Poems and Plays :: :: University of Virginia Library

CHRISTIERN the Second, king of Denmark, offered to appear in person at Stockholm, to frame a treaty of peace, provided GUSTAVUS VASA remained a hostage on board the Danish fleet. The king having by the stratagem secured the illustrious Swede, forcibly carried him away to Denmark, where he was imprisoned for a considerable time. GUSTAVUS at length found means of escaping from his confinement; and travelling through Sweden in diguise, was received by SUVERDSIO, a poor country curate, who, at the hazard of his life, concealed him in the parish church, and informed him of every thing that had happened in Sweden during his absence, particularly of the massacre of the senate at Stockholm, in which the father of GUSTAVUS was included.

Beneath the friendly veil that midnight spread,
Gustavus to the patriot Priest was led,
An humble, plain, disinterested man,
Who rear'd his useful life on Virtue's plan:
Pleas'd to behold, entrusted to his care,
The hopes of Sweden, and fair Freedom's heir;
Lest hostile steps should their abode invade,
He to Religion's dome the Chief convey'd:
There unrestrain'd he gladly own'd his guest,
And yielded to the zeal that fir'd his breast.

“Beneath yon hallow'd lamp's resplendent light,
“Which glows a brilliant on the breast of Night.

“Let me thy long-lost image now survey,
“And grateful homage to Gustavus pay:
“Oppress'd, o'erthrown at Christiern's dire decree,
“Unhappy Sweden still looks up to thee.”

“Dost thou with honest and indignant zeal,
The Hero answer'd, “speak of Sweden's weal?
“Lament the ills the Danish hands achieve?
“Or dost thou flatter only to deceive?
“Then be it so—call forth thy murd'ring train,
“And summon to my bier the cruel Dane;
“Thus to Preferment's summit shalt thou rise,
“And catch the hov'ring mitre for thy prize.”

“Misjudging Youth!” the sacred Seer replied,
“Suppress th' injurious doubt, and still confide:
“Tho' indigent I stand! yet far above
“The hov'ring mitre is my country's love:
“Let others to the gilded cross aspire,
“And from the crozier catch Ambition's fire,

“And as they bask in Leo's fost'ring ray,
“Their wealth, their pride, their pageantry display:
“Let me, by grandeur undisturb'd, unseen,
“Content inspher'd in Duty's humbler scene,
“Sequester'd lead my unaspiring days,
“And quench at Virtue's fount the thirst of praise;
“Be mine to dwell amidst the village swains,
“Survey their pleasures, and partake their pains,
“Still to their wants unfold my little store,
“And place Contentment at the cottage-door.
“Ah! deem me then no longer Falshood's son,
“(By some dishonest meed's allurement won)
“Prompt to surprise thee with ignoble art,
“And thro' thy bosom pierce my country's heart.
“Avert it, Heav'n!—Shall on this hallow'd ground,
“Where all Religion's terrors breathe around,
“Say, shall Venality, with artful mien,
“Dare to profane this venerable scene?
“—Yon distant altar, dress'd in simple guise,
“Which seems from out th' encircling tombs to rise,

“From whose dread base at each returning day,
“While o'er the world ten lustres roll'd away,
“I've sent to Heav'n, upon the wings of pray'r,
“The hamlet's homage and the hamlet's care,
“Shall ne'er behold me tott'ring o'er my grave,
“False to my country, treach'rous to the brave.”

The Chief, convinc'd, replies—“Oh! virtuous Seer,
“Thy firm intrepid zeal I now revere:
“That honour-breathing voice, those silver hairs,
“That candid brow, engrav'd with Wisdom's cares,
“All strike my soul with Truth's unclouded ray,
“Before whose warmth Suspicion melts away.”

“Thrice happy hour!” th' exulting Pastor said,
“Let injur'd Sweden raise her drooping head,
“For lo! her godlike Hero comes to save
“Her laws, her rights, her freedom from the grave.
“—Urg'd in thy absence by intruding fears,
“We thought thee dead, and bath'd that thought in tears.”

“My death,” the Chief return'd, “the Dane decreed,
“But fear, the tyrant's curse, forbade the deed:
“Yet then the monarch spread his treach'rous sails,
“And by the favor of conspiring gales,
“Convey'd me on his rapid bark away,
“To his intrusted faith an helpless prey:
“Canst thou conceive the pangs that stung my breast,
“I who to Fame my ardent vows address'd,
“When for th' unblemish'd lustre of renown,
“That plays encircling on young Valour's crown,
“Condemn'd by Fortune's inauspicious doom,
“These eyes were blasted with a prison's gloom?
“In ev'ry plan, in all my wishes cross'd,
“These arms, my zeal, my youth to Sweden lost.
“But Heav'n, that watches with paternal care
“The blameless suff'rer, rais'd me from despair,
“Gave to my longing hopes the welcome hour,
“Decreed to snatch me from the Danish pow'r:
“Yet then new Sorrows did my path pursue,
“In scenes presented to my mournful view:

“Still as I wander'd o'er my native land,
“I mark'd the ravage of a tyrant's hand:
“Rich Industry had fled the naked plains,
“To Slav'ry's banners march'd th' unwilling swains:
“Each lofty seat that crown'd the mountain's brow,
“And frown'd defiance on th' invading foe,
“Spoil'd of its honours, desolate, disgrac'd,
“Its turrets fall'n, its battlements defac'd!
“Seem'd to the pensive traveller to say,
“Behold the dire effect of lawless sway!
“The dreary scene unequal to sustain,
“I sigh'd—and languish'd for my chains again:
“Yet other ills, perchance, I've still to know,
“Perchance Gustavus feels but half his woe.
“Averse to walk beneath the eye of day,
“Oft thro' the night I urg'd my lonely way;
“Where'er I went my name I still suppress'd,
“And lock'd each bold enquiry in my breast.”

The Priest renew'd, “Heart-wounded I unveil,
“Replete with Sweden's woes, the cover'd tale:
“The barb'rous scene now rip'ning into fate,
“The Danish King unbarr'd Destruction's gate :
“Stern Tyranny thro' trembling Stockholm bore
“Her tort'ring wheel, and axes stain'd with gore:
“While at her side a captive train appear'd—
“Illustrious train! by Liberty rever'd:
“Still as they pass'd, they heard around them rise
“The people's loud laments and piercing cries:
“These eyes beheld (and do I live to tell?)
“How firm to Truth these patriot martyrs fell.
“First on the scaffold, proud to lead the way
“To honour'd death from ignominious day,
“Appear'd—Ah! let me not that scene disclose,
“And pour upon thy soul a flood of woes:
“Here will I pause—yet wherefore thus conceal
“What babbling Fame will soon to thee reveal?

“Oh! summon all thy fortitude of heart,
“For I must wound it in the tend'rest part:
“He on the tragic scene who first appear'd,
“To meet the bloody axe that Christiern rear'd,
“Unblam'd through life, a venerable Seer,
“For whom now gushes this unbidden tear,
“Who Virtue's steep ascent unrivall'd won,
“Rever'd, regretted, call'd Gustavus son!”

Th' astonish'd Hero, at his words oppress'd,
Like Sorrow's image stands with voice suppress'd:
The Priest, unequal to dispense relief,
Stood at his side, enwrapp'd in silent grief.
—Now breaking from the chains Affliction fram'd,
And bursting into voice, the Youth exclaim'd:
“Oh injur'd spirit of my Father, hear!
“By yon dread altar, and these shrines, I swear,
“The base inhuman Dane the day shall rue
“He dar'd the scaffold with thy blood imbrue:

“A monitor within, to which I yield,
“Stirs and impels me to th' avenging field.”
He said—a deeper darkness seem'd to reign,
A hollow wind ran murm'ring thro' the fane,
When lo! ascending from the realms of Night,
An awe-commanding spectre rush'd to sight:
Around his temples seem'd the civic wreath,
And thus prophetic spoke the Son of Death:
“Arise to vindicate the sacred laws,
“Revenge thy father's and thy country's cause:
“Arise! to Mora's distant field repair,
“Where Freedom's banners catch the playful air;
“Beneath whose shade for thee impatient stand,
“Prepar'd to combat, an intrepid band:
“But whether in the bold ensanguin'd strife
“Thou shalt or forfeit or prolong thy life—
“Thy foes shall fall—This to thy knowledge giv'n,
“The rest lies buried in the breast of Heav'n:
“Still let my wrongs support thee in the fight”—
He ceas'd—and instant vanish'd into night.

The Pastor spoke—“Go forth, illustrious Chief,
“At Heav'n's commandment, to the realm's relief:
“Yet then indulge me in this bold request,
“Say, is each meaner thought subdu'd to rest?
“Say, in this solemn and important hour,
“Glows not thy bosom with the lust of pow'r?”

“Not all the radiant sun-beams of renown,
“Nor yet the dazzling lustre of a crown,
“Shall e'er,” the Youth replies, “this heart control:
“—My country's love possesses all my soul.
“E'en as the bird that from its ashes springs,
“And soars aloft upon exulting wings,
“So does my country's love its birth assume,
“And mount triumphant from the passions' tomb.
“But should I view, unnumber'd with the slain,
“'Tis all I ask, fair Freedom's future reign,
“Then from my gratitude thy voice shall claim
“All that thy want or fondest wish can frame.”

“No splendid gifts,” the virtuous man rejoin'd,
“Have pow'r to move the duty-center'd mind:
“Yet would thy gratitude my love secure,
“Then be, Oh Chief! a father to the poor:—
“Illustrious offspring of an honour'd race,
“Allow my warm attachment this embrace.”
He spoke—and, with a love devoid of art,
He press'd Gustavus to his feeling heart.
Now, breaking from the Youth's encircling arms,
Resign'd him to his fate and War's alarms:
Then to the sacred altar he repair'd,
And thus aloud his ardent vows preferr'd:
“Oh Thou that liv'st enshrin'd from mortal eye,
“Look down indulgent from thy sacred sky,
“See the bold Youth to valor's impulse yield,
“See, see him hast'ning to th' embattled field!
“—On Freedom's brow be his the wreath to twine!
“To see that happy glorious day be mine!”
He added not—Heav'n granted half his pray'r,
The rest was scatter'd to th' abortive air.

Scarce had the Chief commenc'd his bold career,
When slept the Curate on the peaceful bier:
There heav'd the village swain the sigh profound,
There stood the grateful poor lamenting round.
Thus mourn'd, thus honour'd, fell the hallow'd sage,
A bright example to each future age!
The hamlet, jealous of her Pastor's fame,
Adorn'd her simple annals with his name.

Alluding to the massacre of the senate at Stockholm.