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No more our long-loft * Arthur we bewail.

All-hail, ye genuine Kings; Britannia's iffute, hail!

III. 2.

Girt with many a Baron bold

Sublime their ftarry fronts they rear ;

And gorgeous Dames and Statefinen old,

• In bearded majesty, appear.

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In the midft a Form divine!

Her eye proclaims her of the Briton-line;
Her lion-port 1, her awe-commanding face,
Attemper'd fweet to virgin-grace.

• What strings fymphonious tremble in the air,
What strains of vocal transport round her play;
Hear from the grave, great Talieffin ||, hear;

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* It was the common belief of the Welsh nation, that King Arthur was ftill alive in Fairy-land, and hould return again to reign over Britain.

+ Both Merlin and Talieffin had prophefied, that the Welfh fhould regain their fovereignty over this ifland; which feemed to be accomplished in the Houfe of Tudor.

Speed, relating an audience given by Queen Elizaboth to Paul Dzialinski, ambaffador of Poland, fays, And thus fhe, lion-like rifing, daunted the malapert orator no lefs with her ftately port and majestical deporture, than with the tartneffe of her princelie chekes. Taliein, Chief of the Bards, flourished in the fixth century. His works are ftill preferved, and his memory held in high veneration among his countrymen.

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Bright rapture calls, and foaring, as the fings,
Waves in the eye of heaven her many-colour'd wings..

III. 3.

The verfe adorn again

Fierce War, and faithful Love,

And Truth fevere, by fairy Fiction dreft.

In † buskin'd measures move

Pale Grief, and pleafing Pain,

With Horror, Tyrant of the throbbing breast.

A Voice, as of the Cherub-choir,

Gales from blooming Eden bear

And diftant warblings leffen on my car, That loft in long futurity expire.

Fond impious Man, think'ft thou, yon fanguine cloud,'. Rais'd by thy breath, has quench'd the Orb of day? To-morrow he repairs the golden flood,

And warms the nations with redoubled ray.

Enough for me: With joy I fee

The different doom our Fates affign.

Be thine Defpair, and fcepter'd Care ;

To triumph, and to die, are mine."

He fpoke, and headlong from the mountain's height Deep in the roaring tide he plung'd to endlefs night.

Fierce wars and faithful loves fhall moralize my fong. SPENSER'S Proëme to the Fairy Queen. 1 Milton.

+ Shakespeare.

The fucceffion of poets after Milton's time.

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ORCADES of THOR MODUS TORFEUS
HAFNIE, 1697, Folio; and alfo in BAR-

THOLINUS.

VITT ER ORPIT FYRIR VALFALLI, &c.

The Author once had thoughts (in concert with a friend) of giving "The Hiftory of English Poetry:" In the Introduction to it he meant to have produced fome fpecimens of the Style that reigned in ancient times among the neighbouring nations, or thofe who had fubdued the greater part of this ifland, and were our progenitors; the following three imitations made a part of them. He has long fince dropped his defign, efpecially after he had heard that it was already in the hands of a perfon well qualified to do it juftice, both by his tafte, and his researches into antiquity.

PRE

t

I

PREFACE.

N the eleventh century, Sigurd, Earl of the Orkneyislands, went with a fleet of ships and a confiderable body of troops into Ireland, to the affistance of Sic&tryg with the Silken Beard, who was then making war on his father-in-law Brian, King of Dublin: the Earl and 'all his forces were cut to pieces; and Sictryg was in danger of a total defeat; but the enemy had a greater lofs, by the death of Brian, their king, who fell in the action. On Christmas-day, (the day of the battle,) a native of Caithness, in Scotland, faw at a distance, a number of perfons on horseback, riding full speed towards a hill, and feeming to enter into it. Curiofity led him to follow them, till, looking through an opening in the rocks, he saw twelve gigantic figures, resembling women: they were all employed about a loom; and as they wove, they fung the following dreadful fong; which, when they had finished, they tore the web into twelve pieces, and (each taking her portion) galloped fix to the north, and as many to the fouth.

THE

THE

FATAL SISTER S..

A N OD E.

OW the storm begî: s to lour,

N (Hafte, the loom of hell prepare,)

Iron-fleet of arrowy fhower
Hurtles in the darken'd air.

Glittering lances are the loom,
Where the dusky warp we strain,
Weaving many a foldier's doom,
Orkney's woe,
and Randver's bane.

See the griefly texture grow,
('Tis of human entrails made,)
And the weights that play below,
Each a gafping warrior's head.

Note The Valkyriur were female divinities, fervants of Odin (or Woden) in the Gothic mythology. Their name fignifies chufers of the flain. They were mounted on swift horfes, with drawn fwords in their hands; and in the throng of battle felected fuch as were destined to flaughter, and conducted them to Valkalla, the hall of Odin, or paradife of the brave; where they attended the banquet, and ferved the departed heroes with horns of mead and ale.

How quick they wheel'd; and flying, behind them

fhot

Sharp fleet of arrowy fhower- Milton's Par. Reg.
The noise of battle hurtled in the air.

Shakespeare's Jul. Cæfar.

Shafts

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