[_The Argument to the Fourth Book, of which this is only the
commencement, will be found in the Notes._]
Observant of the deepening maze of fate,
High on his throne of stars the Eternal sate:
Whence his broad eyes the changeful earth survey'd,
The rolling seas, the sun, the infernal shade,
And all his worlds. In one collected beam
Heaven's various rays around his temples gleam,
Yet veil with dusky cloud the lustre pure,
Whose fulness no archangel can endure.
In bright obscurity he sits sublime,
And tranquil looks thro' all the stream of time.
Around the throne a blue expanse of light
Extended past the reach of angel sight;
There heaven's superior spirits made abode,
Foremost in power, and nearest to their God.
Amidst the azure sea like stars they shone,
And circled in an hundred orbs the throne.
Those who o'er states preside, and those whose hand
Sheds war, or peace, or famine o'er a land;
Who guide the uncertain tempest in the pole,
Watch the red comet, and the stars control.
Thro' the bless'd orders, as in ranks they rise,
The Power on Earth's bright guardians turn'd his eyes.
The attendant Spirit knew the mystic sign,
For ever seated near the throne divine:
He saw his sovereign's will by looks express'd,
And Suecia's guardian angel thus address'd:
"Haste, faithful Spirit! to the nether skies,
Where Dalecarlia's misty mountains rise:
A Danish fort on the rude frontier stands,
Pregnant with war, and all the land commands:
With specious safety lull the band to rest,
Unstring each nerve, and weaken every breast.
The peasant-tribes with new-born strength inspire,
Bid ev'n the fearful glow with martial fire,
With sudden hope their cold despondence quell,
And patriot grief with patriot ire dispel.
Thence bend thy way to Denmark's stormy coast,
Where princely Frederic heads his secret host.
Let fears and jealousies each town alarm,
And Denmark's boldest tribes for Frederic arm.
That done, on Eric's hero-son attend,
Each motion guide, and each design befriend;
And to his sight in broader view unfold
The bright events to young Ernestus told.
Such be thy task: the rest in silence wait,
'Till changeful time shall work the will of fate."
Before the throne th' obedient Seraph bows,
And veils the star that glitters on his brows;
Then thro' the blue abyss impetuous flies
Where starr'd with suns heaven's ample pathway lies,
Its radiant limit: thro' that path he springs,
And shoots smooth-gliding on refulgent wings.
Far in the void of heaven a secret way
Leads from the mansions of empyreal day,
That wanders devious from the road of light,
And deepens gradual into central night:
By this dim path he sought the dark profound
Of utmost hell, Creation's flaming bound,
Saw the far-distant gleam, and heard the roar
Of dashing surges on the burning shore.
With hasty steps he trod the deep descent,
Thro' the gross air, that brighten'd as he went,
And call'd a spirit from the gulphs below,
Heaven's scourge, and minister of human woe.
The summon'd fiend forsook the fiery wave,
And Sweden's Genius thus his mandate gave:
"To Dalecarlia's tented fields repair,
And seek the Danish host assembled there.
With seeming safety and false hopes destroy
Their watchful care, and melt them down to joy;
And, while they sleep in the delusive charm,
Unstring each nerve, and weaken every arm;
So shall their fears, not Vasa, strike the blow,
And ready Conquest meet the coming foe."
He spoke. Incumbent on the boundless night,
To upper air they wing their echoing flight:
Thence swift to earth their airy voyage bend,
Where the cold North's unmeasured tracts extend:
O'er pine-clad Norway's wilderness of snow,
O'er the huge Dofrine's cloudy tops they go,
Thro' many a fertile province urge their flight;
And on Dal-Elbe's uncultured plains alight.
Thro' the majestic forest's leafy pride
The murmurs of the recent tempest sigh'd,
The shades of eve were closed, and pattering showers
Shed added gloom o'er midnight's starless hours.
Sleep in his downy car o'er Mora rode,
And soft-winged Silence ruled the calm abode.
Lull'd by the distant gale's unequal sound,
The peasants press their beds, with rushes crown'd,
From daily toil and fear a respite steal,
And dream of joys the waking may not feel.
High blazing on the Danish castle's brow,
The beacon redden'd all the fields below.
From its tall battlements, o'er moat and dell,
Chequering the light, uncertain shadows fell.
On high, the warder tunes his martial song;
The rocks, the dales, the cheerful notes prolong.
On a broad plain the rising structure stands,
The work of Dalecarlia's mountain bands,
In ancient years, ere Margaret ruled the clime,
Majestic still it stands, and unimpair'd by time.
The Western height primeval rocks inclose;
Low-murmuring to the south a river flows:
The rest with towers and tower-like works was crown'd,
And cast a various shadow o'er the ground.
Unnumber'd outworks, lessening by degrees,
Sloped to the plain: wide quivering to the breeze
The Danish standard, on the heights unrolled,
Inflames the air with many a waving fold.
Stupendous gates the massy fabric crown'd,
That rough with iron studs impervious frown'd.
Oft had the rocky cattle's rugged form
From its steep sides roll'd off the martial storm:
And whirlwinds, wasting all the neighbouring plain,
Spent their loud anger on its walls in vain.
Lofty it stood, impregnated with war,
And seem'd a craggy mountain from afar.
Fast by a fire, whose half-extinguished rays
Shot here and there a fluctuating blaze,
The warriors' languid eyes in slumber closed;
Their arms, beside them, gleam'd as they reposed.
The guards alone, still cautious of surprise, }
Watch'd at each gate, and gazing on the skies, }
Repell'd unwilling slumber from their eyes. }
Five hundred Danish youths this post maintain'd,
To fight alike, and hardy ravage train'd;
Prepared the fiercest mountain-host to dare,
And dash from many a battlement the war;
Prepared to hurl the whizzing lance, to pour
The missive flame, or dart the arrowy shower:
Young Eric the selected squadron led,
Count Bernheim's son, in camps and contests bred;
A fiery spirit, never at a stay,
With martial projects teeming night and day;
Alike by terror, pity, and remorse
Untouch'd, he held, thro' crimes, his fearless course;
Proud, like his king, to conquer and oppress,
In action rash, and haughty with success.
While thus deep slumber half the troop oppress'd,
And ev'n the waking found a pause of rest,
The joyful demon, with malignant look,
O'er all the host his sable mantle shook.
Instant before the slumbering soldier's eyes
Dreams of past joy and sweet illusions rise:
And he whose ardent spirit late engaged
In airy wars, and bloodless battles waged,
A mountain-chief in every vision slew,
And on the yielding rear still foremost flew,
Now, sudden, sees each fading phantom changed,
Feels every care and thought from war estranged,
Seeks the lost quiet of his native shore,
And mourns the lengthen'd toils, he gloried in before:
Burns with impetuous pleasure's feverish fire,
Or trembles in the tumult of desire.
The drowsy watch a sullen vigil keep,
And scarce oppose the invading hand of sleep.
Ev'n Eric, watchful still, and us'd to bear
His destined weight of military care,
Ev'n Eric feels his soul's wild tumult fled,
And bows to softer sleep his restless head.
Before him visionary glories roll,
And fancied victories dilate his soul.
Here, to complete his task, low-hovering stay'd
The fiend; while, mingling with the nightly shade,
Intent his generous purpose to fulfil, }
The radiant herald of th' eternal will }
Thro' the wide province flies, and darts from hill to hill. }
SONG FOR THE FOURTH BOOK OF GUSTAVUS VASA:
SUPPOSED TO BE HEARD BY A DALECARLIAN HERMIT.
Circling ages swept away
Sweden's kings of ancient sway,
And hid their race from sight:
Circling ages bring again
To that race the long-lost reign,
And Time revokes his flight.
Their star shall rise with brighter beam
From slumbering in the ocean-stream.
Dalecarlia, grasp the spear!
Hail thy great Deliverer near,
To alter Sweden's doom!
Born to raise her darken'd name,
Heir of all her former fame,
And source of all to come,
Past and future glories shine
Centred in the youth divine.
Sweden, rise! I bid thee brave,
Unappall'd, War's dubious wave,
'Till the doom'd period close!
War in vain shall spend his rage,
Prelude to a peaceful age
That shall redress his woes.
Sweden! rouse thy martial band;
'Tis thy Guardian Power's command!
When the slow-emerging sun
First dispels the shadows dun,
And his whole circle rears:
When the north-wind's stormy breath
Shakes the mountain, sweeps the heath,
The clouded ether clears:
Own the signal of the sky!
Hail the great Deliverer nigh!
THE RIVER TICINUS:
FROM THE FOURTH BOOK OF SILIUS ITALICUS.
Cœruleas Ticinus aquas et stagna vadoso
Perspicuus servat turbari nescia fundo,
Ac nitidum viridi latè trahit amne liquorem:
Vix credas labi; ripis tam mitis opacis,
Argutos inter volucrum certamina cantus,
Somniferam ducit lucenti gurgite lympham.
* * * * *
Thro' these fair scenes the smooth Ticinus glides,
And in soft murmurs rolls his slumbering tides:
No mud disturbs the mirror calm and deep;
The clouds upon its stilly bosom sleep:
The varied beauties of the flowery scene
Chequer the azure light, and paint the floods with green.
Scarce seems the wave to roll, so sweetly flows
The tranquil stream, inviting soft repose:
While on its side, in tuneful contest gay,
Their mellow notes the feather'd songsters play.
JUPITER THUNDERING IN DEFENCE OF ROME:
FROM THE TENTH BOOK.
Ipse refulgebat Tarpeiæ culmine rupis,
Elatâ quatiens flagrantia fulmina dextrâ,
Jupiter, ac lati fumabant sulphure campi,
Et gelidis Anio trepidabat cœrulus undis:
Et densi ante oculos iterùmque iterùmque tremendum
Vibrabant ignes....
* * * * *
High on the rock, the God, with furious look,
From side to side his burning thunder shook:
Now here, now there, the scattering lightnings broke,
And the wide vallies flamed, and glowed with sulphurous smoke:
Contagious terror roll'd from plain to plain;
Cold Anio trembled in his watery reign;
And dazzled by the withering flames, o'eraw'd,
The chief shrunk back, and own'd the present God.
FRAGMENT, IN IMITATION OF WALTER SCOTT.
1.
Where are the kings of ancient sway?
Where are the terrors of their day,
The chiefs that with glory bled?
Soon, soon their little sun was o'er;
And, hurried to oblivion's shore,
Their very names are fled!
Yet can the Muse from fate redeem
Her favourites here below;
Can check Time's all-devouring stream
In its eternal flow;
Can catch the quickly-passing beam,
And bid it for ever glow!
2.
The darkly-gathering clouds of night
Had quench'd the red remains of light;
O'er the hill and o'er the plain
She held her dim and shadowy reign,
And the distant billows of the main
In boundless darkness roll'd.
O'er land and sea, it was silence all,
No breezes waved the pine-wood tall,
Or swept the lonely wold:
The murmurs of the lake had died,
The reeds upon its plashy side
No rustling motion felt;
But o'er the world, as life were fled,
As Nature thro' her world were dead,
Portentous stillness dwelt.
3.
On a rock of the sea young Carthon stood,
And his lamp shone faint on the ocean-flood,
As with both his hands he toiled to raise
The seaward beacon's ruddy blaze:
And aye the warrior, far and near,
Explored the dark profound,
And aye the warrior's cautious ear
Was watching every sound;
But the air of night was mirk and dread,
And all was silent around his head.
4.
At length, uncertain murmurs rose
Athwart the billows grey,
Breaking the night-air's still repose,
And deepening on their way:
He beard the dashing of the oar,
And the long surge whitening to the shore;
And now the broad-sailed bark appear'd,
And now to the silvery beach it steer'd,
And anchored in the bay.
5.
"What news, what news of Lochlin's king?"
The Chief of Lona cried:
"Tidings of war and death I bring,"
The ocean-scout replied.
"A dreadful vow has King Haquin vow'd,
To spread in Albin his banners proud,
Disperse o'er forest, field, and fold,
His hundred troops of warriors bold,
'Till every rock with gore shall smoke,
And every castle own the yoke.
The keen remains of recent hate
Yet burn thro' all the Northern state,
And many an age's gather'd ire
With added fury fans the fire.
6.
"'Twas under the shade of dark midnight
They met at his hall, in armour dight,
The king and his chieftains proud;
Their lances at their sides were hung,
And the oak-tree, blazing 'midst the throng,
Across the hall, with flashes long,
A broad uncertain lustre flung,
Like a red and shifting cloud.
'Twas here, to all before concealed,
The Monarch his design revealed.
7.
"Their answering clamours shook the ground,
And Gormul's mountain far around
From all his rocks flung back the sound.
Pierced by the monarch, with struggling yell
A bull at Odin's altar fell;
The priest in a bowl received the gore,
And round the troop the chalice bore.
Eager, as he the wine-cup quaffed,
Each chief caroused the sable draught,--
The pledge of martial faith;
And not a word the stillness broke,
As thus, in turn, each chieftain spoke,
With slow and solemn breath:
8.
"'When the fiery-mantled Sun
Sees the glorious fight began,
He shall see its stubborn course
Burn with unabated force!
Swords shall clatter, javelins sing,
Arrows whistle from the string,
Not a step be turned to flight,
Not a warrior wish for night,
'Till the burning star of day
Quenches his declining ray
In the darkness of the main,
And throughout the purple plain,
Heaped with slaughter, piled with death,
Not a foeman draws his breath.
He who well performs his vow,
Monarch Odin, shield him thou!
He who shrinks from hostile blow,
Hela! scourge the wretch below
In thy ninefold house of woe!'"
9.
"O'er hill and field the war-drum peal'd,
High flamed the beacon-flame,
And each noble peer, from far and near,
To Haquin's standard came.
I saw ten thousand lances gleam
Beneath the winter's swart sun-beam!
They hide old Gormul's snow-capt height,
They hide the craggy dell;
And I hastened thro' the waves of night,
The tidings of war to tell."
THE EXILE:
A POEM.
--Superanda omnis fortuna ferendo est.
'Twas night: the stars denied one cheering ray,
And wrapp'd in clouds the lunar splendours lay.
No lightest zephyr brush'd the silent floods,
Or swept the bosom of the lofty woods:
Each human heart the general calm confess'd;
The childless sire had hush'd his cares to rest:
And he, the victim of his country's laws,
The base deserter of her awful cause,
Whose eyes no more in earthly sleep shall close, }
Yet sunk oppress'd, and drank in calm repose }
A short, a deep oblivion of his woes. }
Diffusing verdure o'er a lonely glade,
A fountain with eternal murmurs play'd:
Hard by, an ancient forest's leafy brow
Cast a brown horror o'er the stream below,
On the green margin of the quiet flood,
With looks of woe, a time-worn Exile stood:
On the dim wave he cast a gloomy look,
Then thus in low and troubled accents spoke:
"Dear native stream! and thou, thrice happy lawn!
Where once I roved, in youth's first joyous dawn,
While every wind a holy silence kept,
And peaceful on the flood the sunbeam slept:
I now return, and ask of your kind wave
The last unenvied gift, a quiet grave!
From scene to scene of varied misery toss'd,
Each hope, each joy, each cheerful prospect lost,
With cares and labours many a year oppress'd,
I hail the dawn of everlasting rest!
Tho' worn with sufferings, my distracted soul
Scarce bows to former reason's firm controul,
Ere yet I sink to death's secure repose,
Once more let me retrace my ancient woes,
And count those various pangs, which now shall cease
In the calm bosom of unchanging peace.
"Smooth roll'd my vernal years, while on my head
Fate's early smiles a meteor-lustre shed.
No painful fear, no troubles, then had power
To break the current of one peaceful hour.
Oft as I trod the meadow's verdant round,
Or pierced the echoing forest's gloomy bound,
Or traced the willowy margin of the stream,
Lost in the wildering maze of Fancy's dream,
Before me Life's long years in prospect rose,
By fears unbroken, undisturb'd by woes.
Yes! I remember well,--my dizzy brain
Feels those bright hours not yet effaced by pain:
Still on my soul they cast a distant light,
And gild with transitory gleams the night!
"Yet then, ev'n then, the powers of fate below
Prepared for me their gather'd stores of woe:
The tempest watch'd to blot my peaceful day,
And silent in their beds the thunders lay!
"Short was my date of joy: the yawning tomb
Snatch'd my loved parents to eternal gloom.
With fearful awe my shuddering soul survey'd
The untried path of misery display'd,
Gazed wild upon Misfortune's unknown form,
And watch'd the coming terrors of the storm.
"Soon burst the cloud, and far away was borne
The last faint gleam of Life's deceitful morn.
For fancied crimes expell'd my native shore,
And doom'd alone to measure ocean o'er,
I left those scenes where joy for ever reigns,
Secure to find her on no other plains.
"Dark rose the morn: the wind in every wood
Howl'd, and the meteors glancing o'er the flood
Flash'd a portentous light. Before the gale
With streaming eyes I spread my little sail:
Swift o'er the sounding waves the vessel flew,
Cliff after cliff receding from my view:
Chill ran my heart--the swelling sails I furl'd,
While yet emerging from the watery world
One headland rose--O'er all the boundless main. }
I cast my shuddering view--I wept in vain-- }
I wrung my hands in agonizing pain: }
O'er my dim eyes increasing darkness hung,
No low, faint murmurs, trembled on my tongue,
A deadly torpor every limb oppress'd,
Weak were my sinews, and unmann'd my breast:
When lo! a voice, that struck my inmost heart,
Seem'd, thro' the wavering storm, to cry, 'Depart!'
Trembling with awe, I turn'd my aching view,
And spread the flying sail, and o'er the billows flew.
"On foreign shores, to poverty resign'd,
An exile, friendless and alone, I pined.
Hope and Content inspired my toils no more;
Alas! I left them on my native shore!
Stern Want around me pour'd her chilling woes,
And no faint beam, to cheer my winter, rose.
"At length, when years, with slow-revolving round,
Had half assuaged my soul's eternal wound,
And rural peace my humble efforts bless'd
With one short calm of momentary rest;
Sudden, the demons of tyrannic war }
Whirl thro' our peaceful haunts his rapid car, }
And waving standards kindle all the air: }
In crackling heaps the flaming forests rise,
The smoking cities darken half the skies.
Thro' burning woods and falling towers I sprung,
While torches hiss'd, and darts around me sung,
And, still expectant of some happier time,
Sought distant refuge in another clime.
"My term of sorrows came not: black Despair,
And lawless Force, and shrinking Fear, were there.
Woes, yet unfelt, were nigh;--fell Slavery shed
Her night of sorrows on my hapless head:
Doom'd each imperious order to fulfil,
And watch a ruthless master's various will.
Five years, exposed to unremitted pain,
I languish'd there--'till Friendship broke my chain.
"Now o'er my head full fifteen suns had burn'd, }
Since from my native rocks my eyes I turn'd: }
And practised now in woe, my soul no longer mourn'd. }
I sought my patron, and (a bark supplied)
His fortunes follow'd o'er the foamy tide.
"From these dire shores our rapid course we held;
Auspicious gales the flying canvas swell'd;
And joy's faint sunshine kindled in my eyes,
As the last mountain mingled with the skies:
When, by conflicting winds together driven,
A night of clouds involved the starless heaven;
Fierce and more fierce th' increasing tempest blew,
The thunder rattled, and the lightning flew.
Soon, borne at random o'er the watery way,
The yawning rocks our guideless ship betray;
My shrieking comrades sink.--Some power unseen
Preserved me, trembling, thro' the deathful scene;
I rode th' opposing waves, and from the steep
Beheld the vessel plunge into the flashing deep.
"Beneath a sheltering wood all night I lay,
'Till morn had chased the flying stars away;
Then sought the wave-worn strand.--The storm was dead;
And Silence o'er the deep her pinions spread.
All--all were gone!--I saw my doom severe;
And, dull with suffering, scarcely dropp'd a tear!
"There, by the murmurs of the sea's hoarse wave,
Scorch'd on the rock, or shivering in the cave,
Long, long I stay'd: Fate yet prolong'd my day,
And Grief and Famine spared their willing prey.
A roving bark at length approach'd, and bore
The suppliant stranger to fair India's shore.
"With wondering steps I traced the sunny strand,
And mark'd each giant work of nature's hand;
Saw towering oaks th' aërial tempest brave,
And mighty rivers roll the sea-like wave.
Amaze, unmix'd with joy, my soul possess'd;
What beauteous scene can charm an Exile's breast?
Sadly I saw primeval forests frown,
And, in each foreign stream, still sought my own.
"No bright success my rising labours crown'd;
The sunbeam wither'd, or the deluge drown'd,
Each growing hope: my frame seem'd worn with care,
And Death still hover'd in the feverish air.
Stern Famine o'er my solitary gate
Spread her cold wings, and watch'd in sullen state.
Life yet was dear--Each visionary night
Restored my ancient dwelling to my sight;
And every gale, that swept the valley o'er,
Appear'd to point me to my native shore.
"Soon as the morning waved her banner red,
With bounding heart the winged sail I spread.
Again the tempest roars, the meteors play,
And struggling clouds repel the rising ray.
Yet nought disturb'd my unprophetic soul;
Resign'd to joy, impatient of control,
I seem'd new-born: Creative Hope again
Restored the sense of pleasure, and of pain;
Tumultuous transport, now no more suppressed,
Shone from my eyes, and wanton'd in my breast.
"Soon did the storm subside: before the breeze
Smooth flew the boat, across the summer seas.
The brightening sunbeam on the waters danced,
From the blue clouds a stream of radiance glanced.
"As the fleet swallow, eager to attain
Her well-known regions, scuds o'er land and main;
So, wing'd with hope, I flew: my eager sail
Stemm'd many a sea, and waved in many a gale,
While, ardent still one object to pursue,
I shunn'd the rock, and thro' the tempest flew:
And still, with rapture's mingled tear and smile,
Mark'd, as it pass'd, each dim receding isle.
From each fair view my swimming eyes declined,
And fairer views rose imaged in my mind.
"Swift o'er the waves I flew; and many a day
On the smooth wings of joy had roll'd away,
When, half-discover'd 'mid the clouds of night,
My native cliffs rose beauteous to my sight.
With beating heart I furl my sail, and sweep
With rapid oar the smooth-dividing deep.
The well-known bay a ready entrance gave,
And safe return'd me from the stormy wave.
"Now Night, advancing up th'etherial plain,
Drew slowly her broad veil o'er land and main.
With falling tears I bathed the sacred ground,
And thro' the viewless darkness gazed around:
But air's blank waste deceived my ardent sight;
The hills were dark, the rivers roll'd in night.
Yet swift imagination, uncontroll'd,
Ranged o'er the scene, and tinged it all with gold.
'And here,' I cried, 'amid this piny grove,
In winter's morn my lonely steps shall rove;
And there, beneath yon' poplar's silver shade,
At summer noon my weary limbs be laid.
Yon azure stream, that parts the fruitful scene,
Shall see my cottage on its banks of green,
Long-cherish'd friends shall charm each livelong day,
And jocund children, more beloved than they:
My sun thro' ambient clouds shall set more fair,
And thirty years of grief be lost in air.
Oh, happy long-lost land! once more receive
Thy time-worn Exile, and his cares relieve!'
"The gathered mists roll'd slowly from the lawn,
And fading stars announced the silent dawn:
A hill, that tower'd above the bounded heath,
I climb'd, and gazed upon the scene beneath.
The beams of morning woke no living eye
Amid this vast and cheerless vacancy:
They only pour'd their ineffectual light
On a bleak prospect, better hid in night!
Where'er I look'd, outstretch'd in long survey,
A huge unmeasured waste of ruins lay.
War's fiery steps had mark'd the beauteous scene,
And mingled ravage show'd where death had been,
The fallen cottage, and the mouldering tower--
A dreary monument of wrathful power!
The stream that once, diffused in lucid pride,
Saw towers, and woods, and hamlets, on its side,
Now choked with weeds, in mossy fragments lost,
Dragg'd a slow current o'er the mournful coast.
My friends, my foes, were fled--not one of all
Remain'd, to see his country's hapless fall!
O'er the wild plain the useless zephyrs blow,
And wasted suns unprofitably glow.
This ancient forest now remain'd alone:--
Beneath its shade I sat me down to moan;
Resign'd to dumb despair, without a tear, }
Prostrate I lay, or slowly wander'd, here, }
And, wandering, thought upon the things that were: }
'Till crowding thoughts a sudden lustre flung,
And my wild heart with desperate hope was strung.
"Hence, vain regrets! unmanly tears, away!
'Tis time to close my melancholy day.
Smiling with peace, or brilliant with delight,
Eternity lies open to my sight.
I go, a fearless soul, unstain'd by crimes,
To seek the rest denied in earthly climes.
"Ye righteous Powers, whoe'er ye are, who guide
Earth's changeful tumult, and its cares divide;
Who rule mankind with absolute decree,
And grace the bless'd with good, unknown to me:
To you I pray not: Your afflicting hand }
Has given the sign to quit this earthly strand: }
I bow with joy to your implied command! }
Yes--in the bosom of eternal fate
Some real joys, perhaps, my soul await:
Some peace may yet be mine--some powerful rock,
Unmoved by terror, or misfortune's shock;
Some vale of calmness, some sequester'd shore,
Where hope, and fear, and sorrow, are no more.
"My soul, thro' endless ages doom'd to live,
A quenchless flame, must every sphere survive:
Whence, then, these sorrows in her mortal times;
Chain'd down to woe, ere yet involved in crimes?
This cloud unpierced, that darkens all her way?
Is this the dawn of an eternal day?--
Death, death alone, can chase th' unfathom'd gloom,
And light the mazes of my doubtful doom!"
He spoke; and gazing on the watery grave.
Approach'd with tranquil step the fatal wave,
Where the green verge with easy slope descends,
And, rippling on the sand, the water ends.
When lo! some power, with deep resistless force,
Check'd his firm soul, and stopp'd his fearless course;
He felt its languid influence thro' his breast,
And, stretch'd in sleep, the grassy margin press'd;
His weary soul to balmy rest resign'd,
And fancy bore these visions to his mind.
On a broad bank, alone, he seem'd to stand,
Whose flowery limit closed a spacious land.
Around, the cultured plains appeared to glow
With various hues: a river roll'd below:
Unvex'd by storms, the tranquil waters ran:
On heaven's blue verge calm shines the mounting sun.
As waken'd from a dream of woe, amazed,
On woods, and skies, and murmuring streams, he gazed:
Calm, silent raptures flow'd thro' all his breast,
And seem'd the foretaste of eternal rest.
His eye, now settled, mark'd a little boat,
Which on the nearest waves appear'd to float:
Its airy sail with snow-white radiance blazed;
Its blue prow tinged the waters.--As he gazed,
Lo! the clouds opened, and with sudden glare
A dazzling form descended thro' the air.
Swift as a sea-bird darting o'er the deep,
Or meteor hovering with aërial sweep,
He flew, and lighting radiant on the helm,
Cast a bright shadow o'er the watery realm.
He waved his hand; the Exile took the sign,
Embark'd, and join'd the messenger divine.
Smooth o'er the liquid plain the vessel steers;
A faint-reflected sun on every wave appears.
Swift o'er the stream it steers: on either side,
In murmurs low th' advancing waves divide.
Thro' cloudless skies the radiant orb of day,
Enthroned in light, held on his heavenly way;
A line of light along the ocean streams,
The white sails glisten in the golden beams.
Still, as they roll, the river's waters lave
With ceaseless flow the lily of the wave:
The willow-forests on its verdant side
Bathe their green tresses in the crystal tide:
The bending alders paint the floods, and seem
A waving curtain o'er the glassy stream.
Thro' the wide clouds and thro' the watery way
Calm Light and Silence held their boundless sway.
Now vanish'd from their eyes the lessening shore,
And nearer grew the ocean's sullen roar:
And when the sun-heaven's topmost dome had scaled,
The green-tinged waters of the deep they sailed.
The orb of day, faint-glittering from afar,
Now veil'd in gradual gloom his beamy car:
A hollow murmur thro' the blackening skies,
Rolls dismal on, and loudens as it flies:
The watery birds fly screaming from the steep,
And darkness settles on the shivering deep.
The wondering Exile, from the deck, beheld
The tempest grow, and clouds on clouds impell'd:
Far to the south their dusky legions bend,
And thence o'er heaven a gloomy line extend.
He heard th' approaching tempest's hollow sigh,
And cold despondence trembled in his eye--
And lo, it bursts! the boundless whirlwinds sweep,
Toss the light clouds, and tear the staggering deep
Sheer from its lowest caves--the smoking rain
Bursts in white torrents o'er the echoing main:
The fiery bolts uninterrupted roll
From sky to sky, and shake the stedfast pole:
Red volleying o'er the heavens with curving beam
The fitful lightnings dart a quivering gleam,
And, glancing thro' the raven plumes of night,
Shed o'er the deep a pale sepulchral light.
Swift to the Power unknown his eyes he rear'd--
No sign of comfort in the Power appear'd:
Silent he stood--when lo! another blast
Rends the strong sail, and shakes the tottering mast!
Now, by the mounting billows upward swung,
Trembling amid the darksome sky they hung;
Now seem'd to touch the fountains of the deep,
Where in eternal rest the waters sleep.
And now beneath a milder tempest's sway
Onward the rapid vessel bounds away;
When, lo! again--as if with thundering fall
Descended to the deep heaven's loosen'd wall,
Yells the fierce storm: beneath the furious shock,
Torn from its roots, the long-resisting rock
Falls prone; the sands, driven by the whirling sweep,
Boil up, and darken the discolour'd deep.
Still o'er the stormy waste they labour on,
Thro' bowling deserts and thro' paths unknown--
A long, long way! the lightnings flame around,
And winds and billows mix their mournful sound.
Still on they fare--'till thro' the ambient night
Bursts a third whirlwind with redoubled might;
The congregated clouds in one vast sweep
It drives, and bares the bosom of the deep.
The sail flies loose, the mast in fragments torn
O'er the black surface of the waves is borne
Louder, and longer, over heaven's wide field
Thro' the rent clouds the bellowing thunders peal'd:
In one blue sheet the streamy lightnings glare;
A thousand demons ride the flaming air,
O'er the dark waves a deeper horror cast,
And howl between the pauses of the blast.
And now 'twas silence all--a sulphurous smell
Spread round: a cloud arose with sudden swell;
Slow o'er the ocean's trembling waves it past,
And from its bosom, indistinct and vast,
A giant form advanced across the gloom
Of air, and pointed to the watery tomb.
Shuddering with fear, he turn'd.--His guide was gone;
A broad chaotic cloud appear'd alone.
His limbs no more their chilly weight sustained,
A deathlike torpor o'er his bosom reign'd,
His stony eyeballs fix'd in silent trance
Met the terrific Spectre's withering glance.
And lo! the Phantom waves, with sudden glare,
His burning sceptre thro' the starless air!
High o'er the bark the booming billows spread,
The deafening waves were closing o'er his head;
When rushing clouds the towering form involved,
And all the vision into air dissolved.
Like mist that flits before the solar car,
Or the wan splendours of a falling star,
The scene dispers'd; and at his side, return'd,
The heavenly Guide in all his radiance burn'd.
A smile, with love and calm affection fraught,
The Seraph gave, as by the hand he caught
Th' admiring Exile: then the earth forsook,
And thro' dividing clouds his easy journey took.
Above the skies on silent wings upborne,
They seek the quarter of the rising morn,
And, wheeling thro' the stars their level flight,
On a tall mountain's cloudless top alight.
Beneath, a boundless realm in prospect lay;
Fair as the regions of perpetual day
Wide stretch'd the peaceful vale. A brighter sun
Thro' purer skies his azure course begun,
And, uneclips'd, along th' etherial road
A host of stars with rival splendours glow'd.
Far to the west, with dewy spangles gay,
Long tracts of meads reflect the orient ray;
Collected fragrance breathes in every gale,
And harvests nod on every yellow dale.
The southern plain a lordly city crown'd:
Its ample range with marble turrets frown'd.
The golden spires with pointed radiance glow'd;
From tower to tower the pure effulgence flow'd.
The lofty gates for ever open stood,
And o'er the region pour'd a living flood.
Their dusky sides by piny groves conceal'd,
A range of snow-capp'd hills the north reveal'd:
Amidst the dark-brow'd woods with murmurs hoarse
A thousand torrents took their foamy course.
The eastern limit show'd a spacious bay;
Blue Ocean redden'd in the morning ray:
Reflected lustre crown'd the chalky steep,
And stately navies darkened half the deep.
From the tall hill, beneath the sunny beam,
Three rivers, issuing, pour a various stream,
Now thro' the lawns in parted currents glide,
And now, uniting, spread an equal tide.
Unnumber'd tints the forest-boughs unfold,
And the bright waters seem to roll in gold.
Successive wonders on the Exile's breast
A visionary strange amaze impress'd;
New hopes, new fears, his trembling bosom throng,
Doubt follows doubt, and thought drives thought along.
When now the Angel, with that awful grace,
That waits on spirits of celestial race,
On the pale mortal lost in dark surprize,
Fix'd the keen radiance of his sun-like eyes:
Mild were his looks: yet, when his accents flow'd,
It seem'd as thunder shook the bursting cloud.
"Beneath the weight of earthly evil bent,
In varied toils and woes thy days were spent;
'Till cold Misfortune, with unceasing lower,
Weigh'd down thy soul, and deaden'd every power,
Reflection's lamp withdrew her guiding ray,
And fail'd to point thee on thy darkling way,
And thy wild soul prepared to launch alone
From Night's dark bosom into worlds unknown:
When, sent by Heaven thy earthly deeds to guide,
And o'er thy term of varied life preside,
I check'd thy course: and Providence by me
Unfolds her secret train of destiny.
"Oh, ignorant! to deem thyself the first
Of mortals with unmingled troubles curs'd!
Thou hast not yet the height of woe attain'd,
Nor every cup of human sorrow drain'd.
Thy path of suffering has been trod alone; }
No following friend, no consort, hast thou known, }
To double all thy sorrows with their own: }
No artful foe has doom'd thy humble name
To public enmity, or public shame;
And last, and worst of all, the pangs of woe
Hell can inflict, or vengeful Heaven bestow,
Relentless Conscience has not shed on thee
Her poison'd darts,--her stings of misery!
Thy virtue shone thro' the dim vale of earth,
And toils and dangers proved thy blameless worth.
For this, my hand its timely aid bestow'd
To draw thee back from error's devious road.
"All, all are equal: Heaven's impartial mind
One bliss, one woe allots to all mankind:
And he whose morn seem'd wrapp'd in cloudy night,
Shall see his evening glow with placid light.
Thro' calm prosperity's serenest sky
The approaching gales of adverse fortune sigh;
And when Affliction whets her keenest dart,
And hurls it, flaming, at the shrinking heart,
Celestial Hope with golden wing attends,
Heals every wound, and every toil befriends:
The horrors vanish; gleams of light divine
Illume the cloud, and thro' its openings shine;
As the bow, herald of ethereal peace,
Smiles thro' the storm, and makes the tempest please.
"To sway the whirlwind, gathering clouds control,
Arrest the sun, or shake with storms the pole,
Heaven gives to none:--nor have the mightiest power
To stop the current of one changeful hour:
Resistless Fate with even course proceeds,
And o'er their levell'd pomp her thundering chariot leads.
But all can solace their afflicted mind
With temperate wishes, and a will resign'd,
Can cheer the sad, improve the prosperous hour,
With meek Humility, and Virtue's power:
With these, terrestrial pleasures never cloy,
And fear is lost in peace, and sorrow turns to joy.
"Yet oft' the brave resisting soul, like thee,
At random borne across Life's wintery sea,
When various tempests, with successive force,
Still drive her devious from her destined course,
With labour worn, at last the helm resigns,
And in deep anguish at her lot repines;
Despair throws round impenetrable gloom,
And Death invites her to the ready tomb.
"Let faithful Memory tell (for Memory can)
How thy first years in even current ran;
How every pleasure, every good, combined
To feast with countless sweets thy tranquil mind:
Each passing joy a kindred joy pursued,
Nor ask'd the aid of sad vicissitude.
Swift flew thy boat, thro' isles with verdure crown'd,
Heaven's smile above, and prosperous seas around:
O'er the smooth waves Hope's cheering zephyr pass'd,
And every wave seem'd smoother than the last.
"Soon fled those halcyon days. The storm began;
From pole to pole the doubling thunder ran.
Yet still with patient toil I saw thee urge
Thy fearless passage o'er the gloomy surge;
Still Faith discern'd the harbour of repose,
And panting Hope look'd forward to the close.
"As vapours, slowly thickening, blot away,
Beam after beam, the sacred orb of day;
So woes on woes in long continuance blind
The sense, and blunt the vigour of the mind;
'Till, by some sudden gust of misery cross'd,
On the mad ocean of despondence toss'd,
Reason herself, once bold, acute, and strong,
No more discerns the bounds of right and wrong:
Lost, in the mist of fear, her Heavenly Guide,
She deems all efforts vain, and sinks beneath the tide.
"But shrink not thou from earth's malignant power!
Hope builds on high an everlasting tower;
And strength divine supports the suffering good,
As lasting ramparts break the torrent-flood.
"Sustain'd by this, with resolute control
The Mental Hero curbs his struggling soul,
Bids with new fire his pure affections glow,
And calls his lingering wishes from below.
Refined by slow degrees, his passions rise,
Soar from the earth, and gain upon the skies.
A light, unbought by all the joys of Sin,
Cheers his wide soul, and brightens all within:
And, though mankind his pious peace molest,
And mock the sigh that struggles half suppress'd;
Tho', leagued with man, the hostile powers of hell
Bid round his head the maddening tempest swell;
For ever fix'd on worlds beyond the pole,
Nought else can move his heaven-directed soul.
'Tis his with tearless fortitude to feel
The bigot fury of a tyrant's steel;
'Tis his with cool untempted eye to gaze
On Wealth's bright pomp, and Beauty's brighter blaze:
And, as the stream its equal current leads
Thro' dusky forests and thro' flowery meads,
Serene he treads Misfortune's thorny soil,
Nor on surrounding pleasures wastes a smile--
Whate'er events the tide of time may swell,
His only care, to act or suffer well.
What tho' malignant foes innumerous scowl,
Tho' mortals hiss, and fiends around him howl?
Yet, higher powers, the guardians of his life,
With sacred transport watch the godlike strife;
Yet Heaven, with all her thousand eyes, looks down,
And binds her martyr with a deathless crown.
"When the last pang the struggling spirit sends
Far from the circle of his mourning friends,
And, bathed with many a tear, the hallow'd bust
Protects the mouldering body of the just;
Oh! with what rapture, mounting, he descries
Scenes of unutterable glory rise,
With trembling hope bows to his heavenly Lord,
And hears with awful joy th' absolving word!
Oh! with what speed he flies, dismiss'd to stray
Thro' the vast regions of eternal day;
Creation's various wonders to explore,
A radiant sea of light, without a shore!
Then, too, that spark of intellectual fire
Which burn'd thro' life, and never shall expire,
Which, oft' on earth deplored its bounded view,
And still from sphere to sphere excursive flew,
The mind, upborne on intuition's wings,
Thro' Truth's bright regions, momentary, springs,
And, piercing at one view the maze of fate,
Smiles at the darkness of her former state!
"The varied pleasures of yon' smiling plain
Would feebly image Joy's eternal reign.
As that bright prospect, still to beauty true,
Presents new charms at every varied view,
Here towns and waving forests rise reveal'd,
There the blue deep, and here the golden field;
Such and so boundless are the joys decreed
To those, whom Truth from all their chains has freed.
Nor time shall limit, nor dull space control
The winged motions of th' immortal soul.
From star to star to spread her restless wing,
Learn each dread law, and trace each mighty spring;
To mix with angels, and renew the hours
Of earthly friendship in celestial bowers;
The Source of All, undazzled, to survey,
His triumphs join, and his commands obey:--
To span Futurity with raptured sight,
Age after age interminably bright,
While with one tranquil all-enlightening beam,
The past, the present, and the future gleam:--
Still, as the joyful ages run their race,
Progressive glories ripening as they pass,
With new perfections, new desires, to shine,
Her will reflected by the will divine:--
To see new suns arise, and see their flame
Lost and extinct in night, herself the same:--
Such the soul's hopes; and such the blessings given
To Virtue's sons,--the brightest stars of heaven!
"Oft, ev'n on earth, by Heaven's unfathom'd doom,
She breaks thro' her dark fortune's circling gloom,
And thro' the dim-dissolving cloud of woe
Refulgent mounts, and gilds the world below.
Pale Envy pines, and sickens in the dust,
And gazing nations learn that Heaven is just.
"Such are the truths thy vision would relate,
And such the secret of thy doubtful fate.
"Go, then--thy God has fix'd thy future doom,
And light and transient are thy woes to come:
Those sorrows past, ev'n Earth has joys in store;
And Heaven expects thee on her happy shore.
Go--and, by chilling grief no more oppress'd,
Hold firm thy heart--to stand, is to be bless'd!"
Quick-glancing from his sight the Seraph sped,
And all the dream in gay confusion fled.
Soft o'er the wave the summer-breezes sigh'd,
The moon play'd quivering on the restless tide.
He rose, and now with new ideas fraught,
Revolv'd the vision in his alter'd thought;
An eye of meek contrition upward cast,
And stretch'd in lonely prayer, bewail'd the past;
Traced all his years, and with a tranquil eye
Exulting scann'd his promised destiny;
Then steer'd his bark, with Providence his guide,
To realms unknown, and oceans yet untried.
TO THE COMET, 1811.
WRITTEN ON ITS APPEARANCE.
Be ye not dismayed at the signs of heaven; for the heathen are
dismayed at them. JER. X. 2.
Comet! who from yon' dusky sky
Dart'st o'er a shrinking world thy fiery eye,
Scattering from thy burning train
Diffusive terror o'er the earth and main;
What high behest dost thou perform
Of Heaven's Almighty Lord? what coming storm
Of war or woe does thy etherial flame
To thoughtless man proclaim?
Dost thou commissioned shine
The silent harbinger of wrath divine?
Or does thy unprophetic fire
Thro' the wide realms of solar day
Mad Heat or purple Pestilence inspire?
Thro' all her lands, Earth trembles at thy ray;
And starts, as she beholds thee sweep
With fiery wing Air's far-illumined deep.
The Eternal gave command, and from afar,
From realms unbless'd with heat or light,
The mournful kingdoms of perpetual Night,
Unvisited but by thy glowing car,--
Radiant and clear as when thy course begun,
Swift as the flame that fires th'etherial blue,
Thro' the wide system, like a sun,
Thy moving glories flew.
Thou shinest terrific to the guilty soul!
But not to him, who calmly brave
Spurns earthly terror's base control,
And dares the yawning grave:
To one superior Will resigned,
He views with an unanxious mind
Earth's passing wonders,--and can gaze
With eye serene on thy innocuous blaze,
As on the meteor-fires, that sweep
O'er the smooth bosom of the deep,
Or gild with lustre pale
The humid surface of some midnight vale.
FROM THE ELEVENTH BOOK OF STATIUS' THEBAID.
Jamque in pulvereum, furiis hortantibus, æquor Prosiliunt, &c.
403--407, 409--423.
Soon as both armies from the field withdrew,
Fierce to the fight the rival brothers flew:
Each warrior his auxiliar fiend inspires,
Directs his arm, and pours in all her fires:
Round the bright reins their snaky locks they twine,
And with each swelling mane their glittering folds combine.
The horns were hush'd: the drums no longer peal'd:
A death-like stillness brooded o'er the field:
And thrice hell's monarch rock'd the ground below,
And thrice his thunders shook the realms of woe.--
No martial power was there: the God of War
Whirl'd from the hated field his heavenly car:
Indignant Pallas sought th'ethereal climes:
And Furies learn'd to blush at human crimes.
The thronging people, from the stately crown }
Of each tall turret, look with horror down, }
And general grief overwhelms th' unhappy town: }
The old deplore their late remains of light;
And mothers lead their infants from the sight.
The ghosts of Cadmus' race, an impious crew,
This prodigy of kindred guilt to view,
Sent from the mansion of eternal hills,
(A dark assembly) crowd Bæotia's hills;
O'er day's fair face a gloomy twilight cast,
And smile with joy to see their crimes surpass'd.
FROM THE NINTH BOOK OF KLOPSTOCK'S MESSIAH.
Where, in the midst of vast Infinitude,
The arm creative stopp'd,--dread bound of space,
Alien to God, and from his sight exil'd,
Hell rolls her sulph'rous torrents. There, nor law
Of motion, nor eternal Order reigns;
But anarchy instead, and wild uproar,
And ruinous tumult. Now with lightning speed
Th' accursed sphere, with all its flames, flies up
Into the void abrupt, and with its roar,
With groans commixt, and shrieks, and boundless yells,
Astounds the nearest stars: calm now and slow,
With dreadful peace the universal waves
Of sulphur roll, and pour a mightier flood
On those tormented, their eternal crimes
Avenging with fresh pain and sharper darts
Of never-dying torture.--They meanwhile,
The caitiff and his puissant guide, on wing
Impetuous, skirt creation's flaming waste,
And suns innumerable, and with prone flight
Descending down, light sheer upon the coast
Of outmost Night. The guard seraphic knows.
That power ministrant, ----
---- and with quick despatch
Unfolds the Stygian doors, that jarring hoarse
Slow on their adamantine hinges turn'd,
And open'd to their ken the dread abyss,
Unfathomably deep, mother of woes.
Not mountains pil'd on mountains would close up
Th' infernal entrance: they would but increase
Its native ruggedness. No path leads down
To those abhorred deeps. Close by the gate
Impendent rocks with fiery whirlwinds cleft
For ever fell into the deep abyss,
Continuous ruin. ----
---- On the hideous brink
Of this great tomb, where Death nor sleeps, nor dies,
In dreadful silence, with the wretch hell-doom'd,
Stood the Death-angel. ----
BEGINNING OF THE THIRTEENTH ILIAD,
TRANSLATED IN IMITATION OF WALTER SCOTT.
Ζεὺς δ' ἐπεὶ οὔν Τρῶάς τε καὶ Ἑκτορα νηυσὶ πέλασσε, &c.
1.
From Ida's peak high Jove beheld
The tumults of the battle-field,
The fortune of the fight--
He marked, where by the ocean-flood
Stout Hector with his Trojans stood,
And mingled in the strife of blood
Achaia's stalwart might:
He saw--and turn'd his sunbright eyes
Where Thracia's snow-capped mountains rise
Above her pastures fair:
Where Mysians feared in battle-fray,
With far-famed Hippemolgians stray,
A race remote from care,
Unstained by fraud, unstained by blood,
The milk of mares their simple food.
Thither his sight the God inclines,
Nor turns to view the shifting lines
Commix'd in fight afar:
He deemed not, he, that heavenly might
Would swell the bands of either fight,
When he forbade the war.
2.
Not so the Monarch of the Deep:
On Samothracia's topmast steep
The great Earth-shaker stood,
Whose cloudy summit viewed afar
The crowded tents, the mingling war,
The navy dancing on the tide,
The leaguered town, the hills of Ide,
And all the scene of blood.
There stood he, and with grief surveyed
His Greeks by adverse force outweighed:
He bann'd the Thunderer's partial will,
And hastened down the craggy hill.
3.
Down the steep mountain-slope he sped,
The mountain rocked beneath his tread,
And trembling wood and echoing cave
Sign of immortal presence gave.
Three strides athwart the plain he took,
Three times the plain beneath him shook;
The fourth reached Ægæ's watery strand,
Where, far beneath the green sea-foam,
Was built the monarch's palace-home,
Distinct with golden spire and dome,
And doom'd for aye to stand.
4.
He enters: to the car he reins
His brass-hoofed steeds, whose golden manes
A stream of glory cast:
His golden lash he forward bends,
Arrayed in gold the car ascends;
And swifter than the blast,
Across th' expanse of ocean wide,
Untouched by waves, it passed:
The waters of the glassy tide
Joyful before its course divide,
Nor round the axle press:
Around its wheels the dolphins play,
Attend the chariot on its way,
And their great Lord confess.
LATIN POEMS.
I.
́ Ἤρπαζον--οὐκ ἔχοντός πω αἰσχύνην τούτου τοῦ ἔργου, φέροντος δέ τι
καὶ δόξης μᾶλλον. THUC. Lib. 1.
Pirata loquitur.
Quid nos immeritâ, turba improba, voce lacessis,
Sanguineasque manus, agmina sæva vocas?
Quidve carere domo, totumque errare per orbem
Objicis, et fraudem cæcaque bella sequi?
Non nobis libros cura est trivisse Panætî,
Nec, quid sit rectum, discere, quidve malum;
Hæc quærant alii: toto meliora Platone
Argumenta manu, qui gerit arma, tenet.
Et tamen, ut primi repetamus sæcula mundi,
Omnibus hæc populis pristina vita fuit:
Lege orbis caruit: leges ignavior ætas
Excoluit, patrium descruitque decus.
Ut culpent homines, Dîs hæc laudare necesse est;
Nec pudet auctores fraudis habere Deos.
Ætheriam bello rapuisti, Jupiter, arcem;
Quam, dicat genitor si tibi, Redde; neges.
Fertur Atlantiades, nobis venerabile numen,
Surripuisse omni plusve minusve Deo.
Legiferos alii celebrent justosque poëtæ;
Mæonides nostri nominis auctor erit.
Sisyphium canit ille ducem, canit inclyta Achillis
Pectora: prædonum ductor uterque fuit.
Lyrnessum Æacides, Ciconas vastavit Ulysses:
Num facta est tali gloria clade minor?
Tu quoque pro raptâ pugnabas, Romule, turbâ,
Et fur imperium furibus ipso dabas.
Armiger ipse Jovis, qui prædâ vivit et armis,
Inter aves primum nomen habere solet.
At vaga turba sumus. Vaga erat Tirynthia virtus;
Quam tamen in cœlum sacra Camæna vehit
Anne viro, lucrum trans æquora longa secuto,
Dedecori est tantas explicuisse vias?
Si genus in toto quæris felicius orbe,
Falleris: est nobis æmula vita Deûm.
Nec fora, nec leges colimus; nec aratra subimus;
Prædandi est solus militiæque labor:
Seu ruimus per aperta maris, seu cingimus igne
Mænia, seu cultis exspatiamur agris.
Oppida quum positis florent ingloria bellis,
Fortia pax altâ corda quiete tenet:
At nobis medio Fama est quæsita periclo,
Quòque magis durum est, hôc magis omne placet.
Plurima quid referam? Si tu ista refellere nescis,
Vicimus, inque auras crimen inane fugit.
II.
---- Ἀντολὰς ἐγω
ἄστρων ἔδειξα τάς τε δυσκρίτους δύσεις. ÆSCH.
Densantur tenebræ: subsidunt ultima venti
Murmura, tranquillumque silet mare: Somnus ab alto
Advehitur gelidis, spargitque silentia pennis.
Musarum intentus studiis, taciturna per arva
Deferor, herbosamque premunt vestigia vallem
Somnus babet pecudes: humili de cespite culmen
Apparet rarum, et sparsæ per pascua quercus.
Fons sacer, irriguos ducens cum murmure flexus,
Vicinum reddit fluvio nemus: æquore puro
Vibrantes cerno stellas, atque ordine longo
Lucida perspicuis simulacra natantia lymphis.
Fulgore assiduo et vario convexa colore
Ardebant nuper: rapidi violentia cœli
Torrebat pecudes, et languida rura premebat.
Nunc sedata novos spirat Natura decores,
Regalique magis formâ nitet. Æthere toto
Se stellæ agglomerant: micat almo lumine campus
Cærulus, et densis variantur nubila signis.
Sic quondam ruptum subiti miracula mundi
Effudit Chaos, et primi exsiluere planetæ
Cursibus, atque novum stupuerunt sæcula Solem;
Tunc radiis fulsere Arcti, secuitque profundas
Orion tenebras: molli et formosior igne
Luna per æquoreos radiavit pallida fluctus.
Quâcunque aspicio, tremulus per cœrula crescit
Ardor, et innumeros stupeo lucescere soles.
Talia miranti sacrâ formidine tota
Mens rapitur: videor stellantia visere templa
Numinis, argenteamque domum, lucisque recessus,
Solus ubi in vacuo regnat Pater orbis, et, igne
Cinctus inexhausto, devolvit stamina fati,
Æquatoque regit varium discrimine mundum.
At tu corporeis anima haud retinenda catenis,
Libera quæ letho perrumpis claustra sepulchri,
Sublimi spectes etiam nunc lumine mundum,
Sideraque, et longo fulgentes limite soles:
Hæc tua sunt: toto hôc quondam versaberis orbe
Devia, et in cunctis pandes regionibus alas.
Erroris fugient nebulæ; fatique licebit
Explorare vias, unumque per omnia Numen.
Barbarus evictis referat Sesostris ab Indis
Signa; triumphanti se jactet in axe Philippus,
Læteturque suum spectans Octavius orbem:
Te majora manent: nullis obnoxia curis
Regna petis, domitâque nitet victoria morte.
III.
DIVI PAULI CONVERSIO.
Humentes abiere umbræ, et jam lampada opaco
Extulit Oceano Phœbus, noctemque fugavit;
Jamque, brevem excutiens somnum, rapit arma Saülus,
Ingrediturque iter; hunc denso circum undique ferro
Agmina funduntur, strictisque hastilibus horret
Omne solum, et tremulus telorum it ad æthera fulgor.
Corripuere viam celeres: jamque alta Damasci
Mænia cernuntur, raræque ex æquore turres.
Lætatur spectans, immensaque pectore versat
Funera, sanguineumque videt fluere undique rivum,
Invisamque unâ gentem miscere ruinâ
Posse putat: summâ veluti de rupe leæna
Sopitas prospectat oves, ubi plurima toto
Incumbit nox campo, illunemque æthera condit.
Haud aliter furit, et flammantia lumina torquens
Talia voce refert: "Magni regnator Olympi,
Ultricem firma dextram, justoque furori
Annue, et ipse novam spira in mea pectora flammam.
Robora da gladiis insueta, adde ignibus iras,
Sic ego templa tua et sacros spernentia ritus
Pectora confundam; fausto sic numine lætus
Relliquias vincam sceleris: vastam ipse ruinam
Aspicies, pater, et stellanti summus ab arce
Accipies gemitus morientûm, et fulmine justum
Confirmabis opus: lætabitur æthere toto
Sancta cohors, magnique ibunt longo ordine patres
Visuri exitium, et pravorum fata nepotum!"
Dixerat; interea medium Sol attigit orbem,
Et totum jubar explicuit: quum creber ad auras
Auditur fragor, et volucres per inania cœli
Hinc atque hinc fugiunt nubes: dant flumina murmur
Insolitum, vastæque tremunt sine flamine sylvæ.
Obstupuere omnes: subito quum lumine nimbus
Signat iter cœlo, et radiis totum æthera complet:
Collesque fluviique micant, pulsisque tenebris
Lætantur sylvæ: veluti quum Luna coruscam
Extendit per aperta facem. Sacer erubuit Sol,
Agnovitque Deum, densisque recessit in umbris.
Attoniti siluere viri, manibusque remissis
Sponte cadunt tela: insolito ferus ipse timore
Diriguit ductor, stravitque in pulvere corpus.
Quum subitò nova vox, mille haud superanda procellis,
Excidit, et juveni trepidantia pectora complet:
"Quo gressus, vesane rapis? quæve effera menti
Impulit infandum dementia inire laborem,
Et gentes vexare piàs? Huc flecte superbos,
Huc oculos; ego sum, quem vanâ fraude lacessis,
Tartarei domitor regni, prolesque Tonantis.
Flecte viam ventis, motâ quate littora dextrâ,
Siste maris cursum, aut medio rape sidera cœlo;
Non tamen hoc facies; neque enim gens concidet unquam
Nostra, nec humani patietur damna tumultûs.
Cæde Deo tandem, et cæptos compesce furores."
Tum vero ingenti pressus formidine mentem
Intremuit juvenis, rupitque has pectore voces:
"Cedo equidem, victusque abeo: tu, maxime rerum,
Suffice consilia, atque errantes dirige gressus.
Immanes fugere animi, et quà ducis eundum est.
Sit modo fas te, Christe, sequi!" Nec plura locuto
Intonuere poli, et mediam inter fulgura vocem
Audiit: "Infaustos animis depone timores,
Vicinamque urbem et celsæ pete tecta Damasci.
Ipse adero, rerumque oculis arcana recludam.
Eia age, carpe viam, et permissis utere fatis."
Hoc Deus, et sese nubis caligine septum
Claudit inaccessâ; tellus tremit, et sonat æther,
Terque per attonitos vibrantur fulmina campos.
Jamque novæ exierant flammæ, et Sol redditus orbi:
Assistunt Domino turmæ, gelidamq. resurgens
Linquit humum Saulus: sed non redit ossibus ardor,
Non oculis lumen; subitis exterrita monstris
Haud aliter juveni stupuerunt pectora, quàm cùm
Fulmina si flammis straverunt forte bisulcis
Coniferam pinum, aut surgentem in sidera quercum,
Agricola exsurgit conterritus, et pede lustrat
Exustum nemus, et pallentes sulphure campos.
Explorat latè noctem, cæcosq. volutat
Hinc atq. hinc oculos, et ab omni nube Tonantes
Expectat vocem. Intereà regione viarum
Progreditur notâ, et Syriam defertur ad urbem:
Non, oriens qualem nuper Sol viderat, acri
Non animo stragem intentans, non ense coruscus
Fulmineo: supplex, oculosque ad sidera tendens,
Demissâ sine fine trahit suspiria mente,
Immiscetq. preces. Tres illic septus opacâ
Nube dies peragit, tolidem sine sidere noctes.
Intereà nova paulatim sub pectore flamma
Nascitur, æthereoq. viget nutrita calore:
Erroris fugiunt nebulæ; sacer ingruit ardor
Cœlestisque fides; dant corda immitia pacem,
Mutanturq. animi: placido ceu murmure labens
Æternos ducit per saxa rigentia cursus
Fons sacer, et fluvio tacitè mollescit opaco.
Quin etiam, ut perhibent, animam sine corpore raptam
Flammifero alati curru avexere ministri,
Ad superasq. domos, et magni tecta Parentis
Fulmineæ rapuere rotæ: medio æthere vectus
Miratur sonitum circumvolventis Olympi,
Sideraq., et rutilo flagrantes igne Cometas;
Inde cavi superans flammantià mænia mundi,
Elysias spectat sedes, et casta piorum
Regna, ubi cæruleâ vestitus luce superbit
Latè æther, aliis ubi fulgent ignibus astra,
Atq. alii volvunt lætantia sæcula Soles:
Et puro cernit volitantes aëre Manes,
Quos rutilâ cingit jubar immortale coronâ,
Oblitas terrarum animas, venerabile vulgus.
Tertia jamq. diem expulerat nox humida cælo,
Et medios tenuit per vasta silentia cursus:
Cæsarie subito et vittâ venerabilis albâ
Visus adesse senex, talesq. effundere voces:
"Surge, age, nate: tibi nam vitæ certa patescit
Semita, teque Deus cœlo miseratus ab alto est.
Ipse ego, quæ tristes hebetant caligine visus,
Eripiam nubes, exoptatumq. revisent
Solem oculi." Divinâ hæc talia voce loquentem
Involvere umbræ, tenuisq. refugit imago,
Excutiturq. sopor. Nova dum portenta renarrat,
Auditasq. refert voces; fugit æquora currus
Solis, et ignotus tacitum subit advena limen,
Compellatq. viros: eadem altâ in fronte sedebat
Majestas, îsdemq. albebant crinibus ora.
Agnovit vocem juvenis; nam cætera nigræ
Eripuere oculis tenebræ. Tum talibus Annas
Aggreditur senior: "Patriæ te, Saule, petitum
Linquo tuta domûs, ac mille pericula ferri
Invado, sævumque adeo imperterritus hostem.
Nam, qui te medio errantem de tramite vertit,
Imperat ipse Deus, perq. alta silentia noctis
Ingeminat mandata monens. Nunc accipe lucem
Amissam, munusq. Dei. Nec plura locutus
Pallentes oculos dextrâ premit: atra fugit nox
Cœlestes tactus, aciemq. effusa per omnem
Irruit alma dies: primi nova lumina Solis
Haurit inexpletùm, et fugientia sidera lustrat.
Sed major puro accendit divina calore
Lux animos, atq. exsultantia pectora complet.
Ante oculos nova se rerum fert undique imago:
Deletas veterum leges, renovataque cernit
Jura homini, et pactum divino sanguine fœdus;
Edomitam mortem, raptique arcana sepulchri,
Perpetuamq. diem, atq. æterni vulnera leti.
Explorat tacitus sese, et vix cernere credit,
Quæ mens alta videt; tantâ formidine vasta
Exterret rerum species, mixtoq. voluptas
Ingruit alta metu: velut insuetum mare pastor
Observans oculis, vastiq. silentia ponti,
Horret, et ignoto perculsus corda timore
Hinc atq. hinc oculos jacit, æternùmq. volutos
Miratur fluctus, tantarum et murmur aquarum.
Exsurgit tandem, rumpitq. silentia voce:
"Æterni salvete ignes! salve aurea nostris
Reddita lux oculis! Tuq. O, qui primus inane
Rupisti, et variâ jussisti effervere flammâ,
Adsis nunc, pater, et placidus tua numina firmes.
Da mihi vitai casus, sævosq. labores
Perferre, et cunctis tua nomina pandere terris,
Magne parens! et quum gelidis inamabilis alis
Summa dies aderit, tardæ prænuntia mortis,
Cunctanti adspires animo, justosq. timores
Imminuas, ducasq. animam in tua regna trementem!"
Vix ea fatus erat; per nubes ales apertas
Devolat ætherio demissus ab axe satelles,
Alloquiturq. virum, placidoq. hæc incipit ore:
Macte novâ, Isacide, virtute; opus excipe magnum;
Afflatuq. Dei et præsenti; numine fortis
Perge, viamq. rape invictam per littora mundi.
Non tumidum mare, non sævi violentia belli,
Nec populi rabies, circùmq. volantia tela,
Immotos quatient animos; sacrum omnia vincet
Auxilium, et præsens favor omnipotentis Olympi.
Graia tibi excussâ cedet Sapientia cristâ,
Ore tuo devicta; trement regna excita latè
Cecropis, et vario splendentia numine templa.
Te mæsti æterno reboantia murmure ponti
Agnoscent Melitæ saxa, et quæ pulcher Orontes
Arva secat, fluvioq. vigens Tiberinus amæno,
Et vix Ausonium passura Britannia regnum.
Audiet Ionii littus maris, atq. ubi fluctus
Ægæi sonat, atq. ubi turbidus Hellespontus
Sævit, et angustâ populos interstrepit undâ.
O nimium dilecte Deo, cui concidit ingens
Oceani fragor, et rabidæ silet ira procellæ,
Pacatusq. cadit, infecto vulnere, serpens.
Perge, atq. immensum laudes diffunde per orbem.
Per freta, per flammas, per mille pericula, vade
Impavidus; miseros refice, atq. petentibus almam
Da requiem populis; animam pater ipse, laborum
Defunctam, Christumq. pari jam morte secutam
Excipiet, cæloq. novum decus inseret alto.
IV.
Cœlestis Sapientia. HOR.
Qualem in profundi gurgitibus maris
Undæque, ventique, et scopuli graves
Nautam lacessunt, et trisulca
Quæ volitat per inane flamma,
Quum nulla amicis dat pharon ignibus
Fortuna; dum Nox signa per horridas
Diffundat auras, et benignâ
Luna face imminuat tenebras:
Sic prima cæcam gens hominum tulit
Ignara vitam: regna nec Elysî
Novere nec valles opacas
Tartareæ timuere sedis;
Non spes futuri, non reverentia
Cœlestis aulæ; culpa piaculis
Vacavit, Eleique luci
Fatidicæ siluere frondes:
Donec reclusâ cælicolûm domo,
Jussu parentis, dicitur huc cohors
Venisse Musarum, capillos
Castaliâ redimita lauro,
Sacramque qui Delum et Pataram regit,
Cyrrhæque turres: increpuit lyram
Thalia, divinoque canta
Tristia personuere regna;
Quo bruta tellus, quo volucres vagæ, et
Dura improbarum pectora tigridum,
Regesque, bellanterque turmæ
Insolitâ tacuere curâ.
Informe primùm vox cecinit Chaos,
Terrasque natas, Iäpeti et genus
Infame, Phlegræamque pugnam,
Et triplici data jura mundo:
Panduntur arcana, et Superûm domus,
Virtusque, legesque, et ratio boni,
Oræque Cocyti dolentis,
Et placidæ loca amœna Leuces.
O, quæ coruscam concutis ægida,
Frangens tyrannorum arma minacium,
Regina Pallas, dona nobis
Cælicolûm inviolata serva,
Quam misit æterni arbiter ætheris
Terras in omnes, ut Sapientiæ
Accensa duraret per ævum
Stella, nec in tenebras abiret!
Te novit Argos, cultaque divitis
Sedes Corinthi; Cecropias modò
Turres et Ilissi colebas
Pascua, floriferosque saltus;
Nunc Martialis mænia Romuli,
Et regna Tuscis subdita montibus;
Nunc arva terrarum remota, et
Æquorei scopulos Britanni.
Tu, Diva, rerum detegis ordinem;
Gaudesque primis nubila gentibus
Obducta, nulli pervia astro,
Et Stygiâ graviora nocte
Rupisse. Frustrà dissociabile
Objecit atrox Oceani fretum
Neptunus, insanique rauco
Turbine confremuere fluctus:
Vicit furentes, te duce, navita
Ventosque, et undas, clanstraque saxea
Perrupit, extremumque mundi
Impavidus penetravit axem.
NOTES ON _GUSTAVUS VASA_.
I have prefixed to this fragment the title of Epic Poem, though epic
poems are growing out of fashion; because, in the structure, plan, and
metre, the heroic model is followed. My authorities for facts, dates,
and characters, are Vertot and Puffendorff. The latter I have only read
in an English translation, dated 1702: the former I quote from a small
Amsterdam edition, printed for Stephen Roger, in 2 vols. 1722.
BOOK THE FIRST.
Line 3.
---- her papal rites efface.
Gustavus, by his prudent and vigorous measures, effectually abolished
Popery in Sweden, and established the disciples and doctrine of Luther.
9, 10.
And at whose feet, when Heaven his toils repaid,
His brightest wreaths the grateful Hero laid.
Many have attributed the efforts which Gustavus made use of to deliver
his country, to ambition, and a desire of reigning. Yet, since his
elevation produced much good to Sweden, and no evil, it is surely
allowable, if not just, to attribute them to a purer motive: at any
rate, a poet is at liberty to set his hero's character in the fairest
light he can, consistently with history.
14.
By Treachery's axe her slaughter'd senate bled.
Alluding to the celebrated massacre of Stockholm. For an account of it,
see notes on the Third Book.
15.
And her brave chief was numbered with the dead.
Steen Sture, Poeticè Stenon, was the son of Suante Sture, administrator
of Sweden, who reduced John the Second of Denmark to conclude a treaty
with him, and who is greatly extolled by historians for the
extraordinary spirit, skill, and moderation, with which he governed a
turbulent kingdom for many years. Sture, though a young man, was
admitted his successor, being duly elected on the 21st of July, 1513,
after a violent struggle with his competitor, Eric Trolle, the senator,
which laid the foundation of the enmity between him and Gustavus Trolle,
the famous Primate of Sweden. On that prelate's arrival from Rome,
however, he welcomed him to his see, and behaved to him in the most
courteous manner. This behaviour was repaid by Trolle with almost open
hostility; but the young administrator had spirit enough to resist his
encroachments. Arcemboldi, the Pope's Legate, and merchant of
indulgences, when passing through Sweden, in execution of his gainful
office, was well received by Sture, who encouraged him in his exactions,
from a political motive, and even exempted him from the duty which
former venders of indulgences had been accustomed to pay to the Kings
and Governors of Sweden. In the war commenced by Christiern the Second
against Sweden, he signalized his courage and military talents on many
occasions, and was killed in an engagement with Otho Crumpein's army,
near Bogesund in East Gothland.
Inferior to his father as an Administrator, he appears to have equalled
him only in courage and the art of war. He was one of those men who are
born to adorn, though not defend, a declining state: and, in the words
of the French writer, was "fitter to command a party, than govern an
empire." His death happened in the beginning of 1519.
18.
---- ruthless Christiern ----
Christiern the Second was perhaps the worst king that ever disgraced the
Danish throne. It is difficult to find any thing estimable or admirable
in his character; he had neither the moderation of a Pisistratus, the
talents of a Cæsar, nor the political prudence of an Augustus. He
succeeded his father John in 1512, and declared war against Sweden, in
which he was assisted by Trolle. Having made a descent on the coast, he
was repulsed by Steen Sture, and reduced to extremities. Wishing to
treat with Sture, he demanded hostages for his safety; some of the
principal nobles were sent to him in that quality, and among them
Gustavus Vasa. With these he immediately sailed away, and on his return,
confined them in the castle of Copenhagen, excepting Gustavus, who was
committed to the custody of Eric Banner. He made a second attack upon
Sweden, and, after the death of Steen Sture, was crowned King of Sweden.
Under false pretences, he put to death the whole Swedish senate, and
exercised innumerable barbarities on the townsmen and peasants.
(Puffendorff, passim.) Being afterwards expelled from Denmark by his
uncle Prince Frederick, and from Sweden by Gustavus Vasa, after many
fruitless attempts to regain possession of either kingdom, he was at
last seized by Frederick, August 2, 1532, and confined in the Castle of
Coldinger, where he died some years after.
27.
'Twas morn, when Christiern, &c.
This poem begins in January, 1521, immediately before the introduction
of Gustavus in the assembly of Mora.
41.
---- Upsal's haughty Prelate ----
Gustavus Trolle, son of Eric the rival of Steen Sture, was sent when
young to Rome (where it is supposed he learned the art of political
finesse), and was there consecrated Archbishop of Upsal by Leo the
Tenth. On his return to Sweden, he treated with great haughtiness Steen
Sture, who came to congratulate him on his elevation. He joined in
Christiern's attempts on Sweden, and, being convicted of treason by the
assembled Swedish States, retired from his archiepiscopal throne to a
monastery. On the successes of Christiern, however, he quitted his
retirement, and, regardless of his oaths of abdication, resumed his
former office. His forcible deposition was one of the pretexts for the
massacre of Stockholm. He opposed Gustavus Vasa in his patriotic
endeavours, and once circumvented the hero with a troop of Danes, so
that he narrowly escaped with his life. Vasa, however, soon retorted the
same stratagem on his enemy; and he was at last obliged to retire into
Denmark, where he with difficulty escaped death from the resentment of
his master. A wound, received in an engagement with the troops of
Christiern the Third, terminated the existence of one of the most
restless caballers, and most accomplished statesmen, of his time.
119.
Otho.
Otho Crumpein, one of the most celebrated generals of the North, was
employed by Christiern in his war with Steen Sture, and gained many
signal victories over the Danes; and afterwards, by his master's orders,
invested Stockholm. He was at length removed to Denmark by the tyrant,
who was jealous of his talents.
191.
Ernestus.
Ernestus and Harfagar are fictitious characters. Puffendorff, however,
reports that Steen Sture was killed by the treachery of one of his
confidential friends.--The hint of the vision, l. 281-311, is taken from
Lucan.
335.
Brask's proud genius.
Brask, Bishop of Lincoping, was secretly a partisan of Christiern's, and
escaped the massacre of Stockholm by an artful contrivance. When the
order for Trolle's arrest was signed by the Senate and Bishops, at the
instigation of Steen Sture, he added his name to the rest, but secretly
slipped under the seal a note, declaring his dissent: of this he
informed Christiern, when under the edge of the axe. On Gustavus's
insurrection, he at first remained neutral: afterwards, being besieged
in his castle by Gustavus, he came over to him. But his invincible
obstinacy and factious disposition were a great obstacle to Gustavus in
the introduction of Lutheranism into his kingdom.
336.
Bernheim.
Bernheim is a fictitious character.
337.
Theodore.
Theodore, Archbishop of Lunden, is thus characterized by Vertot:
"L'Archevêque de Lunden avoit beaucoup de part dans sa confiance.
C'étoit un homme de basse naissance, sans érudition, et même sans
habileté; mais savant dans l'art d'inventer de nouveaux plaisirs,
et qui en connoissoit également tous les sécrèts et les
assaisonnemens. Il étoit redevable de sa faveur et de son élevation
à Sigebritte (the well-known mistress of Christiern): elle l'avoit
d'abord introduit à la cour pour lui servir d'espion: il passa
ensuite tout d'un coup (here we must suspect some exaggeration),
par le crédit de cette femme, de la fonction de Barbier du Prince à
la dignité d'Archevêque, et il se maintint dans sa faveur en
presentant à Christierne des plaisirs qu'il savoit accommoder à son
goût." P. 108, 109, Amst. ed.
Christiern, having first employed Theodore in an official commission,
appointed him Administrator of Sweden in his absence. On the news of the
Swedish rebellion, that prelate, fearful of losing the ample
opportunities he now possessed of indulging his voluptuousness and
rapacity, sent an immediate express to his master, who ordered him to
assemble his army, and attack the insurgents. In conformity to these
orders, he occupied an advantageous post on the banks of the river
Brunebec: Gustavus was on the opposite side, and he intended to dispute
the passage with him. But, through natural cowardice, or a sudden fit of
alarm, he quitted his station, like Hector; and flying for safety from
one fortress to another, was at last obliged, like Trolle, to take
refuge in Denmark.
371.
The factious souls, &c.
While Christiern was exercising his cruelty towards the Swedes, the
Danish nobility, offended at his usurping absolute power, combined
against him under the auspices of Prince Frederic, and finally succeeded
in expelling him from Denmark. The rebellion began in Jutland.
429.
Their strong and persevering bands explore, &c.
Such is the character usually given of the inhabitants of Dælarne or
Dalecarlia.
BOOK THE SECOND.
Line 300.
So to the town, &c.
Klopstock, Book 3.
425, &c.
This passage may remind the reader of Burns's vest of Coila, in his
"Vision, Duan First." The resemblance was unintentional.
475, 6.
Slanderers of Heaven, &c.
The character here given of the Romish Bishops of Sweden at the time of
the grand revolution, is supported by the historical accounts of Trolle,
Brask, and others.
479, 480.
---- and protecting Peace,
Thro' a long age, bid battle's trumpet cease.
Gustavus was disturbed during the first years of his reign, by the
restless machinations of Christiern and Trolle: but from 1532 to 1560,
when he died (Sept. 29), the kingdom enjoyed a profound peace. The same
may be said of the earlier part of his son Eric's reign.
537.
The mighty seraph ceas'd ----
This speech, and the whole intervention of the Guardian Genius of
Sweden, is introduced in order to elevate the subject, by ascribing the
calamities of Sweden to a supernatural arm, and by giving, as it were, a
divine direction to the sword of Gustavus. Its more immediate use is to
bring about the main design of the poem, by persuading Gustavus to
relinquish his design of self-banishment, and renew his patriotic
efforts.
544, 545.
Th' angelic Power his sacred arm applied
To push the vessel o'er the yielding tide--
Virg. Æn. 10.
584.
Norbi.
Soren Norbi (Gallicè Severin), one of the most renowned adherents of
Christiern, was employed by him on many occasions, during the war with
Steen Sture. It was by his intercession that Christina, the widow of
that Governor, was saved from death. According to Vertot, he wished to
marry her, and, by the means of her influence and his master's
unpopularity, procure himself elected Administrator. He also concealed
many Swedish gentlemen from the rage of Christiern. He defeated the
generals of Gustavus in their first attempt upon Stockholm, and
afterwards routed one of that hero's armies in Finland. But his fleet
was at last burnt by the Lubeckers, under the command of Gustavus, and
he was compelled to retire to Gothland, where he purposed to erect an
independent kingdom of his own. This design being defeated, he continued
to harass Gustavus and the Lubeckers in various ways, 'till they at
length expelled him from Sweden. He now collected his remaining forces,
and retreated to Narva, where he was seized and imprisoned by the
Russians. After remaining some time in confinement, he was at length
released at the instance of Charles the Fifth of Germany, in whose
service he died, at the siege of Florence. According to Puffendorff, his
death happened in 1539.
BOOK THE THIRD.
Line 7.
---- sulphurous showers
Bursting on Calicut's perfidious towers.
Lusiad, Book 8.
24.
My first bold task ----
See Preface.
40.
Before him wide the dark-browed forests frown'd--
According to Pinkerton, forests are frequent in Dalecarlia. This remark
seemed necessary, to obviate the objection against placing woods in a
mineral soil.
92.
Gustavus.
Gustaf Wase, or Gustavus Vasa, was the son of Eric Vasa, governor of
Halland, and was cousin-german to Steen Sture. Being the grand nephew of
King Canutson, he was descended from the ancient kings of Sweden. Before
his confinement by Christiern, he was one of the moving springs of the
state; he assisted Sture with his counsels, which were bold and
judicious, and gained a signal victory over the Danes. Christiern,
receiving him as a hostage, caused him to be arrested and carried him to
Denmark, where, by the request of Eric Banner, he was entrusted to the
care of that nobleman. From his custody, however, he soon escaped, and
traversed the various provinces of Sweden, in hopes of exciting at least
some of them to assert their independence. His efforts, however,
surprising and unwearied as they were, did not avail, 'till he arrived
in the remote province of Dalecarlia. His unexpected appearance there
among the peasants excited the whole province to revolt, and an army,
assembled in haste, stormed the Governor's castle, and destroyed the
greater part of the garrison. After this beginning, his successes
gradually increased, and Angermanland, Helsingland, Gestricia, and other
governments almost immediately came over to his party. He sustained a
war against the whole powers of Christiern for some years in a most
skilful and indefatigable manner, and succeeded at last in expelling
Christiern, Trolle, and Norbi, from the land of which he was now elected
monarch. A task, scarcely less difficult, remained--to extirpate the
Catholic religion from Sweden. This he effected, and established
Lutheranism on so firm a basis, that it has resisted all attempts to
shake it. After a long and really glorious reign, he was succeeded by
his son Eric the Fourteenth, in 1560. In him were combined all the
qualities necessary to constitute a hero; he was enterprising, vigilant,
proof against pleasures, brave, prudent, and generous. He erected Sweden
to a degree of power and respectability unknown before, and laid the
foundation for the victories of Gustavus Adolphus and Charles the
Twelfth. For the particular events of his life and reign, see Vertot,
Puffendorff, the Encyclopædia Britannica, and most modern histories.
128.
How Haquin triumph'd, or how Birger fell--
Haquin and Birger were common names among the earlier kings of Sweden.
135.
---- the Mistress of the Northern Zone.
Margaret, who united the three northern kingdoms, and whose empire, like
Alexander's, did not long survive after the death of its founder.
138.
---- the thirteenth Eric.
The successor of Margaret. He is called the thirteenth by Vertot, though
according to other accounts he was but the tenth or eleventh.
198.
'Twas then, when, &c.
The Massacre of Stockholm, as it is commonly called, happened on the 8th
of November, 1520. Of this almost unparalleled act of baseness and
cruelty, Vertot (p. 113, 114, 115, Amst. ed.) gives the following
account, from Zigler, who was an eye-witness, and many other authors of
credit. The pretext for this execution was the demolishing of Stecka, a
castle belonging to the traitor Trolle, which the Swedish States had
ordered to be rased, contrary to the bull of Leo the Tenth.
"Le nouveau Roi fit ensuite inviter tout ces Seigneurs à une fête
magnifique qu'il fit dans le château, pour marquer la joie de son
avènement a la couronne. Le Sénat en corps, et ce qu'il y avoit de
Seigneurs de la première noblesse, à Stocolme, ne manquèrent pas de
s'y rendre: ce ne fut pendant les deux premiers jours que festins,
que jeux, que plaisirs; Christierne affectoit des manières pleines
de bonté et de familiarité; il sembloit qu'on eût enseveli dans la
bonne chère la haine et l'aversion que les deux parties avoient
fait paroître si long-tems l'une contre l'autre; tout le monde
s'abandonnoit tranquillement à la joie, lors que, le troisième
jour, les Suédois furent tirés de cet excès de securité, d'une
maniere bien funeste."
He then proceeds to relate the proceedings of the Danish Monarch against
the Nobility, in the way of accusation, by means of his ministers the
Danish Bishops, and the Pope's Bull; and having described their pleas,
&c. thus continues:
"Ce Prince sortit ensuite de l'Assemblée, comme s'il cut voulu
laisser la liberté aux commissaires de délibérer: mais en même tems
on vit entrer une troupe de soldats de ses gardes, qui arrêtoient
la veuve de l'Administrateur (Christina), les Senateurs, les
Evêques même, et tout ce qui se trouva de Seigneurs et de
Gentilshommes Suédois dans le château.
"Les Evêques Danois, commissaires du Pape, commencèrent à instruire
leur procès comme à des héretiques, et comme s'ils eussent êté en
pays d'inquisition; mais la procedure étant trop longue pour des
gens qui étoient déjà condamnés, Christierne, dans la crainte qu'il
ne se fît quelque revolte en leur faveur, leur envoya des bourreaux
sans autre formalité, pour leur annoncer qu'il falloit mourir.
"Le huitième de Novembre fut destiné pour leur supplice; on
entendit dès le matin des trompettes et des hérauts de la part du
Prince, qui défendoient à qui que ce fût de sortir de la ville,
sous peine de la vie: toute la garrison étoit sous les armes: il y
avoit des corps de garde aux portes, et dans toutes les places. Le
canon prêt à tirer étoit dans la grande place, la bouche tournée
contre les principals rues; tout le monde étoit dans une profonde
consternation; ou ne savoit à quoi aboutiroient ces mouvemens
extraordinaires, lorsque sur le midi ou vit ouvrir les portes du
château, et, au travers de deux files de soldats, des illustres
prisonniers, la plupart encore avec les marques de leur dignité,
conduits à la mort par des bourreaux.
"Si-tôt qu'ils furent arrivés au lieu de leur supplice, un officier
Danois lût tout haut la bulle du pape, comme l'arrêt de leur
condemnation, et il ajouta que dans le châtiment des coupables, le
Roi ne faisoit rien que par l'ordonnance des commissaires
apostoliques, et que suivant le conseil de l'Archevèque d'Upsal.
Les Evêques condamnés, et les autres prisonniers, demandèrent avec
instance des confesseurs; mais Christierne leur refusa cette
consolation avec beaucoup d'inhumanité, soit que ce Prince trouvât
un rafinement de vengeance à étendre son ressentiment sur les
choses de l'autre vie, où qu'il ne voulût pas qu'on traitât en
Catholiques des gens qu'on venoit de condamner comme héretiques: il
sacrifia par la même politique ses amis et ses partisans, pour
n'être pas soupçonné d'avoir fait périr ses ennemis: toute l'ardeur
et tout le zêle que les Evêques de Stregnez et de Scara avoient
fait paroître pour ses interêts, ne purent les exempter de la mort,
la qualité de Sénateurs leur coûta la vie, et la signature qu'ils
avoient mise à la condamnation de l'Archevêque avec les autres
Sénateurs, fut la prétexte de leur supplice."
(He mentions here the stratagem of Bishop Brask, related in a former
note.)
"On exécuta ensuite" (i.e. after the execution of the Bishops)
"tous les Senateurs seculiers: on commença par Eric Vasa, père de
Gustave; les Consules et les Magistrats de Stocolme, et
quatre-vingt quatorze Senateurs, qui avoient été arrêtés dans le
Chateau, eurent la même destinée.
"Le Roi n'apprit qu'avec un violent chagrin qu'on n'avoit pû faire
périr quelques Seigneurs qu'il avoit proscrits particulièrement, et
qu'on croyoit qu'ils étoient cachés dans la ville. La crainte
qu'ils n'échappassent, et l'espérance de décourrir la rétraite de
Gustave, qu'il soupçonnoit d'être caché dans Stocolme, lui fit
confondre les innocens avec les coupables. Il abandonna la ville à
la fureur de ses troupes: les soldats se jettèrent d'abord sur le
peuple qui étoit accoura à ce triste spectacle: ils frappoient et
ils tuoient indifferemment tous ceux qui étoient assez malheureux
pour se rencoutrer à leur chemin: ils passèrent ensuite dans les
meilleurs maisons de la ville, sous prétexte de chercher Gustave et
les autres proscrits; ils poignardoient les bourgeois jusque dans
les bras de leur femmes; les maisons furent mises au pillage, et la
pudicité des femmes et des filles exposée à la brutalité des
soldats. Rien ne fut épargué que la laideur et la pauvreté: tout le
reste devint la proie du soldat furieux, qui, sous les ordres et à
l'exemple de son souverain, se faisoit un mérite de sa fureur et de
son emportement."
236.
And strive which first shall see the morn arise--
All the transactions recorded in the Third Book are supposed to have
taken place on the evening and night preceding the annual festival of
Dalecarlia, a day so memorable in Swedish history.
364.
And icy Meler blush'd with civil gore.
A most bloody engagement took place in 1464, on the lake Meler, when
frozen over, between Bishop Catil and the partizans of the twice deposed
Canutson. The Bishop was victorious.
371.
Suante.
See the account of Steen Sture, in the note on line 15 of the First
Book.
406.
His patriot spirit entered in my breast.
My precedent for this is Lucan, who says of the soul of Pompey,
---- in sancto pectore Bruti
Sedit, et invicti posuit se mente Catonis.
Lib. ix. l. 17.
433.
---- we are still forgot,
And harmless poverty is still our lot.
Gustavus appeared in a public assembly of the Sudermanian Peasants, and
exhorting them to revolt, was repulsed with the following answer: "We
want neither salt nor herrings under the reign of the King of Denmark,
and another King could not give us more: besides, if we take arms
against so great a Prince, we shall unavoidably perish." The Swedish
peasantry, however, soon felt that the cruelty and tyranny of Christiern
were something more than a mere report.
460.
Imperial Charles, &c.
"Charles-Quint entroit dans les intèrêts du Roi de Danemarck avec
une chaleur que la seule alliance ne produit guère entre les
potentats. On prétend que ce prince, le plus ambitieux de son
siècle, n'avoit accordé la princesse sa sœur à Christierne, qu'à
condition qu'il le reconnoitroit pour son successeur aux couronnes
du Nord, en cas qu'il mourât sans enfans. Cette succession étoit
une pièce importante au dessein de la monarchiæ universelle: on
sait assez que ce fut l'idole et la vision de ce Prince." P. 110,
Amst. ed.
489.
Ere Freedom light again her once extinguished ray.
I beg leave to quote the animated lines of Lord Byron:
A thousand years scarce serve to form a state:
An hour may lay it in the dust: and when
Shall man its shatter'd vigour renovate,
Recal its glories back, and vanquish Time and Fate?
539.
My spirit breath'd a purer prayer to thee--
Alluding to his profession of Lutheranism, which he probably embraced
while in Steen Sture's army.
564.
Scarce had he finish'd ----
The foregoing soliloquy is introduced for many reasons: first, to
illustrate the character of the hero: secondly, to shew the
difficulties which opposed, and were still destined to oppose, his
memorable enterprize: thirdly, to account for his determination (Book
ii. l. 509.) to leave his country: and, fourthly, to give the reader
some idea of the prior calamities of Sweden, which are to be developed
in a future book. These, and other motives, induced me to insert this
soliloquy, which may appear rather long, but the prolixity of which the
good-natured reader will excuse.
567.
Rush'd instantaneous ----
For the use of this word, I have many authorities in cattie:
Flowers instantaneous spring--
With instantaneous gleam, illumed the vault of night--
An instantaneous change of thought--&c.
PLAN
FOR THE
_SEVEN NEXT BOOKS_
OF
GUSTAVUS VASA.
BOOK THE FOURTH.
The Supreme Being commands the Genius of Sweden to lull the Danish
garrison of Dalecarlia into false security, to invigorate the drooping
spirits of the Dalecarlians, and to assist and increase the army of
Prince Frederic of Denmark by means of various rumours, &c.--The Genius
dispatches a fiend to execute the first commission, while he hastens to
perform the second.--Transition to Gustavus.--He finds his sword, but
misses Ernestus, by means of a storm which the whirlwind had
excited.--His reflections.--Taking shelter under the roof of a cottage;
he there overhears a party of young men, with Adolphus at their head,
exclaiming against the dilatory measures of the seniors, and resolving
on more vigorous plans.--He joins them, without disclosing himself, and
bids them report to the council, that a stranger will appear in the
public assembly of Dalecarlia, the following day, and notify things
which may influence their counsels.--He retires: Adolphus follows him
unseen.--The youths, returning to the assembly, find their elders
watching the event of an augury, mentioned in the Third Book.--Its
process described--the result.--The young men announce their
message.--Reflections of the Dalecarlians on it.--Gustavus meets
Ernestus, and prepares to attack him, but is prevented by a miraculous
sign.--The Genius of Sweden, after having revived the spirits of the
Dalecarlians, passes to Denmark, where he influences the Danes to join
the standards of Prince Frederic of Oldenburg.--Description of that
Prince's court, and of the state of Denmark.--The Genius returns through
Sweden.--Account of what was passing there.
BOOK THE FIFTH.
The Genius arrives at Mora.--Gustavus is convinced of the truth.--His
reflections on the occasion.--He concludes a friendship with
Ernestus.--He meets Adolphus, whom he recognizes as one of his former
soldiers, and whom he dispatches to the Danish fortress, to observe the
motions of the enemy.--They return to the house of the Priest of Mora,
under whose protection Gustavus then remained, and relate the recent
events.--The Curate's reply.--They retire to rest.
The Dalecarlian convention described.--Their proceedings prior to the
arrival of Gustavus among them.--He announces himself in the
morning.--Their joy.--The augury miraculously fulfilled.--Gustavus takes
measures to prevent the treacherous designs of some of the Dalecarlian
tribes.--He is saluted king and general by the whole assembly.--They
request him to relate his adventures.
BOOK THE SIXTH.
Gustavus recounts the causes of the war, and its progress, prior to the
capitulation of Stockholm; which will afford much room for detail. This
narration is necessary, to acquaint the reader with what happened before
the commencement of the action, and is therefore similar in design to
the second and third Æneid, and the four narrative books of the Odyssey.
Christiern, Steen Sture, Archbishop Trolle, Otho, Norbi, and other
distinguished characters, will make a figure in this relation. The hero
describes the massacre of Stockholm, from the account of an eye-witness
of that catastrophe.--He enlarges on the death of his father Eric. Some
reflections on this event may be introduced, in imitation of
Lucan.--Fate of Gustavus's wife and sister; whose death, and the
intercession made by Christiern with Gustavus for their preservation,
will afterwards form one of the principal episodes.--He then relates
part of his numerous adventures in the different provinces of Sweden.
BOOK THE SEVENTH.
He continues his recital, and concludes with his arrival in Dalecarlia,
and adventures there. He then exhorts them to assist in his patriotic
design. (See his speech in Vertot.) The Dalecarlians applaud his
harangue, which is also attended by favourable omens. A body-guard of
400 men is appointed him; Adolphus is chosen captain, having now
returned, and disclosed the supineness and neglect of the Danish
garrison. Gustavus declares his intentions of storming the castle;
arranges the troops, and bids all be ready by midnight. They retire.
BOOK THE EIGHTH.
The proceedings of Christiern, Trolle, and Norbi, from the conclusion of