LITERAL TRANSLATION.
When shall I behold again, in one day, all the pleasing objects of my affection?—our clear streams, our cottages [sic], our hamlets, our mountains, and the ornament of our fields, the gentle Isabelle?—Under the shade of a spreading elm, when shall I dance again to the sound of the tabor?
When shall I behold again, in one day, all pleasing objects of my love?—my father, mother, brothers, sisters, my lambs, my flocks, and my faithful shepherdess?—When shall I behold again, in one day, all the pleasing objects of my affection?
Boston, Jan. 30, 1805.
Boston Weekly Mag., III-60, Feb. 2, 1805, Boston.
For the Port Folio.
THE SCANDINAVIAN HERO.
Skogul.
From midst the dusty fields of war
To realms beyond the northern star,
To loud Valhalla's echoing halls,
I bear the hero ere he falls;
The valiant dwell in those abodes,
And sit amid carousing gods;
Not goblets rich, nor flasks of gold,
But skulls of mantling mead they hold;
The coward while he gasps for breath,
Sinks darkling to Hela beneath.
Harold.
O be it mine, from conflict borne,
To reach the realms of endless morn;
At Odin's board my lips I'll lave
In the foam'd bev'rage of the brave.
Odin.
Who breaks the dusty fields of war,
Death travels by his clattering car;
Perch'd on the whirlwind's thund'ring tower,
On comes the sable tempest's power;
Ye warriors rise, ye chiefs give room,
A godlike guest in youthful bloom,
Harold from fields of battle see,
Begin th' immortal revelry.