THE PROPHECY OF VALA.

[Given under the inspiration of Edgar A. Poe.]

The Prophecy of Vala is founded on the Scandinavian mythology. Odin, the great All Father, is the sovereign power of the universe; Thor, a lesser god, of whom it is said, "his mighty hammer smote thunder out of every thing." Baldur was a son of Odin and Frigga. He was slain by Hörder, his blind brother, who was persuaded to the act by Loké, an evil spirit, corresponding to the Hebrew or Christian devil. The Valkyrien were the genii of the battle-field. The three Nornen were the Fates who watered the tree Yggdrasill, at whose roots it is said that a dragon was constantly gnawing. The Heimskringla was the circle of the universe. Vala was a seeress, or prophetess, who was summoned from the dead by Odin, to tell of the fate of Baldur; but on her appearance refused to do so, and to the astonishment of all, prophesied the death of all the sons of Odin at the day of Ragnaroc, which corresponds to the day of judgment, with the exception that it was also the day of reconstruction, or renewal of the world. The Prophecy of Vala, as given in the old Icelandic Edda, has been used with perfect freedom, to present the idea that Good, though apparently overcome of Evil, should ultimately triumph. - Explanation by Poe.

I HAVE walked with the Fates and the Furies 'mid the wrecks of the mighty Past,

I have stood in the giant shadows which the ages have backward cast,

And I've heard the voices of prophets come down

in a lengthening chain,

Translating the Truth Eternal, and making its meaning plain;

Backward still, ever backward, 'mid wreck and ruin I trod,

Seeking Life's secret sources, and the primal truths of God.

"Tell me," I cried, "O Prophet, thou shade of the mighty Past,

What of the Truth in the future? Is its horoscope

yet cast?

Thou didst give it its birth and being, thou didst

Show me its shining orbit, and the place of its final rest!"

A sound like the restless earthquake! a crash like the "crack of doom"!

And a fiery fulmination streamed in through the frightened gloom.

I stood in the halls of Odin, and the great All

Father shone

Like the centre and sun of Being, 'mid the glories of his throne;

And Thor, with his mighty hammer, upraised in his giant hand,

Stood ready to wake the thunder at his sovereign Lord's command.

"Ho, Thor!" said the mighty Odin, “our our omens are all of ill,

For the dragon gnaweth sharply at the roots of Yggdrasill;

I hear the wild Valkyrien, as they shriek on the

battle-plain,

And the moans of the faithful Nornen, as they weep over Baldur slain.

A woe to the serpent Loké, and to Hörder's reckless ruth,

For Goodness is slain of Evil, and Falsehood hath

conquered Truth !

Now call thou on mystic Vala, as she sleeps in the grave of Time,

Where the hoary age hath written her name in a frosty rime;

She can tell when the sun will darken, when the stars shall cease to burn,

When the sleeping dead shall waken, and when Baldur shall return."

A sound like the rushing tempest, and the wondrous hammer fell,

And the great Heimskringla shuddered, and swayed like a mighty bell.

There were mingled murmurs and discords, like

the wailing of troubled souls;

Like the gnomes at their fiery forges like the

howlings of restless ghouls.

Then out of the fiery covert of the tempest and

the storm,

Like a vision of troubled slumber, came a woman's stately form.

There fell a hush as at midnight, when the sheeted

dead awake,

And even the silence shuddered, as her words of power she spake :

"Mighty Odin, I am Vala,

I have heard your thunder-call,

I have heard the woful wailing

Sounding forth from Wingolf's hall; And I know that beauteous Baldur,

Loved of all the gods, is slain — That the evil Loké triumphs,

And on Hörder rests the stain. But my words shall fail to tell you

Aught concerning him you mourn, For the leaves that bear the record From the Tree of Life are torn; And while Hecla's fires shall glow, Or the bubbling Geysers flow, Of his fate no one shall know. Understand you this, or no?

"I will sing a solemn Saga,

I will chant a Runic rhyme,

Weave a wild, prophetic Edda,

From the scattered threads of time:

Know, O Odin, — mighty Odin,

--

That thy sons shall all be slain, Where the wild Valkyrien gather, On the bloody battle plain;

And thy throne itself shall tremble