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ODES.

CLASS THE THIRD.

CLASS THE THIRD.

RUNIC ODES.

ΣΟΦΙ-
-ΑΝ ΕΝ ΜΥΧΟΙΣΙ ΠΙΕΡΙΔΩΝ.

PIND. PYTH. 6.

BY THOMAS JOHN MATHIAS.

ODE I.

THE TWILIGHT OF THE GODS;

OR, THE

DESTRUCTION OF THE WORLD,

From the chambers of the East,
In robes of terror grimly drest,
Ymir hath his course begun,
Rival of th' unwearied Sun.
Now, in many a glist'ring wreath,
Above, around, and underneath,
The serpent dread, of dateless birth,
Girds the devoted globe of earth ;
And, as charm’d by pow'rful spell,
Ocean heaves with furious swell,
The plumed Monarch whets his beak,
Seeking where his wrath to wreak;

Till on the plain, with corses strew'd,
He sates his maw with bleeding food :
While the Vessel's floating pride
Stems duration's rounding tide.

Trace again the solemn rhyme; From Orient's ever-teeming clime I see them come, an evil race, Bold in. heart, and stern in face ; In turbulent array they sweep, Beneath them groans the burthen'd deep; Fierce they rush, yet all obey Monarch Lok's resistless sway. Gaunt and wild with savage howl, Mark the wolfish Fenris prowl; With him stalks a furious train, Panting for th’ensanguin'd plain : Is Beliep's brother left behind? No: he flies on wings of wind.

Know'st thou what is done above ?
No more in halls of joy and love,
The favour'd guests, profuse of soul,
Drain the skull or nectar'd bowl :
What Genii shake that nodding frame>
These are deeds without a name.
Struck with elemental jar,
Gods themselves come forth to war:
From the many-mansion'd dome
Giant tenants loosen'd roam,

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