PEASANT PAVO.
SWEDISH.
Mid the high bleak moors of Saarijärvis,
On a sterile farm, lived peasant Pavo,
And its poor soil tilled with care untiring,
Trusting to the Lord to send the increase.
Here he lived with wife and little children,
With them of sweat-earned bread partaking.
Dikes he dug, and plowed his land and sowed it.
Spring-time came, and now the melting snow-drifts
Drenched the fields, and half the young crop perished;
Summer came, and the descending hail-storms
Dashed the early ears down, half destroying;
Autumn came, and frosts the remnant blasted.
Pavo’s wife she tore her hair, and spake thus:
“Pavo, Pavo! man the most unhappy,
Take thy staff; by God we are forsaken;
Hard it is to beg, to starve is harder!”
Pavo took her hand, and thus he answered:
“God doth try his servant, not forsake him;
Bread made half of bark must now suffice us!
I will dig the dikes of two-fold deepness;
But from God will I await the increase!”
She made bread of corn and bark together;
He dug lower dikes with double labor,
Sold his sheep, and purchased rye and sowed it.
Spring-time came, again the melting snow-drifts
Drenched the fields, and half the young crop perished;
Summer came, and the descending hail-storms
Dashed the early ears down, half destroying;
Autumn came, and frosts the remnant blasted.
Pavo’s wife she smote her breast, exclaiming:
“Pavo, Pavo! man the most unhappy,
Let us die, for God hath us forsaken:
Hard it is to die, to live is harder!”
Pavo took her hand, and thus he answered:
“God doth try his servant, not forsake him;
Bread made half of bark must still suffice us!
I will dig the dikes of double deepness;
But from Heaven I will expect the increase!”
She made bread of corn and bark together;
He dug lower dikes with double labor,
Sold his cattle, purchased rye and sowed it.
Spring-time came, but now the melting snow-drifts
Left the young crops in the fields uninjured;
Summer came, but the descending hail-storms
Dashed not down the rich ears, naught destroying;
Autumn came, and saw, by frosts unblighted,
Wave the golden harvest for the reaper.
Then fell Pavo on his knees, thus speaking:
“God hath only tried us, not forsaken!”
On her knees his wife fell, and thus said she:
“God hath only tried us, not forsaken!”
And then gladly spake she to her husband:
“Pavo, Pavo! take with joy the sickle,
We may now make glad our hearts with plenty,
Now may throw away the bark unsavory,
And bake rich, sweet bread of rye-meal only!”
Pavo took her hand in his, and answered:
“Woman, woman! ’tis but sent to try us,
If we will have pity on the sufferer.
Mix thou bark with corn even as aforetime,
Frosts have killed the harvest of our neighbor.”
Translation of Mrs. Howitt. Johann Ludwig Runeberg.