brain to madness!

Oh! keenly blow,

While drifts the snow,

The cold nocturnal breezes;

On me the gath'ring snow-flakes rest, And colder grows my friendless breast; My very heart-blood freezes!

"Tis midnight deep,

And thousands sleep,

Unknown to guilt and sorrow; They think not of a wretch like me, Who cannot, dare not, hope to see The rising light to-morrow!

An outcast hurl'd

From all the world,

Whom none would love or cherish, What now remains to end my woes, But here, amid the deep'ning snows, To lay me down and perish?

Death's icy dart
Invades my heart:

Just HEAV'N! all-good! all-seeing! Thy matchless mercy I implore, When I must wake, to sleep no more, In realms of endless being!

FIOLFAR, KING OF NORWAY.*

[First published in 1806.]

N the dark-rolling waves at the verge of the west
The steeds of DELLINGER+ had hasten'd to rest,

I

*

While HRIMFAX‡ advanc'd through the star-spangled
plain,

And shook the thick dews from his grey-flowing mane;
The moon with pale lustre was shining on high,
And meteors shot red down the paths of the sky.
By the shore of the ocean FIOLFAR reclin'd,

Where through the rock-fissures loud-murmur'd the wind,
For sweet to his ear was the deep-dashing flow

Of the foam-cover'd billows that thunder'd below.
-"Alas!" he exclaim'd, "were the hopes of my youth,
Though rais'd by affection, unfounded on truth?
Ye are flown, ye sweet prospects, deceitfully fair,
As the light-rolling gossamer melts into air;
As the wild-beating ocean, with turbulent roar,
Effaces my steps on the sands of the shore!
Thy waters, oh NIORD !§ tumultuously roll,
And such are the passions that war in my soul:
Thy meteors, oh NORVER!|| malignantly dart,
And such are the death-flames that burn in my heart.
NITALPHA! my love! on the hill and the plain,
In the vale and the wood, have I sought thee in vain ;
Through the nations for thee have I carried afar
The sunshine of peace and the tempests of war;

Though the names of Odin and Thor, the Fatal Sisters, and the Hall of Valhalla, be familiar to the readers of English poetry, yet, as the minutiae of the Gothic Mythology are not very generally known, I have subjoined a few short explanatory notes, which, though they cannot be expected to afford much insight into the general system, will, I trust, be sufficient to enable my readers to comprehend such parts of it as are alluded to in this poem.

+ Day.

The steed of the evening twilight.

§ The god of the sea and wind.

Night.

Through danger and toil I my heroes have led,
Till hope's latest spark in my bosom was dead!
Cold, silent, and dark are the halls of thy sires,
And hush'd are the harps, and extinguish'd the fires;
The wild autumn-blast in the lofty hall roars,

And the yellow leaves roll through the half-open doors.
NITALPHA! when rapture invited thy stay,
Did force or inconstancy bear thee away?
Ah, no! though in vain I thy footsteps pursue,
I will not, I cannot, believe thee untrue:

Perchance thou art doom'd in confinement to moan,
To dwell in the rock's dreary caverns alone,

And Lok's cruel mandates, while fast thy tears flow,
Forbid thy FIOLFAR to solace thy woe,

Condemn thee unvarying anguish to bear,

And leave me a prey to the pangs of despair."-
Ha! whence were those accents portentous and dread,
Like the mystical tones of the ghosts of the dead,
In echoes redoubling that rung through the gloom,
As the thunder resounds in the vaults of the tomb?
-" FIOLFAR!"—He started, and wond'ring descried
A sable-clad form standing tall by his side:
His soul-piercing eyes as the eagle's were bright,
And his raven-hair flow'd on the breezes of night.
-"FIOLFAR!" he cried, "thy affliction forsake:
To hope and revenge let thy bosom awake;
For he, that NITALPHA from liberty tore,
Is LOCHLIN's proud monarch, the bold YRRODORE.
Still constant to thee, she the traitor abhorr'd;
Haste! haste! let thy valour her virtue reward:
For her let the battle empurple the plain :
In the moment of conquest I meet thee again."-
He ceas'd, and FIOLFAR beheld him no more;
Nor long paus'd the youth on the dark-frowning shore:
"Whate'er be thy nature, oh stranger!" he said,
Thou hast call'd down the tempest on YRRODORE's head:
The broad-beaming buckler and keen-biting glaive
Shall ring and resound on the fields of the brave,

* Lok, though he ranked amongst the Scandinavian Deities, had all the attributes of a demon. He was the enemy of Gods and Men, and the author of crimes and calamities.

And vengeance shall burst, in a death-rolling flood,
And deluge thy altars, VALFANDER,* with blood!"

II.

To LODA's dark CIRCLE and mystical STONE,
With the grey-gather'd moss of long ages o'ergrown,
While the black car of NORVER was central in air,
Did the harp-bearing bards of FIOLFAR repair;
The wild-breathing chords, as they solemnly sung,
In deep modulations responsively rung;
To the hall of VALHALLA, where monarchs repose,
The full-swelling war-song symphoniously rose:

"The mountains of LOCHLIN shall ring with alarms,
For the heroes of NORWAY are rising in arms;
The heroes of NORWAY destruction shall pour
On the wide-spreading plains of the bold YRRrodore.
VALFANDER! look down from thy throne in the skies!
Our suppliant songs from thy altar arise :

Be thou too propitious, invincible THOR !§
And lend thy strong aid to our banners of war.
As the white-beating stream from the rock rushes down,
FIOLFAR'S young warriors will speed to renown.
Ye spirits of chieftains, tremendous in fight!
That dwell with VALFANDER in halls of delight;
Awhile from your cloud-circled mansions descend;
On the steps of your sons through the battle attend,
When the raven shall hover on dark-flapping wing,
And the eagle shall feed on the foes of our king !"-
As full to the wind rose the soul-thrilling tones,
Strange murmurs rung wild from the moss-cover'd stones;
The ghosts of the mighty, rejoicing, came forth,

And roll'd their thin forms on the blasts of the north;
On light-flying meteors triumphantly driv'n,
They scatter'd their signs from the centre of heav'n

* A name of Odin, the chief of the gods.

The circle of Loda, or Loden, was a rude circle of stones, used

as a place of worship amongst the Scandinavians.

The hall of Odin, where the spirits of heroes who died in battle drank mead and beer from the skulls of their enemies.

§ The Gothic Mars.