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281

AXEL.

What joy to mount the swift cloud-car
That rolls above him, and afar
Be borne beyond the narrow seas
Out to a fairer world than this,
Where Victory beckons, Glory stands,
Chaplets for heroes in her hands,
And where King Charles, (whom scarce he owns
Seven years his senior), plucketh crowns
With his good sword, and instantly —
how divine ! — gives them away !
"At fifteen, could my mother's fears
No longer keep me ; bathed in tears
I fell upon her bosom ; then
Toward Poland turned my steps, since when,
As watch-fire steady, my life's flame
Hath burned amid the battle-game.
Yet never parent bird I see
Feeding its young caressingly,
Never upon a fair child look
Playing with flowers beside the brook,