Canto 4 (And now arose he sudden…)

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.

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: