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"Never mind, Toddie," said I, sadly; "you didn't mean to do it, I know." "I wantsh to love you," sobbed Toddie. "Well, come here, you poor little fellow," said I, opening my arms, and wondering whether 'twas not after contemplation of some such sinner that good Bishop Tegner wrote: "Depths of love are atonement's depths, for love is atonement"
Tegner is as yet only the most popular poet of Sweden; but the bold advance which he has made beyond the established models of the country shows what Swedish poets may yet accomplish by following on in the track of a higher and freer enterprise.
So in the larger academy which the young pastor unconsciously founded the various voices of suggestion, experience, and reflection spoke. It was a rural feast, an Arcadian holiday, such as the Swedish poet Tegner might have sketched in simple and melodious measure, or Grecian artists carved upon a frieze.
God Desires And Seeks The Salvation of All Men. Love is the root of creation,—God’s essence. Worlds without number Lie in his bosom, like children: he made them for this purpose only,— Only to love, and be loved again. He breathed forth his Spirit Into the slumbering dust, and, upright standing, it laid its Hand on its heart, and felt it was warm with a flame out of heaven.—TEGNER.
As she thought of this, there welled up within her such an intense longing for the old times that her eyes filled with tears. Life had been beautiful in this place. They had had weeks of work broken by many holiday festivities. They had toiled hard all day, but at evening they had gathered around the lamp and read Tegner and Runeberg, "Fru" Lenngren and "Mamsell" Bremer.
His fancy oscillates between constant extremes and ever-recurring contrasts. It makes of his song, as Tegnér has so aptly defined it, "a sorrow decked in roses." Bright, gay, enraptured, full of sunshine and glamour, like the summer day around Stockholm, it is traversed by a strain of melancholy like a smile through tears, the laugh which conceals a sob.
His Svea, his dithryambic declamation King Charles, and his Scanean Reserves, sent a thrill through young and old. When Svea was read at the Swedish Academy, which awarded the poem its gold medal, the friends and opponents of Tegnér alike were moved to undisguised admiration.
They read and analysed and criticized classical Swedish poetry Tegnér and Runeberg and Geijer. Most of the poems chosen for the purpose were historical and took their themes from the old viking days or from the glorious centuries of Gustavus Adolphus and Charles XII, when Sweden so nearly rose to be a great power. Keith liked to take certain sonorous passages into his mouth.
In this mixture of patriotism and universal cosmopolitanism, true genius and superficiality, earnestness and recklessness in the character of Gustavus III, the Swedes recognized peculiarities of their own national temperament, for which they love him dearly, and Tegnér has voiced this love in a few lines of his eulogy: There rests o'er Gustav's days a golden shimmer, Fantastic, foreign, frivolous, if you please; But why complain when sunshine caused the glamour?
Tegner is not of championship quality at the moment but his youth allows him plenty of time to acquire that tournament experience needed to fill in the gaps in his game. He is a cool, clever court general and should develop rapidly within the next few years. The Italian champion, H. L. de Morpurgo, is a product of his own country and England where he attended college.
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