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COUNT STENBOCK. 1267
Ring to the stars, and every sphere of space
Glow with the inspiring soul of harmony.
Phoebus applauds, and all the Muses swell
Our glory on their far-resounding chords.
Well may the youthful poet be abashed,
Who sings such mighty enterprise,-his theme
So great, so insignificant his strain!
Let Europe boast of Sweden- in the North,
South, East, and West, victorious.-Round the Pole
The seven Triones dance exultingly,
While Jove the Thunderer sanctions his decree,
Never to let the hyperborean bear
Sink in the all-o’erwhelming ocean stream;
For when in the wave he bathes his giant limbs,
’Tis but to rise more proudly. Even now
The fertile Scandia wreathes her brow with flowers,
And Victory’s trophies glitter over Sweden.
The God of battles smiles upon our race,
And the fierce Dane sues for our mercy:-Yea,
The troops insidious Cimbria sent against us,
Lie scattered by a warrior young in arms.
Though Swedish Charles, our hero King’s afar
In Russian battles- his bright valour fills
The heart of Stenbock-the victorious one ;
These names of Charles and Stenbock like a spell
Created armaments, and hurled pale fear
Among our foes.-Stenbock! thy red right hand
Hath smitten down the spoiler; and in thee,
Another Charles we honour, and rejoice
To hail thee, hero of thy grateful country.
Bind the triumphal laurel round thy brow,
Such chaplet well becomes the invincible;
Ascend thy chariot-we will fling the palms
Before thee, while the peal of martial music
Echoes thy high celebrity around.
Hadst thou in olden times of fable lived,
I had invoked thee as a demigod.
Behold, how glitteringly in northern heaven
Thy star exults: the name of Magnus fits
Both it and thee, inseparably linked:
In thee, the genius of the North expands,
And all the virtue of thy ancestry
Illustrates thee. Chief of our gallant chiefs
80*
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