"_Roman_! ('twas thus the chief of ASGARD cry'd) Ambitious _Roman_! triumph for a while; Trample on freedom in thy victor pride; Yet, though now thy fortune smile, Though MITHRIDATES fly forlorn, Once thy dread, but now thy scorn, ODIN will never live a shameful slave; Some region will he yet explore, Beyond the reach of Rome; Where, upon some colder shore, Freedom yet thy force shall brave, Freedom yet shall find a home: There, where the eagle dares not soar, Soon shall the raven find a safe retreat. ASGARD, farewell! farewell my native seat! Farewell for ever! yet, whilst life shall roll Her warm tide thro' thine injur'd chieftain's breast, Oft will he to thy memory drop the tear: Never more shall ODIN rest, Never quaff the sportive bowl, Or soothe in peace his slothful soul, Whilst Rome triumphant lords it here. Triumph in thy victor might, Mock the chief of ASGARD's flight; But soon the seeds of vengeance shall be sown, And ODIN's race hurl down thy blood-cemented throne." Nurtur'd by Scandinavia's hardy soil, Strong grew the vigorous plant; Danger could ne'er the nation daunt, For war, to other realms a toil, Was but the pastime here; Skill'd the bold youth to hurl the unerring spear, To wield the falchion, to direct the dart, Firm was each warrior's frame, yet gentle was his heart. Freedom, with joy, beheld the noble race, And fill'd each bosom with her vivid fire; Nor vice, nor luxury, debase The free-born offspring of the free-born sire; There genuine poesy, in freedom bright, Diffus'd o'er all her clear, her all-enlivening light. From Helicon's meandering rills The inspiring goddess fled; Amid the Scandinavian hills In clouds she hid her head; There the bold, the daring muse, Every daring warrior wooes; The sacred lust of deathless fame Burnt in every warrior's soul: "Whilst future ages hymn my name, (The son of ODIN cries) I shall quaff the foaming bowl With my forefathers in yon azure skies; Methinks I see my foeman's skull With the mantling beverage full; I hear the shield-roof'd hall resound To martial music's echoing sound; I see the virgins, valour's meed,-- Death is bliss--I rush to bleed."