CLASS THE THIRD. RUNIC ODES. ΣΟΦΙ ΑΝ ΕΝ ΜΥΧΟΙΣΙ ΠΙΕΡΙΔΩΝ. PIND. PYTH. 6. BY THOMAS JOHN MATHIAS. ODE I. THE TWILIGHT OF THE GODS; OR, THE DESTRUCTION OF THE WORLD. FROM the chambers of the East, Till on the plain, with corses strew'd, Trace again the solemn rhyme; Mark the wolfish Fenris prowl; Know'st thou what is done above? Struck with elemental jar, Gods themselves come forth to war: From the many-mansion'd dome Giant tenants loosen'd roam, And around each rock-hewn cell, From the regions of the South Caverns yawning, mountains rending; Nods to the air with sudden crash: And see, from either verge of Heav'n, That concave vast asunder riv'n. Why does beauteous Lina weep? Whence those lorn notes in accent deep? For battle Odin 'gins prepare; Aloft in distant realms of air, |