Lo, the Adam of poets is here, the Northern king among singers;
Heir to the throne in poesy's world; for the throne yet is Goethe's.
Oscar, the king, if he knew it, would give his grace to my action.
Now I speak not for him, still less for myself, but the laurel
Place on thy brow in poesy's name, the bright, the eternal.
* * * * *
Past is disunion's age (in the infinite realm of the spirit
Never it ought to have reigned), and kindred tones o'er the water
Ring, which enrapture us all, and they are especially thine.
Therefore, Svea--I speak in her name--adorns thee with laurel:
Take it from brotherly hand, of the day in festal remembrance."
Restless official activity, parliamentary labors, educational addresses,
and metrical discourses on memorable occasions filled the years from
1829 to 1840. He felt the demon of insanity lurking behind him, now
close at his heels, now farther away; and it was a desperate race, in
which life and death, nay, worse than death, was at stake.
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