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HYRINDA.

Know I not that men fepultured Loud may threat, but cannot harm? This weak flame is all illufion, And innocuous is thy arm.

Once again, I pray thee, warrior! Ere I ufe a harsher fpell, Show compaffion for a lover; And how fares my Virkar, tell?

HIALMAR.

I have feen the bird of carnage, Wing its way from Erin's land; Gorged it feeks its native region, Blood has stained the hoftile ftrand.

Hie thee home, undaunted maiden! Seek no more of me to know: Patient wait, if joy the iffue; Speed it not, if it be woe.

HYRINDA.

Yes, my bofom meets the prefage; Paufe not, but the worst reveal; For affection nought of anguish Equal to fufpenfe can feel.

HIALMAR

Late I faw befide the banquet,(6) A new couch in Odin's hall;

Arms unclaimed, the Dwarfins' labour, Hung against the gilded wall.

Loudly fang tlie fatal fifters,(7) (Loth I wound thy tender ear) Warriors! meet the valiant stranger, Virkar from the field comes here.

Here, he reaps the meed of valour, From the cares of earth releafed;

N 0 T E S.

It

the tombs of the dead, were repulfed by flames that arofe from the grave. It was a fuperftition probably inculcated with a view of preferving funeral monuments from wanton injury. was, however, held that if any perfon had the intrepidity not to thrink from thefe flames, they could rot be hurted by them; for they did not admit that the dead had any power over the living.

(6) Departed heroes were invited by Odin to refide with him in the Val Halia, or hall of the fain. Each had there his couch at the banquet, He had alfo arms, which were forged for him by the Duergar, or Dwarfins (minute fubterranean beings) for the purpose expreffed below.

(7) The Difir, who feem to have been a fuFordinate clafs of the Val-Kyriur, were virgins, whofe whole employment was to fignify the invitation of Odin to dying heroes.

Taftes each day, the joys of combat ;(8)
And at night partakes the feaft."

Sigh not, maiden, for the hero ;
Victor fongs have knoiled his knell ;
Fame awaits thy dying lover,
Virkar conquered, though he fell !

HYRINDA.

Peace be to thee, noble warrior! No rude step thy tomb profane; Pardon that my anxious footfleps Made me ufe the magic ftrain.

Now I must the verfe memorial Trace on his fepulchral stone; That when future warriors fee it, They may think of times foregone.

When they talk of former heroes, They may Virkar's fame recali: He fhall, as they praife his valour, Smile well pleafed in Odin's hall.

My heart's blood, this duty ended,
Eager fhall the faulchion ftain;
Left the doom of nature clafs me
Amidft Thor's ignoble train.(9)

Then, thy powerful interceffion
With the flain's great ruler lend,
That, within his realm admitted
I may on my Virkar tend.

Sedulous I'll brace his corflet, Fix his helm and bring his fhield; Earneft lead the fable courfer, That must bear him to the field.

Joyful fhal! I ferve my hero, When the bufy banquet glows; When the rofy liquor fparkles From the fkulls of flaughtered foes.

Now no more the figh fhall flutter, Now no more the tear fhall flow; Peace be to thee, noble chieftain ! Quickly we shall meet below!

N O TE S.

(8) The happiness of the heroes in the Fal Hall confifted in fighting and flaying each other every morning. It was however but a temporary death they fuffered in these combats; for after the fray they all rofe again, and passed the evening in drinking wine, or metheglin, out of the fkulls of those they had killed on earth.

(9) They who died a natural death, unless much diftinguifhed in war during life, fell under the dominion of Thor, and refided in a very inferior ftate to thofe who perifhed violently. The latter became fubjects of Odin, who was thence called Val-Fadr, the father or ruler of the flain.

Ods

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For the Anthologia Hibernica,

O DE;

To the Memory of a beautiful Boy, who was unfortunately drowned.

SA variegated scene of woe,
AY, what is life? 'tis Mis'ry's flave,

On whofe dark confines, lies the grave
T'imbitter aught of joy below:
It is a feeble, fleeting breath,

That in one figh expires,
Extinguished all its fires

Beneath the frigid hand of death;
Whofe thoufand gates are open to receive
The unfufpecting traveller to his grave.

With tearless woe, and mute defpair,
And hearts juft bursting with their care,
The wretched parents view their boy,
Their rifing hope---their fource of joy---
All cold, in death's impenetrable night:

Away, ye moralifts! nor fpeak

Comfort to them, their hearts must break At this moft piteous, unexpected fight. They view him, vanquish'd by the water's force,

Him, who, that fatal hour before,

The healthful bloom of beauty wore, But now, alas! a pale and lifeless corfe.

Quick through the gen'ral woe, arofe one ray,
(Vain expectation! formed to deceive)
That human fkill might snatch him from the
grave,

And life reftore, which now, fufpended lay,
And thus they cherish hope, the child of pain.
But while, with zealous care, each art
Was tried to renovate the heart;
The happy cherub raised on high,
Rejoicing, reached his native sky,
And smiled to fee their feeble efforts vain.

But what can footh th' afflicted father's heart?
Or force the mother's mem'ry from the scene?
Oh! if there be, inftruct them in the art,
Nor let them fink beneath oppreffive pain.

Shield from your minds the horrid view
Of struggling, while he weaker grew,
And weaker, till he gave the contest o'er.
And O remember, while ye vainly

mourn,

That, though he never shall again return, Thofe ftrugglings brought him to an happier thore:

Where high infphered, from change and forrow free,

Th' angelic youth fhall dwell through all

eternity.

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M.

A TRIO.

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Achilles, 'tis faid, had a skin made of fteel, And was callous to all---fave the kibe on his heel:

But our friend feels all over, the fting or the fmart ;

And wherever you touch---'tis a pulfe from the heart

With fuch fenfe and fuch foreness, I can't understand,

Why he ne'er feels an itch---in the palm of the hand.

Acute, argumentative, agile yet strong, With a heart ever right, and a head feldom wrong,

With paffions too prompt to fit quiet and ftill;
In his principles fix'd, with a wandering will;
Perplext in his creed, and too apt fo to tell us ;
In his friendship's a little too lovingly jealous :
Still eager to get or to give fatisfaction,
He dives after motives, and mifles the action.
No axiom fo clear, but he'll make it more
plain;

No action so fair, but he likes to explain,

Too nice in the right, too fincere for profeffion, And with meaning fo full that he fails in ex

preffion,

For when crouds of ideas all strive to rush out, One muft elbow its neighbours, and fhove it about.

But his life and his language show masculine merit,

Both are deeply imprefs'd with the print of his fpirit:

It burns in his eyes---it enlarges his frame..-And it tempers his clay not with water---but flame--

His words burst asunder the shackles of art, And the pen that he writes with is dipt---in his heart.

Tis not from a fountain like this you can draw,

Any languid harangue of loquacious law, 'Tis clear fenfe gushing out, unconfin'd, incomprefs'd

From the pure and perennial spring in the breast. When all was at fea---all confufion and fear Like the feaman's small needle he fhow'd how to fteer,

Nor ever declin'd from the patriot direction 'Till the lightning of G-n, once, hurt the attraction;

But the tranfient dip, and the flight deviation Prove the needle points true, in its natural ftation.--

II.

No prancing, curvetting, epifcopal poney,
No dik petit-maitre, no church macaroni,
With curl carv'd as ftiff as the top of the
crozier

And manners more pliant and loose than an ofier;

But tall---and erect---and with refolute air--And with head that difdains ev'n one hypocrite hair

Here ftands W—— C— — the ftern of our table...

A column of prelacy, stately and stable---
The capital, doric; and doric, the bafe,
It excels more in ftrength than corinthian grace.
Without flourifh, or frieze, or parifian plaifter,
A pillar for ufe, not a showy pilafter,
Such a pillar when Sampfon was call'd out for
sport

Perhaps might have fav'd the whole Philistine court,

Sam. might crack ev'ry finew, and bow with his weight.

But Will would uphold both the church and the

ftate--

On all who dare shake that convenient alliance
He bends a black brow and he fcouls a defiance;
Yet forgets, while he thunders against reforma-
t.or.

That what is establishment, was innovation.
Our patriots, alas! are all dwarfish and weak
Too puny to make ariftocracy quake.

But oh! could thy principles change to the whig Could't thou throw them as cafly off as thy wig,

That old tyrant call'd cuftom, in vain, would refift

The momentum of fuch a'republican fist. His ftrong caftle would tremble, like Jericho's wall,

And the talifman broken---the giant must fall. More folid, than fhining; more weighty,

than wordy;

Very ftout, in the right; in the wrong, very fturdy;

Both fudden and fure in the grafp of conception, But too fond of the rule, to admit the exception.

Too tenacious in tenet to sport an opinion,
Each dogma with him has defpotic dominion.
Too apt to mistake argumentative strife,
And to lay down a word as he'd lay down his
life.

He takes a good aim, but too quick in the timing,

He flushes the bird, and his temper burns priming.

His

heart always flames, with good fuel well fed,

But, at times, it fends up a thick smoke to the head:

And 'till that clears away, 'tis not eafy to

know

The fact, or the motive, the friend, or the foe. Then

Then take up this tankard of rough maffy plate,

Not for fashion preferr'd, but for value and weight.

When you raise up the cover---then---think of our vicar,

And take one hard pull at the orthodox liquor That keeps hale and hearty, thro' ev'ry climate, And makes the poor curate as proud as the primate.

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Make the trio complete and cement them with tafte.

And for tafle let me call on our country collector,

Not the king of his company but the protector.

Who, with eafy hilarity, knows how to fit,
In a family compact of wifdom and wit,
With the art to know much, without feeming
to know it,

Joins the art to have wit, without ftraining to fhow it.

For his mind, not cafe-harden'd by form or profeffion,

Always yields---with a fpring, and impelsby conceffion.

True politenefs, like fenfe, is begotten, not made,

But all our profeffions fmell ftrong of a

trade

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With fome effort, his eafe-with some stiffness, his fenfe,

The fpirit is free---the expreffion is tense. Thus in mind, as in manners, a man 66 comme il faut"

He glides smoothly thro' life with a ferpentine flow

That ftill tends to a point when it seems to incline,

And the curve gently blends with the rigid right line.

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Ye fpectres, whom belated pilgrims fear, Muing in throngs from charnel, vault, or tomb,

What time deep shadowing clouds thy radiant fphere,

Cythia, involve in night's meridian gloom.

Hence to deferted fane or mouldering hall,

Or the gaunt felon's ruthless courfe control; With monitory fhrick the wretch appal,

And to compunction wake his torpid foul.

But walk not near the couch where Lefbia lies Like fome rich pearl in its enamell'd shell, Or fainted relic, from profaner eyes

Secluded in the dim fhrine's filver cell.

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