Fresh cities sink in flame, fresh thousands bleed!

What want'st thou more, thou prodigal of guilt!

Oppression's sword is buried to the hilt

In unoffending blood—what want'st thou more,

Thou sanguinary pest of an unhappy shore?

[Pg 29]

Far as thy sight can stretch, look round, and see

All Sweden piled with monuments of thee;

Behold her provinces with slaughter strown,

Her ruined fields, her castles overthrown;

Behold—But ah! more glaring than the rest,

In me thy brightest trophy stands confess'd!

Yes—prompt each fatal mandate to fulfil,

Perpetual slave of thy tyrannic will,

I stood, to sovereign infamy preferr'd,

The meanest of thy mercenary herd:

Thy crimes I copied—for thy worthless gold

My monarch's life, my country's freedom sold!

The cloud of wrath that veils in thickening gloom

Thee and those partners of thy crimes and doom,

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