And every hope seem’d brighter than the last. 
    So the swift eagle, with exulting wings,
    Freed from his cage, thro’ echoing ether springs;
    Towers, cities, hills recede, untired he flies,
    Cleaves the blue space, and gains upon the skies: 
    There wantons in the warm expanse of day,
    And drinks, with kindling eyes, the sun’s accustomed ray.

      Meanwhile the guardian genius round him pours
    Celestial dews, and nature’s strength restores;
    His swimming eyes to balmy sleep resign’d,
    And fancy bore sweet visions to his mind.

      ’Twas now the time, when sober Evening sheds
    Her dusky mantle o’er the grassy meads: 
    Nor yet the pale stars trembled thro’ the trees,
    Nor sparkling quiver’d on the inconstant seas;
    Nor yet the moon illumed the solemn scene: 
    The fields were silent, and the heavens serene. 
    The sheep had sought the fold; nor yet arose
    Night’s listless bird from her dull day’s repose. 
    When in a vale with shadowy firs replete,
    Whose broad boughs rustled thro’ the dark retreat,
    Beneath a pine that sunk to slow decay,
    Unseen, Gustavus pass’d the hours away. 
    From earliest morn, ere day’s third glass was run, }
    The chief had mused, nor mark’d the rising son; }
    And the retiring day appear’d as just begun. }
    Each flattering argument his mind revolved,
    Each gleam of patriot hope yet undissolved,
    Traced to its dubious source each meteor-light,
    ’Till the last spark went out, and all was night. 
    Convinced at length, he spoke:  the woods around
    With solemn awe return’d the mournful sound;
    And souls of patriots listen’d from on high,
    Uncertain yet of Sweden’s destiny.

      “Yes, thou must fall! oh once o’er earth renown’d,
    Queen of the North, with choicest blessings crown’d,
    While martial glory waited on thy voice,
    And wealth and power seem’d rivals for thy choice! 
    Ye fond survivors of a ruined state, }
    Here quit, at length, your hopes of happier fate, }
    And view your country’s fix’d unalterable date! }
    You were not made to fear a tyrant’s frown,
    To gild with tributary wealth his crown,
    To welcome some deputed robber’s sway,
    And watch his wavering will from day to day: 
    No—­once o’erwhelm’d beneath a tyrant’s blow. 
    Each following age will bring increase of woe,
    And every sigh, that loads the Swedish air,
    Will fly the herald of a patriot’s care!

      “How art thou changed, oh fate! since smiling Time
    Bore on his noiseless wings my youthful prime!—­
    By my paternal castle-gate reclined,
    I caught the murmurs of the evening wind;
    Or, leaning o’er the rampire’s battled height,
    Cast my young eye, with ever-new