Press'd to her eyes the veil. The lab'ring moon
Grows pale and dim; the stars retire; and now
The blast howls dismal: now the gather'd clouds
Roll on their gloomy volumes: darkness shrouds
The earth, and heaven's blue vault appears no more.

Such horrid darkness, when the hour is near,

Shall to the nations of the world foretell

The wreck of nature.

Now the lightnings glare

Frequent now rolls the thunder: peals on peals

Redoubled roar: trembles the solid earth.

The sorc'ress midst the tempest stands unmov'd,

And waves her wand, and chants the dreadful charm.

Now shakes the forest: now the lofty oak

Bows in the dust his head: the mountain nods

With all his rocks, and all his torrents hurls

A deluge on the plain: the rocking ground
Is mov'd beneath, as when the force of winds
Heaves the vast bosom of the mighty deep:
The cleft earth yawns, and from the dreadful chasm,
Burst flames: now horrid shrieks are heard, the yell

Of torture: now appears the drear abode

Of Hela, the dark mansions of the dead.

There all the dreadful ministers of vengeance;

Fierce slaughter, dropping blood; disease and pain;

There discord, there the furies, there revenge;

There jealousy, terrific spectre! there

Pale famine's meagre form; with fell despair;
And there the dreadful deities, who weave

The fatal web, of human entrails made

The web of victory: the weights below

The heads of gasping warriors. Streaming blood
Smokes on the fiery soil beneath. They ply

Their horrid toil incessant, hymning still
Terrific strains, that doom the death of heroes.
Dire was their aspect: not portentous Gorgon
More dismal frown'd. Undaunted, fearless yet,
Confiding in her charms, the Scythian cries,

Obey, ye gloomy pow'rs, obey the spell!

• The Valkyriur, or Chusers of the slain. See Gray's Poems.

Give victory!" Now deeper thunders roll'd:

Hell grew more dreadful: bickering flames shot forth,

Wreath'd with dark clouds of smoke. Then first

The sorceress knew fear: and then a voice,

More loud than shouting armies, or the roar
Of the vext seas, with rushing storms combin'd,
Broke on her ear. "Oh insolent and vain!

Shall mortals then prescribe the course of fate?
Thou who would'st pierce the secrets of the gods,
Hear thou, and tremble. Miserable wretch,
What is thy boasted art? Their instrument,
To work their firm, inscrutable decrees..

The meek and humble mind the fav'ring pow'rs
Well-pleas'd behold. Rebellious arrogance

At length their thunder visits. Seek no more

What known will curse thee. The dread pow'rs of hell

What force can bind? what pray'rs or tears can move?"

Terrific Mista spoke, and at her voice

Hell shakes, and earth and heav'n recoil dismay'd.

Now fled the horrid vision. The rude storm

Is hush'd: no more the thunder rolls: the stream

Glides in its wonted bed; and the fair moon,

With all her starry train, again shines forth.
Again the soft-complaining nightingale
Breathes heav'nly music on the ear of night.
But prone on earth the miserable queen,
Pale, motionless, almost of sense bereav'd,

Lay chill'd with terror; when with trembling step,
And fault'ring tongue, sad Boarex approach'd,

She rais'd the mourner's head, and fondly tried (Though from her breast unbidden burst the sigh, And oft the starting tear was check'd in vain,)

With soothing words to chear her fainting soul.

Daughter, restrain thy sorrows," (thus she cried,)

"The spell has lost its force, but the dread gods,

Mov'd by the voice of pray'r,

Perhaps will bend relenting.

and milder rites,

Heard'st thou not

That awful voice- The meek and humble mind

The pow'rs well-pleas'd behold?' Approach we then

Suppliant the altar; groveling on the ground,

Wetting the earth with tears, with frequent sighs
Moving the air, and beat our wretched breasts,

And rend our scatter'd hair. No other hope,
No other refuge now remains, if pray'rs,

And tears, and sighs, are pour'd to heav'n in vain."
She said, and with disorder'd step and look
Mov'd to the altar, which her hands so late

With impious rites, and horrid sacrifice,
Polluted, and with pure ablutions cleans'd
From blood; then heap'd with incense, and applied

The fire. Now rolling in the dust, she pray'd,
She wept: Estrildis answer'd groan for groan,

And clasp'd her hands in speechless agony,

And beat her breast, and rent her scatter'd hair,

And pray'd, and wept, and sigh'd. But tears, and pray'rs,

And sighs, are pour'd in vain. The struggling flame

Sinks down, and now involv'd in smoke expires.

Signs from above ensu'd, earth groan'd beneath,

Blue lightnings gleam'd, and thrnder shook the sky.

Then vanish'd every hope: then silent grief,

VOL. II.

G