King of Men, I know thee now;
Mightiest of a mighty line--

_Odin._ No boding maid of skill divine
Art thou, no prophetess of good,
But mother of the giant-brood!

_Proph._ Hie thee hence, and boast at home,
That never shall inquirer come
To break my iron-sleep again,
Till Lok[3] has burst his tenfold chain; 90
Never till substantial Night
Has re-assumed her ancient right;
Till, wrapp'd in flames, in ruin hurl'd,
Sinks the fabric of the world.


[Footnote 1: 'Norse Tongue:' to be found in Bartholinus, De Causis
Contemnendae Mortis: Hafniae, 1689, quarto.]

[Footnote 2: 'Hela:' Niflheimr, the hell of the Gothic nations,
consisted of nine worlds, to which were devoted all such as died of
sickness, old age, or by any other means than in battle: over it
presided Hela, the goddess of Death.]

[Footnote 3: 'Lok:' is the evil being, who continues in chains till
the twilight of the gods approaches, when he shall break his bonds;
the human race, the stars, and sun, shall disappear, the earth sink in
the seas, and fire consume the skies: even Odin himself, and his
kindred deities, shall perish.]