O'er the wide heavens a radiant line he drew,
The track still glittering where the glory flew.

And now 'twas silence all: the pale stars shone;
The moon, declining, fill'd her ruddy throne.
But wrapt in deepest trance Ernestus lay,
'Till Phosphor's lamp restored the purple day.

Meanwhile, ere yet on Stockholm's towery height
The morning-planet shed its trembling light,
A troop, with Bernheirn, thro' the portals past,
Whose polish'd arms a glimmering splendor cast.
No single breath the general stillness stirr'd;
Their trampling feet alone the warder heard,
And follow'd with his sight the dusty cloud,
That in its mantle wrapp'd the marching crowd.
O'er crackling bushes scud the warrior train
And pass with haste the solitary plain;
'Till the broad sun discover'd from afar
The dawning lustre of his golden car.
Beneath the covert of a neighbouring wood
They paus'd awhile, and their swift march renew'd.

Now, driven by force celestial o'er the tides,
With lightning speed the rapid pinnace glides:
'Till, having finish'd its predestined way,
Its winged motions silently decay.
And now, from slumber rous'd, Ernestus spied
A river, branching from the ocean tide;
The mighty stream roll'd on its darksome flood