112 THE FATAL SISTERS.

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

Shafts for fluttles, dipt in gore,
Shoot the trembling cords along.
Sword, that once a monarch bore,
Keep the tiffue cloſe and ſtrong.

Míſſa, black terrific maid,
Sangrida, and Hilda, fee!

Join the wayward work to aid :
'Tis the woof of victory.

Ere the ruddy fun be fet,
Pikes muſt ſhiver, javelins ſing,
Blade with clatt'ring buckler meet,
Hauberk craft, and helmet ring.

(Weave