Gustavus Vasa / and other poems

by William Sidney Walker

⎨

⎩

⎧

⎨

⎩

Swift as the word obsequious Trollio speeds,
And to the secret hall the soldiers leads.
The youth, resign'd, bow'd down his thoughtful head,
And calmly silent follow'd where they led.
"Such be the fate of all," the monarch cried,
"Who, born to meanness, swell with worthless pride;
Who, glad with nobler men to be preferr'd,
Rise, by officious guilt, above the vulgar herd,
Obtrude their ready service on the great,
And deem their talents fit to rule a state!
Yes, my brave friends, I meant this recreant fool
But as a means, a momentary tool.
To push my purpose to a readier end,
Then to the dust my worn-out weapon send.—
But leave we this; far weightier themes arise:
Th' occasion told all waste of words denies.
In my own realm, our trusty spies report,
While Christiern lingers in a Swedish court,
Once more Sedition rears her batter'd crest,
And plants her snakes in every loyal breast.
Wide o'er the realm the growing tumults swell,
And ask immediate force their rage to quell.
Let valiant Bernheim, with a chosen band,
Use all his speed to reach his native land;
There countermining each insidious plot
By hostile Craft and Treachery begot,
Prepare my way; while I thro' Sweden lead
A wider army, with inferior speed,
And, as I pass, the trembling cities awe,
Display my terrors, and confirm my law;
Then, entering Denmark, pour my eager host,
An unexpected torrent, on the coast.
Thou, Trollio, strait to Soren Norbi send,
Our faithful subject, and unfailing friend;
Bid him with speed his gallant fleet dispose,
To man our ports against invading foes:
(My own brave troops will guard the conquests made,
Who every province, every town pervade)
Thyself to Norbi constant help afford,
And with thy prudence guide brave Otho's sword,
And you, my friends, to second each design.
Your arts, your counsels, and your arms combine."

And now (what time the westering orb of day,
Shot thro' the purpled clouds a mellower ray)
The soldiers, with their charge, the tower had gain'd,
Where, wrapt in fetters, Harfagar remain'd—
From whose tall top the eye unbounded threw
O'er all the subject town its ample view,
O'er crowded streets, and marts, and sacred spires,
That glitter'd with the day's declining fires.
There, round his limbs a length of chain they threw,
Strict charge enjoin'd, and to their posts withdrew.
The tranquil captive press'd the rugged ground,
Smiled on his chains, and gazed the prison round;
"And here," he cried, "the fates, relenting, give
Fair Freedom back; again to her I live!
I am once more a patriot—fix once more
My foot on rectitude's deserted shore!
O Sweden! tho' by me to death betray'd,
Accept these tears, thou dear maternal shade!
Thy image shall my lonely dungeon cheer,
And in dark slumbers to my soul appear:
While hopes of thee shall every terror brave,
And gild the gloomy confines of the grave.
Tho' snatch'd by cleaving earth to central gloom,
Or buried in the Ocean's watery tomb,
Yet should my soul in exile pant for thee,
And lightly prize all meaner misery!"
Down his warm cheeks the tears unbidden roll,
And speak the silent language of his soul.

Meanwhile the council closed; the peers withdrew:
To Trollio's dome the prince impatient flew;
There saw at large the hostile plot disclosed,
And his own plans with silent care disposed:
While Bernheim bade his quarter'd troops prepare
At earliest dawn the toils of war to share.
The weak he strengthen'd, and confirm'd the brave,
Arranged each band, and due directions gave.

Then to their stations baste the joyful powers,
And cheat with various sport the midnight hours.
Some brighten up their arms to polish'd flame,
And shake the sword, as in the field of fame:
Some crown the bowl, to chase dull fears away,
And end in long debauch the task of day.
Some court the aid of sleep, whose soft relief
Weighs down the eye of care, and smooths the thorns of Grief.
Enfolded in his golden wings they lie,
And fancied triumphs swell in every eye:
Each bounds in thought the airy champaign o'er,
And grasps the prize, distain'd with streaming gore.

Now move the summoned peers, a shining train,
To where the palace glitters o'er the plain.
The opening gate receives the pompous throng;
Thence to the festive room they move along,
Where tapers, rang'd in lofty rows, display
An added splendour, and nocturnal day.
There, till the close of night, the bowls go round,
And the full board with luxury is crown'd.