-o'er my head whatever sun may roll,
Scorch'd at the line, or freezing at the pole,
Still will I guard, untired, some righteous cause,
Still shield some country's violated laws;
And many a joy, that Christiern cannot taste,
Shall cheer Gustavus thro' misfortune's waste.
Enough for me, with honour to perform
My destined course, and face the allotted storm;
That done, who will may snatch the wreath of fame:
Oblivion, close for ever on my name!
The souls of heroes shall frequent my stone,
In torrents buried, or with moss o'ergrown,
And, while all else forget me, shall proclaim
To kindred spirits their Gustavus' name.

"Ye faithful warriors, fearless hearts, farewell!
Who fought with me, and for your country fell!
O'er your cold dust I wept not; hurrying war
Forbade all pause.--Yet, oh! whatever star,
Sacred to patriot worth, and valour's crown, }
Contain you now,--from heaven's bright noon look down, }
Visit an exile's dreams, and blunt misfortune's frown! }

"Thou too, farewell! my country! since in vain
I strove to snatch thee from the eternal chain;
Thou, of whose glory future tongues shall tell,
Mother of kings and heroes--fare thee well!
What human thought and prudence could sustain,
For thee I proved, and proved that all was vain;
And could my single toils protection give,
Armies might sleep, and Stenon yet might live.
For thee I could refuse with fame to fall, }
When glorious death stood ready at my call; }
For thee I rush'd thro' ills, for thee despised them all. }
Farewell!--thy rocks, thy skies, thy mountains blue,
Where'er I turn, shall seem to meet my view;
While Hope, unterrified by all the past,
Shall pierce thro' future years, and view thee free at last!

"God of my sires! if studious to fulfill
In every point thy uncontested will,
I long have struggled, careless to escape,
With ills of every size, of every shape;
If still from Superstition's darkness free,
My heart has breathed a purer prayer to thee,
While erring millions with vain worship stained
Thy holy altars, and thy praise profaned;
If now, obeying thy implied command,
I quit at length this long-disputed land:
Assist me still!--and grant my native shore
One hour of rest, one tranquil season more!
Enough