SVEN DUVA.

Sven Duva's sire a sergeant was, with many winters white: In Eighty-eight, though past his prime, he went into the fight, And after living on his land he reared him fruit and corn, While children nine around him grew, and Sven was youngest born. None knows if Duva's father was with sense enough endowed To still keep some part for himself, and share with such a crowd; But it must be unto the eight far more than right did fall, For scarcely to the latest born fell any share at all. Yet, none the less, young Sven grew up broad-shouldered, strong of limb: He hewed the tree and ploughed the glebe, for toil was play to him. More mild than many a wiser man, more prompt he hied along, And turned his hand to anything, but everything turned wrong. "In God's name, witless son of mine, what shall become of thee?" So oft the white-haired sergeant cried in his perplexity, That 'neath the burden of the tune Sven's patience fell to earth, And weighed he, far as in him lay, his own degree of worth. So, when upon a certain day the sergeant raised again The burden of the tiresome tune, "What wilt thou be, O Sven?" The old man scarce believed his ears when, all unwontedly, Sven's massive jaws wide opened with, "A soldier I will be!"

Then loud the sergeant laughed in scorn, and answered mockingly, "What! thou wouldst bear a rifle?—thou, a booby! Shame on thee!" "Why," said the boy, "here 'neath my hands unhandy works each thing: Less handiness may serve to die for country and for king." Old Duva stood a while amazed, then went in grieving mood, And pack on back Sven forth did fare to where the barracks stood. His stature fine, his sturdy height, all lesser needs o'erweighed, And one in Dunker's company young Sven was quickly made. But when was need that he should learn the drill and carriage meet, God wot it was a sight to see how chance did guide his feet: The corporal laughed aloud and cried, and cried and laughed again, But still unchanged did his recruit in frown and fun remain. Yet tireless was he, certainly, if ever mortal yet: He marched and stamped that earth did shake, and laid the dust with sweat; But at the word to change or move he missed the meaning quite: When "Left face!" called the corporal, Sven's face looked toward the right. Now he was taught to order arms, and arms to shoulder too, To fix his bayonet, and present; and all, it seemed, he knew, But at the "Order" usually he fixed his bayonet, And at "Present" as gracefully his gun his shoulder met. And so it came Sven Duva's drill was far and wide renowned: 'Midst all—commander, captains, men—the good jest passed around; But Sven still kept his quiet way—was patient as before, And always hoped for better times. And so broke out the war. Now 'midst his comrades question rose, since they their land must shield, If Sven were sane enough to go with them unto the field. He let them talk, stood calmly by, and said in coolest tone, "If with the ranks I cannot go, why I can go alone." They let him keep his soldier arms, nor put his hands away, For he was servant in the halt and soldier in the fray; But board or sword, 'twas one with him: his cool way still he had, And none might call him coward, though betimes they called him mad. Once Sandels was in full retreat, pushed back by Russian ranks, And yielding step by step along a river's reedy banks: Ahead, a foot-bridge crossed the stream upon the army's way, Where—scarcely twenty men they were—a little outpost lay. Sent but to mend the broken road, when all the toil was o'er At rest they lay at distance far from noises of the war: A grange near hand they made their camp, nor fared they on its least, And Sven—for he was of the band—did serve them at the feast. But soon a change came on them there, for down a slope hard by Spurred Sandels' aide fast hurrying, and rose his sudden cry: "To arms! to arms! for God's good sake! and be the bridge your care, For word is brought a hostile force will cross the river there. "And, sir," said he to him who led the guard, "if yet you can, Tear quickly down the bridge, or fight till falls the latest man.

'Tis ruin if the Russian can assail us in the rear; And fear ye not, for help is by: the general hurries here." So sped he back, but to the bridge scarce reached the little band When high a Russian platoon rose upon the shore beyond. It wider grows, it thicker grows; a volley blazes wide; Beneath the blast nigh half the band are dying or have died. A fear runs through the little band; a longer stay is vain; Again a thundering volley roars, and only five remain. Then all obeyed the swift command to shoulder arms, retreat: Sven Duva only missed the word, and fixed his bayonet. Still more his turning to retreat th' old look of bungling wore, For, far from going with the rest, upon the bridge he bore; And there he stood, broad-shouldered, stiff, with his old coolness still, Prepared to teach to whomsoe'er the best points of his drill. Nor long he waited ere was need he should his tactics show, For in a moment all the bridge was freighted with the foe: Fast on they pressed, man after man, but each who came was met And tumbled bleeding to the earth by Sven's good bayonet. To push this giant down was more than single arm could do, And still his nearest foe a shield from shots of others grew: The quicker pressed the pushing foe, the more his hope was foiled, 'Till Sandels with his host appeared, and saw how Duva toiled. "Well done!" the chieftain cried, "well done! my bravest soldier thou! Let not a devil pass the bridge: hold out a moment now. Yon brave man be a soldier called, and so a Finn should fight. Come, help him well, for well we owe our safety to his might." The foe soon found th' attack was foiled, and without long delay The Russian forces wheeled around and slowly moved away. The chief, dismounting, sought the stream when all the din was o'er, And asked for him who held the bridge and stayed the Russian war. They pointed to Sven Duva then: his war was overfought; Yea, manlike he had warred, and now the battle-hour was not. It seemed that he had lain to rest what time the sport was done— Well, scarce more quiet than of old, but much more pale and wan. Above the fallen Sandels bent, the features well to trace— No stranger features to the chief: it was a well-known face. Beneath Sven's heart where he was laid the green grass gleamed with red: A ball had pierced the willing heart, and he was of the dead. "That bullet knew to take effect, we must confess who see," So simply spoke the general. "It knew much more than we: It let alone his forehead, for it was his weakest part: It entered at a nobler spot—into a faithful heart." Those words were bruited far and wide throughout the general host, And unto each one everywhere the general's words seemed just; "For surely unto Duva brains were scant in measure doled, But, though his head was rather bad, his heart was good as gold."