No--once o'erwhelm'd beneath a tyrant's blow.
Each following age will bring increase of woe,
And every sigh, that loads the Swedish air,
Will fly the herald of a patriot's care!

"How art thou changed, oh fate! since smiling Time
Bore on his noiseless wings my youthful prime!--
By my paternal castle-gate reclined,
I caught the murmurs of the evening wind;
Or, leaning o'er the rampire's battled height,
Cast my young eye, with ever-new delight,
O'er rocks, o'er vallies rich with many a flower,
The lake blue-glistening, and the snowy tower:
While my sire joy'd on days long past to dwell,
How Haquin triumph'd, or how Birger fell--
'That land,' he said, 'thy gallant fathers won
From realms that glow beneath a brighter sun.
Their beacons blazing on each snow-clad height,
The yelling sons of Odin rush'd to fight,
And rent the eagles of invading Rome,
Whose power had changed a hundred nations' doom.
In vain the Empress of the Northern Zone,
With arts on arts high piled her ill-gained throne:
Stern Engelbert trod Usurpation down,
And from the thirteenth Eric tore the crown.
Yet may my country fall--earth's works decay,
And heaven's high laws expect the annulling day.

"While yet a youth, by venturous hope impell'd,
Thro' foreign climes my devious course I held;