Yet asks the aid of your auspicious skill.

Tho' Sweden's general voice consents to own

Me the true master of her triple throne,

Tho' her disputed crown adorns my brow,

And tributary millions round me bow;

One bold, one stubborn province, yet defies

My brandish'd arm, and to my threats replies;

[Pg 27]

In face of all the realm denies my right,

And challenges three kingdoms to the fight.

On Dalecarlia's wide uncultured ground,

With rugged hills, and mineral riches crown'd,

A race, endued with native freedom, dwell;

A race, that stood, when total Sweden fell.

Their strong and unremitting bands explore

In earth's dark caverns her metallic store,

And, from laborious days extracting health,

Rest satisfied, and ask no other wealth:

Rough and unyielding, like their native soil,

The hardy sons of Nature and of Toil;

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