ANODE.

PROPHETESS.

What call unknown, what charms, presume
To break the quiet of the tomb?
Who thus afflicts my troubled sprite,
And drags me from the realms of night?
Long on these mould'ring bones have beat
The winter's snow, the summer's heat,
The drenching dews, and driving rain!
Let me, let me fleep again.
Who is he, with voice unbleft,
That calls me from the bed of rest?

ODIN.

A Traveller to thee unknown,
Is he that calls, a warrior's son,
Thou the deeds of light shalt know;
Tell me what is done below,
For whom yon glitt'ring board is spread,
Dreft for whom yon golden bed.

PRO-

QPCARD 101 V3

B1992.8.11(41) ba- obj- 3674 -0001

This Image has been Color Corrected:
Disregard any color charts in the Image area

Yale Center for British Art, 2010

THE DESCENT OF ODIN.

PROPHETESS.

Mantling in the goblet see
The pure bev'rage of the bee;
O'er it hangs the shield of gold:
'Tis the drink of *Balder* bold.
*Balder's* head to death is giv'n.
Pain can reach the Sons of Heav'n!
Unwilling I my lips unclofe:
Leave me, leave me to repofe.

ODIN.

Once again my call obey,
Prophetefs, arife, and fay,
What dangers *Odin's* child await,
Who the author of his fate.

PROPHETESS.

In *Hoder's* hand the hero's doom;
His brother fends him to the tomb.

Now