 | Gustavus Vasa, The Deliverer of his Country |  |
SCENE VIII.
Enter Gustavus follow'd by the Dalecarlians, Anderson, Arnoldus, Sivard, Officers, &c.1st Dale.
Let us all see him!
2d Dale.
Yes, and hear him too.
3d Dale.
Let us be sure 'tis he himself.
4th Dale.
Our General.
5th Dale.
And we will fight while Weapons can be found.
6th Dale.
Or Hands to wield them.
7th Dale.
Get on the Bank, Gustavus.
And.
Do, my Lord.
Gust.
My Countrymen!—
1st Dale.
Ho! hear him.
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Peace!
3d Dale.
Peace!
4th Dale.
Peace!
Gust.
Amazement I perceive hath fill'd your Hearts,
And Joy for that your lost Gustavus, 'scap'd
Thro' Wounds, Imprisonments, and Chains, and Deaths,
Thus sudden, thus unlook'd for stands before ye.
As one escap'd from cruel Hands I come,
From Hearts that ne'er knew Pity; dark and vengeful:
Who quaff the Tears of Orphans, bathe in Blood,
And know no Musick but the Groans of Sweden.
Yet, not for that my Sister's early Innocence,
And Mother's Age now grind beneath Captivity;
Nor that one bloody, one remorseless Hour
Swept my great Sire, and Kindred from my Side;
For them Gustavus weeps not, tho' my Eyes
Were far less dear, for them I will not weep.
But, O great Parent, when I think on thee!
Thy numberless, thy nameless, shameful Infamies,
My widow'd Country! Sweden! when I think
Upon thy Desolation, Spite of Rage—
And Vengeance that would choak them—Tears will flow.
And.
O, they are Villains, ev'ry Dane of them,
Practis'd to stab and smile; to stab the Babe
That smiles upon them.
Arn.
What accursed Hours
Roll o'er those Wretches who to Fiends like these
In their dear Liberty have barter'd more
Than Worlds will rate for?
Gust.
O Liberty, Heav'n's choice Prerogative!
True Bond of Law, thou social Soul of Property,
Thou Breath of Reason, Life of Life itself!
For thee the Valiant bleed. O sacred Liberty!
Wing'd from the Summer's Snare, from flatt'ring Ruin,
Like the bold Stork you seek the wint'ry Shore,
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Cleave to the Cold, and rest upon the Storm.
Upborn by thee, my Soul disdain'd the Terms
Of Empire—offer'd at the Hands of Tyrants.
With thee, I sought this fav'rite Soil; with thee,
These fav'rite Sons I sought; thy Sons, O Liberty.
For ev'n amid the Wilds of Life you lead them,
Lift their low rafted Cottage to the Clouds,
Smile o'er their Heaths, and from their Mountain Tops
Beam Glory to the Nations.
All.
Liberty! Liberty!
Gust.
Are ye not mark'd, ye Men of Dalecarlia,
Are ye not mark'd by all the circling World
As the great Stake, the last Effort for Liberty?
Say, is it not your Wealth, the Thirst, the Food,
The Scope and bright Ambition of your Souls?
Why else have you, and your renown'd Forefathers,
From the proud Summit of their glitt'ring Thrones,
Cast down the mightiest of your lawful Kings
That dar'd the bold Infringement? What, but Liberty,
Thro' the fam'd Course of thirteen hundred Years,
Aloof hath held Invasion from your Hills,
And sanctify'd their Shade?—And will ye, will ye
Shrink from the Hopes of the expecting World;
Bid your high Honours stoop to foreign Insult,
And in one Hour give up to Infamy
The Harvest of a thousand Years of Glory?
1st Dale.
No.
2d Dale.
Never, never.
3d Dale.
Perish all first!
4th Dale.
Die all!
Gust.
Yes, die by Piecemeal!
Leave not a Limb o'er which a Dane may triumph!
Now from my Soul I joy, I joy, my Friends,
To see ye fear'd; to see that ev'n your Foes
Do Justice to your Valours!—There they be,
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Yet kept aloof, yet trembling to assail ye.
And O, when I look round and see you here,
Of Number short, but prevalent in Virtue,
My Heart swells high and burns for the Encounter
True Courage but from Opposition grows;
And what are fifty, what a thousand Slaves,
Match'd to the Sinew of a single Arm
That strikes for Liberty? That strikes to save
His Fields from Fire, his Infants from the Sword,
His Couch from Lust, his Daughters from Pollution;
And his large Honours from eternal Infamy?
What, doubt we then? Shall we, shall we stand here
'Till Motives that might warm an Ague's Frost,
And nerve the Coward's Arm, shall poorly serve
To wake us to Resistance?—Let us on!
O, yes, I read your lovely fierce Impatience;
You shall not be withheld; we will rush on them—
This is indeed to triumph, where we hold
Three Kingdoms in our Toil! Is it not glorious,—
Thus to appal the Bold, meet Force with Fury,
And push yon Torrent back, 'till ev'ry Wave
Flee to its Fountain?
3d Dale.
On, lead us on, Gustavus; one Word more
Is but Delay of Conquest.
Gust.
Take your Wish.
He, who wants Arms, may grapple with the Foe
And so be furnish'd. You, most noble Anderson,
Divide our Pow'rs, and with the fam'd Olaus
Take the left Rout—You, Eric, great in Arms!
With the renown'd Nederbi, hold the Right,
And skirt the Forest down; then wheel at once,
Confess'd to view, and close upon the Vale:
Myself, and my most valiant Cousin here
Th' invincible Arvida, gallant Sivard,
Arnoldus, and these hundred hardy Vet'rans
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Joy, Joy, I see confess'd from ev'ry Eye,
Your Limbs tread vigorous, and your Breasts beat high!
Thin tho' our Ranks, tho' scanty be our Bands,
Bold are our Hearts, and nervous are our Hands.
With us, Truth, Justice, Fame, and Freedom close,
Each, singly equal to an Host of Foes,
I feel, I feel them fill me out for Fight,
They lift my Limbs as feather'd Hermes light!
Or like the Bird of Glory, tow'ring high,
Thunder within his Grasp, and Light'ning in his Eye!
| Gustavus Vasa, The Deliverer of his Country | |