 | Gustavus Vasa, and other poems |  |
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BOOK III.
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ARGUMENT.
Ernestus enters Dalecarlia—View of the scene round Mora—Transition to Gustavus Vasa, who is represented as reclining under a tree near his friend, the pastor's house, and retracing past events in his mind— His soliloquy—After briefly recounting the late disasters of Sweden, and the arguments which induced him to resolve to quit his country, he concludes with a prayer—Ernestus then appears, and delivers his message from the Genius of Sweden—Gustavus treats his mission as a fiction, upbraids him as a traitor, and attempts his life, but is prevented by apparent prodigies, which, however, do not entirely convince him or alter his resolution.
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Auspicious Spirit, whosoe'er thou art,
Who warm, exalt, and fill, the Poet's heart:
Who bade young Homer pour the martial strain,
And led the Tuscan bard thro' hell's profound domain:
By whom unequal Camöens, borne along
A torrent-stream, majestic, wild, and strong,
Sung India's clime disclosed, and fiery showers
Bursting on Calicut's perfidious towers:
By whom soft Maro caught Mæonian fire,
And plaintive Ossian tuned his Celtic lyre:—
If still 'tis thine o'er Morven's heaths to rove,
Tago's green banks, or Meles' hallow'd grove,
Assist me thence—command my growing song
To roll with nobler energy along!
Before me Life's extended vale appears,
Onward I hasten thro' the gulf of years,
And soon must sink beneath them; let my name
With one bright furrow of recording fame
Mark my brief course!—If led by thee I stray'd
In youth's sweet dawn beneath the hazel shade,
While over head clear shone the sunny beam,
And noon's weak breeze scarce curl'd the tepid stream:
Still aid me, gentle Spirit! still inspire
My first bold task, and add diviner fire.
Who warm, exalt, and fill, the Poet's heart:
Who bade young Homer pour the martial strain,
And led the Tuscan bard thro' hell's profound domain:
By whom unequal Camöens, borne along
A torrent-stream, majestic, wild, and strong,
Sung India's clime disclosed, and fiery showers
Bursting on Calicut's perfidious towers:
By whom soft Maro caught Mæonian fire,
And plaintive Ossian tuned his Celtic lyre:—
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Tago's green banks, or Meles' hallow'd grove,
Assist me thence—command my growing song
To roll with nobler energy along!
Before me Life's extended vale appears,
Onward I hasten thro' the gulf of years,
And soon must sink beneath them; let my name
With one bright furrow of recording fame
Mark my brief course!—If led by thee I stray'd
In youth's sweet dawn beneath the hazel shade,
While over head clear shone the sunny beam,
And noon's weak breeze scarce curl'd the tepid stream:
Still aid me, gentle Spirit! still inspire
My first bold task, and add diviner fire.
Thou too, eternal Freedom! Britain's friend,
To British strains thy wonted influence lend,
And fire my kindling mind, while I display
Thy own Gustavus in unclouded day.
From where, on vast Nevada's icy brow,
Enthroned in clouds, thou view'st the realm below,
The Lusian, Gaul, and Albion's warring train,
The clash of arms, and tumult of the plain;
From thence I call thee—rouse thy name once more,
And to an equal theme thine aid implore,
Since Spain is now, what Sweden was before.
To British strains thy wonted influence lend,
And fire my kindling mind, while I display
Thy own Gustavus in unclouded day.
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Enthroned in clouds, thou view'st the realm below,
The Lusian, Gaul, and Albion's warring train,
The clash of arms, and tumult of the plain;
From thence I call thee—rouse thy name once more,
And to an equal theme thine aid implore,
Since Spain is now, what Sweden was before.
And now with transport wild Ernestus spies
Dalarne's continuous coast before him rise.
Ere yet he reach'd the bank, the toiling oar
He dropp'd, and sprung impatient to the shore.
Before him wide the dark-brow'd forests frown'd,
And morn's still hour hush'd all the space around,
Save where the whispers of the changeful breeze
Half waved the summits of the towering trees.
Alone, and guided by a straggling beam,
He hastened onward, where the murmuring stream
Cut thro' the woods its liquid way, and laved
The grass, that round their trunks luxuriant waved.
The willing woods an easy passage yield,
And his glad footsteps reach the bordering field.
Dalarne's continuous coast before him rise.
Ere yet he reach'd the bank, the toiling oar
He dropp'd, and sprung impatient to the shore.
Before him wide the dark-brow'd forests frown'd,
And morn's still hour hush'd all the space around,
Save where the whispers of the changeful breeze
Half waved the summits of the towering trees.
Alone, and guided by a straggling beam,
He hastened onward, where the murmuring stream
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The grass, that round their trunks luxuriant waved.
The willing woods an easy passage yield,
And his glad footsteps reach the bordering field.
O'er many a hill he pass'd, and many a plain,
While the steep sun toiled up heaven's blue domain:
At length, o'erspent with labour, he descries
A spire white-glistening in the morning skies;
Around, a hundred cots in order rose,
And mingling trees a shadowy scene compose;
A mighty wood, o'er all, its dark protection throws.
On vale, on village, and protecting wood,
The southern sun shot down his fiery flood.
Recent from toil, the weary peasant-train
Reclined their languid limbs along the plain,
Or dragg'd their idle steps along the soil,
To watch the mountain-miner's distant toil.
Here first Ernestus paused, and gazing round,
Traced the wide scene, and measured all the ground.
At length, his search determined to delay
'Till deepening twilight quench the crimson ray,
On the cool grass his weary limbs he threw,
While future years rose imaged to his view,
From hope to hope his mind enraptur'd pass'd,
And every hope seem'd brighter than the last.
So the swift eagle, with exulting wings,
Freed from his cage, thro' echoing ether springs;
Towers, cities, hills recede, untired he flies,
Cleaves the blue space, and gains upon the skies:
There wantons in the warm expanse of day,
And drinks, with kindling eyes, the sun's accustomed ray.
While the steep sun toiled up heaven's blue domain:
At length, o'erspent with labour, he descries
A spire white-glistening in the morning skies;
Around, a hundred cots in order rose,
And mingling trees a shadowy scene compose;
A mighty wood, o'er all, its dark protection throws.
On vale, on village, and protecting wood,
The southern sun shot down his fiery flood.
Recent from toil, the weary peasant-train
Reclined their languid limbs along the plain,
Or dragg'd their idle steps along the soil,
To watch the mountain-miner's distant toil.
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Traced the wide scene, and measured all the ground.
At length, his search determined to delay
'Till deepening twilight quench the crimson ray,
On the cool grass his weary limbs he threw,
While future years rose imaged to his view,
From hope to hope his mind enraptur'd pass'd,
And every hope seem'd brighter than the last.
So the swift eagle, with exulting wings,
Freed from his cage, thro' echoing ether springs;
Towers, cities, hills recede, untired he flies,
Cleaves the blue space, and gains upon the skies:
There wantons in the warm expanse of day,
And drinks, with kindling eyes, the sun's accustomed ray.
Meanwhile the guardian genius round him pours
Celestial dews, and nature's strength restores;
His swimming eyes to balmy sleep resign'd,
And fancy bore sweet visions to his mind.
Celestial dews, and nature's strength restores;
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And fancy bore sweet visions to his mind.
'Twas now the time, when sober Evening sheds
Her dusky mantle o'er the grassy meads:
Nor yet the pale stars trembled thro' the trees,
Nor sparkling quiver'd on the inconstant seas;
Nor yet the moon illumed the solemn scene:
The fields were silent, and the heavens serene.
The sheep had sought the fold; nor yet arose
Night's listless bird from her dull day's repose.
When in a vale with shadowy firs replete,
Whose broad boughs rustled thro' the dark retreat,
Beneath a pine that sunk to slow decay,
Unseen, Gustavus pass'd the hours away.
From earliest morn, ere day's third glass was run,
The chief had mused, nor mark'd the rising sun;
And the retiring day appear'd as just begun.
Each flattering argument his mind revolved,
Each gleam of patriot hope yet undissolved,
Traced to its dubious source each meteor-light,
'Till the last spark went out, and all was night.
Convinced at length, he spoke: the woods around
With solemn awe return'd the mournful sound;
And souls of patriots listen'd from on high,
Uncertain yet of Sweden's destiny.
Her dusky mantle o'er the grassy meads:
Nor yet the pale stars trembled thro' the trees,
Nor sparkling quiver'd on the inconstant seas;
Nor yet the moon illumed the solemn scene:
The fields were silent, and the heavens serene.
The sheep had sought the fold; nor yet arose
Night's listless bird from her dull day's repose.
When in a vale with shadowy firs replete,
Whose broad boughs rustled thro' the dark retreat,
Beneath a pine that sunk to slow decay,
Unseen, Gustavus pass'd the hours away.
From earliest morn, ere day's third glass was run,
The chief had mused, nor mark'd the rising sun;
And the retiring day appear'd as just begun.
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Each gleam of patriot hope yet undissolved,
Traced to its dubious source each meteor-light,
'Till the last spark went out, and all was night.
Convinced at length, he spoke: the woods around
With solemn awe return'd the mournful sound;
And souls of patriots listen'd from on high,
Uncertain yet of Sweden's destiny.
“Yes, thou must fall! oh once o'er earth renown'd,
Queen of the North, with choicest blessings crown'd,
While martial glory waited on thy voice,
And wealth and power seem'd rivals for thy choice!
Ye fond survivors of a ruined state,
Here quit, at length, your hopes of happier fate,
And view your country's fix'd unalterable date!
You were not made to fear a tyrant's frown,
To gild with tributary wealth his crown,
To welcome some deputed robber's sway,
And watch his wavering will from day to day:
No—once o'erwhelm'd beneath a tyrant's blow,
Each following age will bring increase of woe,
And every sigh, that loads the Swedish air,
Will fly the herald of a patriot's care!
Queen of the North, with choicest blessings crown'd,
While martial glory waited on thy voice,
And wealth and power seem'd rivals for thy choice!
Ye fond survivors of a ruined state,
Here quit, at length, your hopes of happier fate,
And view your country's fix'd unalterable date!
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To gild with tributary wealth his crown,
To welcome some deputed robber's sway,
And watch his wavering will from day to day:
No—once o'erwhelm'd beneath a tyrant's blow,
Each following age will bring increase of woe,
And every sigh, that loads the Swedish air,
Will fly the herald of a patriot's care!
“How art thou changed, oh fate! since smiling Time
Bore on his noiseless wings my youthful prime!—
By my paternal castle-gate reclined,
I caught the murmurs of the evening wind;
Or, leaning o'er the rampire's battled height,
Cast my young eye, with ever-new delight,
O'er rocks, o'er vallies rich with many a flower,
The lake blue-glistening, and the snowy tower:
While my sire joy'd on days long past to dwell,
How Haquin triumph'd, or how Birger fell—
‘That land,’ he said, ‘thy gallant fathers won
From realms that glow beneath a brighter sun.
Their beacons blazing on each snow-clad height,
The yelling sons of Odin rush'd to fight,
And rent the eagles of invading Rome,
Whose power had changed a hundred nations' doom.
In vain the Empress of the Northern Zone,
With arts on arts high piled her ill-gained throne:
Stern Engelbert trod Usurpation down,
And from the thirteenth Eric tore the crown.
Yet may my country fall—earth's works decay,
And heaven's high laws expect the annulling day.
Bore on his noiseless wings my youthful prime!—
By my paternal castle-gate reclined,
I caught the murmurs of the evening wind;
Or, leaning o'er the rampire's battled height,
Cast my young eye, with ever-new delight,
O'er rocks, o'er vallies rich with many a flower,
The lake blue-glistening, and the snowy tower:
While my sire joy'd on days long past to dwell,
How Haquin triumph'd, or how Birger fell—
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From realms that glow beneath a brighter sun.
Their beacons blazing on each snow-clad height,
The yelling sons of Odin rush'd to fight,
And rent the eagles of invading Rome,
Whose power had changed a hundred nations' doom.
In vain the Empress of the Northern Zone,
With arts on arts high piled her ill-gained throne:
Stern Engelbert trod Usurpation down,
And from the thirteenth Eric tore the crown.
Yet may my country fall—earth's works decay,
And heaven's high laws expect the annulling day.
“While yet a youth, by venturous hope impell'd,
Thro' foreign climes my devious course I held;
And came at last, where high in ether shine
The golden towers of sceptred Constantine.
There Palæologus the kingdom sway'd,
And willing Greece his mild commands obey'd.
I saw the town with antique splendours crown'd,
The martial force, the crowded ports around,
The peopled fields, with waving harvests fair,
And deem'd, security and peace were there.
Thro' foreign climes my devious course I held;
And came at last, where high in ether shine
The golden towers of sceptred Constantine.
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And willing Greece his mild commands obey'd.
I saw the town with antique splendours crown'd,
The martial force, the crowded ports around,
The peopled fields, with waving harvests fair,
And deem'd, security and peace were there.
“Onward I pass'd in youthful ardour bold,
'Till o'er the changeful earth four suns had roll'd,
When Stockholm's towers and Meler's native stream,
Of every vision, every thought the theme,
Recall'd my steps.—Returning thence, I saw
Byzantium sunk beneath a victor's law:
O'er the high walls barbaric ensigns wave,
Red with the recent carnage of the brave:
On quarter'd camps the sun his red beam flings;
Thro' night's dim arch the shrill-toned Ezzau rings;
Buried in dust the Christian altars lie,
And exiled Science seeks another sky.
'Till o'er the changeful earth four suns had roll'd,
When Stockholm's towers and Meler's native stream,
Of every vision, every thought the theme,
Recall'd my steps.—Returning thence, I saw
Byzantium sunk beneath a victor's law:
O'er the high walls barbaric ensigns wave,
Red with the recent carnage of the brave:
On quarter'd camps the sun his red beam flings;
Thro' night's dim arch the shrill-toned Ezzau rings;
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And exiled Science seeks another sky.
“Thus, Sweden, mayst thou fall! in ruin lost,
Each hope of aid by swift destruction cross'd;
Thy blazing domes may feed a tyrant's ire,
Thy shrines, unwilling, burn with Danish fire;
Thy latest king, like Constantine, in vain
May join his slaughter'd subjects on the plain!—
Handmaid of Science, and by Science fed,
Each vice already rears its blooming head:
Already Treason digs his silent mine;
With civil follies, foreign wars combine;
And raging Faction waits to give th' appointed sign.
Oh! in that hour, when growing dangers rise,
When the weak trembles, and the faithless flies,
Gustavus, fight for her! for Sweden fight!
For her employ the day, outwatch the night
Untouch'd by grief, by terror, or dismay,
Urge thro' surrounding ills thy fearless way;
Let useless torture and defeated hate
Confess the triumphs of a hero's fate:
Let tranquil courage in each act be seen,
And tyrants tremble at thy dying mien!’
Each hope of aid by swift destruction cross'd;
Thy blazing domes may feed a tyrant's ire,
Thy shrines, unwilling, burn with Danish fire;
Thy latest king, like Constantine, in vain
May join his slaughter'd subjects on the plain!—
Handmaid of Science, and by Science fed,
Each vice already rears its blooming head:
Already Treason digs his silent mine;
With civil follies, foreign wars combine;
And raging Faction waits to give th' appointed sign.
Oh! in that hour, when growing dangers rise,
When the weak trembles, and the faithless flies,
Gustavus, fight for her! for Sweden fight!
For her employ the day, outwatch the night
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Urge thro' surrounding ills thy fearless way;
Let useless torture and defeated hate
Confess the triumphs of a hero's fate:
Let tranquil courage in each act be seen,
And tyrants tremble at thy dying mien!’
“He spoke no more. O'er my astonish'd soul
I felt a flood of high emotions roll:
Toss'd on the mighty stream of future time,
My young heart shook with ecstasies sublime!
I felt a flood of high emotions roll:
Toss'd on the mighty stream of future time,
My young heart shook with ecstasies sublime!
“Oh, look not from thy skies, lamented shade,
Nor view that land to misery betray'd:
If ignorance can cloud immortal sight,
Be Sweden's fortunes wrapp'd in tenfold night!
Thou saw'st not Devastation sweep her shore,
Her forests smoke, her rivers roll in gore;
Thou saw'st not half her woes. Her senate low,
Thou thought'st her people would revenge the blow;
And hope shone kindling in thy dying eye,
That some new sun would rise to light her starless sky.—
'Twas then, when Christiern thought the axe too slow,
And watch'd with eager transport every blow,
And drank each murmur that to death consign'd
The noblest, wisest, bravest of mankind,—
When ev'n the gazing crowd was doom'd to feel
The fury of his yet unsated steel,—
'Twas then thou met thy fate,—unshared by me!
Thou fell'st, and with thee Sweden's liberty!
Thy spouse, thy daughter, wrapp'd in fetters lie;
Thy son, self-exiled, quits his native sky!”—
Nor view that land to misery betray'd:
If ignorance can cloud immortal sight,
Be Sweden's fortunes wrapp'd in tenfold night!
Thou saw'st not Devastation sweep her shore,
Her forests smoke, her rivers roll in gore;
Thou saw'st not half her woes. Her senate low,
Thou thought'st her people would revenge the blow;
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That some new sun would rise to light her starless sky.—
'Twas then, when Christiern thought the axe too slow,
And watch'd with eager transport every blow,
And drank each murmur that to death consign'd
The noblest, wisest, bravest of mankind,—
When ev'n the gazing crowd was doom'd to feel
The fury of his yet unsated steel,—
'Twas then thou met thy fate,—unshared by me!
Thou fell'st, and with thee Sweden's liberty!
Thy spouse, thy daughter, wrapp'd in fetters lie;
Thy son, self-exiled, quits his native sky!”—
He paused, and starting from the verdant ground
With hurried footsteps paced the forests round,
Stung with fierce grief, 'till the full tide of woes
Subsiding sunk, and calmer thoughts arose.
With hurried footsteps paced the forests round,
Stung with fierce grief, 'till the full tide of woes
Subsiding sunk, and calmer thoughts arose.
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While yet he roams beneath the shady groves,
And tears gush forth at every step he roves;
Sleep's humid vapours lessening on his eyes,
Ernestus rose, and mark'd the changing skies.
And now a furze-clad eminence he found,
That wide o'erlook'd the immensity of ground:
From this, with eye insatiate, he admires
Woods, hamlets, fields, and awe-commanding spires.
And seeks where first to steer his fateful flight,
Safe under covert of the quiet night.
Wide to the left the blue-tinged river roll'd,
And faintly tipped with eve's departing gold,
The village rose: half-shaded, on the right
A sloping hill appeared to bound the sight:
From its hoar summit to the midmost vale,
Unnumbered boughs waved floating in the gale.
Imbrown'd with ceaseless toil, a smiling train
Whirl the keen axe, and clear the farther plain,
The intruding trees and scatter'd stems o'erthrow,
And form a grassy theatre below.
A hundred piles beneath the moon's wan beams,
O'er rock and valley shed their lengthening streams;
Three youths at each their joyous station keep,
In festive contest bent to banish sleep,
And strive which first shall see the morn arise
With pale-red streamer waving thro' the skies.
Sequester'd from the rest a shaded dome
Arose, the son of Eric's rural home:
On its low roof the light appear'd to rest,
The last green light that trembled in the west.
Thither, by Heaven impell'd, he took his way,
And sought the spot where Sweden's hero lay.
And tears gush forth at every step he roves;
Sleep's humid vapours lessening on his eyes,
Ernestus rose, and mark'd the changing skies.
And now a furze-clad eminence he found,
That wide o'erlook'd the immensity of ground:
From this, with eye insatiate, he admires
Woods, hamlets, fields, and awe-commanding spires.
And seeks where first to steer his fateful flight,
Safe under covert of the quiet night.
Wide to the left the blue-tinged river roll'd,
And faintly tipped with eve's departing gold,
The village rose: half-shaded, on the right
A sloping hill appeared to bound the sight:
From its hoar summit to the midmost vale,
Unnumbered boughs waved floating in the gale.
Imbrown'd with ceaseless toil, a smiling train
Whirl the keen axe, and clear the farther plain,
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And form a grassy theatre below.
A hundred piles beneath the moon's wan beams,
O'er rock and valley shed their lengthening streams;
Three youths at each their joyous station keep,
In festive contest bent to banish sleep,
And strive which first shall see the morn arise
With pale-red streamer waving thro' the skies.
Sequester'd from the rest a shaded dome
Arose, the son of Eric's rural home:
On its low roof the light appear'd to rest,
The last green light that trembled in the west.
Thither, by Heaven impell'd, he took his way,
And sought the spot where Sweden's hero lay.
Meanwhile beneath an oak, ere day was met,
The village-chiefs, a rustic council, met;
Whom ancient custom bade with annual care
The ensuing day's festivities prepare.
Thro' their dark locks cold sigh'd the evening wind;
Their dogs upon the dewy plain reclined
Beside them lay. In their afflicted thought
Each proof of Christiern's fell oppression wrought,
Each deed, each menace: gloomy bodings swell
In every bosom—not a tongue can dwell
On sports, on prizes, or on social games:—
O'er their wide vallies doom'd to hostile flames,
O'er their devoted domes, their eyes they throw,
Dimm'd with the rising tear that dares not flow.
At length a veteran chief, Olafsen named,
In early youth for fiery valour famed,
By labour unimpaired, unchilled by age,
And still in battle more than counsel sage—
At length Olafsen rose, and darting round
His eyes, where rage and resolution frown'd,
“Arouse!” he cried, “delay were madness here!
Let all who dare in arms, in arms appear!
Enough our eyes have track'd the conquering foe,
And in calm torpor watch'd each new o'erthrow!
Yon troop of peasants, ignorantly gay,
Who waste in careless sports the passing day,
Soon shall behold the waving sheets of fire,
Sent from their peaceful domes, to heaven aspire.
Each year, each month, new towns with ruin smoke,
And province after province feels the yoke.
Already on our conquer'd castle's height
The Danish watchfires redden all the night,
Soon, soon, their inroads will our fate decide—
Haste, let us spread th' eventful tidings wide,
Arm every hand, provoke the lingering fight;
And woe to him, that joys not at the sight!
By this dread tree, which many an age has stood
Unshaken, and survived the subject wood,
Which never pruner's steel has dared invade,
Nor venturous woodman lopp'd the hallow'd shade;
By this dread tree I swear, no peace to know,
'Till conqueror, captive, or in death laid low!
Arouse, and conquer, by my zeal inspired!”
The village-chiefs, a rustic council, met;
Whom ancient custom bade with annual care
The ensuing day's festivities prepare.
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Their dogs upon the dewy plain reclined
Beside them lay. In their afflicted thought
Each proof of Christiern's fell oppression wrought,
Each deed, each menace: gloomy bodings swell
In every bosom—not a tongue can dwell
On sports, on prizes, or on social games:—
O'er their wide vallies doom'd to hostile flames,
O'er their devoted domes, their eyes they throw,
Dimm'd with the rising tear that dares not flow.
At length a veteran chief, Olafsen named,
In early youth for fiery valour famed,
By labour unimpaired, unchilled by age,
And still in battle more than counsel sage—
At length Olafsen rose, and darting round
His eyes, where rage and resolution frown'd,
“Arouse!” he cried, “delay were madness here!
Let all who dare in arms, in arms appear!
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And in calm torpor watch'd each new o'erthrow!
Yon troop of peasants, ignorantly gay,
Who waste in careless sports the passing day,
Soon shall behold the waving sheets of fire,
Sent from their peaceful domes, to heaven aspire.
Each year, each month, new towns with ruin smoke,
And province after province feels the yoke.
Already on our conquer'd castle's height
The Danish watchfires redden all the night,
Soon, soon, their inroads will our fate decide—
Haste, let us spread th' eventful tidings wide,
Arm every hand, provoke the lingering fight;
And woe to him, that joys not at the sight!
By this dread tree, which many an age has stood
Unshaken, and survived the subject wood,
Which never pruner's steel has dared invade,
Nor venturous woodman lopp'd the hallow'd shade;
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'Till conqueror, captive, or in death laid low!
Arouse, and conquer, by my zeal inspired!”
He spoke, and speaking every bosom fired.
From one to one the patriot ardour flows,
As on the ruffled deep the watery circle grows.
From one to one the patriot ardour flows,
As on the ruffled deep the watery circle grows.
First rose his generous son, Adolphus named,
For martial sports and manly courage famed,
A youth, who once in war the palm of honour claimed:
And thus express'd his mind: “To-morrow's dawn
Will see assembled on our spreading lawn
The chiefs of Dalecarlia's mountain-land,
With all their following train, a countless band.
To that vast crowd let some bold youth proclaim
Eternal war on Denmark's hated name,
And say, “From Mora's chiefs this martial challenge came.”
Their valiant clans will gather at the sound,
And squadrons people all the dales around.
Oh! did one fearless heart, of those who died
When reeking Stockholm pour'd a crimson tide,
Did one, but one, remain, his country's shield,
To lead our warriors to the deathful field;
Then might the angry king his legions tire,
Waste on these rocks his ineffectual ire,
Scowl at his freeborn foes, and vainly try
To plant his silken standards in our sky!”
For martial sports and manly courage famed,
A youth, who once in war the palm of honour claimed:
And thus express'd his mind: “To-morrow's dawn
Will see assembled on our spreading lawn
The chiefs of Dalecarlia's mountain-land,
With all their following train, a countless band.
To that vast crowd let some bold youth proclaim
Eternal war on Denmark's hated name,
And say, “From Mora's chiefs this martial challenge came.”
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And squadrons people all the dales around.
Oh! did one fearless heart, of those who died
When reeking Stockholm pour'd a crimson tide,
Did one, but one, remain, his country's shield,
To lead our warriors to the deathful field;
Then might the angry king his legions tire,
Waste on these rocks his ineffectual ire,
Scowl at his freeborn foes, and vainly try
To plant his silken standards in our sky!”
Struck with the welcome thought, from man to man
Mingled with praise, assenting murmurs ran
Unequal—So in night's tempestuous roar
The waves successive lash the stony shore.
The bold advice, by inexperience moved,
All seem'd applauding, yet not all approved;
And old Adalfi thus: “Tho' hopes remain;
Tho' dauntless rashness may oft-times attain
What wisdom's wiliest arts had sought in vain:
He, whose wild counsels risk a nation's fate,
For public fame, may meet with public hate.
Perhaps, ev'n now, to the victorious Dane
Dalarne has yielded half her rich domain:
Shall we to Denmark's slaves our hopes disclose,
And court with frantic haste Oppression's rushing woes?—
Oft have our sires the work of war delay'd,
'Till signs aërial promised heavenly aid;
Oft pitch'd their idle lances in the plain,
While south-winds held their unpropitious reign.
Remember too the word disclosed from high,
The sacred word of ancient prophecy,—
“When gather'd mists from Denmark's sky shall crowd,
And blot the North with one continued cloud,
Then shall a second sun to Sweden rise,
And with unchanging glory gild her skies.”
Reflect on this, and let my words have way,
Nor spurn the needful counsels of delay.
Should all our province with united strength
Assail the foe, the foe may yield at length,
And backward shrink, while in the favouring hour
All Sweden aids us with collective power.
The hope that yet remains our care should guard,
Nor blast by rashness, nor by fears retard.
Ere yet the assembled chiefs our fate decide,
Let chosen spies among the council glide,
To every speech a listening ear incline,
And sound each heart, and fathom each design.
Let the skill'd augur Heaven's high will explore,
And all with suppliant fear Heaven's Lord adore:
So may success our fearless efforts guide,
And Heaven auspicious fight on Sweden's side.—
But see! the red-haired sun to ocean bends,
And purple twilight on the heath descends.
Haste to your homes—shake anxious care away,
And, fresh with slumber, wait the long laborious day.”
Mingled with praise, assenting murmurs ran
Unequal—So in night's tempestuous roar
The waves successive lash the stony shore.
The bold advice, by inexperience moved,
All seem'd applauding, yet not all approved;
And old Adalfi thus: “Tho' hopes remain;
Tho' dauntless rashness may oft-times attain
What wisdom's wiliest arts had sought in vain:
100
For public fame, may meet with public hate.
Perhaps, ev'n now, to the victorious Dane
Dalarne has yielded half her rich domain:
Shall we to Denmark's slaves our hopes disclose,
And court with frantic haste Oppression's rushing woes?—
Oft have our sires the work of war delay'd,
'Till signs aërial promised heavenly aid;
Oft pitch'd their idle lances in the plain,
While south-winds held their unpropitious reign.
Remember too the word disclosed from high,
The sacred word of ancient prophecy,—
“When gather'd mists from Denmark's sky shall crowd,
And blot the North with one continued cloud,
Then shall a second sun to Sweden rise,
And with unchanging glory gild her skies.”
Reflect on this, and let my words have way,
Nor spurn the needful counsels of delay.
101
Assail the foe, the foe may yield at length,
And backward shrink, while in the favouring hour
All Sweden aids us with collective power.
The hope that yet remains our care should guard,
Nor blast by rashness, nor by fears retard.
Ere yet the assembled chiefs our fate decide,
Let chosen spies among the council glide,
To every speech a listening ear incline,
And sound each heart, and fathom each design.
Let the skill'd augur Heaven's high will explore,
And all with suppliant fear Heaven's Lord adore:
So may success our fearless efforts guide,
And Heaven auspicious fight on Sweden's side.—
But see! the red-haired sun to ocean bends,
And purple twilight on the heath descends.
Haste to your homes—shake anxious care away,
And, fresh with slumber, wait the long laborious day.”
102
Adalfi spoke; and bade ere noon of night
With sacred spells and many a mystic rite
Invoke the Power Divine, and seek from high
The dark events of dread futurity.
With sacred spells and many a mystic rite
Invoke the Power Divine, and seek from high
The dark events of dread futurity.
Thus they; while, stretch'd beneath the sheltering wood,
The son of Eric thus his thoughts pursued.
The son of Eric thus his thoughts pursued.
“Yes—'tis decreed! in heaven's recording hall
Her guardian Spirit wrote my country's fall.
When first red faction burn'd thro' all her shore,
And icy Meler blush'd with civil gore,
Our ills began. As whirling Maelstrom sweeps
The shrieking sailor to the boundless deeps,
Wide and more wide the increasing ruin grew,
And all our hopes into its vortex drew.
In vain the statesman thro' laborious days
Piled plan on plan, and maze involved in maze;
In vain Süante, and either Stenon, fought;
In vain my arm a transient succour brought:
Almighty Fate on all our labours frown'd,
Athwart each scheme the thread of error wound,
Our efforts with an unseen chain controll'd,
Perplex'd the prudent, and dismay'd the bold.
Fate urges on—Her adamantine shield
Protects our destined Conqueror in the field;
To his own seas by War and Famine driven,
Furious he mounts, nor heeds the frowns of heaven:
Fresh hosts appear, unnumber'd standards rise,
From town to town his gather'd vengeance flies,
His banner each ambitious prelate rears,
In arms for him each factious Lord appears.
Still, as around the blackening tempest grew,
From cloud to cloud my ardent spirit flew,
Watch'd every gleam of sunshine as it pass'd,
And hoped the darkness would dissolve at last:
But Time now hasten'd to the dread event!—
In fruitless toil my days, my nights were spent;
Our chiefs deputed felt the treacherous chain,
And faith was lost, and victory was vain.
Her guardian Spirit wrote my country's fall.
When first red faction burn'd thro' all her shore,
And icy Meler blush'd with civil gore,
Our ills began. As whirling Maelstrom sweeps
The shrieking sailor to the boundless deeps,
Wide and more wide the increasing ruin grew,
And all our hopes into its vortex drew.
In vain the statesman thro' laborious days
Piled plan on plan, and maze involved in maze;
103
In vain my arm a transient succour brought:
Almighty Fate on all our labours frown'd,
Athwart each scheme the thread of error wound,
Our efforts with an unseen chain controll'd,
Perplex'd the prudent, and dismay'd the bold.
Fate urges on—Her adamantine shield
Protects our destined Conqueror in the field;
To his own seas by War and Famine driven,
Furious he mounts, nor heeds the frowns of heaven:
Fresh hosts appear, unnumber'd standards rise,
From town to town his gather'd vengeance flies,
His banner each ambitious prelate rears,
In arms for him each factious Lord appears.
Still, as around the blackening tempest grew,
From cloud to cloud my ardent spirit flew,
Watch'd every gleam of sunshine as it pass'd,
And hoped the darkness would dissolve at last:
104
In fruitless toil my days, my nights were spent;
Our chiefs deputed felt the treacherous chain,
And faith was lost, and victory was vain.
“Saved from the captive crowd for death designed,
Many a dark month in slavery's gloom I pined.
To seek, with hopeless eyes, my native ground;
To hear, in thought, the din of battle sound;
To watch each passing beam, and think it falls
On slaughter'd armies and unpeopled walls,
Was all my life—Suspense still waved a dart
Of death-like terror o'er my throbbing heart.—
I was not there, when thou, my Stenon, fell,
To cheer thee with a soldier's kind farewell,
At once to lay thy base betrayer low,
And pour full vengeance on the astonished foe!
Thy spirit, from its earthly home released,
Thy patriot spirit entered in my breast;
That soul ev'n now my toil-worn bosom fires,
Prompts every deed, and every wish inspires!—
Stung with fresh hope, I burst the involving chain,
Sought the sad relics of my friends in vain,
And roam'd o'er Sweden's now subdued domain.
As the swift flame alike unquench'd remains
In air's clear space, and earth's dark cavern'd veins,
Thro' every change burn'd on my great design;
The crowded trade-ship, and the starless mine,
The forest now, and now the mountain-cave,
From following foes alternate refuge gave.
Now my bold purpose boldly I pursued,
Call'd Sweden's sons to arms, and all my hopes renew'd;
Now the thick storm of danger shunn'd, and fled
To hide in darkness my devoted head:
Now fierce to conquer, now content to live,
A patriot now, and now a fugitive.
Thro' province, town, and hamlet, on I pass'd,
Where virtue, or where freedom, yet might last;
With keen reproach the lagging spirit fired,
The weak with hope, the bold with praise inspired.
But all was changed! and Sweden but a name!
Her rocks and mountains only were the same!
Many a dark month in slavery's gloom I pined.
To seek, with hopeless eyes, my native ground;
To hear, in thought, the din of battle sound;
To watch each passing beam, and think it falls
On slaughter'd armies and unpeopled walls,
Was all my life—Suspense still waved a dart
Of death-like terror o'er my throbbing heart.—
I was not there, when thou, my Stenon, fell,
To cheer thee with a soldier's kind farewell,
At once to lay thy base betrayer low,
And pour full vengeance on the astonished foe!
Thy spirit, from its earthly home released,
Thy patriot spirit entered in my breast;
105
Prompts every deed, and every wish inspires!—
Stung with fresh hope, I burst the involving chain,
Sought the sad relics of my friends in vain,
And roam'd o'er Sweden's now subdued domain.
As the swift flame alike unquench'd remains
In air's clear space, and earth's dark cavern'd veins,
Thro' every change burn'd on my great design;
The crowded trade-ship, and the starless mine,
The forest now, and now the mountain-cave,
From following foes alternate refuge gave.
Now my bold purpose boldly I pursued,
Call'd Sweden's sons to arms, and all my hopes renew'd;
Now the thick storm of danger shunn'd, and fled
To hide in darkness my devoted head:
106
A patriot now, and now a fugitive.
Thro' province, town, and hamlet, on I pass'd,
Where virtue, or where freedom, yet might last;
With keen reproach the lagging spirit fired,
The weak with hope, the bold with praise inspired.
But all was changed! and Sweden but a name!
Her rocks and mountains only were the same!
“In toil and danger nurs'd, the peasants cried—
‘Hence, mighty victor! o'er the Baltic tide;
To other realms thy noisy projects bear,
Nor vex our humble state with hope and fear:
Whoe'er is master, we are still forgot,
And harmless poverty is still our lot.’
They spoke, and shunn'd me, as a rebel hurl'd
By Heaven's red vengeance from the starry world.
Yet, as they turn'd, a deep, a long-drawn sigh
Deplored their ruined joys and ravish'd liberty:
They wept for blessings once bestow'd in vain,
And mourn'd the good they hoped not to regain
The venal noble spurn'd me from his board,
Or 'midst his smiles suborn'd the treacherous sword:
While the proud prelate and his titled foe,
(As reconciled by fellowship in woe)
Alike resolved no patriot Swede to know.
All, all was Christiern's—and the haughtiest fear'd
That voice, her peasants late with scorn had heard.
Alone amidst my country's wreck I stood,
A little bark surrounded by the flood,
And hung suspended o'er the rolling wave,
Whose every surge disclosed a gaping grave.
'Tis time to give superfluous toils a close,
And seek the friendly haven of repose.
To foreign realms I fly, a peaceful guest:
Ev'n Denmark's friends will give Gustavus rest,
An exiled youth with cheap protection shade,
And glad with comfort him they dare not aid.
‘Hence, mighty victor! o'er the Baltic tide;
To other realms thy noisy projects bear,
Nor vex our humble state with hope and fear:
Whoe'er is master, we are still forgot,
And harmless poverty is still our lot.’
They spoke, and shunn'd me, as a rebel hurl'd
By Heaven's red vengeance from the starry world.
Yet, as they turn'd, a deep, a long-drawn sigh
Deplored their ruined joys and ravish'd liberty:
107
And mourn'd the good they hoped not to regain
The venal noble spurn'd me from his board,
Or 'midst his smiles suborn'd the treacherous sword:
While the proud prelate and his titled foe,
(As reconciled by fellowship in woe)
Alike resolved no patriot Swede to know.
All, all was Christiern's—and the haughtiest fear'd
That voice, her peasants late with scorn had heard.
Alone amidst my country's wreck I stood,
A little bark surrounded by the flood,
And hung suspended o'er the rolling wave,
Whose every surge disclosed a gaping grave.
'Tis time to give superfluous toils a close,
And seek the friendly haven of repose.
To foreign realms I fly, a peaceful guest:
Ev'n Denmark's friends will give Gustavus rest,
An exiled youth with cheap protection shade,
And glad with comfort him they dare not aid.
108
“What help, what hope to Sweden now remains?
Imperial Charles with kindred power sustains
Her fell oppressor: his o'erwhelming hosts
Awe the wide North, and deluge Europe's coasts;
Nor could our forces Pavia's victor brave,
Tho' the fierce Dane were left without a slave.
Still arm'd for battle, watchful Norbi sweeps
With many a prow her subjugated deeps.
Dark Trollio, deep in all the craft of hell,
Who with one art a hundred hosts might quell,
Conducts her foes: his active prudence schools
The veteran leaders, and their courage rules.
Unnumber'd legions swarm thro' all her coast,
And scarce the land supports its conquering host.
Experienced Otho o'er the troops presides,
And parts their plunder, and their fury guides.
Her trembling people, as when winds conspire
To wrap some capital in clouds of fire,
Now here, now there, for hopeless succour fly,
Or, chill'd with dread, in pale submission lie.
Ev'n Dalecarlia's fierce untutored train
In arms a sullen slow defence maintain,
Nor meet the foe; but from their summits dare
His coming steps, and menace useless war.
Soon will the hostile steel, wide-conquering, mow
Their strength, and Sweden's last defence lie low.
No more is left to fate: the fix'd decree
Stands on the tablets of eternity:
And many a towering empire may decay,
And many an age roll its slow years away,
Ere Freedom light again her once-extinguished ray.
Imperial Charles with kindred power sustains
Her fell oppressor: his o'erwhelming hosts
Awe the wide North, and deluge Europe's coasts;
Nor could our forces Pavia's victor brave,
Tho' the fierce Dane were left without a slave.
Still arm'd for battle, watchful Norbi sweeps
With many a prow her subjugated deeps.
Dark Trollio, deep in all the craft of hell,
Who with one art a hundred hosts might quell,
Conducts her foes: his active prudence schools
The veteran leaders, and their courage rules.
Unnumber'd legions swarm thro' all her coast,
And scarce the land supports its conquering host.
Experienced Otho o'er the troops presides,
And parts their plunder, and their fury guides.
Her trembling people, as when winds conspire
To wrap some capital in clouds of fire,
109
Or, chill'd with dread, in pale submission lie.
Ev'n Dalecarlia's fierce untutored train
In arms a sullen slow defence maintain,
Nor meet the foe; but from their summits dare
His coming steps, and menace useless war.
Soon will the hostile steel, wide-conquering, mow
Their strength, and Sweden's last defence lie low.
No more is left to fate: the fix'd decree
Stands on the tablets of eternity:
And many a towering empire may decay,
And many an age roll its slow years away,
Ere Freedom light again her once-extinguished ray.
“Away with vain regrets, and useless tears!
One labour more, one final task appears;
From all my joys with calmness to depart,
The last brave effort of a hero's heart:
The smiles of partial Conscience to enjoy,
Since erring Hope no longer can decoy,
And, high on Resolution's pinions borne,
Look down on fate, and all its evils scorn.
Yes—o'er my head whatever sun may roll,
Scorch'd at the line, or freezing at the pole,
Still will I guard, untired, some righteous cause,
Still shield some country's violated laws;
And many a joy, that Christiern cannot taste,
Shall cheer Gustavus thro' misfortune's waste.
Enough for me, with honour to perform
My destined course, and face the allotted storm;
That done, who will may snatch the wreath of fame:
Oblivion, close for ever on my name!
The souls of heroes shall frequent my stone,
In torrents buried, or with moss o'ergrown,
And, while all else forget me, shall proclaim
To kindred spirits their Gustavus' name.
One labour more, one final task appears;
From all my joys with calmness to depart,
The last brave effort of a hero's heart:
110
Since erring Hope no longer can decoy,
And, high on Resolution's pinions borne,
Look down on fate, and all its evils scorn.
Yes—o'er my head whatever sun may roll,
Scorch'd at the line, or freezing at the pole,
Still will I guard, untired, some righteous cause,
Still shield some country's violated laws;
And many a joy, that Christiern cannot taste,
Shall cheer Gustavus thro' misfortune's waste.
Enough for me, with honour to perform
My destined course, and face the allotted storm;
That done, who will may snatch the wreath of fame:
Oblivion, close for ever on my name!
The souls of heroes shall frequent my stone,
In torrents buried, or with moss o'ergrown,
And, while all else forget me, shall proclaim
To kindred spirits their Gustavus' name.
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“Ye faithful warriors, fearless hearts, farewell!
Who fought with me, and for your country fell!
O'er your cold dust I wept not; hurrying war
Forbade all pause.—Yet, oh! whatever star,
Sacred to patriot worth, and valour's crown,
Contain you now,—from heaven's bright noon look down,
Visit an exile's dreams, and blunt misfortune's frown!
Who fought with me, and for your country fell!
O'er your cold dust I wept not; hurrying war
Forbade all pause.—Yet, oh! whatever star,
Sacred to patriot worth, and valour's crown,
Contain you now,—from heaven's bright noon look down,
Visit an exile's dreams, and blunt misfortune's frown!
“Thou too, farewell! my country! since in vain
I strove to snatch thee from the eternal chain;
Thou, of whose glory future tongues shall tell,
Mother of kings and heroes—fare thee well!
What human thought and prudence could sustain,
For thee I proved, and proved that all was vain;
And could my single toils protection give,
Armies might sleep, and Stenon yet might live.
For thee I could refuse with fame to fall,
When glorious death stood ready at my call;
For thee I rush'd thro' ills, for thee despised them all.
Farewell!—thy rocks, thy skies, thy mountains blue,
Where'er I turn, shall seem to meet my view;
While Hope, unterrified by all the past,
Shall pierce thro' future years, and view thee free at last!
I strove to snatch thee from the eternal chain;
Thou, of whose glory future tongues shall tell,
Mother of kings and heroes—fare thee well!
What human thought and prudence could sustain,
For thee I proved, and proved that all was vain;
And could my single toils protection give,
Armies might sleep, and Stenon yet might live.
112
When glorious death stood ready at my call;
For thee I rush'd thro' ills, for thee despised them all.
Farewell!—thy rocks, thy skies, thy mountains blue,
Where'er I turn, shall seem to meet my view;
While Hope, unterrified by all the past,
Shall pierce thro' future years, and view thee free at last!
“God of my sires! if studious to fulfill
In every point thy uncontested will,
I long have struggled, careless to escape,
With ills of every size, of every shape;
If still from Superstition's darkness free,
My heart has breathed a purer prayer to thee,
While erring millions with vain worship stained
Thy holy altars, and thy praise profaned;
If now, obeying thy implied command,
I quit at length this long-disputed land:
Assist me still!—and grant my native shore
One hour of rest, one tranquil season more!
Enough her ancient crimes have teem'd with woes;
Let her long griefs be paid with short repose:
Or, if I seek that kind reprieve in vain,
Let future years, at least, dissolve her chain!
Protect my honoured mother: and assuage
The woes that wreck my sister's youthful age:—
If yet on earth the beauteous flow'ret bloom,
Or wither'd moulder in the silent tomb,
I must not know—Enough—thy gracious will
Divides, with equal measure, good and ill!—
To them, if aught I merit, be it given;
And grant them peace on earth, or bliss in heaven.
I will not name them more—the mournful name
Would damp with grief my soul's reviving flame.
To safe retreats my fellow-patriots lead,
Reward their labours, and their vows succeed;
Nor let one soul repine he ever fought
For virtuous praise, or deem it dearly bought!”
In every point thy uncontested will,
I long have struggled, careless to escape,
With ills of every size, of every shape;
If still from Superstition's darkness free,
My heart has breathed a purer prayer to thee,
While erring millions with vain worship stained
Thy holy altars, and thy praise profaned;
113
I quit at length this long-disputed land:
Assist me still!—and grant my native shore
One hour of rest, one tranquil season more!
Enough her ancient crimes have teem'd with woes;
Let her long griefs be paid with short repose:
Or, if I seek that kind reprieve in vain,
Let future years, at least, dissolve her chain!
Protect my honoured mother: and assuage
The woes that wreck my sister's youthful age:—
If yet on earth the beauteous flow'ret bloom,
Or wither'd moulder in the silent tomb,
I must not know—Enough—thy gracious will
Divides, with equal measure, good and ill!—
To them, if aught I merit, be it given;
And grant them peace on earth, or bliss in heaven.
I will not name them more—the mournful name
Would damp with grief my soul's reviving flame.
114
Reward their labours, and their vows succeed;
Nor let one soul repine he ever fought
For virtuous praise, or deem it dearly bought!”
Scarce had he finish'd, when o'er rock and dell
A sudden stream of yellow splendour fell,
As if a star, with sunlike lustre crown'd,
Dropp'd instantaneous thro' the blue profound.
His heaving breast the joyful omen cheer'd,
And now thro' parting clouds the moon appear'd.
A sudden stream of yellow splendour fell,
As if a star, with sunlike lustre crown'd,
Dropp'd instantaneous thro' the blue profound.
His heaving breast the joyful omen cheer'd,
And now thro' parting clouds the moon appear'd.
Beneath her glimmering light the chief survey'd
A stranger-youth advancing thro' the shade.
His stately air, his gold-embroider'd vest,
And towering step superior birth confess'd;
But time, and mental storms, had changed a mien
By godlike Vasa once with pleasure seen:
Tho' recent hope and transport half effaced
The lines, which sorrow had so lately traced.
A stranger-youth advancing thro' the shade.
His stately air, his gold-embroider'd vest,
And towering step superior birth confess'd;
But time, and mental storms, had changed a mien
By godlike Vasa once with pleasure seen:
Tho' recent hope and transport half effaced
The lines, which sorrow had so lately traced.
115
Unaw'd by fear the courteous hero stood,
And near the shady confines of the wood
Now met the youth. “Whoe'er thou art,” he cried,
“Beneath our roof the tranquil morn abide:
For see, the red stars rise, and all around
The dew falls heavy on the silent ground.”
And near the shady confines of the wood
Now met the youth. “Whoe'er thou art,” he cried,
“Beneath our roof the tranquil morn abide:
For see, the red stars rise, and all around
The dew falls heavy on the silent ground.”
“Hear, gallant guardian of an injured state!”
(Replied the certain messenger of fate)
“For well I know thee, once in battle seen:
No length of years can change a hero's mien,
Unalter'd as his soul; since in his lines
The stamp of Heaven's own hand distinguish'd shines.”—
(Replied the certain messenger of fate)
“For well I know thee, once in battle seen:
No length of years can change a hero's mien,
Unalter'd as his soul; since in his lines
The stamp of Heaven's own hand distinguish'd shines.”—
On him, in speechless wonder, Vasa gazed:
New feelings, by uncertain memory raised,
Rose indistinct: now rage, he knew not why,
Fired all his spirit; now the half-felt sigh
Of ancient friendship in his breast renew'd,
Urged its slow course, whilst thus the youth pursu'd:
New feelings, by uncertain memory raised,
Rose indistinct: now rage, he knew not why,
Fired all his spirit; now the half-felt sigh
116
Urged its slow course, whilst thus the youth pursu'd:
“Ask not my name—lest rising wrath prevent
My hurried speech, and hinder Heaven's intent.—
Confined by Christiern's doom, I saw, with dread,
The axe hang glaring o'er my fated head:
Escaped, thro' nightly seas I held my way,
'Till starry midnight verged on purple day;
When instant at my prow a form appear'd,
Array'd in splendours, and the darkness cheer'd.
Genius of Sweden (such his sacred name)
From heaven's high arch the lucid herald came.
He bade me instant cross the watery road,
And seek Gustavus in his dark abode,
Where swift Dal-Elbe thro' rocky mountains flow'd.
Then thus: “To him, Ernestus! is decreed
To govern nations by his valour freed,
Oppression's fiercest efforts to subdue,
And at his feet contending factions view.
Indignant Denmark mourns her laws o'erthrown,
And spurns her monarch from his iron throne.
Soon as Gustavus blows the loud alarms,
Each town, each province will arise to arms;
With Wermeland's tribes Westmania's shall unite,
And Gothland's answering shouts provoke the fight.
Bid him, who now in sluggish languor lies,
Nor knows the favour of the indulgent skies,
Rise and avenge! for him Heaven's laws ordain
The lengthen'd blessings of a peaceful reign,
And sons succeeding sons, his glory to maintain.”
He spoke, and swifter than the falcon's flight
The ship shot instant thro' the seas of night.
The vision vanish'd from my earnest view,
And o'er me sleep his drowsy mantle threw:
'Till, roused by morning's beam, my bark I steer'd
Where full in sight your mountain-land appear'd,
Cut thro' the bordering groves my rapid way,
And reach'd your rural dome by close of day,
Propitious Heaven my guide.” While yet he spoke,
In Vasa's breast the storm of fury woke:
Each phrase accustomed, each familiar tone,
Proclaim'd the wretch for daring treasons known.
With giant grasp he seiz'd the youth, whose mind
Nor hoped, nor sought to shun the death design'd;
“And comest thou then, young veteran in deceit,
To make thy work of perfidy complete,
To earn by Vasa's death one title more,
And revel in another patriot's gore?—
And think'st thou still to flatter and deceive,
By fables madness only can believe?—
Thy wealth is useless now—this ruined state
Has long in vain required her traitor's fate;
She bids me, when I can, avenge her woes,
And wreak her wrongs where'er I meet her foes!
Brave Stenon quits the mansions of the dead,
And calls down lightning on his murderer's head!
Confirm my deed, ye all-attesting skies!
Sweden! accept the grateful sacrifice
That stains thy thirsty soil!” He spoke, and raised
His long-tried sword; high o'er the youth it blazed—
“Accept the sacrifice!” with voice serene
The youth re-echoed, and unalter'd mien:
When lo! that practised arm, which once could rear
The ponderous mace, and couch the winged spear,
That arm, by some superior force unsteel'd,
Shook, and the sword dropp'd idly on the field.
Again he raised the point; again essay'd
To bury in his heart the reeking blade,
When lo! a sudden whirlwind scour'd the sky,
Seiz'd the descending falchion, and on high
In whirling eddies bore it, while around
Low thunders rattled thro' the heavens profound.
Awhile in dumb suspense the hero stood;
Then sought the falchion thro' the dusky wood,
Resolved the seeming wonder to explore,
And search the depths of fate's mysterious lore.
My hurried speech, and hinder Heaven's intent.—
Confined by Christiern's doom, I saw, with dread,
The axe hang glaring o'er my fated head:
Escaped, thro' nightly seas I held my way,
'Till starry midnight verged on purple day;
When instant at my prow a form appear'd,
Array'd in splendours, and the darkness cheer'd.
Genius of Sweden (such his sacred name)
From heaven's high arch the lucid herald came.
He bade me instant cross the watery road,
And seek Gustavus in his dark abode,
Where swift Dal-Elbe thro' rocky mountains flow'd.
Then thus: “To him, Ernestus! is decreed
To govern nations by his valour freed,
117
And at his feet contending factions view.
Indignant Denmark mourns her laws o'erthrown,
And spurns her monarch from his iron throne.
Soon as Gustavus blows the loud alarms,
Each town, each province will arise to arms;
With Wermeland's tribes Westmania's shall unite,
And Gothland's answering shouts provoke the fight.
Bid him, who now in sluggish languor lies,
Nor knows the favour of the indulgent skies,
Rise and avenge! for him Heaven's laws ordain
The lengthen'd blessings of a peaceful reign,
And sons succeeding sons, his glory to maintain.”
He spoke, and swifter than the falcon's flight
The ship shot instant thro' the seas of night.
The vision vanish'd from my earnest view,
And o'er me sleep his drowsy mantle threw:
118
Where full in sight your mountain-land appear'd,
Cut thro' the bordering groves my rapid way,
And reach'd your rural dome by close of day,
Propitious Heaven my guide.” While yet he spoke,
In Vasa's breast the storm of fury woke:
Each phrase accustomed, each familiar tone,
Proclaim'd the wretch for daring treasons known.
With giant grasp he seiz'd the youth, whose mind
Nor hoped, nor sought to shun the death design'd;
“And comest thou then, young veteran in deceit,
To make thy work of perfidy complete,
To earn by Vasa's death one title more,
And revel in another patriot's gore?—
And think'st thou still to flatter and deceive,
By fables madness only can believe?—
119
Has long in vain required her traitor's fate;
She bids me, when I can, avenge her woes,
And wreak her wrongs where'er I meet her foes!
Brave Stenon quits the mansions of the dead,
And calls down lightning on his murderer's head!
Confirm my deed, ye all-attesting skies!
Sweden! accept the grateful sacrifice
That stains thy thirsty soil!” He spoke, and raised
His long-tried sword; high o'er the youth it blazed—
“Accept the sacrifice!” with voice serene
The youth re-echoed, and unalter'd mien:
When lo! that practised arm, which once could rear
The ponderous mace, and couch the winged spear,
That arm, by some superior force unsteel'd,
Shook, and the sword dropp'd idly on the field.
120
To bury in his heart the reeking blade,
When lo! a sudden whirlwind scour'd the sky,
Seiz'd the descending falchion, and on high
In whirling eddies bore it, while around
Low thunders rattled thro' the heavens profound.
Awhile in dumb suspense the hero stood;
Then sought the falchion thro' the dusky wood,
Resolved the seeming wonder to explore,
And search the depths of fate's mysterious lore.
His changing mien the youth intent survey'd,
And slowly follow'd thro' the winding shade.
And slowly follow'd thro' the winding shade.
| Gustavus Vasa, and other poems | |