HAROLD'S COMPLAINT.*

A SCANDINAVIAN ODE.

FROM DR ALEXANDER'S HISTORY OF WOMEN.t

L.

ONE day, while on the Ocean blue
The glittering sun-beams pour,

*The author put this Ode into verse, December 1790, from the p rse inserted below. In 1797, it appeared, translated by Mr Mason, in his third volume of poems, then given to the world. His translation, inverting the order of Harold's triumphs, produces anti-climax, a defect from which the original is free. After the boast of defeating a mighty army, and of having slain their leader, it is bathos to exult in the feats of riding, rowing, swimming, skating, &c.

+"The Scandinavian women were chaste, proud, and tenacious of their lover's glory, despising such as spent their life in obscurity. We, therefore, often find an hero minutely detailing his accomplishments, and pursuits, to the object of his passion, as in the following Ode of Harold the Valiant.”See Alexander's History of Women.

1. 1. Océan blue-" One day we were but sixteen in a ves"sel. A storm arose, and swelled the sea. It filled the

With vessel light, and scanty crew,
We gaily left the shore.

Black rose the storm, and in the hold
The frothing waters lay,

But toil their whelming force controul'd,
And clear'd them all away.

Then swift we flew before the wind,

And gain'd the distant isle;

The omen fair I hop❜d to find

Of beauteous Aura's smile;

But yet, my toils, though fortune crown,

Has all I love forsworn me,

My constancy sustains her frown,

The Russian maiden scorns me.

II.

In manly sports, and manly toils,
Twice four, I proudly shine,
And kinder nymphs, with rosy smiles,

For me the garlands twine.
'Tis mine to dart the gleaming lance;

To curb the bounding steed;
To tune the pipe, the mazy dance,
With graceful step, to lead;

loaded ship, but we diligently cleared it away. Thence I "formed hopes of the happiest success in love-but a Russian "maiden scorns me.

To ply the oar, to rove the deep,
And, o'er the frozen wave,

On volant steel, like winds, to sweep;
To meet in fight the brave;

But ah, though great in arts and arms,
From love's blest hope she warns me,
Not all my well-won glory charms,
A Russian maiden scorns me.

III.

On Norway's wintry mountains high

My natal morn arose,

Whose sons can teach their shafts to fly,

Unerring from their bows:

But o'er the lone sea bends my course,

The bounding ship I guide,

Where, 'mid vast rocks, with fatal force,
Surges the confluent tide.

"I know how to perform eight exercises. I dart the lance. "I sit firmly on horseback-I tune the pipe-I lead the "dances-I am inured to swimming-I am skilful at the oar→ "I know how to run along the ice with skates-I fight vali antly-and yet a Russian maiden scorns me.

"I was born in the high country of Norway, where the in"habitants handle their bows so well, but I preferred guiding

my ships amidst the rocks of the ocean, far from the habita❝tions of men. I have run through all the seas with my ves"sels--and yet a Russian maiden scorns me.

On every sea my flying sails

The rising winds have caught,

And though to tempest swell'd the gales,
No sheltering harbour sought;

But ah! though courage speed my prow,
And subject seas have borne me,
A frozen heart impels, I know,

The Russian maid to scorn me.

IV.

Around Calabria's winding shore
My dark ships grandly ride,
With mariners, a numerous store,
Their youthful leader's pride.
Devoted to the clang of arms,
Victorious in their strife,

I gloried in their loud alarms,
And liv'd a warrior's life :

Nor dreamt that long indulgent Fate
Would ever cloud her brow,
And with a peevish woman's hate,
My fondest hopes o'erthrow.

"My ships have made the tour of Sicily-we were all mag"nificent and splendid. My brown vessel, full of mariners, rapidly rowed to the utmost extent of my wishes. Wholly "taken up with war, I thought my course would never slacken, "and yet a Russian maiden scorns me.

Now rival chiefs my woes deride,

And generous friendship mourns me; Hates (while it chides my vanquish'd pride,) The Russian maid that scorns me.

V.

O! wou'd this charming maid recall
The wonders of that day,

When near the southern city's wall,
I join'd the bloody fray;

When Drontheim's armies trebled ours,
And thunder'd o'er the plain,
While every wave its river pours
Ran purple to the main ;
When conquest, on her eagle-wing,
Flew hovering o'er my shield,
And Drontheim's long-resistless king
Lay breathless on the field;

Yet, yet, to blight my youth with cares,
Has all I love forsworn me,

The garland of the war she tears,

The Russian maiden scorns me.

"Can she deny that on the great day when, posted near "the city, I joined the battle, and fought against the people " of Drontheim? Their troops trebled ours; it was a dreadful "conflict. I valiantly handled my arms, and left behind me "lasting monuments of my exploits. I left the renowned king of Drontheim breathless on the field, and yet a Rus "sian maiden scorns me."

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