but I have retained them, with one exception, till I possess a
sufficient quantity to form an entire volume.



FROM ALLAN CUNNINGHAM,
TO GEORGE BORROW,
On his proposing to translate the 'Kiaepe Viser.'



Sing, sing, my friend; breathe life again
Through Norway's song and Denmark's strain:
On flowing Thames and Forth, in flood,
Pour Haco's war-song, fierce and rude.
O'er England's strength, through Scotland's cold,
His warrior minstrels marched of old -
Called on the wolf and bird of prey
To feast on Ireland's shore and bay;
And France, thy forward knights and bold,
Rough Rollo's ravens croaked them cold.
Sing, sing of earth and ocean's lords,
Their songs as conquering as their swords;
Strains, steeped in many a strange belief,
Now stern as steel, now soft as grief -
Wild, witching, warlike, brief, sublime,
Stamped with the image of their time;
When chafed--the call is sharp and high
For carnage, as the eagles cry;
When pleased--the mood is meek, and mild,