Osw. Father of gods and men, great Woden, hear!

Give conquest to thy Saxon race, and me!

Osm. Thor, Freya, Woden, hear, and spell your Saxons,

With sacred Runick rhymes, from death in battle;

Edge their bright swords, and blunt the Britons' darts!—[20]

No more, great prince; for see my trusty fiend,

Who all the night has winged the dusky air.—

Grinbald, a fierce earthy Spirit, arises.

What news, my Grimbald?

Grim. I have played my part;