Two treasures did the old man own,
'Gainst which earth's wealth as nothing weighed,
His Bible, and his trusty blade
With Charles the Twelfth writ fair thereon.
The great king's deeds, now found recited,
Where countless pens have them indited,
(For wide that eagle flew around,)
Stood in his memory recorded,
Ranged like the urns of warriors hoarded
Within a grassy funeral mound.
When he some great exploit was showing
Of young King Charles, his 'blue boys' bold,
How high he held his forehead old,
With what a fire his eye was glowing !
And from his lips each word that fell
Rung like the clash of smiting steel.
Far into night he often sat
Talking of former days so famed,
And never, when King Charles was named,
Would fail to lift his well-worn hat,