delight,
    O’er rocks, o’er vallies rich with many a flower,
    The lake blue-glistening, and the snowy tower: 
    While my sire joy’d on days long past to dwell,
    How Haquin triumph’d, or how Birger fell—­
    ‘That land,’ he said, ’thy gallant fathers won
    From realms that glow beneath a brighter sun. 
    Their beacons blazing on each snow-clad height,
    The yelling sons of Odin rush’d to fight,
    And rent the eagles of invading Rome,
    Whose power had changed a hundred nations’ doom. 
    In vain the Empress of the Northern Zone,
    With arts on arts high piled her ill-gained throne: 
    Stern Engelbert trod Usurpation down,
    And from the thirteenth Eric tore the crown. 
    Yet may my country fall—­earth’s works decay,
    And heaven’s high laws expect the annulling day.

      “While yet a youth, by venturous hope impell’d,
    Thro’ foreign climes my devious course I held;
    And came at last, where high in ether shine
    The golden towers of sceptred Constantine. 
    There Palaeologus the kingdom sway’d,
    And willing Greece his mild commands obey’d. 
    I saw the town with antique splendours crown’d,
    The martial force, the crowded ports around,
    The peopled fields, with waving harvests fair,
    And deem’d, security and peace were there.

      “Onward I pass’d in youthful ardour bold,
    ’Till o’er the changeful earth four suns had roll’d,
    When Stockholm’s towers and Meler’s native stream,
    Of every vision, every thought the theme,
    Recall’d my steps.—­Returning thence, I saw
    Byzantium sunk beneath a victor’s law: 
    O’er the high walls barbaric ensigns wave,
    Red with the recent carnage of the brave: 
    On quarter’d camps the sun his red beam flings;
    Thro’ night’s dim arch the shrill-toned Ezzau rings;
    Buried in dust the Christian altars lie,
    And exiled Science seeks another sky.

      “Thus, Sweden, mayst thou fall! in ruin lost,
    Each hope of aid by swift destruction cross’d;
    Thy blazing domes may feed a tyrant’s ire,
    Thy shrines; unwilling, burn with Danish fire;
    Thy latest king, like Constantine, in vain
    May join his slaughtered subjects on the plain!—­
    Handmaid of Science, and by Science fed,
    Each vice already rears its blooming head: 
    Already Treason digs his silent mine; }
    With, civil follies, foreign wars combine; }
    And raging Faction waits to give th’ appointed sign. }
    Oh! in that hour, when growing dangers rise,
    When the weak trembles, and the faithless flies,
    Gustavus, fight for her! for Sweden fight! 
    For her employ the day, outwatch the night! 
    Untouch’d by grief, by terror, or dismay,
    Urge thro’ surrounding ills thy fearless way;
    Let useless torture and defeated hate
    Confess the triumphs of a hero’s fate: 
    Let tranquil courage in each act be seen,
    And tyrants tremble at thy dying mien!’