Oh! be it peaceful still, for this may be the last! }
Now, borne in vision to those airy plains }
Where fancy undisturb'd by reason reigns,
Where thron'd in rainbow light she sits serene,
And flings her sportive glories o'er the scene;
The first tumultuous ocean wafts them o'er,
And lands them safe upon the flowery shore.
This seems to see his utmost wishes crown'd,
Rebellion spread to Sweden's farthest bound;
Beneath his banners the whole country flies;
On swarming myriads, swarming myriads rise:
He leads the van: the tyrant shrinks for fear,
Hides in his native den, and trembles there.
This, weary of our present vale of tears,
Draws back the chain of time five thousand years:
Delightful visions swim before his view, }
Of peaceful pleasures, joys for ever new, }
When time was young, and mortals were but few: }
When man, content, his freedom never sold,
Nor fear'd for poverty, nor hoped for gold.
Joyful he wanders, and expects to see
Ten centuries of peace and liberty.
This seems to meet within some moonlight glade
His ancient friend, but now an empty shade:
The beckoning phantom stretches toward the skies:
He strives to follow, and the vision flies.
This bold ferocious spirit, madly strong,
Supporter of his country e'en to wrong,
Impetuous to extremes, now longs to dart
The point of vengeance into Christiern's heart: