Then thus Olaus:  “To my anxious king,
    Illustrious Swedes, your nightly steps I bring. 
    He knows your worth, and deems his power were vain,
    Should souls like your’s a captive doom sustain. 
    Secret his purpose, to the farther coast
    Of Bothnia’s gulph he leads his gather’d host. 
    When first gray twilight spread her glimmering shade,
    On the broad main his streamers were display’d: 
    And soon th’ auspicious breeze shall waft you o’er
    To meet your monarch on the destined shore.”

      He spoke, but neither answer’d—­wonder hung
    On either mind, and silenced either tongue;
    Fix’d for a space, each other’s form they view’d;
    Then, wrapp’d in thought, their unknown guide pursued. 
    O’er the dark streets with half-extinguish’d beam,
    The scatter’d lamps diffused a quivering gleam;
    At distant intervals the ruddy light
    Half mingles with the dusky robe of night: 
    While, as they past, with loud repeated stroke
    A midnight bell the solemn stillness broke.

      At length they reach the borders of the deep,
    Where a selected band in silence keep
    Perpetual watch.  Before Olaus’ stride,
    Ere yet he spoke, th’ obedient crowd divide. 
    A lonely boat amidst the harbour stood,
    And cast its shadow o’er the neighbouring flood. 
    This from the strand he loos’d, and bade the sail
    Spread its white bosom to th’ indulgent gale: 
    They take their seats, and from the lessening shore
    It flies; the parted billows foam before: 
    On each wan cheek the freshening breezes play,
    And speed their passage o’er the watery way. 
    The silver splendors of the lunar beam }
    Dance on the waves, and in the quiet stream }
    The twinkling stars with faint reflection gleam }
    Now on the guide Ernestus turn’d his eyes,
    The gloomy look, and the gigantic size;
    Now on his friend, involv’d in new amaze,
    Fix’d the keen ardour of his silent gaze: 
    Each thought reflected on his brow was seen,
    And all his soul seem’d centred in his mien.

      Meanwhile the felon, exercised in ill,
    Watch’d the due time to work his master’s will;
    At length his sable robe aside he threw,
    And from its dark concealing mantle drew
    A dagger’s well-tried point.  The moonshine play’d
    On the smooth surface of the polish’d blade. 
    Ernestus saw:  his heart-blood quicker flow’d;
    On his bold cheek the mounting courage glow’d: 
    Inspired by Heaven, a sudden vigour strung
    His youthful limbs; high from the deck he sprung,
    And grasp’d the steel, then, wheeling swiftly round,
    On the astonish’d ruffian dealt a wound: 
    Th’ unerring blade, with nervous force impell’d,
    Deep thro’ his neck its bloody passage held,