The Songs of Ensign Stål/Canto 2

My thoughts to long-departed days
In gladnes yet awaken,
Like myriad stars with twinkling rays
That friendly to me beckon.
Come, who will follow at my side
To Näsijärvi's darksome tide?

An old-time soldier knew I there,—
Relic of days long vanished;
An Ensign's title did he bear,
But Fortune's smile was banished.
God knoweth how he came one day
To dwell where I had come to stay.

I saw myself the best of men,
In all my merits vaster;
I was a student-tutor then,
And bore the name of master;
My "portion" kept me overfed,—
By grace the old man ate his bread.

I smoked the "Gefle vapen" brand,
For meerschaum pipe my fuel;
His kind he cut from leaf by hand,
When want was not too cruel;
In harder times, then moss alone
For fuel in his pipe was thrown.

O golden time, O life inspired
But for delight and pleasure,
When youthful student, vigor-fired,
Imbibes life's fullest measure!—
Nor other worry yet doth know
Than that his moustache grows so slow!

What knew I then of others' need?
I solely felt my gladness;
My arm was strong, my cheek was red,
My pulses beat with madness.
I was so wild, I was so young;
Such pride abode not kings among.

​Indoors old Ensign Stål did sit,
Unmarked, without a grumble;
His smoke he sucked, his net he knit,
And let us others mumble.
By Heaven! When such a one you scan,
Who would not think himself a man?

It was my greatest sport to glance
Upon his bony figure,
His manner stiff, his countenance,
His coat not cut with rigor;
But most of all, his eagle nose,
Whereon his rimless glasses rose!

Down to the old man oft I drew,
To play some harmless antic.
It was my joy, when vexed he grew
And tore his netting frantic,
To take the needle from his hand,
And knit a false loop in the strand!

Then swift he'd spring; to flight bestirred,
I from the cot was driven;
Tobacco and a friendly word
Brought peace and sin forgiven.
As I had come, I came once more,
And played the same prank as before.

That he had likewise had his day,
Was once a youthful creature,—
That he had longer trod the way
Than I, with life his teacher,—
I was too learned to apprehend;
To this my thought did ne'er attend:—

​That he had stood with sword in hand,
His vital blood to measure,
In war for this same fatherland
That now so dear I treasure!
I was so wild, so young a thing;
He ensign was, I more than king!

But how it happened, hear my song:
Of sports I found me sated;
'Twas winter-time, my day was long,
Though daylight soon abated;
It seemed so unlike days before,
I thought it never would be o'er.

I took a book—the first that came—
To kill the hours diurnal,—
A war-tale with no author's name,—
Of Finland's last the journal.
Unbound it lay, as though by grace,
But mid bound volumes held its place.

I took it to my room; I staid,
And o'er the pages fumbled;
Till strange! Mine eyes on the brigade
Of Savolaks had stumbled.
One line I read, then two I read,
And swift my heart to beating sped.

I saw a people who their all
Could yield, save honor glorious;—
Saw troops in frost and hunger's thrall,
That yet could fight victorious.
From leaf to leaf my glances sped,—
I could have kissed the lines I read.

In peril's hour, in combat's fire,
What valor there I noted!
Poor fatherland, how could'st inspire
Affection so devoted,—
A love that bore such beauteous mark
In them thou fedst on bread of bark?

​Then did my thought to realms unclose
Till then not imaged ever;
A life within my heart uprose
Whose charm had held me never;
As if on wings my day now sped;—
How short appeared the book I read!

'Twas finished, and the evening too,
Yet all my fire was burning;
I found so much I never knew,
Whereof I would be learning;
The mystic scroll I would unroll;
And then I sought old Ensign Stål.

He sat where he had sat before,
Of wonted task tenacious.
I marked, when first within his door,
His glance to me ungracious;
He seemed this question to indite:
"Can one not e'en have rest at night?"

But former thoughts from me had fled,
I came with spirit altered:
"Of Finland's latest war I've read,—
A Finn myself," I faltered.
"To hear still more my soul has burned;
Perchance by you I'll not be spurned."

Such was my greeting. In surprise
The old man sudden lifted
Up from his net his glowing eyes,
As o'er an army shifted;
"Yea, of those scenes can I declare,
If so you will, for I was there."

​Upon his couch of straw, uncalm
I sat, and heard the story
Of Duncker's fire, of Captain Malm,
And former deeds of glory.
So bright his glance, so clear his brow,
His beauty I remember now.

What blood-scenes had been his to greet,
To share what perils fated,—
Not only triumph, but defeat
With sting yet unabated!
So much the world had now forgot
Lay shrined within his faithful thought.

There sat I mute, with ear intent;
No word of his was wasted;
The night already was half spent,
When from his cot I hasted.
He followed to the threshold's rand,
And warmly pressed my offered hand.

Since then he only seemed content
With me, but not with others;
Our pain we shared, our joy we blent,
Our "vapen" smoked as brothers.
He was the autumn, I the spring,—
But student I, he more than king!

These tales, that I in song recite,
The old man's lips repeated;
I heard them many a silent night
Beside his fire-place seated.
In simple words they leave my hand;
Receive the songs, dear fatherland!