That wanders devious from the road of light,
And deepens gradual into central night:
By this dim path he sought the dark profound
Of utmost hell, Creation's flaming bound,
Saw the far-distant gleam, and heard the roar
Of dashing surges on the burning shore.
With hasty steps he trod the deep descent,
Thro' the gross air, that brighten'd as he went,
And call'd a spirit from the gulphs below,
Heaven's scourge, and minister of human woe.
The summon'd fiend forsook the fiery wave,
And Sweden's Genius thus his mandate gave:

"To Dalecarlia's tented fields repair,
And seek the Danish host assembled there.
With seeming safety and false hopes destroy
Their watchful care, and melt them down to joy;
And, while they sleep in the delusive charm,
Unstring each nerve, and weaken every arm;
So shall their fears, not Vasa, strike the blow,
And ready Conquest meet the coming foe."

He spoke. Incumbent on the boundless night,
To upper air they wing their echoing flight:
Thence swift to earth their airy voyage bend,
Where the cold North's unmeasured tracts extend:
O'er pine-clad Norway's wilderness of snow,
O'er the huge Dofrine's cloudy tops they go,
Thro' many a fertile province urge their flight;
And on Dal-Elbe's uncultured plains alight.