Perhaps my friends their kindred spirit wait;
    E’n now they wait, to bid my labours cease,
    And point my journey to the realms of peace. 
    As the swift eagle seeks the fields of light,
    When rolling clouds invest his mountain height,
    My soul, on fiery pinion, upward flies,
    And swell’d with grateful hope anticipates the skies.”

      Nor less Ernestus, from his friend apart,
    In lengthen’d thought explored his secret heart. 
    Far from the rest, in fetters wrapt he lay,
    Where the wan moonlight threw a slanting ray
    Thro’ the dim grate; his rapture beaming eyes
    On this he fixes, and in transport cries—­
    “Oh, sacred lamp! since last on thee I gazed,
    What joy unthought this drooping soul has raised! 
    In deep amaze I view my alter’d state,
    And scarce believe the wonders of my fate. 
    My heart, so late the slave of vice and fear,
    Now smiles at death, and thinks no fate severe. 
    Drop, infamy from thy neglecting hand
    My name; deny it a perennial brand;
    And cast a friendly veil on the disgrace
    A deed like mine entails on human race. 
    What said I?  No.—­Pour all thy floods of shame
    Thro’ future ages on Ernestus’ name;
    Say, that with cool untrembling hand he spilt
    His master’s blood, and gloried in his guilt: 
    So shall the sons of earth in other times,
    Know my disgrace, and tremble at my crimes. 
    Oh Stenon! could my ceaseless tears restore
    Thee, patriot chief to Sweden’s widow’d shore! 
    How would I joy, amidst thy martial train,
    To mow the adverse ranks, and sweep along the plain,
    Tread in thy daring steps with equal fire,
    Or at thy feet triumphantly expire! 
    But vain the wish—­let hope’s unfading ray
    Lead my firm steps in duty’s arduous way;
    Pain, shame, and death, at heaven’s all righteous call
    I meet, and in its strength shall conquer all.”

      So mused the captives; while, in lordly state,
    Smiling amidst his peers the monarch sate. 
    O’er the vast roof, with gilded rafters gay,
    Unnumber’d lamps effused a mingled ray: 
    The dancing glory fill’d the spacious hall,
    Play’d on the roof, and cheer’d the pictured wall,
    With glancing beams the golden goblets shine,
    The red light trembles on the sparkling wine. 
    Here sat the chiefs, in stormy war renown’d,
    Or with the senate’s peaceful honours crown’d
    On various themes their mingled converse ran,
    ’Till Trollio to the monarch thus began.

      “Your nice experience, prince, and art combined,
    Famed thro’ the north, long charmed my wondering mind: 
    This morn, I deem’d it lost; and scarce believ’d
    Th’ unwonted words my doubtful ear receiv’d. 
    Can then a mighty monarch eye with fear