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Gustavus Vasa,
AND
_OTHER POEMS_.
BY
W.S. WALKER.
--Tentanda via est, qua me quoque possim
Tollere humo.
London:
PRINTED FOR LONGMAN, HURST, REES, ORME, AND BROWN, PATERNOSTER ROW.
1813.
J.G. BARNARD, SKINNER-STREET, LONDON.
TO
THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
THE BARONESS HOWE.
It would be a sufficient reason for sanctioning this work with your
Ladyship's name, that it is an offering of gratitude, presented because
there is nothing worthier to give.
But there is another cause. He who celebrates a patriot, cannot address
himself to any one more properly than to the daughter of a patriot; of
one who was for years the naval sun of England, and from whom the young
and enterprising caught the unextinguishable rays of patriotism and
courage.
For actions and glory such as his, the female mind is not formed; but in
the calm and active virtues of private life, which are almost equally
honourable to the possessor, your Ladyship maintains the dignity of your
race. I call to witness those whom you have soothed in affliction, and
those whom you have honoured with your friendship. They will vindicate
me from the charge of flattery, and support my assertion, that your
patronage is as glorious to me, as any I could possibly have chosen.
With the hope, that the virtues of your excellent daughter, and your
son, whom I am proud to call my friend, may answer your fullest
expectations,
I remain,
Your Ladyship's
Most obliged
And devoted Servant,
W.S. WALKER.
PREFACE.
As the author of these Poems is only seventeen, some apology may be
required for offering them to the public.
Many precedents may be quoted in favour of early publication; and the
practice perhaps is not in itself blameable, except when the advice of
good judges is unasked, or the work itself uncorrected and negligent. To
neither of these charges is the author liable. These poems, as well as
the design of publishing them, have been approved of by many sincere and
judicious friends; and the work has been altered in many parts, in
conformity to the advice of the same persons. The author has made no
improper sacrifice to the Muse: he has deserted no duty, and neglected
no necessary employment. Influenced by these motives, he appears before
the bar of criticism, not indeed without diffidence, but unconscious of
having deserved censure. If his verses are bad, he is content to sink
into oblivion; and if the public confirms the favourable judgment of his
friends, he does not deny that it will give him real satisfaction.--He
is sensible, that if he delayed till time had matured his judgment, and
reflection perfected his ideas, the "_scribendi cacoëthes_," perhaps an
unfortunate inclination, would take a firm and unalterable possession
of his mind. He is therefore determined to try the public opinion; that
he may be enabled either to pursue his poetical studies under their
encouragement, or to desist in time from an useless employment. This
volume is not intended to challenge approbation, but to be the precursor
of something which may challenge it in future: it is not an attempt to
gain the prize, but a specimen of his powers, which may entitle him to
the honour of standing candidate for that prize. The reader will here
find the genuine effusions of a youthful fancy, free, yet not
uncontrolled; a collection of pieces, exempt from negligence and
inaccuracy, though not from the usual and inevitable faults of early
compositions. To offer less than this would be arrogant, and to require
more than this would be unreasonable.
"Gustavus Vasa" was originally planned (the reader will smile) at eleven
years of age. When the author began to know what poetry was, his first
design was to write an epic poem--no matter of what sort or character,
so it was an epic poem. The subject was soon chosen; and the progress of
the work was various: sometimes hurried on with all the ardour of hope
and enterprize, sometimes relinquished for more lively pursuits, and
left to sleep for months in the leaves of a portfolio. In this manner
were six long cantos completed. At length the author, in his thirteenth
year, perceived numerous faults and extravagances in his early
composition. He destroyed the manuscript: and some time after
recommenced his poem on a new and more rational plan. Accordingly, the
first and part of the second book, were written in 1810, and the rest of
the work which is published in this volume, principally in 1812. All
that is yet completed of this production (except the sequel of the
fourth book, and the whole fifth, which are yet uncorrected) is here
presented to the public; and on its success the continuation of
"Gustavus Vasa" depends.
It was designed to embrace the whole actions of the hero, from his first
signalizing himself under Steen Sture, to his death in 1560; but as all
this could not be regularly related without destroying the unity of the
poem, it was thought most convenient to begin with his introduction
among the Dalecarlians at Mora, and conclude with his first election to
the royalty, in 1523; the rest being introduced by means of narration,
anticipation, and episode.
It will be doubtless objected, that the enterprize is beyond his powers,
and that he acted rashly in undertaking it. But this is no light scheme;
no work, begun for want of other amusement, and deserted when a more
specious or pleasing subject for poetry presented itself. He has
considered it seriously; the subject appears full of poetical
capabilities, and superior to many others which offered themselves; and
if the opinion of the world coincides with his own in this point, he
has resolved to make it the favourite employment of his maturer years,
and to reduce it as far as possible to perfection. Part of his plan for
continuing the poem, will be found in the Notes.
The smaller pieces are selected from a large number of original
compositions; they are not chosen as his favourites, but as what he
esteems most faultless. This appeared the safer method; since it is
impossible that "the flimsy productions of a youth of seventeen," as
Kirke White expresses it, should be free from considerable errors; and
we are apt to think our most irregular flights, our most vigorous ones.
On these pieces, however, he places little stress; his principal
reliance is on "Gustavus Vasa." The Latin Poems have been honoured by
the approbation of different Masters at Eton.
The Author may be accused of arrogance in saying too much of himself.
But he felt strongly that early publication, and the design of writing a
long epic poem, would naturally be censured by many well-meaning
persons; he thought it his duty to state his motives; and was less
solicitous to avoid the possible charge of self-conceit, than the
certain one of folly and presumption.
Any resemblance to former writers, which may occur in the course of the
work, are generally unintentional. Thus the lines--
"Touch'd the abyss, and, lest his eyes might view
The abandon'd shore, into its depths withdrew,"
were written before the author had seen Persius's description of a
totally abandoned man:
--nescit quid perdat, et, alto
Demersus, summâ rursus non bullit in undâ.
_The Author has to express his sincere gratitude for a numerous and
respectable list of Subscribers. It is far beyond his expectations; and
it encourages his hope, that the reception of the present volume will
authorize his continuing in the same pursuit._
A
LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS
TO THE
_1st MARCH, 1813._
HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS THE PRINCE REGENT.
HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS THE DUKE OF CUMBERLAND.
HER ROYAL HIGHNESS THE PRINCESS AUGUSTA.
HER ROYAL HIGHNESS THE PRINCESS ELIZABETH.
HER ROYAL HIGHNESS THE PRINCESS MARY.
HER ROYAL HIGHNESS THE PRINCESS SOPHIA.
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Anonymous, Thirsk
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Bedford, His Grace the Duke of
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Gustavus Vasa.
ARGUMENT.
_State of Sweden at the commencement of the Poem--A
Council--Trollio--Bernheim--Ernestus--Christiern proposes the reduction
of Dalecarlia--Ernestus opposes him, is committed to prison--Christiern
takes his measures to oppose a rebellion just arisen in Denmark._
Gustavus Vasa,
A POEM.
BOOK I.
The Swede I sing, by Heaven ordain'd to save
His country's glories from a Danish grave,
Restore her laws, her Papal rites efface,
And fix her freedom on a lasting base.
Celestial Liberty! by whom impell'd
From early youth fair honour's path he held;
By whose strong aid his patient courage rose
Superior to the rushing tide of woes,
And at whose feet, when Heaven his toils repaid,
His brightest wreaths the grateful hero laid:
Me too assist; with thy inspiring beam
Aid my weak powers, and bless my rising theme!
Stockholm to Christiern bow'd her captive head; }
By Treachery's axe her slaughter'd senate bled, }
And her brave chief was numbered with the dead. }
Piled with her breathless sons, th' uncultured land
With daily ravage fed a wasteful band;
And ruthless Christiern, wheresoe'er be flew,
Around his steps a track of crimson drew.
Already, by Heaven's dark protection led,
To Dalecarlia Sweden's hero fled;
There, with a pious friend retired, unknown,
He mourn'd his country's sorrows, and his own.
Those mountain peasants, negatively free,
The sole surviving friends of Liberty,
Unbought by bribes, still trample Christiern's power,
And wait in silence the decisive hour.
'Twas morn when Christiern bade a herald call
His secret council to the regal hall--
Those whom his skill, selecting, had combined
To share the deep recesses of his mind:
In these the prince unshaken trust reposed,
To these his intricate designs disclosed;
Their counsel, teeming with maturest thought,
His ripening plans to full perfection brought,
Each enterprise with proper means supplied,
And stemm'd strong difficulty's threatening tide:
The summons heard, th' obedient train attend,
Collect, and hastening toward the palace bend.
First of their order, as in rank and fame
Superior, Upsal's haughty prelate came;
Erect in priestly pride, he stalk'd along,
And tower'd supreme o'er all the princely throng.
A soul congenial, and a mind replete
With ready artifice and bold deceit,
To suit a tyrant's ends, however base,
In Christiern's friendship had secured his place.
His were the senator's and courtier's parts,
And all the statesman's magazine of arts;
His, each expedient, each all-powerful wile,
To thwart a foe, or win a monarch's smile:
The nicely-plann'd and well-pursued intrigue;
The smooth evasion of the hollow league;
The specious argument, that subtly strays
Thro' winding sophistry's protracted maze:
The complicated, deep, immense design,
That works in darkness like a labouring mine,
Unknown to all, 'till, bursting into birth,
Its wide explosion shakes th' astonish'd earth.
His was the prompt invention, fruitful still
In means subservient to the varying will:
The flexible expertness, smooth and mean,
That glides thro' obstacles, and wins unseen:
The quick discernment, that with eagle eyes
Sees distant storms in ether darkly rise,
And active vigour, that arrests their course,
Or to a different aim diverts their force.
He, in a happier land, by freedom bless'd,
Had hallow'd virtue dawn'd upon his breast,
Had done some glorious deed, to stamp his name
High on the roll of ever-during fame;
Snatch'd from Oppression's jaws some victim realm,
Or fix'd in stable peace his country's wavering helm.
But baleful Guilt usurp'd with fatal care
A heart which Virtue had been proud to share;
And turn'd to hateful dross the radiant ore,
Whose lustre might have gilded Sweden's shore.
As the red dog star, Autumn's fiery eye,
Shines eminent o'er all the spangled sky,
While thro' th' afflicted earth his torrid breath
Darts glowing fevers and a cloud of death:
So Trollio shone, in whose corrupted mind
Transcendent genius and deep guilt combined;
Placed all his arduous aims within his reach,
Yet fix'd the stamp of infamy on each.
But Providence, whose undiscover'd plan
Lies deeper than the wiliest schemes of man,
Can bare the sty designer's latent guilt,
And crush to dust the structures he has built;
Can disappoint the subtle tyrant's spite,
And stem the billows of his stormy might;
Confound a Trollio's skill, a Christiern's power,
And blast presumption in its haughtiest hour.
So Christiern found--and Trollio found it true,
(Unwelcome truth, to his experience new!)
That he, who trusts in guilty friendship, binds
His fortune to a cloud, that shifts with veering winds.
Throned in Religion's seat, he scorn'd her laws,
And with a cool indifference view'd her cause:
Yet, might her earthly treasures feed the fire
Of wild ambition, or base gain's desire,
He could assume, at will, her fairest dress--
Could plunge in Superstition's dark recess--
Or the red mask of Bigotry put on;
The fiercest champion, where there needed none.
But, should she cross some glittering enterprise,
Her pleas, her awful threats, he could despise;
Oaths, lightly sworn, and now forgotten things,
Vanish'd, like smoke before the tempest's wings.
At interest's call, when danger's sudden voice
Extinguish'd hope, nor left a final choice,
His sacred honours he renounc'd, and fled
To hide in silent solitude his head:
At interest's call, he calmly thrust aside
Each bond of conscience that opposed his pride,
And, deeming every scruple out of place,
Back posted to his dignified disgrace.
Next, with a lofty step advancing, came
A martial chieftain--Otho was his name:
In Denmark born, of an illustrious line,
Whose glories, now effaced, had ceased to shine;
And he was but unanxious to redeem
Those honours, in his eyes a worthless dream.
Trained in licentious customs, he despised
All virtue's rules, and pleasure only prized;
And, faithful as the magnet, turn'd his head
To follow fortune wheresoe'er it led:
Tho' hostile justice rear'd her loftiest mound,
To bar his passage o'er forbidden ground.
Swift o'er all impediments he flew,
And strain'd his eyes to keep the prize in view.
Religion, virtue, sense, to him were nought;
He hated none, yet none employ'd his thought,
Save when he glitter'd in their borrowed beam,
To gain preferment, or to court esteem.
The minister, not tool, of Christiern's will,
He serv'd his measures, yet despis'd him still:
Scann'd with impartial view th'encircling scene,
Glancing o'er all an eye exact and keen,
Advantage to descry; and seldom fail'd,
When Virtue's cause by Fortune's will prevail'd,
On virtue's side his valour to display,
And ne'er forsake it, but for better pay.
And, e'en when Danger round his fenceless head
Her threatening weight of mountain surges spread,
He, like a whale amid the tempest's roar,
Smiled at the storm, nor deign'd to wish it o'er.
'Twas dull instinctive boldness--like a fire
Pent up in earth, whose forces ne'er expire,
By grossest fuel nourished, but immured
In dingy night, shine heavy and obscured;
Sustain'd by this thro' all the scenes of strife,
Whose dark succession form'd his chequer'd life,
He ne'er the soul's sublimer courage felt,
That warms the heart, and teaches it to melt;
That nurses liberty's expanding seeds,
And teems prolific with the noblest deeds.
To guide the storm of battle o'er the plain,
Condense its force, expand it, or restrain;
To turn the tide of conquest to defeat
By stratagems too fatally complete,
Or freeze it by delay; to aim at will
The well-timed stroke that mars all adverse skill;
To range, in order firm, th'embattled line;
Or shape, as regular, the bold design;
All these were his--yet not all these could claim
Exemptions from the lot of penal shame,
Or snatch from glory's plant one servile wreath,
To deck the waste of crimes, that frown'd beneath.
Harden'd in villany, with fate unfeign'd
He mock'd at warning, scorn'd reproach, nor deign'd
To answer either, and remorse's dart
Recoil'd from his impenetrable heart:
Save in those hours when darkness or when pain
Recals its force, and guilt recedes again;
When passion, vice, and fancy quit their sway,
When lawless pleasure trembling shrinks away,
While black conviction's rushing whirlwinds quench
Her smoky torch, and leave a sickening stench;
And thro' the soul's chill gloom, fierce conscience pours
His fiery arrows in resistless showers.
But, as accumulated guilt oppress'd
With stronger obstacles his hardening breast,
Faint and more faint the dread awakenings grew,
And their subsiding terrors soon withdrew.
Like traces on the mountain's giant form
Imprinted by the finger of the storm,
They vanish'd; fierce atrocity return'd
Triumphant, and the galling shackles spurn'd.
Him closely following, with a thoughtful pace
And slow, the young Ernestus took his place;
Like Bernheim, graced with an illustrious birth,
But hapless Sweden was his native earth.
His father sunk by death's untimely doom,
His youthful mother followed to the tomb,
And to a honour'd friend's paternal care
Bequeath'd her only hope, her infant heir.
With wary steps had Harfagar pass'd o'er
The world's wide scene, and learn'd its various lore;
And, with religion's pole-star for his guide,
Serenely voyaged life's tempestuous tide.
Yet in Ernestus' mind his skilful sense
Observ'd no dawn of future excellence;
He found no early graces to adorn
Of springing life the inauspicious morn;
No prompt benevolence, no sacred flow
Of purest feeling taught his heart to glow;
But virtue's native influence was in him,
A wintry sun-beam, not extinct, but dim.
Yet Harfagar with kind attention tried
To rouse the warmth her hidden beams supplied;
And, wheresoe'er his penetrating eye
One bud of distant promise could descry,
There all his toil was bent, to fix the root
Unmoved, and spread secure the growing shoot.
He watch'd the rising blossoms as they grew,
Preserv'd with constant care their lively hue,
Spread o'er each flow'ret a protecting veil
To shelter it from trial's rougher gale,
And clear'd, with strenuous and unceasing toil,
From each insidious weed th' improving soil.
His patient diligence had won at length
A partial triumph over nature's strength:
Tho' unsuppress'd th' internal weakness still
With frequent bias pois'd the wavering will,
Still losing ground, it seem'd to die away,
Like nightly storms before advancing day:
When thrice seven rolling years matured his age,
And call'd him forth to life's eventful stage.
'Twas now the time, when all the northern land
Was sinking under Christiern's ruthless hand;
When patriotism from Sweden's hills sublime
With tearful eyes o'erlook'd the subject clime,
And saw where Stenon and a matchless few,
To her bright race unalterably true,
Regardless of the thunders launch'd by Rome,
Self-titled arbitress of future doom,
O'er a waste realm her shatter'd flag unfurl'd,
Conspicuous to the whole applauding world.
Ernestus' sire in Sweden's state before
High eminence and ample influence bore;
And public hope call'd forth the willing youth
To join the cause of liberty and truth;
Yet here his wary diffidence look'd round
For due support--but no support was found,
For Harfagar, whose strong unconquer'd mind }
The tyrant knew, unmatch'd among mankind, }
Caught in his snares, was now in chains confined. }
The sudden blow his resolution shook;
Deliberate fortitude his heart forsook;
The pile of hope, that many a year had rear'd,
Seem'd sunk in air, and now no more appear'd.
Stenon had welcomed him, benign and free,
With warm and undissembling amity,
Enroll'd him in the list of friends select
He singled out his measures to direct--
And e'en his life was in Ernestus' power.
This Christiern saw, and urg'd the fatal hour.
With bribes and honours he the youth attack'd,
With promised secrecy his proffers back'd,
Tried smooth persuasion's most effectual strain,
And added threats, not likely to be vain.
Strong was th' assault; he arm'd his hopeless breast,
And summon'd all his forces to the test.
His unassisted strength awhile withstood,
With desperate energy, th' invading flood,
As the pale victim of all-conquering death
With one faint effort struggles yet for breath.
His courage soon beneath th' encounter bent,
Languid before, and now by efforts spent;
He yielded--his brave chief to death betray'd,
And Stenon's blood dyed treachery's reeking blade.
'Twas done; and peace the traitor's bosom left,
Of every comfort, every joy bereft.
Rack'd by despair, in vain he sought repose:
Round all his steps a cloud of horror rose,
From keen reflection's maddening sting he fled,
And rush'd on further crimes devoid of dread;
Touch'd the abyss, and lest his eye might view
Th' abandon'd shore, into its depths withdrew.
'Twas night; the cheerless moon's o'erclouded ray
Shone dim; the breeze's murmurs died away:
On his wan brow unwonted slumbers creep,
And drench his soul in visionary sleep.
When lo! deep thunders on his startled ear
Successive roll, and shadowy forms appear;
As thro' the misty vale at morning rise
A row of trees before the traveller's eyes.
His father's, from the first of time, arose,
Their country's friends, and terror of her foes,
Who factions quell'd, or legal justice plann'd,
Or bade fair science brighten o'er the land.
They came; they stopp'd--an angry eye they cast
On the pale slumberer, and in silence pass'd.
Again the thunder roll'd; the lightning flew;
His country's form appear'd before his view:
All stain'd with gore appear'd her azure vest,
And her dim eyes unusual grief confess'd.
The gloomy phantom on Ernestus frown'd,
And with her sceptre touch'd the yawning ground:
A boundless space, with mourning myriads spread,
Appear'd below, and thus the vision said:
"Behold th' abode of traitors! Sylla here,
And guiltier Cæsar, mourn their mad career;
Here Curio gnaws his chain--Ernestus! see
A darker grave;--a grave reserv'd for thee!"
The widening chasm around him seem'd to grow.
His kindred spirits call'd him from below;
When lo! it closed--and from heaven's opening height,
A brilliant ray burst on his dazzled sight,
And broke the dream.--In deep amazement lost,
Unnumber'd thoughts his feverish bosom cross'd;
Hope, wonder, fear, and penitence combined,
For many a hour oppress'd his varying mind,
'Till now in heaven's blue space the lamp of day
Was hung serene: he hail'd the cheering ray,
And thus began: "Eternal beam, give ear!
Earth, air, and thou, all-ruling Monarch, hear!
Call'd forth by thee from the deep maze of ill,
I haste, to work the mandates of thy will.
This hour, this moment, unappall'd by shame,
The servitude of guilt I will disclaim;
And, if eternal mercy deign to spare
The forfeit life she rescued from despair,
'Tis mine to watch my country's hapless cause,
And with fix'd soul defend her injured laws.
Hear, Stenon, hear! from heaven's bright arch bend down
The sapphire glories of thy radiant crown,
Accept th' atonement with propitious brow,
And thro' the courts of heaven proclaim my vow!"
Thus spoke Ernestus, and in silence sought
The council hall, involved in careful thought.
These occupied a more distinguished seat;
A chosen train the monarch's list complete.
There unsubmitting Brask's proud genius shone,
There Bernheim's might, in many a contest known;
There Theodore: a bold ungovern'd soul,
Rapacious, fell, and fearless of control:
A harlot's favour rais'd him from the dust,
To rise the pander of tyrannic lust:
Graced with successive gifts, at length he shone
With wondering Trollio on the sacred throne.
With pleasure's arts, and sophistry's refined,
Alike he pleas'd the body and the mind;
Skilful alike to cheat the wandering soul,
Or mix luxurious pleasure's midnight bowl.
All these, and more, at Christiern's sudden call,
(A shining conclave) fill the towering hall.
Ere yet they enter'd, Trollio left the rest,
Th' advancing monarch met, and thus address'd:
"Hear, Christiern, hear! th' unwelcome news attend,
Forced from the lips of an unwilling friend.
Nor think 'tis from a mean suspicious heart
I speak my message from our friends apart;
I know their general worth, in duty tried,
Yet in one man I tremble to confide:
False to his country, to himself, and thee,
Sick of success, and tired of infamy,
Ernestus now prepares to burst your yoke,
And win his freedom by some glorious stroke.
I know him well; his ever-varying soul
Now searches earth, now looks beyond the pole;
Successive schemes usurp his changeful breast,
That seeks for toil, and languishes in rest:
Like a frail bark, the sport of every breeze,
That floats unguided on the boundless seas.
E'en now I mark'd him--struggling passions play'd
On his pale forehead, and alternate sway'd.
Of this no more.--Our friends, dread prince, have sent
Advices, that concern your government.
The factious souls, that late, o'eraw'd by you,
Their inward rancour hid from open view,
Are rous'd afresh, and gathering all their power,
Beneath the smiles of this auspicious hour.
Reports and whispers, toss'd about, ferment
With ceaseless breath the tide of discontent.
Each vile complainer casts his grievance in, }
The common clamours to augment, and win }
His share of future spoils, reward of clamorous din. }
The torrent of sedition swells amain,
Disloyalty invades the firmest Dane;
And Christiern's arm, outstretch'd without delay,
Alone has power to prop his tottering sway.
Haste, while in momentary bounds is kept,
The struggling flood, which else may intercept
Your passage; haste! your new dominions quit;
Their care to some experienced chief commit;
Haste, and by speediest means secure your crown
Ere violence and treason tear it down!"
While thus he spoke, the tyrant's mien express'd
The troubled sea that roll'd within his breast.
By hopes, and doubts, and fears, his mind was torn,
From thought to thought irregularly borne.
Thus the swift traveller, whose successful haste
Has many a hill, and many a wood o'erpast,
Trembling beholds new mountains touch the skies,
And wider forests all around him rise.
His mind, unsettled by the sudden shock,
At length recovering, to his friend be spoke.
"Thy counsels, Trollio, thy inventive soul,
Have gain'd me half my power, secured the whole:
Display thy talents now; exert them all:
Rewards and honours wait without a call.
I dread Ernestus; and my cautious fear
These tidings would conceal, while he can hear.
Myself, ev'n now, some fair pretence will frame,
From this assembly to erase his name.
But haste, my friend, to council--should we stay,
Suspicion might comment on our delay!"
This said, they enter'd--at the monarch's side
Sate lordly Trollio, in accustom'd pride.
A mute attention still'd each listening man,
'Till, rising from his throne, the prince began.
"Friends of my heart! to whom your monarch owes
The brightest honours his kind fate bestows;
My empire, unconfirm'd, imperfect still,
Yet asks the aid of your auspicious skill.
Tho' Sweden's general voice consents to own
Me the true master of her triple throne,
Tho' her disputed crown adorns my brow,
And tributary millions round me bow;
One bold, one stubborn province, yet defies
My brandish'd arm, and to my threats replies;
In face of all the realm denies my right,
And challenges three kingdoms to the fight.
On Dalecarlia's wide uncultured ground,
With rugged hills, and mineral riches crown'd,
A race, endued with native freedom, dwell;
A race, that stood, when total Sweden fell.
Their strong and unremitting bands explore
In earth's dark caverns her metallic store,
And, from laborious days extracting health,
Rest satisfied, and ask no other wealth:
Rough and unyielding, like their native soil,
The hardy sons of Nature and of Toil;
Resistless vigour, resolute and warm,
Strings every nerve, and braces every arm.
Foremost to vindicate the righteous cause,
And from th' oppressor guard their injur'd laws,
Thro' many a rolling century these have shone
Th' unfailing champions of the Swedish throne,
And now with all my forces singly cope,
Sweden's last bulwark, and her choicest hope.
No trivial loss their courage will alarm,
No threatening martial show their minds disarm,
And bribes, those glittering, oft successful darts,
Will find no entrance to their guarded hearts.
No--fields must smoke, and blood in torrents flow,
Ere all our force can master such a foe."
More had he said, but, with indignant heat
Inspired, Ernestus started from his seat:
His soul's resistless ardour bade him rise,
His kindling soul came rushing to his eyes--
"Yes! fresh domains to ruin must succeed,
Fresh cities sink in flame, fresh thousands bleed!
What want'st thou more, thou prodigal of guilt!
Oppression's sword is buried to the hilt
In unoffending blood--what want'st thou more,
Thou sanguinary pest of an unhappy shore?
Far as thy sight can stretch, look round, and see
All Sweden piled with monuments of thee;
Behold her provinces with slaughter strown,
Her ruined fields, her castles overthrown;
Behold--But ah! more glaring than the rest,
In me thy brightest trophy stands confess'd!
Yes--prompt each fatal mandate to fulfil,
Perpetual slave of thy tyrannic will,
I stood, to sovereign infamy preferr'd,
The meanest of thy mercenary herd:
Thy crimes I copied--for thy worthless gold
My monarch's life, my country's freedom sold!
The cloud of wrath that veils in thickening gloom
Thee and those partners of thy crimes and doom,
In its black scope involv'd me--not a ray
Shot thro' the ambient night one glimpse of day;
'Till heaven's own mercy offer'd to my view
From its dark sphere, a radiant avenue:
Cheer'd with fresh hope, its limits I forsook,
And, wing'd with new-born speed, a fresh direction took.
If Heaven prohibit not the blow, my fate
Lies in thy hands; my transitory date
This hour may close; and thou, e'en thou, mayst be
The doom'd assertor of his wrath on me:
So let it be! E'en so, thy friendly hate
Will snatch its victim from a heavier fate:
And when the storms of vengeance, that impend
O'er thee and thine, collected shall descend,
The bolt that shakes your haughty souls with dread,
Shall roll innocuous o'er my shelter'd head,
Safe in that mansion of unbroken rest,
Which neither lightnings strike nor winds molest.
Thus then in brief, relentless tyrant, take
A fix'd resolve, thou hast no power to shake.
Let wily Trollio try his utmost art,
Join'd with thy power, on this determined heart.
Let sorrows round me like an ocean flow,
Let earth dividing yawn my grave below,
Bribes, threats, nor torments, more shall bid me own
Thy sway, or bow to thy detested throne,
Dread power! whom, prompt to succour and to bless,
Reverent I name, yet confident address,
Do thou the marks of former guilt efface,
Speed every just resolve, and every terror chase!"
Ernestus ceas'd. The listening senate heard;
On every face derision's smile appear'd.
Yet some less harden'd bosoms heav'd a sigh, }
Like the faint breezes of an evening sky, }
That curl the rippled wave and on its surface die. }
Reproach, familiar to the monarch's ear,
Might move contempt, but ne'er excited fear:
It cross'd his mind, like streams of melted snow, }
That o'er a cavern'd rock's cold surface flow, }
But soften not their stony bed below. }
His haughty bosom with impatience burn'd,
He smiled contemptuous, and in brief return'd--
"What! hast thou then exhausted all thy store
Of sounding words? and is the tempest o'er?
Haste, noble Trollio, fetch my guards, and send
Th' incautious hero to his wiser friend!"
Swift as the word obsequious Trollio speeds,
And to the secret hall the soldiers leads.
The youth, resign'd, bow'd down his thoughtful head,
And calmly silent follow'd where they led.
"Such be the fate of all," the monarch cried,
"Who, born to meanness, swell with worthless pride;
Who, glad with nobler men to be preferr'd,
Rise, by officious guilt, above the vulgar herd,
Obtrude their ready service on the great,
And deem their talents fit to rule a state!
Yes, my brave friends, I meant this recreant fool
But as a means, a momentary tool.
To push my purpose to a readier end,
Then to the dust my worn-out weapon send.--
But leave we this; far weightier themes arise:
Th' occasion told all waste of words denies.
In my own realm, our trusty spies report,
While Christiern lingers in a Swedish court,
Once more Sedition rears her batter'd crest,
And plants her snakes in every loyal breast.
Wide o'er the realm the growing tumults swell,
And ask immediate force their rage to quell.
Let valiant Bernheim, with a chosen band,
Use all his speed to reach his native land;
There countermining each insidious plot
By hostile Craft and Treachery begot,
Prepare my way; while I thro' Sweden lead
A wider army, with inferior speed,
And, as I pass, the trembling cities awe,
Display my terrors, and confirm my law;
Then, entering Denmark, pour my eager host,
An unexpected torrent, on the coast.
Thou, Trollio, strait to Soren Norbi send,
Our faithful subject, and unfailing friend;
Bid him with speed his gallant fleet dispose,
To man our ports against invading foes:
(My own brave troops will guard the conquests made,
Who every province, every town pervade)
Thyself to Norbi constant help afford,
And with thy prudence guide brave Otho's sword,
And you, my friends, to second each design.
Your arts, your counsels, and your arms combine."
And now (what time the westering orb of day,
Shot thro' the purpled clouds a mellower ray)
The soldiers, with their charge, the tower had gain'd,
Where, wrapt in fetters, Harfagar remain'd--
From whose tall top the eye unbounded threw
O'er all the subject town its ample view,
O'er crowded streets, and marts, and sacred spires,
That glitter'd with the day's declining fires.
There, round his limbs a length of chain they threw,
Strict charge enjoin'd, and to their posts withdrew.
The tranquil captive press'd the rugged ground,
Smiled on his chains, and gazed the prison round;
"And here," he cried, "the fates, relenting, give
Fair Freedom back; again to her I live!
I am once more a patriot--fix once more
My foot on rectitude's deserted shore!
O Sweden! tho' by me to death betray'd,
Accept these tears, thou dear maternal shade!
Thy image shall my lonely dungeon cheer,
And in dark slumbers to my soul appear:
While hopes of thee shall every terror brave,
And gild the gloomy confines of the grave.
Tho' snatch'd by cleaving earth to central gloom,
Or buried in the Ocean's watery tomb,
Yet should my soul in exile pant for thee,
And lightly prize all meaner misery!"
Down his warm cheeks the tears unbidden roll,
And speak the silent language of his soul.
Meanwhile the council closed; the peers withdrew:
To Trollio's dome the prince impatient flew;
There saw at large the hostile plot disclosed,
And his own plans with silent care disposed:
While Bernheim bade his quarter'd troops prepare
At earliest dawn the toils of war to share.
The weak he strengthen'd, and confirm'd the brave,
Arranged each band, and due directions gave.
Then to their stations baste the joyful powers,
And cheat with various sport the midnight hours.
Some brighten up their arms to polish'd flame,
And shake the sword, as in the field of fame:
Some crown the bowl, to chase dull fears away,
And end in long debauch the task of day.
Some court the aid of sleep, whose soft relief
Weighs down the eye of care, and smooths the thorns of Grief.
Enfolded in his golden wings they lie,
And fancied triumphs swell in every eye:
Each bounds in thought the airy champaign o'er,
And grasps the prize, distain'd with streaming gore.
Now move the summoned peers, a shining train,
To where the palace glitters o'er the plain.
The opening gate receives the pompous throng;
Thence to the festive room they move along,
Where tapers, rang'd in lofty rows, display
An added splendour, and nocturnal day.
There, till the close of night, the bowls go round,
And the full board with luxury is crown'd.