Ossian Collection > Ossian, his principal poems

Ixxxii APPENDIX TO THE BARDS.
Unless Angantyr, now alive,
Victorious Titfing grant to me.
AXGANTYE.
Toung maid, thou art a champion brave,
With helm, mail, spear, engitiv'd with spell;
To rove at night, besiege the grave.
And storm the gates of death and hell 1*
HERVOE.
Thee too I deem'd a hero bold,
Ere I discover' d Odin's hall :
'Tis fatal Tirfing to withhold ;
I for that sword incessant call.
Bid from the tomb that steel depart,
Without it hence I'll never go ;
That master-piece of goblin's art,
Of coats of mail the furious foe.
ANGANTYR.
Lo! then, beneath mj^ shoulders lies
Hialmar's death all wrapt in fire !
No heroine ever fac'd my eyes,
That could to wield this sword aspire.
HERVOR.
To wield that sword I'll take my turn ;
Though flames around refulgent blaze !
I cannot think that fire will burn,
That round dead corpses lambent plays.
* The historians of Scandinavia, paint their heroes as wandering
into remote forests and caverns, descending into the recesses of the
tomb, and extorting boons, alike from gods and demons, by dint of
the sword and battle axe. Instances might be quoted in Avhich
heaven is thus described, as having been literally attempted by
storm !