Already lay upon the strands
Of slumbering Sweden’s vanquished lands
Czar Peter’s city, which has since
Held crowns in pledge from many a prince.
Then was it paltry. On its bay
It like a new-born dragon lay.
Yet nature is betrayed in young
That coils itself on heated sands,
Already venom in its glands,
And hisses on its cloven tongue.