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!”