Not such the destin'd joys that wait The wretched dastard's future fate: Wild shrieks shall yell in every breath,-- The agonizing shrieks of death. Adown his wan and livid face Big drops their painful way shall trace; Each limb in that tremendous hour Shall quiver in disease's power. Grim HELA o'er his couch shall hang, Scoff at his groans, and point each pang; No Virgin Goddess him shall call To join you in the shield-roof'd hall; No Valkery for him prepare The smiling mead with lovely care: Sad and scorn'd the wretch shall lie, Despairing shriek--despairing die! No Scald in never-dying lays Shall rear the temple of his praise; No Virgin in her vernal bloom Bedew with tears his high-rear'd tomb; No Soldier sound his honor'd name; No song shall hand him down to fame; But rank weeds o'er the inglorious grave Shall to the blast their high heads wave; And swept by time's strong stream away, He soon shall sink--oblivion's prey; And deep in Niflehim--dreary cell, Aye shall his sprite tormented dwell, Where grim Remorse for ever wakes, Where Anguish feeds her torturing snakes, Where Disappointment and Delay For ever guard the doleful way; Amid the joyless land of woe Keen and bleak the chill blasts blow; Drives the tempest, pours the rain, Showers the hail with force amain; Yell the night-birds as they fly Flitting in the misty sky; Glows the adder, swells the toad, For sad is HELA's cold abode. Spread then the Gothic banners to the sky, Lift your sable banners high; Yoke your coursers to the car, Strike the sounding shield of war; Go, my lov'd companions, go Trample on the opposing foe; Be like the raging torrent's force, That, rushing from the hills, speds on its foaming course.