Its courage cruelty; its anger hate;
Its caution lies;-the little and the great
Denied the gods, and dared the blows of Fate.

The Heavens grew dark with anger :- Thor, awake!
Where is thy Hammer? Shall the gods not take
Vengeance for evil? Shall their thirst not slake?
'Where is thy Hammer, forged in Heaven of yore-
The earth is foul and rotten to the core-
Where is thy Hammer,—thou avenging Thor?'

IV.

Through the deep midnight pierced the awful word—
'Bring back thy Hammer.' Earth and Heaven were stirr'd,
And Hell's remotest depths the echoes heard.

And miserable Thor, distraught, forlorn,
Roam'd o'er the world, and held himself in scorn,
To be so foil'd by Loki, evil-born.

His quivering lips with proud impatience curl'd,
On Loki's head his bitterest curse he hurl'd,
Plague of the gods, and tyrant of the world.

'Hast thou my Hammer, Earth, or thou, oh Heaven?'
Earth spake not, nor the spheres, 'mid all their seven;
But from the wild sea-waves was answer given :-

"Thine awful Hammer slumbers in my breast;
Seek it, oh Thor! and happy be thy quest,
And free the world from rapine and unrest!'

And Thor took ship, and sail'd the Stormy Sea:-
Courage and Hope my comrades twain shall be,
Where'er ye waft me, oh ye wild winds free!

'Farewell, farewell! to all delights of yore,
To gods and heroes, and the Asgard shore,-
Without my Hammer I return no more!

"In storm, or calm, or in the treacherous mist,
The waves shall bear, and float me as they list,
And pitying Heaven shall watch me and assist!'
Northward, three days, 'mid sleet and driving rain,
The vessel sped; and north three days again
It sail'd in starlight, o'er a trackless main.

Northward, still north, three days and nights it flew,
And the shrill winds that o'er its topsails blew,
Froze into sheets of ice the heavy dew.

North-ever north! The breeze forgot to blow,
And hush'd its music in the whispering snow;
But still the vessel cleft the waves below.

North-ever north! Flapp'd out the bellying sail, 'Mid rolling icebergs and a fitful gale,

And storms of arrowy snow and rattling hail.

O'er Heaven's dark vault the darting meteors pour'd,
Like hosts in conflict-hurrying horde on horde ;—
And the ice crack'd, and sudden thunders roar'd.

But Thor held on, undaunted as of old,
Through storm, and fog, and sleet, and pitiless cold,
As the ship bore him, by the gods controll'd.

Northward no more! With sudden swirl and spin,
And clash like booming of artillery's din,
The icebergs fell and broke, and hemm'd him in.
He heard a sound of laughter and of shrieks,
And saw a shadow on the frozen peaks,
That brought the warm blood to his angry cheeks.
'I know thee, Loki; but the hour draws near
When thou shalt look upon my face, and fear;-
After thy night, my morning heavenly clear!
And as he spake, there flash'd a crimson glow,
Amid the pinnacles, through berg and floe,
And cover'd all the ship from poop to prow.

And o'er the ice came tripping like a fawn,
In the clear sunlight of a rosy dawn,
When the dews glisten on the grassy lawn,

The fair-hair'd Friga, peaceful and benign,-
Her soft blue eyes stream'd forth a joy divine,
And rainbows clad her in celestial shine.

'Beneath thy keel,' she said, 'thy Hammer sleeps;
Plunge thou, and seize it, in the deepest deeps,
Where Loki cast it; Heaven expects and weeps.'
Quick as a thought, upon the floe he sprang;
The ice divided with an iron clang,

And down he plunged, while Loki's laughter rang.
Up from the wild wave, radiant as the day,
Issued the god, and shook the icy spray
From his broad shoulders, glancing in the ray,
And held aloft the Hammer in both hands:-
'Rejoice, ye nations, and be glad, ye lands,
The throne of Justice on the hill-top stands;

‘And Thor's great Hammer vindicates the Right !'
Loki fled howling, while in roseate light
The ship sail'd homeward through the gloomy night.

And Heavenly voices flew from shore to shore;
'Tremble, ye wicked! Earth is yours no more :-
Found is the Hammer of avenging Thor!

:

DRUM BEATS AND ALARM BELLS;

OR,

PICTURES OF PARIS, FROM 1789 TO 1873.

The sorrow yet shall pass, and France be free.'-The Vision of Danton.

THE BATTLE OF CHANGE, 1789.

GREAT thoughts are heaving in the world's wide breast;
The Time is labouring with a mighty birth;

The old ideals fall.

Men wander up and down in wild unrest;
A sense of change preparing for the Earth
Broods over all.

There lies a gloom on all things under Heaven—
A gloom portentous to the quiet men,

Who see no joy in being driven

Onwards from change, ever to change again;

Who never walk but on the beaten ways,

And love the breath of yesterdays;

Men who would rather sit and sleep

Where sunbeams through the ivies creep,
Each at his door-post all alone,

Heedless of near or distant wars,
Than wake and listen to the moan

Of storm-vex'd forests nodding to the stars

Or hear, far-off, the melancholy roar

Of billows, white with wrath, battling against the shore.

Deep on their troubled souls the shadow lies;
And in that shadow corne and go—

While fitful lightnings write upon the skies,
And mystic voices chant the coming woe-
Titanic phantoms swathed in mist and flame,
The mighty ghosts of things without a name,
Mingling with forms more palpably defined,
That whirl and dance like leaves upon the wind;
Who marshal in array their arrowy hosts,