O the force of Runic verses,
O the mighty strenght of song
Cannot baffle all the curses
Which to mortal state belong
Slaughter'd chiefs,that buried under
Heaps of marble, long have lain,
Song can rend your tomb asunder
Give ye life and strenght again
It can quench the conflagration
Striding o'er the works of art;
But nor song nor incantation
Can appease love's cruel smart
When around his dying capture,
Fierce,the serpent draws his fold
Song can make him,wild with rapture,
Straight uncoil,and bite the mould.
When from keep and battled tower
Flames to heaven upward strain,
Song has o'er them greater power,
Than the vapours dropping rain. |
