University of Virginia Library

ULRIC DAHLGREN.

When circled by the fond and fair,
When saw thee maimed and pale,
With that heroic, gentle air,
Before which cowards quail;
So radiant in the grasp of pain,
So meek with valor's crown,
Our swelling hearts could not refrain
To bless thy young renown.
Youth's artless cheer with manhood's thought
In word and glance o'erflow,
As if thy life had newly caught
Thy blood's ancestral glow;
The spirit of old Sweden's king
Which mien and accent bore,
In every pulse-beat seemed to spring
Intrepid as of yore.
It nerved thy arm in wild foray,
And round thy martyr's bed,
Where love and faith still watch and pray,
Angelic patience shed.
Vain the base ambush from whose lair
The murderer's bullet came,
And vain the slander that would tear
The glory from thy name;
O, Ulric, brutal hate will pine
All impotent to sear
The laurels that thy country's shrine
Forever shall endear.