The Songs of Ensign Stål/Canto 4

He raised himself majestic
Within his dusky cot;
By weight of years though bended,
Tall seemed the patriot.
A mighty change came o'er him,
That self-same instant shown;
A lofty martial bearing
In every move had grown.

​Most needy was he elsewise
When active life had waned;
From former valiant combats
Naught else than scars remained.
He long had homeless wandered
Through years that now were past;
At Röjkö farm found shelter
In Alavo at last.

And now arose he sudden,
As if from slumber torn,
Beginning to divest him
Of daily garb so worn;-
Put on his festal costume
For many years his care,
On both sides brushed his tresses
Of long and silvery hair.

He stood like soldier ready
Some journey to pursue,
His aspect reverence-waking,
His vestments gold and blue.
A massive brass-bound helmet
His forehead lofty spanned,―
A death-calm held his features,
A wanderer's staff his hand.

The sun, for long days hidden,
Now shed his brilliant light;
The seventeenth of August
Was summer-warm and bright;
​O'er field and sea the breezes
Breathed gently in their play.
Where would this aged warrior
Upon this beauteous day?

Ah, whither would he wander?
And where his footsteps fall?
Had home become too lonely,
His cottage-nook too small?
This uniform so festal
Why donned the patriot?
Was it the sacred Temple
The aged warrior sought?

The bells within this temple
Sent out no ringing sound;
Closed was the wall's great portal,
The church in silence bound.
This day within God's dwelling
Why should one seek to stray?
The seventeenth of August
Was not a festal day.

Yet, to the old man's thinking,
God's service hour was here,-
If not inside the temple,
The service should be near.
For round it, on the hillocks,
From heath to in-sea's strand,
Were fighting Finland's soldiers
Just now for king and land.

The seventeenth of August
Was summer-warm and clear,
And for the old-time warrior
A holiday was here.
Straight marched he to the summit
Where Finland's flags did play;-
He would behold God worshiped
By Adlercreutz to-day.
He longed to hear the clashing
Of sword-blades yet once more,
The full familiar echo
Of great field-cannons' roar ;-
Would call to recollection
His young life's valiant mood,
See this new race of fighters,―
The courage of its blood.
​So you could sense his purpose,
Perchance could know it well;
Though you his thoughts beheld not,
His steps the tale would tell.
He took his way in calmness,
As one had well discerned,
And reached the Temple's court-yard,
Where war the hottest burned.
There sat he by the wayside,
With battle-field in view,
Gazed o'er the Finnish army
And o'er the Russian too.
Where raged the battle keenest
Was fixed his eager glance,
And oft, as if transfigured,
Beamed bright his countenance.
The bullets past him straying
Sped on in whizzing flight,
And death's most noble harvest
Was reaped before his sight.
But from the spot he moved not,
Both calm and glad his face;
Immune from every bullet,
The old man held his place.
And mid the ceaseless changes
Which battle-fortunes mete,
By throngs was he surrounded
In onset or retreat.
​Hoe'wer the conflict wavered,
He undisturbed sat nigh,
While friend alike and foeman
In deference passed him by.
But day declined, while lingered
At western gates the sun;
And now at last the triumph
By Finland's might was won.
He saw each barrier broken,
Each foeman swift in flight;
All round the aged warrior
Again grew calm and bright.
But when the last division
Down from the hillock's top
Came marching past the soldier,
To full height rose he up:

"Ye sons of our own country,
So youthful and so bold,
Is there one here who values
66
The words of warrior old?
Great thanks to you he renders
For this illustrious day;
For no more glorious combat
Did e'er his eye survey.
To God be praise and glory,
We triumph yet again;
Still lives our fathers' spirit,
And still our land has men!"