Had done some glorious deed, to stamp his name
High on the roll of ever-during fame;
Snatch'd from Oppression's jaws some victim realm,
Or fix'd in stable peace his country's wavering helm.
But baleful Guilt usurp'd with fatal care
A heart which Virtue had been proud to share;
And turn'd to hateful dross the radiant ore,
Whose lustre might have gilded Sweden's shore.
As the red dog star, Autumn's fiery eye,
Shines eminent o'er all the spangled sky,
While thro' th' afflicted earth his torrid breath
Darts glowing fevers and a cloud of death:
So Trollio shone, in whose corrupted mind
Transcendent genius and deep guilt combined;
Placed all his arduous aims within his reach,
Yet fix'd the stamp of infamy on each.
But Providence, whose undiscover'd plan
Lies deeper than the wiliest schemes of man,
Can bare the sty designer's latent guilt,
And crush to dust the structures he has built;
Can disappoint the subtle tyrant's spite,
And stem the billows of his stormy might;
Confound a Trollio's skill, a Christiern's power,
And blast presumption in its haughtiest hour.
So Christiern found--and Trollio found it true,
(Unwelcome truth, to his experience new!)
That he, who trusts in guilty friendship, binds
His fortune to a cloud, that shifts with veering winds.
Throned in Religion's seat, he scorn'd her laws,
And with a cool indifference view'd her cause: