18. Robert Southey to Thomas Phillipps Lamb, [c. 18 July 1792]*

The Death of Odin.¹

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Soul of my much love’d Freya² yes I come. No pale Diseases haggard power Has hasten’d on thy husbands hour Nor pourd by victor’s thirsty hand Has Odin’s life bedewd the land —I rush to meet thee by a self will’d doom. No more my clatt’ring iron car Shall rush amid the throng of warNo more obedient to my heavenly causeShall crimson Conquest stamp her Odin’s laws. I go I go. Yet shall the Nations own my sway Far as yon orb shall dart his all enlivening ray Big is the death fraught cloud of woeThat hangs o Rome impending oer thy wallFor Odin shall avenge his Asgards³ fall.

Thus burst from Odins lips the fated sound As high in air he reard the gleaming blade.In silent wonder all around His faithful friends beheld the scene affray’d He unappalld towards the skies Uplifts his death denouncing eyes “Ope wide Valahallas⁴ shield roofd hall Virgins of bliss obey your masters call From these injurious realms below The sire of nations hastes to go.

Say falters now your chieftains breath Or chills pale Terror now his deathlike face?Then weep not Thor⁵ thy friends approaching death. Let no unmanly tears disgrace The first of mortals valiant race. Dauntless Heimdal⁶ mourn not now. Balder⁷ clear thy cloudy brow I go to happier realms above To realms of friendship & of love.

This unmanly grief dispelling List to glorys rapturous callSo with Odin ever dwelling Meet him in the shield roofd hall. Still shall Odins fateful lance Before his faithful friends advance. When the bloody fight beginning Helms & shields & hauberks ringing Streaming life each fatal wound Pours its current on the ground — Still in clouds portentous riding Oer his comrade host presiding Odin from the stormy airOer your disheartend foes shall scatter wild despair.

Mid the mighty din of battle Whilst conflicting chariots rattle Floods of purple slaughter streaming Fate fraught faulchions felly gleaming Happy he amid the strife Who pours the current of his life When Hela⁸ marks her destind prey And Slaughter stamps his favouring day. Every toil & trouble ending Odin from his hall descending Shall bear him to his blest retreat⁹ Shall place him in the warriors seat.

Not such the dastards destind state Not such the joys his sprite aggrate — Wild shrieks shall yell on every breath Pale agonies await his death. Adown his wan distorted face Big drops their painful way shall trace Each limb in that tremendous hour Shall quiver in Diseases power — Grim Hela oer his couch shall hang Scoff at his groans & point each pang No Virgin goddess him shall call To join you in the shield roofd hall No Valkery¹⁰ for him prepare The smiling mead with lovely care Sad & unpitied shall he lie Despairing shriek despairing die. No Scald¹¹ in never ending lays Shall rear the temple of his praise No Virgin in her vernal bloom Bedew with tears his high reard tomb No Soldier sound his honor’d name No song shall hand him down to fame. But rank weeds oer the unglorious mound Thick shall in proud contempt abound And swept by Time’s strong stream away He soon shall sink Oblivions prey. And deep in Niflehim¹² — dreary cell Aye shall his sprite tormented dwell Where grim Remorse for ever wakes Where Anguish feeds her torturing snakes Where Disappointment & Delay For ever guard the doleful way. Amid the joyless land of woe Bitter bleak the chill blasts blow — Drives the tempest — pours the rain Showers the hail with force amain — Yell the night birds as they fly Flitting in the misty sky Glows the adder swells the toad For sad is Hela’s cold abode.

Spread then the Gothic banners to the sky Lift your towering ensigns high Yoke your coursers to the car Strike the sounding shield of war. Go my lovd companions go — Haste subdue your every foe Like the torrents raging forceThat rushing from the hills speds on its foaming course. The Druid throng shall fall away Beneath your ever victor sway — No more shall Nations bow the knee Vanquishd Taranis¹³ to thee No more upon the sacred stone Teutates¹⁴ shall thy victims groanThe vanquishd Odin Rome shall cause thy fallAnd my destruction shake thy turret crowned wall.

Yet oh my faithful friends beware Luxury’s enerving snare Twas this that shook our Asgards dome That drove us from our native home Twas this that smoothd the way for victor Rome.

Gauls fruitful plains shall court your sway Conquest point the destind way Conquest shall attend your callAnd your success shall gild still more Valhalla’s hall.So spake the dauntless chief & piercd his breastThen rushd to seize the seat of endless rest.

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The ode I have sent has at least the merit of being long enough — & the subject is such as is not very common. I sent some verses to Mountsfield by the Bolt in Tun coach but know not whether they are arrived. why you say that your rhyming genius is worn out I know not — for the song was so amended that I must not own it now. Tom mentioned in his last that he sets out on his travels with Mr Lettice¹⁵ next spring — he certainly has done right in preferring it to the University & altho’ I shall feel the loss very sensibly I must commend his resolution. universities are very well for the study of books, to run mad in finding out the paulo post futurum¹⁶ of a Greek verb or to solve a problem of Euclid,¹⁷ but they will never teach the most important study — the study of men.

you have heard I suppose of the bloody proceeding at Westminster.¹⁸ Tom wrote me a full account of it — some hints I have seen in the papers but very obscure ones. Mr Purcel¹⁹ appears to me to stand a good chance of the gallows.

my best respects at Mountsfield — & believe me

your much obliged humble Servant

Robert Southey.

Bath. July.