nations both in ancient and modern times. The Elder, or Poetic Edda, consists of about forty poems,—all anonymous, all, with one exception, pagan compositions, though written at different periods, the most recent of them bearing the impress of considerable antiquity. They have been arranged, perhaps somewhat arbitrarily, into four different classes, according to the nature of the subjects. These are—1. the Mystical; 2. the Mythic-didactic; 3. the purely Mythological; and 4. the Mythic-historical. 1. Of the Mystical class, the most prominent is the _Voluspa_ (Voluspa), the oracle of Vala the prophetess. This contains a rapid, abrupt, and very dark account of the whole system, beginning with the creation, and ending with the destruction of the universe by fire. All things, however, are not to be destroyed: two individuals, a man and a woman, are to be saved, and made the progenitors of a new and fairer world. It should be observed, that in the Scandinavian as in the Greek and Roman superstition, superior sanctity is ascribed to the women. They alone knew the fates; even Odin had to consult them when he wished to look beyond the dark cloud that concealed the future from the gods no less than from mankind. The _Grougaldor_, or the magical song of Groa, is another of this class. It consists of terms and precepts, the use of which is to produce the most astounding supernatural effects. These “words of might” were not peculiar to the Odinic worship. They pervade still more thoroughly that which Zoroaster instituted, between whom and the northern prophet there are more points of resemblance than the learned have yet discerned. Both, for example, pretended to magical powers, because both found the pretension already in existence when they entered on their respective careers; and neither was willing to be thought inferior to the members of the priestly caste which he undertook to subvert. The magic of the Finns and Lets Odin stigmatized as _black_ magic—as inculcated by the powers of darkness for the injury of mankind; but _his_ was the white, the pure magic, the kingly art. He found a school already established in the north; and with all his power he could not wholly extirpate it. There seems, indeed, reason to infer that he connived at the union of many native rites with his own; or, at least, that if _he_ did not, his immediate successors did. Just so it was with the renowned Magian. In contemplating the origin of his religion, we may either smile, or be provoked, at the prodigies which every where meet us. It is a religion of magic; it boasts of supernatural powers; it openly owns not merely the possibility, but the necessity, of miraculous results, when the words of might which it prescribes are duly pronounced. And if miracles and prodigies constitute its peculiar character even at this day, in the comparatively civilised Hindostan, they were doubly