Loos'd his firm chain, and rais'd his sleeping head; }
And thro' the echoing valves the noble captives led. }
With kindling eye the hoary sire survey'd
The stars careering thro' the nightly shade,
Fix'd on the long-lost heavens his raptured sight,
And drank with joy the flowing gale of night.

Then thus Olaus: "To my anxious king,
Illustrious Swedes, your nightly steps I bring.
He knows your worth, and deems his power were vain,
Should souls like your's a captive doom sustain.
Secret his purpose, to the farther coast
Of Bothnia's gulph he leads his gather'd host.
When first gray twilight spread her glimmering shade,
On the broad main his streamers were display'd:
And soon th' auspicious breeze shall waft you o'er
To meet your monarch on the destined shore."

He spoke, but neither answer'd--wonder hung
On either mind, and silenced either tongue;
Fix'd for a space, each other's form they view'd;
Then, wrapp'd in thought, their unknown guide pursued.
O'er the dark streets with half-extinguish'd beam,
The scatter'd lamps diffused a quivering gleam;
At distant intervals the ruddy light
Half mingles with the dusky robe of night:
While, as they past, with loud repeated stroke
A midnight bell the solemn stillness broke.

At length they reach the borders of the deep,