h my purpose to a readier end,
Then to the dust my worn-out weapon send.--
But leave we this; far weightier themes arise:
Th' occasion told all waste of words denies.
In my own realm, our trusty spies report,
While Christiern lingers in a Swedish court,
Once more Sedition rears her batter'd crest,
And plants her snakes in every loyal breast.
Wide o'er the realm the growing tumults swell,
And ask immediate force their rage to quell.
Let valiant Bernheim, with a chosen band,
Use all his speed to reach his native land;
There countermining each insidious plot
By hostile Craft and Treachery begot,
Prepare my way; while I thro' Sweden lead
A wider army, with inferior speed,
And, as I pass, the trembling cities awe,
Display my terrors, and confirm my law;
Then, entering Denmark, pour my eager host,
An unexpected torrent, on the coast.
Thou, Trollio, strait to Soren Norbi send,
Our faithful subject, and unfailing friend;
Bid him with speed his gallant fleet dispose,
To man our ports against invading foes:
(My own brave troops will guard the conquests made,
Who every province, every town pervade)
Thyself to Norbi constant help afford,
And with thy prudence guide brave Otho's sword,
And you, my friends, to second each design.
Your arts, your counsels, and your arms combine."

And now (what time the westering orb of day,
Shot thro' the purpled clouds a mellower ray)
The soldiers, with their charge, the tower had gain'd,
Where, wrapt in fetters, Harfagar remain'd--
From whose tall top the eye unbounded threw
O'er all the subject town its ample view,
O'er crowded streets, and marts, and sacred spires,
That glitter'd with the day's declining fires.
There, round his limbs a length of chain they threw,
Strict charge enjoin'd, and to their posts withdrew.
The tranquil captive press'd the rugged ground,
Smiled on his chains, and gazed the prison round;
"And here," he cried, "the fates, relenting, give
Fair Freedom back; again to her I live!
I am once more a patriot--fix once more
My foot on rectitude's deserted shore!
O Sweden! tho' by me to death betray'd,
Accept these tears, thou dear maternal shade!
Thy image shall my lonely dungeon cheer,
And in dark slumbers to my soul appear:
While hopes of thee shall every terror brave