University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

SCENE Mountains of Dalecarlia.
Enter Gustavus as a Peasant—Dalecarlians following.
Gust.
Ye Men of Sweden, wherefore are ye come?
See ye not yonder, how the Locusts swarm,
To drink the Fountains of your Honour up,
And leave your Hills a Desart—Wretched Men!
Why came ye forth? Is this a Time for Sport?
Or are ye met with Song and jovial Feast,
To welcome your new Guests, your Danish Visitants?
To stretch your supple Necks beneath their Feet,
And fawning lick the Dust?—Go, go, my Countrymen,
Each to your several Mansions, trim them out,
Cull all the tedious Earnings of your Toil
To purchase Bondage—Bid your blooming Daughters,
And your chaste Wives to spread their Beds with Softness;
Then go ye forth, and with your proper Hands
Conduct your Masters in; conduct the Sons
Of Lust and Violation—O Swedes, Swedes!
Heav'ns! are ye Men, and will ye suffer this?

SCENE II.

Enter Arnoldus, who talks apart with Gustavus.
1st Dale.
How my Blood boils!

2d Dale.
Who is this honest Spokesman?

3d Dale.
What, know ye not Rodolphus of the Mines?
A better Lab'rer ne'er struck Steel to Stone.

Gust.
There was a Time, my Friends! a glorious Time;
When, had a single Man of your Forefathers
Upon the Frontier met a Host in Arms,
His Courage scarce had turn'd; himself had stood,
Alone had stood the Bulwark of his Country.
Your Sires were known but by their manly Fronts,
On their black Brows, enthron'd, sat Liberty,
The Awe of Honour, and Contempt of Death.

1st Dale.
We are not Bastards.

2d Dale.
No.

3d Dale.
We're Dalecarlians.

Gust.
Come, come ye on then: Here I take my Stand!
Here on the Brink, the very Verge of Liberty;
Altho' Contention rise upon the Clouds,
Mix Heav'n with Earth, and roll the Ruin onward;
Here will I fix, and breast me to the Shock,
'Till I, or Denmark fall.

Siv.
And who art thou?
That thus wou'dst swallow all the Glory up
That shou'd redeem the Times? Behold this Breast,
The Sword has till'd it; and the Stripes of Slaves
Shall ne'er trace Honour here; shall never blot
The fair Inscription—Never shall the Cords
Of Danish Insolence bind down these Arms
That bore my royal Master from the Field.

Gust.
Ha! Say you, Brother? Were you there—O Grief!
Where Liberty and Stenon fell together?

Siv.
Yes, I was there—A bloody Field it was,
Where Conquest gasp'd, and wanted Breath to tell,
Its o'er-toil'd Triumph. There, our bleeding King,
There Stenon on this Bosom made his Bed,
And rolling back his dying Eyes upon me;
Soldier, he cried, if e'er it be thy Lot
To see my valiant Cousin, great Gustavus,
Tell him—for once, that I have fought like him,
And wou'd like him have—
Conquer'd—he shou'd have said—but there, O there,
Death sto—pt him short.

Gust.
Come to my Arms, and let me hide thy Tears,
For I have caught their Softness—O Danes, Danes!
You shall weep Blood for this. Shall they not, Brother?
Yes, we will deal our Might with thrifty Vengeance,
A Life for ev'ry Blow, and when we fall,
There shall be Weight in't; like the tott'ring Tow'rs
That draw contiguous Ruin.

Siv.
Brave, brave Man!
My Soul admires thee—By my Father's Spirit,
I wou'd not barter such a Death as this
For Immortality! Nor we alone—
Here be the trusty Gleanings of that Field
Where last we fought for Freedom; here's rich Poverty,
Tho' wrapp'd in Rags, my fifty brave Companions;
Who thro' the Force of fifteen thousand Foes
Bore off their King, and sav'd his great Remains.

Gust.
Give me your Hands, those valiant Hands—Why, Captain,
We could but die alone, with these we'll conquer.
My fellow Lab'rers too—What say ye, Friends?
Shall we not strike for't?

All.
Death; Victory or Death!
No Bonds, no Bonds!

Arn.
Spoke like yourselves—Ye Men of Dalecarlia,
Brave Men and bold! Whom ev'ry future Age,
Tongues, Nations, Languages, and Rolls of Fame
Shall mark for wond'rous Deeds, Atchievements won
From Honour's dang'rous Summit, Warriors all!
Say, might ye chuse a Chief, for high Exploits,
From the first Annal, to the latest Praise
That breathes a Hero's Name—Speak, name the Man
Who then should meet your Wish?

Siv.
Forbear the Theme.
Why wou'dst thou seek to sink us with the Weight
Of grievous Recollection? O Gustavus!
Cou'd the dead wake, thou wert that Man of Men,
First of the Foremost.

Gust.
Didst thou know Gustavus?

Siv.
Know him! O Heav'n! what else, who else was worth
The Knowledge of a Soldier? That great Day,
When Cristiern, in his third Attempt on Sweden,
Had sum'd his Pow'rs and weigh'd the Scale of Fight:
On the bold Brink, the very Push of Conquest,
Gustavus rush'd, and bore the Battle down;
In his full Sway of Prowess, like Leviathan
That scoops his foaming Progress on the Main,
And drives the Shoals along—forward I sprung,
All emulous, and lab'ring to attend him;
Fear fled before, behind him Rout grew loud,
And distant Wonder gaz'd—At length he turn'd,
And having ey'd me with a wond'rous Look
Of Sweetness mix'd with Glory—Grace inestimable!
He pluck'd this Bracelet from his conq'ring Arm
And bound it here—My Wrist seem'd treble nerv'd;
My Heart spoke to him, and I did such Deeds
As best might thank him—But from that bless'd Day
I never saw him more—yet still to this,
I bow, as to the Relicks of my Saint:
Each Morn I drop a Tear on ev'ry Bead,
Count all the Glories of Gustavus o'er,
And think I still behold him.

Gust.
Rightly thought;
For so thou dost, my Soldier.
Give me my Arms—Off, off ye dark Disguises!
For I will be myself. Behold your General,
Gustavus! Come once more to lead ye on
To laurel'd Victory, to Fame, to Freedom!

1st Dale.
Is it?

2d Dale.
Yes.

3d Dale.
No.

4th Dale.
'Tis he!

5th Dale.
'Tis he!

6th Dale.
'Tis he!

[A Shout.
Siv.
Strike me, ye Pow'rs!—It is Illusion all!
It cannot.

Gust.
What, no nearer?

Siv.
'Tis, it is!—

[Falls and embraces his Knees.
Gust.
O speechless Eloquence!
Rise to my Arms, my Friend.

Siv.
Friend! said you Friend?
O my Heart's Lord! My Conq'rer! my!—

Gust.
Approach, my fellow Soldiers, your Gustavus
Claims no Precedence here: Friendship like mine
Throws all Respects behind it—'tis enough—
I read your Joys, your Transports in your Eyes;
And wou'd, O, wou'd I had a Life to spend,
For ev'ry Soldier here! whose ev'ry Life's
Far dearer than my own; dearer than aught,
Except your Liberty, except your Honour.
Perish Gustavus, 'ere this sacred Sun,
That lights the rest of Sweden to their Shame,
Should blush upon your Chains! why said I Chains!
To Souls like yours, I should have talk'd of Triumphs,
Empire, and Fame, and Hazards imminent,
Occasions wish'd, for Glory—haste, brave Men!
Collect your Friends to join us on the Instant;
Summon our Brethren to their Share of Conquest,
And let loud Eccho, from her circling Hills,
Sound Freedom, 'till the Undulation shake
The Bounds of utmost Sweden.

[Exeunt Dalecarlians, crying Gustavus, Gustavus, Liberty.

SCENE III.

Enter Anderson.
And.
There was a glorious Sound!

Gust.
Yes, Anderson,
The long wish'd Hour is come—the Storm is up,
And Wrecks will follow—Where they are to light
Let Heav'n determine—Well, my noble Friend,
Has Peterson set out?

And.
He has, this Instant:
And bears your Pacquet to the Tyrant's Camp.

Gust.
What think you of his Zeal?

And.
In truth, my Lord,
It wears a gallant Show.

Gust.
'Tis specious all,
Flash without Fire, the Light'ning of a Cloud
That carries Darkness in the Rear—For Peterson,
To spread my Letters thro' the Camp of Cristiern,
And seek for Succours in the Jaws of Death,
It show'd too bold, too much the flaming Patriot.
Beside, I know him for the Friend of Trollio.

And.
Why wou'd you then employ him?

Gust.
There's the Mystery.
'Tis not his Faith, but Treachery I trust to.
My Letters are directed to the Chiefs
Of those inglorious Mercenary Swedes,
Whom Cristiern has seduced to join his Host,
And turn the Sword of Conquest on their Country;
To each of those I have address'd in Terms
Of special Correspondence, meant to rouze
The Jealousy of Cristiern; as I think
My Pacquet can't escape him—What ensues?
The Tyrant hence concludes himself betray'd,
Sifts all his Legions, thins the Ranks of Fight,
And leaves them open to our bold Invasion.
But grant that Peterson deceive my Aim,
And hold the Rank of Virtue; then the Swedes
May waken to the glorious Call of Honour.
So—ev'ry Way it saves us from the Guilt
Of Swedes encount'ring Swedes, and spares the Blood
Of Brethren, tho' revolted.

And.
On my Soul,
This is a Stratagem that saps the Miner,
Makes Treason turn a Traitor to itself;
And mock its own Designs.

Gust.
O noble Friend, fast winds the great Machine
That strikes the Fate of Sweden—Go, my Anderson,
Assemble all thy brave Adherents round thee,
With warlike Inspiration warm their Souls,
And haste to join me here.

And.
I will, my Lord.

[Exit.

SCENE IV.

Enter Laertes.
Laer.
Thy Presence nobly speaks the Man I wish,
Gustavus.

Gust.
Yes. Thou hast a hostile Garb,
Ha! say—Art thou Laertes? If I err not,
There is a friendly Semblance in that Face,
Which answers to a fond Impression here,
And tells me I'm thy Debtor—my Deliv'rer!

Laer.
No, valiant Prince, you over-rate my Service,
There is a worthier Object of your Gratitude
Whom yet you know not—O, I have to tell—
But then to gain your Credit, must unfold
What haply should be secret—Be it so;
You are all Honour.

Gust.
Let me to thy Mind,
For thou hast wak'd my Soul into a Thought
That holds me, all Attention.

Laer.
Mightiest Man!
To me alone you held yourself oblig'd
For Life and Liberty—Had it been so,
I were most bless'd, with Retribution just
To pay thee for my own—For on the Day
When by your Arm the mighty Thraces fell,
Fate threw me to your Sword—You spar'd my Youth,
And in the very Whirl and Rage of Fight
Your Eye was taught Compassion—from that Hour
I vow'd my Life the Slave of your Rememb'rance;
And often, as Cristina, heav'nly Maid!
The Mistress of my Service, question'd me
Of Wars and vent'rous Deeds, my Tidings came
Still freighted with thy Name, until the Day
In which yourself appear'd, to make Praise speechless.
Cristina saw you then, and on your Fate
Dropp'd a kind Tear; and when your noble Scorn
Of profer'd Terms provok'd her Father's Rage
To take the deadly Forfeit; she, she only,
Whose Virtues watch'd the precious Hour of Mercy,
All trembling, sent my secret Hand to save you;
Where, thro' a Pass unknown to all your Keepers,
I led you forth, and gave you to your Liberty.

Gust.
O I am sunk, o'erwhelm'd with wond'rous Goodness,
But were I rich and free as opening Mines
That teem their golden Wealth upon the World,
Still I were poor, unequal to her Bounty.
Nor can I longer doubt whose gen'rous Arm
In my Arvida, in my Friend's Deliverance,
Gave double Life, and Freedom to Gustavus.

Laer.
A fatal Present! Ah, you know him not;
Arvida is misled, undone by Passion;
False to your Friendship, to your Trust unfaithful.

Gust.
Ha! hold!

Laer.
I must unfold it.

Gust.
Yet forbear:
This Way—I hear some footing—pray you soft—
If thou hast aught to urge against Arvida,
The Man of Virtue, tell it not the Wind;
Lest Slander catch the Sound, and Guilt should triumph.

[Exeunt.

SCENE V.

Arvida entering speaks to a Soldier.
Arv.
He's here—bear back my Orders to your Fellows
That not a Man, on Peril of his Life,
Advance in Sight 'till call'd.

Sold.
My Lord, I will—

Arv.
Have I not vow'd it, faithless as he is,
Have I not vow'd his Fall? Yet, good Heav'n!
Why start these sudden Tears? On, on I must,
For I am half way down the dizzy Steep,
Where my Brain turns—A Draught of Lethe now—
O that the World wou'd sleep—to wake no more!
Or that the Name of Friendship bore no Charm
To make my Nerve unsteady, and this Steel
Flee backward from its Task!—It shall be done.—
Empire! Cristina! tho' th' affrighted Sun
Start back with Horror of the direful Stroke,
It shall be done. Calm, calm the Hell within,
Thy Looks may else turn Traitors—Ha, he comes!
How steadily he looks, as Heav'n's own Book,
The Leaf of Truth, were open'd on his Aspect.
Up, up, dark Minister—his Fate call out
[Puts up the Dagger.
To nobler Execution; for he comes
In Opposition, singly, Man to Man,
As tho' he brav'd my Wish.

SCENE VI.

Enter Gustavus.
[They look for some time on each other—Arvida lays his Hand on his Sword, and withdraws it by Turns—then advances irresolutely.
Gust.
Is it then so?

Arv.
Defend thyself.

Gust.
No—strike—
I would unfold my Bosom to thy Sword,
But that I know the Wound you give this Breast
Would doubly pierce thy own.

Arv.
I know thee not—
It is the Time's Eclipse, and what should be
In Nature, now is nameless.

Gust.
Ah, my Brother!

Arv.
What wouldst thou?

Gust.
Is it thus we two should meet?

Arv.
Art thou not false? Deep else, O deep indeed
Were my Damnation.

Gust.
Dear, unhappy Man!
My Heart bleeds for thee. False I'd surely been,
Had I like thee been tempted.

Arv.
Ha! Speak, speak,
Didst thou not send to treat with Cristiern?

Gust.
Never.
I know thy Error, but I know the Arts,
The Frauds, the Wiles that practis'd on thy Virtue;
Firm how you stood, and tow'r'd above Mortality;
'Till in the fond unguarded Hour of Love,
The wily undermining Trollio came,
And won thee from thyself—a Moment won thee—
For still thou art Arvida, still the Man
On whom thy Country calls for her Deliv'rance.
Already are her bravest Sons in Arms,
Mark how they shout, impatient of our Presence,
To lead them on to a new Life of Liberty,
To Fame, to Conquest—Ha, Heav'n guard my Brother,
Thy Cheek turns pale, thy Eye is wild upon me,
Wilt thou not answer me?

Arv.
Gustavus!

Gust.
Speak.

Arv.
Have I not dream'd?

Gust.
No other I esteem it.
Where lives the Man whose Reason slumbers not?
Still pure, still blameless, if at wonted Dawn
Again he wakes to Virtue.

Arv.
O, my Dawn
Must soon be dark. Confusion dissipates,
To leave me worse confounded.

Gust.
Think no more on't.
Come to my Arms, thou dearest of Mankind!

Arv.
Stand off! Pollution dwells within my Touch,
And Horror hangs around me—Cruel Man!
O, thou hast doubly damn'd me with this Goodness;
For Resolution held the Deed as done;
That now must sink me—Hark! I'm summon'd hence,
My Audit opens! Poise me! for I stand
Upon a Spire, against whose sightless Base
Hell breaks his Wave beneath. Down, down I dare not,
And up I cannot look, for Justice fronts me.—
Thou shalt have Vengeance, tho' my purpling Blood
Were Nectar for Heav'n's Bowl, as warm and rich,
As now 'tis base, it thus should pour for Pardon.

[Gustavus catches his Arm, and in the Struggle the Dagger falls.
Gust.
Ha! Hold, Arvida—No, I will not lose thee—
Forbid it Heav'n! thou shalt not rob me so,
No, I will struggle with thee to the last,
And save thee from thyself. Oh, answer me!
Wilt thou forsake me? Answer me, my Brother,
My best Arvida.

Arv.
I wou'd speak to thee—
But let it be by Silence—Oh Gustavus!

Gust.
Say but you'll live.

Arv.
Oh!

Gust.
For my Sake.

Arv.
Yes, take me;
Expose me, cage me, brand me for the Tool
Of crafted Villains, for the veriest Slave,
On whom the Bend of each contemptuous Brow
Shall look with Loathing. Ah, my Turpitude
Shall be the vile Comparative for Knaves
To boast and whiten by!

Gust.
Not so, not so.
Who knows no Fault, my Friend, knows no Perfection.
The Rectitude that Heav'n appoints to Man
Leads on thro' Error; and the kindly Sense
Of having stray'd, endears the Road to Bliss;
It makes Heav'n's Way more pleasing! O my Brother,
'Tis hence a Thousand cordial Charities
Derive their Growth, their Vigour, and their Sweetness.
This short Lapse
Shall to thy future Foot give cautious Treading,
Erect and firm in Virtue.

Arv.
Give me Leave.

[Offers to pass.
Gust.
You shall not pass.

Arv.
I must.

Gust.
Whither?

Arv.
I know not—O Gustavus!

Gust.
Speak.

Arv.
You can't forgive me.

Gust.
Not forgive thee!

Arv.
No.
Look there.
[Points to the Dagger.
And yet when I resolv'd to kill thee
I cou'd have died—indeed I cou'd—for thee,
I cou'd have died, Gustavus!

Gust.
O I know it.
A gen'rous Mind, tho' sway'd a-while by Passion.
Is like the steely Vigour of the Bow,
Still holds its native Rectitude, and bends
But to recoil more forceful. Come forget it.

SCENE VII.

Enter a Dalecarlian.
Dale.
My Lord, as now I pass'd the Mountain's Brow,
I spy'd some Men, whose Arms, and strange Attire,
Give Cause for Circumspection.

Gust.
Danes, perhaps;
Haste, intercept their Passage to the Camp.

[Ex. Dal.
Arv.
Those are the Danes that witness to my Shame.

Gust.
Perish th' opprobrious Term! not so, Arvida;
Myself will be the Guardian of thy Fame;
Trust me, I will—Our Friends approach—O clear
While I attend them, clear that Cloud, my Brother,
That sits upon the Morning of thy Youth;
It hangs too near the Heart of thy Gustavus.

[Exit.
Arv.
Of thy Gustavus! O Wretch, Wretch, curs'd Wretch!
What is this Time and Place, and Toys of Circumstance;
That wind our Actions, so, as Heav'n's own Hand
What's done may not unravel?—Pardon may!—
There's the Lethean Sweet, the Snow of Heav'n,
New blanching-o'er the Negro Front of Guilt,
That to the Eye of Mercy all appears
Fair as th' unwritten Page—yet self-convict,
Tho' Heav'n's free Pow'r shou'd pardon, where's my Peace?
Thus, thus to be driven out from my own Breast!
To have no Shed, no shelt'ring Nook at Home
To take Reflection in! How looks the Wretch
Whose Heart cries Villain to itself? I'll not
Endure its Batt'ry—Somewhat must be done
Of high Import 'ere Night, that I may sleep,
Or wake for ever.

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.

2d Dale.
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,
Leave Courts, and Pomps, and Palaces to Slaves,
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,
The Pow'rs of Kingdoms, summ'd in yonder Host,
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
Will pour directly on, and lead the Onset.
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!