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POEMS.
Led by this power to God in adoration,
Te deums we shall sing in realms of bliss.
How noble is thy song! So Phcenix springs,
Fed by a fire divine, from fragrant ashes ;
And o’er the desert spreads his shining wings,
On which the dawn of brighter eras flashes.
Our hearts within us burn! Oh speak again, —
Our ears yet more thy glowing words would drink:
Oh speak once more! ‘Teach us in strife and pain
Like thee with noble aims to feel, to think!
Racked by fierce pain, Heracles stormed with ire,
Wild were his shrieks and loud his maledictions ;
Thou suff’rest, too, but from thine altar fire
Ring words of gentle peace — and benedictions.
Heracles lives in many a tale of yore,
But thine, Tegnér, a fairer fate shall be ;
A life that knows no grave — yet evermore
A life on earth — of immortality.
Where is that home, in which ’t is good to be,
Safe from the surge of time on shelter’d shore:
O Svea’s bard! Thy country answers thee:
Here liv’st thou, and shalt live for evermore.
There is a public, light as ocean’s foam ;
A people, too, there is, that ne’er shall die ;
Within its arms was laid thy children’s home ;
Within its heart shall live thy memory.
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