Around his steps a track of crimson drew.

Already, by Heaven's dark protection led,

To Dalecarlia Sweden's hero fled;

There, with a pious friend retired, unknown,

He mourn'd his country's sorrows, and his own.

Those mountain peasants, negatively free,

The sole surviving friends of Liberty,

[Pg 5]

Unbought by bribes, still trample Christiern's power,

And wait in silence the decisive hour.

'Twas morn when Christiern bade a herald call

His secret council to the regal hall—

Those whom his skill, selecting, had combined

To share the deep recesses of his mind:

In these the prince unshaken trust reposed,

To these his intricate designs disclosed;

Their counsel, teeming with maturest thought,

His ripening plans to full perfection brought,

Each enterprise with proper means supplied,

And stemm'd strong difficulty's threatening tide:

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