And suffering virtue claims her late reward.
There may'st thou sit, and far removed from thence
Behold the clouds of passion and of sense:
Smile at the tumults of the world below,
And triumph in the weakness of thy foe.

"And thou, Ernestus--thou, to whom 'tis given
To bear the tidings of benignant Heaven,
Aided by me, pursue the watery road,
And seek Gustavus in his dark abode.
Where swift Dal-Elbe his wandering current leads
Thro' barren mountains and uncultured meads,
Resign'd to cold despair, the hero lies,
Nor knows the favour of th' indulgent skies.
For twenty months unwearied has he traced
The town, the province, and the watery waste:
No aiding friend his patriot labours found;
Fear master'd all, and all were slaves around.
Each hope of liberty and Sweden lost,
He now resolves to seek a foreign coast,
In Albion or in Gaul secure to rest,
And cling to Freedom's warm maternal breast.
Such his intent--Ernestus! be it thine
To tear the warrior from the rash design!
Bid him to arms the free-born peasants move,
Safe in the conduct of the powers above!
Swift as from hill to hill the beacon flies,
In every heart the patriot flame shall rise:
From Wermeland's hills the war-cry shall rebound,
And Sudermania echo back the sound: