SAGA-BOOK - Viking Society Web Publications

82 Saga-Book of the Viking Society
(Answering to my mutter'd Spell)
Bids thee from thy Hallow'd Side
Give that Sword the Warriour's Pride,
Whose hardiest Strength and keenest Pow'r,
Forg'd by Dwarfish Hands of yore,
Gave an Empire firm and free,
To thy Fathers and to thee:
By my Helmet's sable crest,
Mailed Coat of martial Wear;
By my Sword, in Sharpness drest,
Fiery Shield, and bloody Spear;
From all 'neath ev'ry Root comprest,
HERvoR breaks thy Iron-Rest.
What are Andgryms Sons no more,
Vers'd so well in Mischief's Lore?
Mute are EYVOR's Children all,
Unresponsive to my Call?
Then let my Curse, of blasting Powr,
Within your Ribs unhallowed light;
a let Corruption's tainted Show'r
Pierce you in your Beds of Night;
Unless, with Ear to my Commands,
Ye give the Sword that Dwarfish Hands
Call'd to Life, and bade to live,
And the Belt of Glory give.
ANGANTYR
Daughter! thou whose powrful Spell
Opes the dreary Jaws of Hell,
Muttering thus those Accents dread,
What Mischiefs wait thy desperate Head!
Madness sure thy Soul oppress'd
Thus to break my sealed Rest.
No Father led me to my Grave,
No Friend the Tears of Pity gave;
And two, who still surviv'd, possess'd
The Sword in magic Laurels drest;
And TIRFING still the one enjoys.