The Fatal Sisters . An Ode Gray, Thomas, 1716-1771 Alexander Huber Editor Göttingen State and University Library, University of Göttingen
Historic Building Papendiek 14 D-37073 Göttingen Germany
Thomas Gray Archive
Taylor Institution Library St Giles' Oxford OX1 3NA UK info@thomasgray.org https://www.thomasgray.org/
Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. 1768

This e-text is part of the Primary Texts section of the Thomas Gray Archive.

XML created for the Thomas Gray Archive.

Spelling has been modernized throughout, except in case of conscious archaisms. Contractions, italics and initial capitalization have been largely eliminated, except where of real import. Obvious errors have been silently corrected, punctuation has been lightly modernized. Additional contextual information for Gray's notes, presented here in unmodernized form, has been taken from the Starr/Hendrickson edition. The editor would like to express his gratitude to the library staff of the Göttingen State and University Library (SUB Göttingen) for their invaluable assistance.

Library of Congress Name Authority File (LCNAF) text-indent: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: center; text-align: right; text-align: left; display: inline font-style: italic;
The Fatal Sisters . An Ode ( From the Norse-Tongue , ) in the ORCADES of Thormodus Torfaeus ; Hafniae , 1697 , Folio : and also in Bartholinus . Vitt er orpit fyrir valfalli , &c.
PREFACE

In the eleventh century Sigurd , Earl of the Orkney Islands , went with a fleet of ships and a considerable body of troops into Ireland , to the assistance of Sictryg with the silken beard , who was then making war on his father-in-law Brian , King of Dublin : the Earl and all his forces were cut to pieces , and Sictryg was in danger of a total defeat ; but the enemy had a greater loss by the death of Brian , their King , who fell in the action . On Christmas-day ( the day of the battle ) , a native of Caithness in Scotland saw at a distance a number of persons on horseback riding full speed towards a hill , and seeming to enter into it . Curiosity led him to follow them , till looking through an opening in the rocks he saw twelve gigantic figures resembling women : they were all employed about a loom ; and as they wove , they sung the following dreadful song ; which when they had finished , they tore the web into twelve pieces , and ( each taking her portion ) galloped six to the north and as many to the south .

Note — The Valkyriur were female Divinities , Servants of Odin ( or Woden ) in the Gothic mythology . Their name signifies Chusers of the slain . They were mounted on swift horses , with drawn swords in their hands ; and in the throng of battle selected such as were destined to slaughter , and conducted them to Valhalla , the hall of Odin , or paradise of the Brave ; where they attended the banquet , and served the departed Heroes with horns of mead and ale . Now the storm begins to lower , ( Haste , the loom of hell prepare , ) Iron-sleet of arrowy shower [ The Latin translation renders the original rifs reidisky ( ' the hanging cloud of the warp-beam ' according to Cleasby & Vigfusson , An Old Icelandic Dictionary , s.v. rifr ) by nubes sagittarum , an error which Gray incorporated into his poem . ] How quick they wheel'd ; and flying , behind them shot Sharp sleet of arrowy shower — Milton's Paradise Regained . [ iii . 323-4 ] Hurtles in the darkened air . The noise of battle hurtled in the air . Shakespear's Jul. Caesar . [ II . ii . 22 ] Glittering lances are the loom , Where the dusky warp we strain , Weaving many a soldier's doom , Orkney's woe , and Randver's bane . See the grisly texture grow , ( 'Tis of human entrails made , ) And the weights that play below , Each a gasping warrior's head . Shafts for shuttles , dipped in gore , Shoot the trembling cords along . Sword , that once a monarch bore , Keep the tissue close and strong . Mista black , terrific maid , Sangrida and Hilda see , Join the wayward work to aid : 'Tis the woof of victory . Ere the ruddy sun be set , Pikes must shiver , javelins sing , Blade with clattering buckler meet , Hauberk crash and helmet ring . ( Weave the crimson web of war ) Let us go , and let us fly , Where our friends the conflict share , Where they triumph , where they die . As the paths of fate we tread , Wading through the ensanguined field : Gondula and Geira , spread O'er the youthful King your shield . We the reins to slaughter give , Ours to kill and ours to spare : Spite of danger he shall live . ( Weave the crimson web of war . ) They , whom once the desert-beach Pent within its bleak domain , Soon their ample sway shall stretch O'er the plenty of the plain . Low the dauntless Earl is laid , Gored with many a gaping wound : Fate demands a nobler head ; Soon a King shall bite the ground . Long his loss shall Eirin weep , Ne'er again his likeness see ; Long her strains in sorrow steep , Strains of immortality ! Horror covers all the heath , Clouds of carnage blot the sun . Sisters , weave the web of death ; Sisters , cease , the work is done . Hail the task , and hail the hands ! Songs of joy and triumph sing ! Joy to the victorious bands ; Triumph to the younger King . Mortal , thou that hear'st the tale , Learn the tenor of our song . Scotland , through each winding vale Far and wide the notes prolong . Sisters , hence with spurs of speed : Each her thundering faulchion wield ; Each bestride her sable steed . Hurry , hurry to the field .