Through the tattered jerkin peeped the shoulders.
' Whose, and wherefrom? ' —  ' Ask of whose and wherefrom
Of the wealthy who has home and parents!
Wild north winds have sung my only welcome,
And the storm-rent cloud I call my brother.
On the foot of night I am a snow-flake,
Which upon a cottage floor hath drifted.'
"On the floor it melted not that snow-flake—
Thence the winds bore not the cloud's young brother.
He remained; the youth grew out of boyhood;
Passed the first year slowly, undistinguished;
In the second, he could clear the woodland:
In the fourth, his arm, when waned the summer,
Slew the bear which had attacked the sheep-fold.
Where is now the fame which all accorded,
Greater fame than had been won by others—
Where the old man's hope? The old man sitteth
Gloomy on the hearth, in vain desiring
Of the war to hear the slightest tidings,
Just to know if lost or saved his country.
He the eagle's speech can ne'er interpret,
Nor the raven's cry; nor doth the traveller
Come with tidings to the moorland desert;
And the young man who should be his helper,
Hath no thought but how to woo a maiden!"

Even as when the summer tempest waketh
'Mid the sabbath stillness of all nature,
And unseen, unthought-of, like an arrow
Cleaves the woodland lake, no green leaf quivers,
Falls no ripened berry, calm the pine-trees,
Calm the blossom bending o'er the water,
All is calm, alone the depths are seething;
Thus the song the young man's soul hath entered.
Silent sate he, gave no sign of feeling,
Though each word pierced to his inmost being;
Calmly by the girl he sate all evening,
Went to rest the same time as the others,
Seemed to slumber ere the others slumbered,
But long time ere yet awoke the others,
With the earliest streak of morning's crimson,
Stole with silent footsteps from the cottage.

Morning dawned; the sun arose in heaven,
But two only rose to greet the Sabbath;
Swept the hearth, the morning meal was ready,
But two only at the board were seated.
Mid-day came, but came no third with mid-day.
Still no cloud the old man's brow o'ershadowed,
Still the eye was tearless of the daughter,
But to rest, although it was the Sabbath,
Neither went when mid-day's meal was ended.
But ere long, as long as speeds the tempest
From the horizon upwards, till it poureth
Down of hail and rain its gathered burden,
Spake the old man words, intending comfort.
"To the village long the way, my daughter,
Hills to climb, to ford the bridgeless rivers,
And the autumn rains the fens have flooded.
Oft-time they who set forth in the morning
Reach not home again ere evening cometh."
Thus he spake. Without a word replying
Sate his daughter, like a folded blossom
Which at fall of night has closed its chalice;
What her thoughts were in her breast was hidden.

Yet not long she sate, that noble maiden,
Longer not than as the sun descended,
When the flower thirsts for the dews of evening,
Ere adown her cheek a tear was falling,
And with forehead on her hand, thus sang she:
"When one faithful heart hath found another,
Small becomes the once expansive circle,
Earth and heaven, country, father, mother;
One embrace far more than heaven enfoldeth,
In one eye is seen far more than heaven;
More than mother's council, father's wishes,
By a sigh scarce audible is spoken:
Where the power like love's fascination?
Where the bond which steadfast love constraineth?
Like the wild-swan lakes he swimmeth over,
Rocks he scaleth with the eagle's pinions;
Long before the noontide he returneth
Who was not expected until evening."

Scarcely had she ceased than rose her father,
And with sudden grief and sad foreboding,
Hastened forth to seek for the departed.
Yet no word he spake, and trod in silence
The small track that wound along the moorland;
But before he reached the nearest homestead,
Sank the sun unto the forest's level.

Scathed and mournful, like a blasted pine-tree
Left alone when fire the land has ravaged,
Now appeared the late so prosperous homestead ;
But within the house a lonely woman
Bent above her sleeping infant's cradle.

Like a timid bird which on a sudden
Hears the shot and feels the leaden arrow,
And in terror flutters out her pinions,
So sprang from her seat the frightened mother,
When the lifted latch she heard; but terror
Changed to joy as she beheld who entered.
Forth she sprang, and his old hands engrasping,
Wept abundantly, yet spake in gladness.
"Welcome! " said she, " welcome, good old father,
Dear in sorrow come unto our dwelling;
And thrice hail the noble youth thou fostered'st
To defend the poor, the oppressed to succour!
Sit thee down and rest thy limbs o'er-wearied,
And with gladness hear what I shall tell thee.
War has raged e'en from the close of summer,
Friend and foe alike the land have harried:
None were spared but he who bore no weapon.
And when rapine could be borne no longer,
Rose a sturdy band, men of one parish,
And pursued the foe who turned to meet them.
Fierce the fight, but victory frowned on Finland,
Few returned from death of all their numbers,
And even they like leaves strewn by the tempest.
After that rushed vengeance like a spring tide
Over the land, and none had mercy shown them,
Weaponless or armed, or man or woman.
Hither came this morn the ruthless torrent,
When the first bell rang for Sabbath service,
And one surge swept o'er us and despoiled us!
On the direful tale I will not linger.
Bound upon the floor was cast my husband;
Blood was poured out; cruel power was mighty!
Sorest was our need; there was no helper.
Eight strong arms were on me; I was seized on
As its prey the savage wild beast seizes!
Then the saviour came! then help was nearest!
Rushed into the house the Cloud's young Brother,
And oppression quailed, was felled the spoiler!
Here I sit amid a ransacked dwelling,
Poorer than the sparrow on the roof-tree,
Yet more joyful than in days of plenty,
Could I see that brave youth and my husband
Without harm returning from the village,
Whither they the flying foe have followed!"
When the old man heard the last words spoken,
Up he rose as one who long hath rested,