ere thirty suns had roll’d,
    With shameless hand his freedom had he sold,
    And twice in battle drawn his venal sword
    Against a generous and forgiving lord. 
    Successive crimes o’er nature soon prevail’d,
    And Denmark’s king the perfect villain hail’d;
    Bade his known skill each midnight treason guide,
    And o’er each murdering band preside.

      Him to a room the tyrant call’d by night,
    Where thick and gloomy grates shut out the light;
    From the low roof a smoky taper hung,
    And wide around its fitful lustre flung.

      “Haste, brave Olaus!” (Scandia’s monarch spoke,
    And on the ruffian cast a gracious look)
    “Haste, to the castle’s lofty walls repair,
    And find Ernestus, lock’d in fetters there,
    Him and his friend from their dark cell convey,
    And lead them secret o’er the watery way;
    Thou know’st the rest.”  No more the tyrant said;
    And, at his word, th’ obedient felon sped.

      The stars now gliding down th’ ethereal blue,
    O’er earth and air a shadowy lustre threw;
    When, by relentless avarice led to fate,
    Olaus issued from the royal gate. 
    The ruffian centinels their brother knew,
    And at his word the portals open flew. 
    Then to the tower he moved with silent speed,
    And smiled, exulting in the future deed.

      So to the town where weary riot sleeps
    On purple clouds some dark contagion creeps: 
    From eastern climes proceeding swift and fell,
    Where torrid suns the ripen’d poison swell;
    Borne on infected gales along the skies
    Th’ ethereal store of vast destruction flies,
    O’er interposing deserts wins its way,
    Blasts the green vale, and withers cheerful day;
    Then settling on the walls, with steaming breath
    Pours thro’ the thicken’d air disease and death.

      And now in view the ancient castle frown’d,
    With many a dim-appearing turret crown’d: 
    Here, round the gloomy doors, the warder-band
    (A watchful train) in silent order stand. 
    The jarring gates unfold:  two torches play
    Thro’ the broad gloom, and point the darksome way. 
    First to Ernestus’ cell his way he took,
    And from th’ astonish’d youth his fetters shook. 
    Next to the sage, now wrapp’d in slumber, sped, }
    Loos’d his firm chain, and rais’d his sleeping head; }
    And thro’ the echoing valves the noble captives led. }
    With kindling eye the hoary sire survey’d
    The stars careering thro’ the nightly shade,
    Fix’d on the long-lost heavens his raptured sight,
    And drank with joy the flowing gale of night.