words he vowed and uttered: 'Many trees that I shall injure, Shall devour the hearts of mountains, Shall not slay my nearest kindred, Shall not kill the best of heroes, Shall not wound my dearest brother; Better live in civil freedom, Happier would be my life-time, Should I serve my fellow-beings, Serve as tools for their convenience, Than as implements of warfare, Slay my friends and nearest. kindred, Wound the children of my mother.' "Now the master, Ilmarinen, The renowned and skilful blacksmith, From the fire removes the iron, Places it upon the anvil, Hammers well until it softens, Hammers many fine utensils, Hammers spears, and swords, and axes, Hammers knives, and forks, and hatchets, Hammers tools of all descriptions. "Many things the blacksmith needed, Many things he could not fashion, Could not make the tongue of iron, Could not hammer steel from iron, Could not make the iron harden. Well considered Ilmarinen, Deeply thought and long reflected. Then he gathered birchen ashes, Steeped the ashes in the water, Made a lye to harden iron, Thus to form the steel most needful. With his tongue he tests the mixture, Weighs it long and well considers, And the blacksmith speaks as follows: 'All this labor is for nothing, Will not fashion steel from iron, Will not make the soft ore harden.' "Now a bee flies from the meadow, Blue-wing coming from the flowers, Flies about, then safely settles Near the furnace of the smithy. "'Thus the smith the bee addresses, These the words of Ilmarinen: 'Little bee, thou tiny birdling, Bring me honey on thy winglets, On thy tongue, I pray thee, bring me Sweetness from the fragrant meadows, From the little cups of flowers, From the tips of seven petals, That we thus may aid the water To produce the steel from iron.' "Evil Hisi's bird, the hornet, Heard these words of Ilmarinen, Looking from the cottage gable, Flying to the bark of birch-trees, While the iron bars were heating While the steel was being tempered; Swiftly flew the stinging hornet, Scattered all the Hisi horrors, Brought the blessing of the serpent, Brought the venom of the adder, Brought the poison of the spider, Brought the stings of all the insects, Mixed them with the ore and water, While the steel was being, tempered. "Ilmarinen, skilful blacksmith, First of all the iron-workers, Thought the bee had surely brought him Honey from the fragrant meadows, From the little cups of flowers, From the tips of seven petals, And he spake the words that follow: 'Welcome, welcome, is thy coming, Honeyed sweetness from the flowers Thou hast brought to aid the water, Thus to form the steel from iron!' "Ilmarinen, ancient blacksmith, Dipped the iron into water, Water mixed with many poisons, Thought it but the wild bee's honey; Thus he formed the steel from iron. When he plunged it into water, Water mixed with many poisons, When be placed it in the furnace, Angry grew the hardened iron, Broke the vow that he had taken, Ate his words like dogs and devils, Mercilessly cut his brother, Madly raged against his kindred, Caused the blood to flow in streamlets From the wounds of man and hero. This, the origin of iron, And of steel of light blue color." From the hearth arose the gray-beard, Shook his heavy looks and answered: "Now I know the source of iron, Whence the steel and whence its evils; Curses on thee, cruel iron, Curses on the steel thou givest, Curses on thee, tongue of evil, Cursed be thy life forever! Once thou wert of little value, Having neither form nor beauty, Neither strength nor great importance, When in form of milk thou rested, When for ages thou wert hidden In the breasts of God's three daughters, Hidden in their heaving bosoms, On the borders of the cloudlets, In the blue vault of the heavens. "Thou wert once of little value, Having neither form nor beauty, Neither strength nor great importance, When like water thou wert resting On the broad back of the marshes, On the steep declines of mountains, When thou wert but formless matter, Only dust of rusty color. "Surely thou wert void of greatness, Having neither strength nor beauty, When the moose was trampling on thee, When the roebuck trod upon thee, When the tracks of wolves were in thee, And the bear-paws scratched thy body. Surely thou hadst little value When the skilful Ilmarinen, First of all the iron-workers, Brought thee from the blackened swamp-lands, Took thee to his ancient smithy, Placed thee in his fiery furnace. Truly thou hadst little vigor, Little strength, and little danger, When thou in the fire wert hissing, Rolling forth like seething water, From the furnace of the smithy, When thou gavest oath the strongest, By the furnace, by the anvil, By the tongs, and by the hammer, By the dwelling of the blacksmith, By the fire within the furnace. "Now forsooth thou hast grown mighty, Thou canst rage in wildest fury; Thou hast broken all thy pledges, All thy solemn vows hast broken, Like the dogs thou shamest honor, Shamest both thyself and kindred, Tainted all with breath of evil. Tell who drove thee to this mischief, Tell who taught thee all thy malice, Tell who gavest thee thine evil! Did thy father, or thy mother, Did the eldest of thy brothers, Did the youngest of thy sisters, Did the worst of all thy kindred Give to thee thine evil nature? Not thy father, nor thy mother, Not the eldest of thy brothers, Not the youngest of thy sisters, Not the worst of all thy kindred, But thyself hast done this mischief, Thou the cause of all our trouble. Come and view thine evil doings, And amend this flood of damage, Ere I tell thy gray-haired mother, Ere I tell thine aged father. Great indeed a mother's anguish, Great indeed a father's sorrow, When a son does something evil, When a child runs wild and lawless. "Crimson streamlet, cease thy flowing From the wounds of Wainamoinen; Blood of ages, stop thy coursing From the veins of the magician; Stand like heaven's crystal pillars, Stand like columns in the ocean, Stand like birch-trees in the forest, Like the tall reeds in the marshes, Like the high-rocks on the sea-coast, Stand by power of mighty magic! "Should perforce thy will impel thee, Flow thou on thine endless circuit, Through the veins of Wainamoinen, Through the bones, and through the muscles, Through the lungs, and heart, and liver, Of the mighty sage and singer; Better be the food of heroes, Than to waste thy strength and virtue On the meadows and the woodlands, And be lost in dust and ashes. Flow forever in thy circle; Thou must cease this crimson out-flow; Stain no more the grass and flowers, Stain no more these golden hill-tops, Pride and beauty of our heroes. In the veins of the magician, In the heart of Wainamoinen, Is thy rightful home and storehouse. Thither now withdraw thy forces, Thither hasten, swiftly flowing; Flow no more as crimson currents, Fill no longer crimson lakelets, Must not rush like brooks in spring-tide, Nor meander like the rivers. "Cease thy flow, by word of magic, Cease as did the falls of Tyrya, As the rivers of Tuoni, When the sky withheld her rain-drops, When the sea gave up her waters, In the famine of the seasons, In the years of fire and torture. If thou heedest not this order, I shall offer other measures, Know I well of other forces; I shall call the Hisi irons, In them I shall boil and roast thee, Thus to check thy crimson flowing, Thus to save the wounded hero. "If these means be inefficient, Should these measures prove unworthy, I shall call omniscient Ukko, Mightiest of the creators, Stronger than all ancient heroes, Wiser than the world-magicians; He will check the crimson out-flow, He will heal this wound of hatchet. "Ukko, God of love and mercy, God and Master Of the heavens, Come thou hither, thou art needed, Come thou quickly I beseech thee, Lend thy hand to aid thy children, Touch this wound with healing fingers, Stop this hero's streaming life-blood, Bind this wound with tender leaflets, Mingle with them healing flowers, Thus to check this crimson current, Thus to save this great magician, Save the life of Wainamoinen." Thus at last the blood-stream ended, As the magic words were spoken. Then the gray-beard, much rejoicing, Sent his young son to the smithy, There to make a healing balsam, From the herbs of tender fibre, From the healing plants and flowers, From the stalks secreting honey, From the roots, and leaves, and blossoms. On the way he meets an oak-tree, And the oak the son addresses: "Hast thou honey in thy branches, Does thy sap run full of sweetness?" Thus the oak-tree wisely answers: "Yea, but last night dripped the honey Down upon my spreading branches, And the clouds their fragrance sifted, Sifted honey on my leaflets, From their home within the heavens." Then the son takes oak-wood splinters, Takes the youngest oak-tree branches, Gathers many healing grasses, Gathers many herbs and flowers, Rarest herbs that grow in Northland, Places them within the furnace In a kettle made of copper; Lets them steep and boil together, Bits of bark chipped from the oak-tree, Many herbs of healing virtues; Steeps them one day, then a second, Three long days of summer weather, Days and nights in quick succession; Then he tries his magic balsam, Looks to see if it is ready, If his remedy is finished; But the balsam is unworthy. Then he added other grasses, Herbs of every healing virtue, That were brought from distant nations, Many hundred leagues from Northland, Gathered by the wisest minstrels, Thither brought by nine enchanters. Three days more be steeped the balsam, Three nights more the fire be tended, Nine the days and nights be watched it, Then again be tried the ointment, Viewed it carefully and tested, Found at last that it was ready, Found the magic balm was finished. Near by stood a branching birch-tree. On the border of the meadow, Wickedly it had been broken, Broken down by evil Hisi; Quick he takes his balm of healing, And anoints the broken branches, Rubs the balsam in the fractures, Thus addresses then the birch-tree: "With this balsam I anoint thee, With this salve thy wounds I cover, Cover well thine injured places; Now the birch-tree shall recover, Grow more beautiful than ever." True, the birch-tree soon recovered, Grew more beautiful than ever, Grew more uniform its branches, And its bole more strong and stately. Thus it was be tried the balsam, Thus the magic salve he tested, Touched with it the splintered sandstone, Touched the broken blocks of granite, Touched the fissures in the mountains, And the broken parts united, All the fragments grew together. Then the young boy quick returning With the balsam he had finished, To the gray-beard gave the ointment, And the boy these measures uttered "Here I bring the balm of healing, Wonderful the salve I bring thee; It will join the broken granite, Make the fragments grow together, Heat the fissures in the mountains, And restore the injured birch-tree." With his tongue the old man tested, Tested thus the magic balsam, Found the remedy effective, Found the balm had magic virtues; Then anointed he the minstrel, Touched the wounds of Wainamoinen, Touched them with his magic balsam, With the balm of many virtues; Speaking words of ancient wisdom, These the words the gray-beard uttered: "Do not walk in thine own virtue, Do not work in thine own power, Walk in strength of thy Creator; Do not speak in thine own wisdom, Speak with tongue of mighty Ukko. In my mouth, if there be sweetness, It has come from my Creator; If my bands are filled with beauty, All the beauty comes from Ukko." When the wounds had been anointed, When the magic salve had touched them, Straightway ancient Wainamoinen Suffered fearful pain and anguish, Sank upon the floor in torment, Turning one way, then another, Sought for rest and found it nowhere, Till his pain the gray-beard banished, Banished by the aid of magic, Drove away his killing torment To the court of all our trouble, To the highest hill of torture, To the distant rocks and ledges, To the evil-bearing mountains, To the realm of wicked Hisi. Then be took some silken fabric, Quick he tore the silk asunder, Making equal strips for wrapping, Tied the ends with silken ribbons, Making thus a healing bandage; Then he wrapped with skilful fingers Wainamoinen's knee and ankle, Wrapped the wounds of the magician, And this prayer the gray-beard uttered "Ukko's fabric is the bandage, Ukko's science is the surgeon, These have served the wounded hero, Wrapped the wounds of the magician. Look upon us, God of mercy, Come and guard us, kind Creator, And protect us from all evil! Guide our feet lest they may stumble, Guard our lives from every danger, From the wicked wilds of Hisi." Wainamoinen, old and truthful, Felt the mighty aid of magic, Felt the help of gracious Ukko, Straightway stronger grew in body, Straightway were the wounds united, Quick the fearful pain departed. Strong and hardy grew the hero, Straightway walked in perfect freedom, Turned his knee in all directions, Knowing neither pain nor trouble. Then the ancient Wainamoinen Raised his eyes to high Jumala, Looked with gratitude to heaven, Looked on high, in joy and gladness, Then addressed omniscient Ukko, This the prayer the minstrel uttered: "O be praised, thou God of mercy, Let me praise thee, my Creator, Since thou gavest me assistance, And vouchsafed me thy protection, Healed my wounds and stilled mine anguish, Banished all my pain and trouble, Caused by Iron and by Hisi. O, ye people of Wainola, People of this generation, And the folk of future ages, Fashion not in emulation, River boat, nor ocean shallop, Boasting of its fine appearance, God alone can work completion, Give to cause its perfect ending, Never hand of man can find it, Never can the hero give it, Ukko is the only Master."



RUNE X.



ILMARINEN FORGES THE SAMPO.

Wainamoinen, the magician, Takes his steed of copper color, Hitches quick his fleet-foot courser, Puts his racer to the snow-sledge, Straightway springs upon the cross-seat, Snaps his whip adorned with jewels. Like the winds the steed flies onward, Like a lightning flash, the racer Makes the snow-sledge creak and rattle, Makes the highway quickly vanish, Dashes on through fen and forest, Over hills and through the valleys, Over marshes, over mountains, Over fertile plains and meadows; Journeys one day, then a second, So a third from morn till evening, Till the third day evening brings him To the endless bridge of Osmo, To the Osmo-fields and pastures, To the plains of Kalevala; When the hero spake as follows: "May the wolves devour the dreamer, Eat the Laplander for dinner, May disease destroy the braggart, Him who said that I should never See again my much-loved home-land, Nevermore behold my kindred, Never during all my life-time, Never while the sunshine brightens, Never while the moonlight glimmers On the meadows of Wainola, On the plains of Kalevala." Then began old Wainamoinen, Ancient bard and famous singer, To renew his incantations; Sang aloft a wondrous pine-tree, Till it pierced the clouds in growing With its golden top and branches, Till it touched the very heavens, Spread its branches in the ether, In the ever-shining sunlight. Now he sings again enchanting, Sings the Moon to shine forever In the fir-tree's emerald branches; In its top he sings the Great Bear. Then be quickly journeys homeward, Hastens to his golden portals, Head awry and visage wrinkled, Crooked cap upon his forehead, Since as ransom he had promised Ilmarinen, magic artist, Thus to save his life from torture On the distant fields of Northland In the dismal Sariola. When his stallion he had halted On the Osmo-field and meadow, Quickly rising in his snow-sledge, The magician heard one knocking, Breaking coal within the smithy, Beating with a heavy hammer. Wainamoinen, famous minstrel, Entering the smithy straightway, Found the blacksmith, Ilmarinen, Knocking with his copper hammer. Ilmarinen spake as follows: "Welcome, brother Wainamoinen, Old and worthy Wainamoinen! Why so long hast thou been absent, Where hast thou so long been hiding?" Wainamoinen then made answer, These the words of the magician: "Long indeed have I been living, Many dreary days have wandered, Many cheerless nights have lingered, Floating on the cruel ocean, Weeping in the fens and woodlands Of the never-pleasant Northland, In the dismal Sariola; With the Laplanders I've wandered, With the people filled with witchcraft." Promptly answers Ilmarinen, These the words the blacksmith uses: "O thou ancient Wainamoinen, Famous and eternal singer, Tell me of thy journey northward, Of thy wanderings in Lapland, Of thy dismal journey homeward." Spake the minstrel, Wainamoinen: "I have much to tell thee, brother, Listen to my wondrous story: In the Northland lives a virgin, In a village there, a maiden, That will not accept a lover, That a hero's hand refuses, That a wizard's heart disdaineth; All of Northland sings her praises, Sings her worth and magic beauty, Fairest maiden of Pohyola, Daughter of the earth and ocean. From her temples beams the moonlight, From her breast, the gleam of sunshine, From her forehead shines the rainbow, On her neck, the seven starlets, And the Great Bear from her shoulder. "Ilmarinen, worthy brother, Thou the only skilful blacksmith, Go and see her wondrous beauty, See her gold and silver garments, See her robed in finest raiment, See her sitting on the rainbow, Walking on the clouds of purple. Forge for her the magic Sampo, Forge the lid in many colors, Thy reward shall be the virgin, Thou shalt win this bride of beauty; Go and bring the lovely maiden To thy home in Kalevala." Spake the brother, Ilmarinen: O thou cunning Wainamoinen, Thou hast promised me already To the ever-darksome Northland, Thy devoted head to ransom, Thus to rescue thee from trouble. I shall never visit Northland, Shall not go to see thy maiden, Do not love the Bride of Beauty; Never while the moonlight glimmers, Shall I go to dreary Pohya, To the plains of Sariola, Where the people eat each other, Sink their heroes in the ocean, Not for all the maids of Lapland." Spake the brother, Wainamoinen: "I can tell thee greater wonders, Listen to my wondrous story: I have seen the fir-tree blossom, Seen its flowers with emerald branches, On the Osmo-fields and woodlands; In its top, there shines the moonlight, And the Bear lives in its branches." Ilmarinen thus made answer: "I cannot believe thy story, Cannot trust thy tale of wonder, Till I see the blooming fir-tree, With its many emerald branches, With its Bear and golden moonlight." This is Wainamoinen's answer: "Wilt thou not believe my story? Come with me and I will show thee If my lips speak fact or fiction." Quick they journey to discover, Haste to view the wondrous fir-tree; Wainamoinen leads the journey, Ilmarinen closely follows. As they near the Osmo-borders, Ilmarinen hastens forward That be may behold the wonder, Spies the Bear Within the fir-top, Sitting on its emerald branches, Spies the gleam of golden moonlight. Spake the ancient Wainamoinen, These the words the singer uttered: Climb this tree, dear Ilmarinen, And bring down the golden moonbeams, Bring the Moon and Bear down with thee From the fir-tree's lofty branches." Ilmarinen, full consenting, Straightway climbed the golden fir-tree, High upon the bow of heaven, Thence to bring the golden moonbeams, Thence to bring the Bear of heaven, From the fir-tree's topmost branches. Thereupon the blooming fir-tree Spake these words to Ilmarinen: "O thou senseless, thoughtless hero, Thou hast neither wit nor instinct; Thou dost climb my golden branches, Like a thing of little judgment, Thus to get my pictured moonbeams, Take away my silver starlight, Steal my Bear and blooming branches." Quick as thought old Wainamoinen Sang again in magic accents, Sang a storm-wind in the heavens, Sang the wild winds into fury, And the singer spake as follows: 'Take, O storm-wind, take the forgeman, Carry him within thy vessel, Quickly hence, and land the hero On the ever-darksome Northland, On the dismal Sariola." Now the storm-wind quickly darkens, Quickly piles the air together, Makes of air a sailing vessel, Takes the blacksmith, Ilmarinen, Fleetly from the fir-tree branches, Toward the never-pleasant Northland, Toward the dismal Sariola. Through the air sailed Ilmarinen, Fast and far the hero travelled, Sweeping onward, sailing northward, Riding in the track of storm-winds, O'er the Moon, beneath the sunshine, On the broad back of the Great Bear, Till he neared Pohyola's woodlands, Neared the homes of Sariola, And alighted undiscovered, Was Dot noticed by the hunters, Was not scented by the watch-dogs. Louhi, hostess of Pohyola, Ancient, toothless dame of Northland, Standing in the open court-yard, Thus addresses Ilmarinen, As she spies the hero-stranger: "Who art thou of ancient heroes, Who of all the host of heroes, Coming here upon the storm-wind, O'er the sledge-path of the ether, Scented not by Pohya's watch-dogs? This is Ilmarinen's answer: "I have surely not come hither To be barked at by the watch-dogs, At these unfamiliar portals, At the gates of Sariola." Thereupon the Northland hostess Asks again the hero-stranger: "Hast thou ever been acquainted With the blacksmith of Wainola, With the hero, Ilmarinen, With the skilful smith and artist? Long I've waited for his coming, Long this one has been expected, On the borders of the Northland, Here to forge for me the Sampo." Spake the hero, Ilmarinen: "Well indeed am I acquainted With the blacksmith, Ilmarinen, I myself am Ilmarinen, I, the skilful smith and artist." Louhi, hostess of the Northland, Toothless dame of Sariola, Straightway rushes to her dwelling, These the words that Louhi utters: "Come, thou youngest of my daughters, Come, thou fairest of my maidens, Dress thyself in finest raiment, Deck thy hair with rarest jewels, Pearls upon thy swelling bosom, On thy neck, a golden necklace, Bind thy head with silken ribbons, Make thy cheeks look fresh and ruddy, And thy visage fair and winsome, Since the artist, Ilmarinen, Hither comes from Kalevala, Here to forge for us the Sampo, Hammer us the lid in colors." Now the daughter of the Northland, Honored by the land and water, Straightway takes her choicest raiment, Takes her dresses rich in beauty, Finest of her silken wardrobe, Now adjusts her silken fillet, On her brow a band of copper, Round her waist a golden girdle, Round her neck a pearly necklace, Shining gold upon her bosom, In her hair the threads of silver. From her dressing-room she hastens, To the hall she bastes and listens, Full of beauty, full of joyance, Ears erect and eyes bright-beaming, Ruddy cheeks and charming visage, Waiting for the hero-stranger. Louhi, hostess of Pohyola, Leads the hero, Ilmarinen, To her dwelling-rooms in Northland, To her home in Sariola, Seats him at her well-filled table, Gives to him the finest viands, Gives him every needed comfort, Then addresses him as follows: "O thou blacksmith, Ilmarinen, Master of the forge and smithy, Canst thou forge for me the Sampo, Hammer me the lid in colors, From the tips of white-swan feathers, From the milk of greatest virtue, From a single grain of barley, From the finest wool of lambkins? Thou shalt have my fairest daughter, Recompense for this thy service." These the words of Ilmarinen: "I will forge for thee the Sampo, Hammer thee the lid in colors, From the tips of white-swan feathers, From the milk of greatest virtue, From a single grain of barley, From the finest wool of lambkins? Since I forged the arch of heaven, Forged the air a concave cover, Ere the earth had a beginning." Thereupon the magic blacksmith Went to forge the wondrous Sampo, Went to find a blacksmith's workshop, Went to find the tools to work with; But he found no place for forging, Found no smithy, found no bellows, Found no chimney, found no anvil, Found no tongs, and found no hammer. Then the-artist, Ilmarinen. Spake these words, soliloquizing: "Only women grow discouraged, Only knaves leave work unfinished, Not the devils, nor the heroes, Nor the Gods of greater knowledge." Then the blacksmith, Ilmarinen, Sought a place to build a smithy, Sought a place to plant a bellows, On the borders of the Northland, On the Pohya-hills and meadows; Searched one day, and then a second; Ere the evening of the third day, Came a rock within his vision, Came a stone with rainbow-colors. There the blacksmith, Ilmarinen, Set at work to build his smithy, Built a fire and raised a chimney; On the next day laid his bellows, On the third day built his furnace, And began to forge the Sampo. The eternal magic artist, Ancient blacksmith, Ilmarinen, First of all the iron-workers, Mixed together certain metals, Put the mixture in the caldron, Laid it deep within the furnace, Called the hirelings to the forging. Skilfully they work the bellows, Tend the fire and add the fuel, Three most lovely days of summer, Three short nights of bright midsummer, Till the rocks begin to blossom, In the foot-prints of the workmen, From the magic heat and furnace. On the first day, Ilmarinen Downward bent and well examined, On the bottom of his furnace, Thus to see what might be forming From the magic fire and metals. From the fire arose a cross-bow, "With the brightness of the moonbeams, Golden bow with tips of silver; On the shaft was shining copper, And the bow was strong and wondrous, But alas! it was ill-natured, Asking for a hero daily, Two the heads it asked on feast-days. Ilmarinen, skilful artist, Was not pleased with this creation, Broke the bow in many pieces, Threw them back within the furnace, Kept the workmen at the bellows, Tried to forge the magic Sampo. On the second day, the blacksmith Downward bent and well examined, On the bottom of the furnace; From the fire, a skiff of metals, Came a boat of purple color, All the ribs were colored golden, And the oars were forged from copper; Thus the skiff was full of beauty, But alas! a thing of evil; Forth it rushes into trouble, Hastens into every quarrel, Hastes without a provocation Into every evil combat. Ilmarinen, metal artist, Is not pleased with this creation, Breaks the skiff in many fragments, Throws them back within the furnace, Keeps the workmen at the bellows, Thus to forge the magic Sampo. On the third day, Ilmarinen, First of all the metal-workers, Downward bent and well examined, On the bottom of the furnace; There be saw a heifer rising, Golden were the horns of Kimmo, On her head the Bear of heaven, On her brow a disc of sunshine, Beautiful the cow of magic; But alas! she is ill-tempered, Rushes headlong through the forest, Rushes through the swamps and meadows, Wasting all her milk in running. Ilmarinen, the magician. Is not pleased with this creation, Cuts the magic cow in pieces, Throws them in the fiery furnace, Sets the workmen at the bellows, Thus to forge the magic Sampo. On the fourth day, Ilmarinen Downward bent and well examined, To the bottom of the furnace; There beheld a plow in beauty Rising from the fire of metals, Golden was the point and plowshare, And the beam was forged from copper, And the handles, molten silver, Beautiful the plow and wondrous; But alas! it is ill-mannered, Plows up fields of corn and barley, Furrows through the richest meadows. Ilmarinen, metal artist, Is not pleased with this creation, Quickly breaks the plow in pieces, Throws them back within the furnace, Lets the winds attend the bellows, Lets the storm-winds fire the metals. Fiercely vie the winds of heaven, East-wind rushing, West-wind roaring, South-wind crying, North-wind howling, Blow one day and then a second, Blow the third from morn till even, When the fire leaps through the windows, Through the door the sparks fly upward, Clouds of smoke arise to heaven; With the clouds the black smoke mingles, As the storm-winds ply the bellows. On the third night Ilmarinen, Bending low to view his metals, On the bottom of the furnace, Sees the magic Sampo rising, Sees the lid in many colors. Quick the artist of Wainola Forges with the tongs and anvil, Knocking with a heavy hammer, Forges skilfully the Sampo; On one side the flour is grinding, On another salt is making, On a third is money forging, And the lid is many-colored. Well the Sampo grinds when finished, To and fro the lid in rocking, Grinds one measure at the day-break, Grinds a measure fit for eating, Grinds a second for the market, Grinds a third one for the store-house. Joyfully the dame of Northland, Louhi, hostess of Pohyola, Takes away the magic Sampo, To the hills of Sariola, To the copper-bearing mountains, Puts nine locks upon the wonder, Makes three strong roots creep around it; In the earth they grow nine fathoms, One large root beneath the mountain, One beneath the sandy sea-bed, One beneath the mountain-dwelling. Modestly pleads Ilmarinen For the maiden's willing answer, These the words of the magician: "Wilt thou come with me, fair maiden, Be my wife and queen forever? I have forged for thee the Sampo, Forged the lid in many colors." Northland's fair and lovely daughter Answers thus the metal-worker: "Who will in the coming spring-time, Who will in the second summer, Guide the cuckoo's song and echo? Who will listen to his calling, Who will sing with him in autumn, Should I go to distant regions, Should this cheery maiden vanish From the fields of Sariola, From Pohyola's fens and forests, Where the cuckoo sings and echoes? Should I leave my father's dwelling, Should my mother's berry vanish, Should these mountains lose their cherry, Then the cuckoo too would vanish, All the birds would leave the forest, Leave the summit of the mountain, Leave my native fields and woodlands, Never shall I, in my life-time, Say farewell to maiden freedom, Nor to summer cares and labors, Lest the harvest be ungarnered, Lest the berries be ungathered, Lest the song-birds leave the forest, Lest the mermaids leave the waters, Lest I sing with them no longer." Ilmarinen, the magician, The eternal metal-forger, Cap awry and head dejected, Disappointed, heavy-hearted, Empty-handed, well considers, How to reach his distant country, Reach his much-loved home and kinded, Gain the meadows of Wainola, From the never-pleasant Northland, From the darksome Sariola. Louhi thus addressed the suitor: "O thou blacksmith, Ilmarinen, Why art thou so heavy-hearted, Why thy visage so dejected? Hast thou in thy mind to journey From the vales and hills of Pohya, To the meadows of Wainola, To thy home in Kalevala? This is Ilmarinen's answer: "Thitherward my mind is tending, To my home-land let me journey, With my kindred let me linger, Be at rest in mine own country." Straightway Louhi, dame of Northland, Gave the hero every comfort, Gave him food and rarest viands, Placed him in a boat of copper, In a copper-banded vessel, Called the winds to his assistance, Made the North-wind guide him homeward. Thus the skilful Ilmarinen Travels toward his native country, On the blue back of the waters, Travels one day, then a second, Till the third day evening brings him To Wainola's peaceful meadows, To his home in Kalevala. Straightway ancient Wainamoinen Thus addresses Ilmarinen: "O my brother, metal-artist, Thou eternal wonder-worker, Didst thou forge the magic Sampo, Forge the lid in many colors?" Spake the brother, Ilmarinen, These the words the master uttered: "Yea, I forged the magic Sampo, Forged the lid in many colors; To and fro the lid in rocking Grinds one measure at the day-dawn, Grinds a measure fit for eating, Grinds a second for the market, Grinds a third one for the store-house. Louhi has the wondrous Sampo, I have not the Bride of Beauty."



RUNE XI.



LEMMINKAINEN'S LAMENT.

This the time to sing of Ahti, Son of Lempo, Kaukomieli, Also known as Lemminkainen. Ahti was the king of islands, Grew amid the island-dwellings, At the site of his dear mother, On the borders of the ocean, On the points of promontories. Ahti fed upon the salmon, Fed upon the ocean whiting, Thus became a mighty hero, In his veins the blood of ages, Read erect and form commanding, Growth of mind and body perfect But alas! he had his failings, Bad indeed his heart and morals, Roaming in unworthy places, Staying days and nights in sequences At the homes of merry maidens, At the dances of the virgins, With the maids of braided tresses. Up in Sahri lived a maiden, Lived the fair and winsome Kulli, Lovely as a summer-flower, From a kingly house descended, Grew to perfect form and beauty, Living in her father's cottage, Home of many ancient heroes, Beautiful was she and queenly, Praised throughout the whole of Ehstland; From afar men came to woo her, To the birthplace of the virgin, To the household of her mother. For his son the Day-star wooes her, But she will not go to Sun-land, Will not shine beside the Day-star, In his haste to bring the summer. For her son, the bright Moon wooes her, But she will not go to Moon-land, By the bright Moon will not glimmer, Will not run through boundless ether. For his son the Night-star wooes her, But she will not go to Star-land, Will not twinkle in the starlight, Through the dreary nights in winter. Lovers come from distant Ehstlaud, Others come from far-off Ingern, But they cannot win the maiden, This the answer that she gives them "Vainly are your praises lavished Vainly is your silver offered, Wealth and praise are no temptation; Never shall I go to Ehstland, Never shall I go a-rowing On the waters of the Ingern, Shall not cross the Sahri-waters, Never eat the fish of Ehstland, Never taste the Ehstland viands. Ingerland shall never see me, Will not row upon her rivers, Will not step within her borders; Hunger there, and fell starvation, Wood is absent, fuel wanting, Neither water, wheat, nor barley, Even rye is not abundant." Lemminkainen of the islands, Warlike hero, Kaukomieli, Undertakes to win the maiden, Woo and win the Sahri-flower, Win a bride so highly honored, Win the maid with golden tresses, Win the Sahri maid of beauty; But his mother gives him warning: "Nay," replies his gray-haired mother, "Do not woo, my son beloved, Maiden of a higher station; She will never make thee happy With her lineage of Sahri." Spake the hero, Lemminkainen, These the words of Kaukomieli: "Should I come from lowly station, Though my tribe is not the highest, I shall woo to please my fancy, Woo the maiden fair and lovely, Choose a wife for worth and beauty." This the anxious mother's answer: "Lemminkainen, son beloved, Listen to advice maternal: Do not go to distant Sahri, To her tribe of many branches; All the maidens there will taunt thee, All the women will deride thee." Lemminkainen, little hearing, Answers thus his mother's pleading: "I will still the sneers of women, Silence all the taunts of maidens, I will crush their haughty bosoms, Smite the hands and cheeks of infants; Surely this will check their insults, Fitting ending to derision!" This the answer of' the mother: "Woe is me, my son beloved! Woe is me, my life hard-fated! Shouldst thou taunt the Sahri daughters. Or insult the maids of virtue, Shouldst thou laugh them to derision, There will rise a great contention, Fierce the battle that will follow. All the hosts of Sahri-suitors, Armed in thousands will attack thee, And will slay thee for thy folly." Nothing listing, Lemminkainen, Heeding not his mother's warning, Led his war-horse from the stables, Quickly hitched the fiery charger, Fleetly drove upon his journey, To the distant Sahri-village, There to woo the Sahri-flower, There to win the Bride of Beauty. All the aged Sahri-women, All the young and lovely maidens Laughed to scorn the coming stranger Driving careless through the alleys, Wildly driving through the court-yard, Now upsetting in the gate-way, Breaking shaft, and hame, and runner. Then the fearless Lemminkainen, Mouth awry and visage wrinkled, Shook his sable locks and answered: "Never in my recollection Have I heard or seen such treatment, Never have I been derided, Never suffered sneers of women, Never suffered scorn of virgins, Not in my immortal life-time. Is there any place befitting On the Sahri-plains and pastures, Where to join in songs and dances? Is there here a hall for pleasure, Where the Sahri-maidens linger, Merry maids with braided tresses?" Thereupon the Sahri-maidens Answered from their promontory., "Room enough is there in Sahri, Room upon the Sahri-pastures, Room for pleasure-halls and dances; Sing and dance upon our meadows, Be a shepherd on the mountains, Shepherd-boys have room for dancing; Indolent the Sahri-children, But the colts are fat and frisky." Little caring, Lemminkainen Entered service there as shepherd, In the daytime on the pastures, In the evening, making merry At the games of lively maidens, At the dances with the virgins, With the maids with braided tresses. Thus it was that Lemminkainen, Thus the shepherd, Kaukomieli, Quickly hushed the women's laughter, Quickly quenched the taunts of maidens, Quickly silenced their derision. All the dames and Sahri-daughters Soon were feasting Lemminkainen, At his side they danced and lingered. Only was there one among them, One among the Sahri-virgins, Harbored neither love nor wooers, Favored neither gods nor heroes, This the lovely maid Kyllikki, This the Sahri's fairest flower. Lemminkainen, full of pleasure, Handsome hero, Kaukomieli, Rowed a hundred boats in pieces, Pulled a thousand oars to fragments, While he wooed the Maid of Beauty, Tried to win the fair Kyllikki. Finally the lovely maiden, Fairest daughter of the Northland, Thus addresses Lemminkainen: "Why dost linger here, thou weak one, Why dost murmur on these borders, Why come wooing at my fireside, Wooing me in belt of copper? Have no time to waste upon thee, Rather give this stone its polish, Rather would I turn the pestle In the heavy sandstone mortar; Rather sit beside my mother In the dwellings of my father. Never shall I heed thy wooing, Neither wights nor whisks I care for, Sooner have a slender husband Since I have a slender body; Wish to have him fine of figure, Since perchance I am well-shapen; Wish to have him tall and stately, Since my form perchance is queenly; Never waste thy time in wooing Saliri's maid and favored flower." Time had gone but little distance, Scarcely had a month passed over, When upon a merry evening, Where the maidens meet for dancing, In the glen beyond the meadow, On a level patch of verdure, Came too soon the maid Kyllikki, Sahri's pride, the Maid of Beauty; Quickly followed Lemminkainen, With his stallion proudly prancing, Fleetest racer of the Northland, Fleetly drives beyond the meadow, Where the maidens meet for dancing, Snatches quick the maid Kyllikki, On the settle seats the maiden, Quickly draws the leathern cover, And adjusts the brichen cross-bar, Whips his courser to a gallop. With a rush, and roar, and rattle, Speeds he homeward like the storm-wind, Speaks these words to those that listen: "Never, never, anxious maidens, Must ye give the information, That I carried off Kyllikki To my distant home and kindred. If ye do not heed this order, Ye shall badly fare as maidens; I shall sing to war your suitors, Sing them under spear and broadsword, That for months, and years, and ages, Never ye will see their faces, Never hear their merry voices, Never will they tread these uplands, Never will they join these dances, Never will they drive these highways." Sad the wailing of Kyllikki, Sad the weeping flower of Sahri! Listen to her tearful pleading: "Give, O give me back my freedom, Free me from the throes of thralldom, Let this maiden wander homeward, By some foot-path let me wander To my father who is grieving, To my mother who is weeping; Let me go or I will curse thee! If thou wilt not give me freedom, Wilt not let me wander homeward, Where my loved ones wait my coming, I have seven stalwart brothers, Seven sons of father's brother, Seven sons of mother's sister, Who pursue the tracks of red-deer, Hunt the hare upon the heather; They will follow thee and slay thee, Thus I'll gain my wished-for freedom." Lemminkainen, little heeding, Would not grant the maiden's wishes, Would not heed her plea for mercy. Spake again the waiting virgin, Pride and beauty of the Northland: "Joyful was I with my kindred, Joyful born and softly nurtured Merrily I spent my childhood, Happy I, in virgin-freedom, In the dwelling of my father, By the bedside of my mother, With my lineage in Sahri; But alas! all joy has vanished, All my happiness departed, All my maiden beauty waneth Since I met thine evil spirit, Shameless hero of dishonor, Cruel fighter of the islands, Merciless in civil combat." Spake the hero, Lemminkainen, These the words of Kaukomieli: "Dearest maiden, fair Kyllikki, My sweet strawberry of Pohya, Still thine anguish, cease thy weeping, Be thou free from care and sorrow, Never shall I do thee evil, Never will my hands maltreat thee, Never will mine arms abuse thee, Never will my tongue revile thee, Never will my heart deceive thee. "Tell me why thou hast this anguish, Why thou hast this bitter sorrow, Why this sighing and lamenting, Tell me why this wail of sadness? Banish all thy cares and sorrows, Dry thy tears and still thine anguish, I have cattle, food, and shelter, I have home, and friends, and kindred, Kine upon the plains and uplands, In the marshes berries plenty, Strawberries upon the mountains I have kine that need no milking, Handsome kine that need no feeding, Beautiful if not well-tended; Need not tie them up at evening, Need not free them in the morning, Need not hunt them, need not feed them, Need not give them salt nor water. "Thinkest thou my race is lowly, Dost thou think me born ignoble, Does my lineage agrieve thee? Was not born in lofty station, From a tribe of noble heroes, From a worthy race descended; But I have a sword of fervor, And a spear yet filled with courage, Surely these are well descended, These were born from hero-races, Sharpened by the mighty Hisi, By the gods were forged and burnished; Therefore will I give thee greatness, Greatness of my race and nation, With my broadsword filled with fervor, With my spear still filled with courage." Anxiously the sighing maiden Thus addresses Lemminkainen: "O thou Ahti, son of Lempo, Wilt thou take this trusting virgin, As thy faithful life-companion, Take me under thy protection, Be to me a faithful husband, Swear to me an oath of honor, That thou wilt not go to battle, When for gold thou hast a longing, When thou wishest gold and silver?" This is Lemminkainen's answer: I will swear an oath of honor, That I'll never go to battle, When for gold I feel a longing, When I wish for gold and silver. Swear thou also on thine honor, Thou wilt go not to the village, When desire for dance impels thee, Wilt not visit village-dances." Thus the two made oath together, Registered their vows in heaven, Vowed before omniscient Ukko, Ne'er to go to war vowed Ahti, Never to the dance, Kyllikki. Lemminkainen, full of joyance, Snapped his whip above his courser, Whipped his racer to a gallop, And these words the hero uttered: "Fare ye well, ye Sahri-meadows, Roots of firs, and stumps of birch-trees. That I wandered through in summer, That I travelled o'er in winter, Where ofttimes in rainy seasons, At the evening hour I lingered, When I sought to win the virgin, Sought to win the Maid of Beauty, Fairest of the Sahri-flowers. Fare ye well, ye Sahri-woodlands, Seas and oceans, lakes and rivers, Vales and mountains, isles and inlets, Once the home of fair Kyllikki!" Quick the racer galloped homeward, Galloped on along the highway, Toward the meadows of Wainola, To the plains of Kalevala. As they neared the Ahti-dwellings, Thus Kyllikki spake in sorrow: "Cold and drear is thy cottage, Seeming like a place deserted; Who may own this dismal cabin, Who the one so little honored?" Spake the hero, Lemminkainen, These the words that Ahti uttered: "Do not grieve about my cottage, Have no care about my chambers; I shall build thee other dwellings, I shall fashion them much better, Beams, and posts, and sills, and rafters, Fashioned from the sacred birch-wood." Now they reach the home of Ahti, Lemminkainen's home and birthplace, Enter they his mother's cottage; There they meet his aged mother, These the words the mother uses: "Long indeed hast thou been absent, Long in foreign lands hast wandered, Long in Sahri thou hast lingered!" This is Lemminkainen's answer: "All the host of Sahri-women, All the chaste and lovely maidens, All the maids with braided tresses, Well have paid for their derision, For their scorn and for their laughter, That they basely heaped upon me. I have brought the best among them In my sledge to this thy cottage; Well I wrapped her in my fur-robes, Kept her warm enwrapped in bear-skin, Brought her to my mother's dwelling, As my faithful life-companion; Thus I paid the scornful maidens, Paid them well for their derision. "Cherished mother of my being, I have found the long-sought jewel, I have won the Maid of Beauty. Spread our couch with finest linen, For our heads the softest pillows, On our table rarest viands, So that I may dwell in pleasure With my spouse, the bride of honor, With the pride of distant Sahri." This the answer of the mother: "Be thou praised, O gracious Ukko, Loudly praised, O thou Creator, Since thou givest me a daughter, Ahti's bride, my second daughter, Who can stir the fire at evening, Who can weave me finest fabrics, Who can twirl the useful spindle, Who can rinse my silken ribbons, Who can full the richest garments. "Son beloved, praise thy Maker, For the winning of this virgin, Pride and joy of distant Sahri Kind indeed is thy Creator, Wise the ever-knowing Ukko! Pure the snow upon the mountains, Purer still thy Bride of Beauty; White the foam upon the ocean, Whiter still her virgin-spirit; Graceful on the lakes, the white-swan, Still more graceful, thy companion: Beautiful the stars in heaven, Still more beautiful, Kyllikki. Larger make our humble cottage, Wider build the doors and windows, Fashion thou the ceilings higher, Decorate the walls in beauty, Now that thou a bride hast taken From a tribe of higher station, Purest maiden of creation, From the meadow-lands of Sahri, From the upper shores of Northland."



RUNE XII.



KYLLIKKI'S BROKEN VOW.

Lemminkainen, artful husband, Reckless hero, Kaukomieli, Constantly beside his young wife., Passed his life in sweet contentment, And the years rolled swiftly onward; Ahti thought not of the battles, Nor Kyllikki of the dances. Once upon a time it happened That the hero, Lemminkainen, Went upon the lake a-fishing, Was not home at early evening, As the cruel night descended; To the village went Kyllikki, To the dance of merry maidens. Who will tell the evil story, Who will bear the information To the husband, Lemminkainen? Ahti's sister tells the story, And the sister's name, Ainikki. Soon she spreads the cruel tidings, Straightway gives the information, Of Kyllikki's perjured honor, These the words Ainikki utters: "Ahti, my beloved brother, To the village went Kyllikki, To the hall of many strangers, To the plays and village dances, With the young men and the maidens, With the maids of braided tresses, To the halls of joy and pleasure." Lemminkainen, much dejected, Broken-hearted, flushed with anger, Spake these words in measured accents: "Mother dear, my gray-haired mother, Wilt thou straightway wash my linen In the blood of poison-serpents, In the black blood of the adder? I must hasten to the combat, To the camp-fires of the Northland, To the battle-fields of Lapland; To the village went Kyllikki, To the play of merry maidens, To the games and village dances, With the maids of braided tresses." Straightway speaks the wife, Kyllikki: "My beloved husband, Ahti, Do not go to war, I pray thee. In the evening I lay sleeping, Slumbering I saw in dream-land Fire upshooting from the chimney, Flames arising, mounting skyward, From the windows of this dwelling, From the summits of these rafters, Piercing through our upper chambers, Roaring like the fall of waters, Leaping from the floor and ceiling, Darting from the halls and doorways." But the doubting Lemminkainen Makes this answer to Kyllikki: "I discredit dreams or women, Have no faith in vows of maidens! Faithful mother of my being, Hither bring my mail of copper; Strong desire is stirring in me For the cup of deadly combat, For the mead of martial conquest." This the pleading mother's answer: "Lemminkainen, son beloved, Do not go to war I pray thee; We have foaming beer abundant, In our vessels beer of barley, Held in casks by oaken spigots; Drink this beer of peace and pleasure, Let us drink of it together." Spake the hero, Lemminkainen: "I shall taste no more the viands, In the home of false Kyllikki; Rather would I drink the water From the painted tips of birch-oars; Sweeter far to me the water, Than the beverage of dishonor, At my mother's home and fireside! "Hither bring my martial doublet, Bring me now the sword of battle, Bring my father's sword of honor; I must go to upper Northland, To the battle-fields of Lapland, There to win me gold and silver." This the anxious mother's answer: "My beloved Kaukomieli, We have gold in great abundance, Gold and silver in the store-room; Recently upon the uplands, In the early hours of morning, Toiled the workmen in the corn-fields, Plowed the meadows filled with serpents, When the plowshare raised the cover From a chest of gold and silver, Countless was the gold uncovered, Hid beneath the grassy meadow; This the treasure I have brought thee, Take the countless gold in welcome." Spake the hero, Lemminkainen: "Do not wish thy household silver, From the wars I'll earn my silver; Gold and silver from the combat Are to me of greater value Than the wealth thou hast discovered. Bring me now my heavy armor, Bring me too my spear and broadsword; To the Northland I must hasten, To the bloody wars of Lapland, Thither does my pride impel me, Thitherward my heart is turning. "I have heard a tale of Lapland, Some believe the wondrous story, That a maid in Pimentola Lives that does not care for suitors, Does not care for bearded heroes." This the aged mother's answer: "Warlike Athi, son beloved, In thy home thou hast Kyllikki, Fairest wife of all the islands; Strange to see two wives abiding In the home of but one husband." Spake the hero, Lemminkainen: "To the village runs Kyllikki; Let her run to village dances, Let her sleep in other dwellings, With the village youth find pleasure, With the maids of braided tresses." Seeks the mother to detain him, Thus the anxious mother answers: "Do not go, my son beloved, Ignorant of Pohya-witchcraft, To the distant homes of Northland Till thou hast the art of magic, Till thou hast some little wisdom Do not go to fields of battle, To the fires of Northland's children, To the slaughter-fields of Lapland, Till of magic thou art master. There the Lapland maids will charm thee, Turyalanders will bewitch thee, Sing thy visage into charcoal, Head and shoulders to the furnace, Into ashes sing thy fore-arm, Into fire direct thy footsteps." Spake the warlike Lemminkainen: Wizards often have bewitched me, And the fascinating serpents; Lapland wizards, three in number, On an eve in time of summer, Sitting on a rock at twilight, Not a garment to protect them, Once bewitched me with their magic; This much they have taken from me, This the sum of all my losses: What the hatchet gains from flint-stone, What the auger bores from granite, What the heel chips from the iceberg, And what death purloins from tomb-stones. "Horribly the wizards threatened, Tried to sink me with their magic, In the water of the marshes, In the mud and treacherous quicksand, To my chin in mire and water; But I too was born a hero, Born a hero and magician, Was not troubled by their magic. "Straightway I began my singing, Sang the archers with their arrows, Sang the spearmen with their weapons, Sang the swordsmen with their poniards, Sang the singers with their singing, The enchanters with their magic, To the rapids of the rivers, To the highest fall of waters, To the all-devouring whirlpool, To the deepest depths of ocean, Where the wizards still are sleeping, Sleeping till the grass shoots upward Through the beards and wrinkled faces, Through the locks of the enchanters, As they sleep beneath the billows." Still entreats the anxious mother, Still beseeches Lemminkainen, Trying to restrain the hero, While Kyllikki begs forgiveness; This the language of the mother: "Do not go, my son beloved, To the villages of Northland, Nor to Lapland's frigid borders; Dire misfortune will befall thee, Star of evil settle o'er thee, Lemminkainen's end, destruction. "Couldst thou speak in tongues a hundred, I could not believe thee able, Through the magic of thy singing, To enchant the sons of Lapland To the bottom of the ocean, Dost not know the Tury-language, Canst but speak the tongue of Suomi, Canst not win by witless magic." Lemminkainen, reckless hero, Also known as Kaukomieli, Stood beside his mother, combing Out his sable locks and musing, Brushing down his beard, debating, Steadfast still in his decision, Quickly hurls his brush in anger, Hurls it to the wall opposing, Gives his mother final answer, These the words that Ahti uses: "Dire misfortune will befall me, Some sad fate will overtake me, Evil come to Lemminkainen, When the blood flows from that hair-brush, When blood oozes from those bristles." Thus the warlike Lemminkainen Goes to never-pleasant Lapland, Heeding not his mother's warning, Heeding not her prohibition. Thus the hero, Kaukomieli, Quick equips himself for warfare, On his head a copper helmet, On his shoulders caps of copper, On his body iron armor, Steel, the belt around his body; As he girds himself for battle, Ahti thus soliloquizing: "Strong the hero in his armor, Strong indeed in copper helmet, Powerful in mail of iron, Stronger far than any hero On the dismal shores of Lapland, Need not fear their wise enchanters, Need not fear their strongest foemen, Need not fear a war with wizards." Grasped he then the sword of battle, Firmly grasped the heavy broadsword That Tuoni had been grinding, That the gods had brightly burnished, Thrust it in the leathern scabbard, Tied the scabbard to his armor. How do heroes guard from danger, Where protect themselves from evil? Heroes guard their homes and firesides, Guard their doors, and roofs, and windows, Guard the posts that bold the torch-lights, Guard the highways to the court-yard, Guard the ends of all the gate-ways. Heroes guard themselves from women, Carefully from merry maidens; If in this their strength be wanting, Easy fall the heroes, victims To the snares of the enchanters. Furthermore are heroes watchful Of the tribes of warlike giants, Where the highway doubly branches, On the borders of the blue-rock, On the marshes filled with evil, Near the mighty fall of waters, Near the circling of the whirlpool, Near the fiery springs and rapids. Spake the stout-heart, Lemminkainen: "Rise ye heroes of the broadsword, Ye, the earth's eternal heroes, From the deeps, ye sickle-bearers, From the brooks, ye crossbow-shooters, Come, thou forest, with thine archers, Come, ye thickets, with your armies, Mountain spirits, with your powers, Come, fell Hisi, with thy horrors, Water-mother, with thy dangers, Come, Wellamo, with thy mermaids, Come, ye maidens from the valleys, Come, ye nymphs from winding rivers, Be protection to this hero, Be his day-and-night companions, Body-guard to Lemminkainen, Thus to blunt the spears of wizards, Thus to dull their pointed arrows, That the spears of the enchanters, That the arrows of the archers, That the weapons of the foemen, May not harm this bearded hero. "Should this force be insufficient, I can call on other powers, I can call the gods above me, Call the great god of the heavens, Him who gives the clouds their courses, Him who rules through boundless ether, Who directs the march of storm-winds. "Ukko, thou O God above me, Thou the father of creation, Thou that speakest through the thunder, Thou whose weapon is the lightning, Thou whose voice is borne by ether, Grant me now thy mighty fire-sword, Give me here thy burning arrows, Lightning arrows for my quiver, Thus protect me from all danger, Guard me from the wiles of witches, Guide my feet from every evil, Help me conquer the enchanters, Help me drive them from the Northland; Those that stand in front of battle, Those that fill the ranks behind me, Those around me, those above me, Those beneath me, help me banish,. With their knives, and swords, and cross-bows, With their spears of keenest temper, With their tongues of evil magic; Help me drive these Lapland wizards To the deepest depths of ocean, There to wrestle with Wellamo." Then the reckless Lemminkainen Whistled loudly for his stallion, Called the racer from the hurdles, Called his brown steed from the pasture, Threw the harness on the courser, Hitched the fleet-foot to the snow-sledge, Leaped upon the highest cross-bench, Cracked his whip above the racer, And the steed flies onward swiftly, Bounds the sleigh upon its journey, And the golden plain re-echoes; Travels one day, then a second, Travels all the next day northward, Till the third day evening brings him To a sorry Northland village, On the dismal shores of Lapland. Here the hero, Lemminkainen, Drove along the lowest highway, Through the streets along the border, To a court-yard in the hamlet, Asked one standing in the doorway: "Is there one within this dwelling, That can loose my stallion's breastplate, That can lift his heavy collar, That these shafts can rightly lower?" On the floor a babe was playing, And the young child gave this answer: "There is no one in this dwelling That can loose thy stallion's breastplate, That can lift his heavy collar, That the shafts can rightly lower." Lemminkainen, not discouraged, Whips his racer to a gallop, Rushes forward through the village, On the middle of the highways, To the court-yard in the centre, Asks one standing in the threshold, Leaning on the penthouse door-posts: "Is there any one here dwelling That can slip my stallion's bridle, That can loose his leathern breast-straps, That can tend my royal racer?" From the fire-place spake a wizard, From her bench the witch made answer: "Thou canst find one in this dwelling, That can slip thy courser's bridle, That can loose his heavy breastplate, That can tend thy royal racer. There are here a thousand heroes That can make thee hasten homeward, That can give thee fleet-foot stallions, That can chase thee to thy country, Reckless rascal and magician, To thy home and fellow minstrels, To the uplands of thy father, To the cabins of thy mother, To the work-bench of thy brother, To the dairy or thy sister, Ere the evening star has risen, Ere the sun retires to slumber." Lemminkainen, little fearing, Gives this answer to the wizard: "I should slay thee for thy pertness, That thy clatter might be silenced." Then he whipped his fiery charger, And the steed flew onward swiftly, On the upper of the highways, To the court-yard on the summit. When the reckless Lemminkainen Had approached the upper court-yard, Uttered he the words that follow: "O thou Hisi, stuff this watch-dog, Lempo, stuff his throat and nostrils, Close the mouth of this wild barker, Bridle well the vicious canine, That the watcher may be silent While the hero passes by him." Then he stepped within the court-room, With his whip he struck the flooring, From the floor arose a vapor, In the fog appeared a pigmy, Who unhitched the royal racer, From his back removed the harness, Gave the weary steed attention. Then the hero, Lemminkainen, Carefully advanced and listened. No one saw the strange magician, No one heard his cautious footsteps; Heard he songs within the dwelling, Through the moss-stuffed chinks heard voices. Through the walls he beard them singing, Through the doors the peals of laughter. Then he spied within the court-rooms, Lurking slyly in the hall-ways, Found the court-rooms filled with singers, By the walls were players seated, Near the doors the wise men hovered, Skilful ones upon the benches, Near the fires the wicked wizards; All were singing songs of Lapland, Singing songs of evil Hisi. Now the minstrel, Lemminkainen, Changes both his form and stature, Passes through the inner door-ways, Enters he the spacious court-hall, And these words the hero utters: "Fine the singing quickly ending, Good the song that quickly ceases; Better far to keep thy wisdom Than to sing it on the house-tops." Comes the hostess of Pohyola, Fleetly rushing through the door-way, To the centre of the court-room, And addresses thus the stranger: Formerly a dog lay watching, Was a cur of iron-color, Fond of flesh, a bone-devourer, Loved to lick the blood of strangers. Who then art thou of the heroes, Who of all the host of heroes, That thou art within my court-rooms, That thou comest to my dwelling, Was not seen without my portals, Was not scented by my watch-dogs? Spake the reckless Lemminkainen: "Do not think that I come hither Having neither wit nor wisdom, Having neither art nor power, Wanting in ancestral knowledge, Lacking prudence of the fathers, That thy watch-dogs may devour me. "My devoted mother washed me, When a frail and tender baby, Three times in the nights of summer, Nine times in the nights of autumn, That upon my journeys northward I might sing the ancient wisdom, Thus protect myself from danger; When at home I sing as wisely As the minstrels of thy hamlet." Then the singer, Lemminkainen, Ancient hero, Kaukomieli, Quick began his incantations, Straightway sang the songs of witchcraft, From his fur-robe darts the lightning, Flames outshooting from his eye-balls, From the magic of his singing From his wonderful enchantment. Sang the very best of singers To the very worst of minstrels, Filled their mouths with dust and ashes, Piled the rocks upon their shoulders, Stilled the best of Lapland witches, Stilled the sorcerers and wizards. Then he banished all their heroes, Banished all their proudest minstrels, This one hither, that one thither, To the lowlands poor in verdure, To the unproductive uplands, To the oceans wanting whiting, To the waterfalls of Rutya, To the whirlpool hot and flaming, To the waters decked with sea-foam, Into fires and boiling waters, Into everlasting torment. Then the hero, Lemminkainen, Sang the foemen with their broadswords? Sang the heroes with their weapons, Sang the eldest, sang the youngest, Sang the middle-aged, enchanted; Only one he left his senses, He a poor, defenseless shepherd, Old and sightless, halt and wretched, And the old man's name was Nasshut. Spake the miserable shepherd: "Thou hast old and young enchanted, Thou hast banished all our heroes, Why hast spared this wretched shepherd?" This is Lemminkainen's answer: "Therefore have I not bewitched thee: Thou art old, and blind, and wretched Feeble-minded thou, and harmless, Loathsome now without my magic. Thou didst, in thy better life-time, When a shepherd filled with malice, Ruin all thy mother's berries, Make thy sister, too unworthy, Ruin all thy brother's cattle, Drive to death thy father's stallions, Through the marshes, o'er the meadows, Through the lowlands, o'er the mountains, Heeding not thy mother's counsel." Thereupon the wretched Nasshut, Angry grew and swore for vengeance, Straightway limping through the door-way, Hobbled on beyond the court-yard, O'er the meadow-lands and pastures, To the river of the death-land, To the holy stream and whirlpool, To the kingdom of Tuoni, To the islands of Manala; Waited there for Kaukomieli, Listened long for Lemminkainen, Thinking he must pass this river On his journey to his country, On. the highway to the islands, From the upper shores of Pohya, From the dreary Sariola.



RUNE XIII.



LEMMINIKAINEN'S SECOND WOOING.

Spake the ancient Lemminkainen To the hostess of Pohyola: "Give to me thy lovely daughter, Bring me now thy winsome maiden, Bring the best of Lapland virgins, Fairest virgin of the Northland." Louhi, hostess of Pohyola, Answered thus the wild magician: "I shall never give my daughter, Never give my fairest maiden, Not the best one, nor the worst one, Not the largest, nor the smallest; Thou hast now one wife-companion, Thou has taken hence one hostess, Carried off the fair Kyllikki." This is Lemminkainen's answer: To my home I took Kyllikki, To my cottage on the island, To my entry-gates and kindred; Now I wish a better hostess, Straightway bring thy fairest daughter, Worthiest of all thy virgins, Fairest maid with sable tresses." Spake the hostess of Pohyola: "Never will I give my daughter To a hero false and worthless, To a minstrel vain and evil; Therefore, pray thou for my maiden, Therefore, woo the sweet-faced flower, When thou bringest me the wild-moose From the Hisi fields and forests." Then the artful Lemminkainen Deftly whittled out his javelins, Quickly made his leathern bow-string, And prepared his bow and arrows, And soliloquized as follows: "Now my javelins are made ready, All my arrows too are ready, And my oaken cross-bow bended, But my snow-shoes are not builded, Who will make me worthy snow-shoes?" Lemminkainen, grave and thoughtful, Long reflected, well considered, Where the snow-shoes could be fashioned, Who the artist that could make them; Hastened to the Kauppi-smithy, To the smithy of Lylikki, Thus addressed the snow-shoe artist: "O thou skilful Woyalander, Kauppi, ablest smith of Lapland, Make me quick two worthy snow-shoes, Smooth them well and make them hardy, That in Tapio the wild-moose, Roaming through the Hisi-forests, I may catch and bring to Louhi, As a dowry for her daughter." Then Lylikki thus made answer, Kauppi gave this prompt decision: "Lemminkainen, reckless minstrel, Thou wilt hunt in vain the wild-moose, Thou wilt catch but pain and torture, In the Hisi fens and forests." Little heeding, Lemminkainen Spake these measures to Lylikki "Make for me the worthy snow-shoes, Quickly work and make them ready; Go I will and catch the blue-moose Where in Tapio it browses, In the Hisi woods and snow-fields." Then Lylikki, snow-shoe-maker, Ancient Kauppi, master artist, Whittled in the fall his show-shoes, Smoothed them in the winter evenings, One day working on the runners, All the next day making stick-rings, Till at last the shoes were finished, And the workmanship was perfect. Then he fastened well the shoe-straps, Smooth as adder's skin the woodwork, Soft as fox-fur were the stick-rings; Oiled he well his wondrous snow-shoes With the tallow of the reindeer; When he thus soliloquizes, These the accents of Lylikki: "Is there any youth in Lapland, Any in this generation, That can travel in these snow-shoes, That can move the lower sections?" Spake the reckless Lemminkainen, Full of hope, and life, and vigor: Surely there is one in Lapland. In this rising generation, That can travel in these snow-shoes, That the right and left can manage." To his back he tied the quiver, Placed the bow upon his shoulder, With both hands he grasped his snow-cane, Speaking meanwhile words as follow: "There is nothing in the woodlands, Nothing in the world of Ukko, Nothing underneath the heavens, In the uplands, in the lowlands, Nothing in the snow-fields running, Not a fleet deer of the forest, That could not be overtaken With the snow-shoes of Lylikki, With the strides of Lemminkainen." Wicked Hisi heard these measures, Juntas listened to their echoes; Straightway Hisi called the wild-moose, Juutas fashioned soon a reindeer, And the head was made of punk-wood, Horns of naked willow branches, Feet were furnished by the rushes, And the legs, by reeds aquatic, Veins were made of withered grasses, Eyes, from daisies of the meadows, Ears were formed of water-flowers, And the skin of tawny fir-bark, Out of sappy wood, the muscles, Fair and fleet, the magic reindeer. Juutas thus instructs the wild-moose, These the words of wicked Hisi: Flee away, thou moose of Juutas, Flee away, thou Hisi-reindeer, Like the winds, thou rapid courser, To the snow-homes of the ranger, To the ridges of the mountains, To the snow-capped hills of Lapland, That thy hunter may be worn out, Thy pursuer be tormented, Lemminkainen be exhausted." Thereupon the Hisi-reindeer, Juutas-moose with branching antlers, Fleetly ran through fen and forest, Over Lapland's hills and valleys, Through the open fields and court-yards, Through the penthouse doors and gate-ways, Turning over tubs of water, Threw the kettles from the fire-pole, And upset the dishes cooking. Then arose a fearful uproar, In the court-yards of Pohyola, Lapland-dogs began their barking, Lapland-children cried in terror, Lapland-women roared with laughter, And the Lapland-heroes shouted. Fleetly followed Lemminkainen, Followed fast, and followed faster, Hastened on behind the wild-moose, Over swamps and through the woodlands, Over snow-fields vast and pathless, Over high uprising mountains, Fire out-shooting from his runners, Smoke arising from his snow-cane: Could not hear the wild-moose bounding, Could not sight the flying fleet-foot; Glided on through field and forest, Glided over lakes and rivers, Over lands beyond the smooth-sea, Through the desert plains of Hisi, Glided o'er the plains of Kalma, Through the kingdom of Tuoni, To the end of Kalma's empire, Where the jaws of Death stand open, Where the head of Kalma lowers, Ready to devour the stranger, To devour wild Lemminkainen; But Tuoni cannot reach him, Kalma cannot overtake him. Distant woods are yet untraveled, Far away a woodland corner Stands unsearched by Kaukomieli, In the North's extensive, borders, In the realm of dreary Lapland. Now the hero, on his snow-shoes, Hastens to the distant woodlands, There to hunt the moose of Piru. As he nears the woodland corner, There he bears a frightful uproar, From the Northland's distant borders, From the dreary fields of Lapland, Hears the dogs as they are barking, Hears the children loudly screaming, Hears the laughter or the women, Hears the shouting of the heroes. Thereupon wild Lemminkainen Hastens forward on his snow-shoes, To the place where dogs are barking, To the distant woods of Lapland. When the reckless Kaukomieli Had approached this Hisi corner, Straightway he began to question: "Why this laughter or the women, Why the screaming of the children, Why the shouting of the heroes, Why this barking of the watch-dogs? This reply was promptly given: "This the reason for this uproar, Women laughing, children screaming, Heroes shouting, watch-dogs barking Hisi's moose came running hither, Hither came the Piru-Reindeer, Hither came with hoofs of silver, Through the open fields and court-yards, Through the penthouse doors and gate-ways, Turning over tubs or water, Threw the kettles from the fire-pole, And upset the dishes cooking." Then the hero, Lemminkainen, Straightway summoned all his courage, Pushed ahead his mighty snow-shoes, Swift as adders in the stubble, Levelled bushes in the marshes, Like the swift and fiery serpents, Spake these words of magic import, Keeping balance with his snow-staff: Come thou might of Lapland heroes, Bring to me the moose of Juutas; Come thou strength of Lapland-women, And prepare the boiling caldron; Come, thou might of Lapland children, Bring together fire and fuel; Come, thou strength of Lapland-kettles, Help to boil the Hisi wild-moose." Then with mighty force and courage, Lemminkainen hastened onward, Striking backward, shooting forward; With a long sweep of his snow-shoe, Disappeared from view the hero; With the second, shooting further, Was the hunter out of hearing, With the third the hero glided On the shoulders of the wild-moose; Took a pole of stoutest oak-wood, Took some bark-strings from the willow, Wherewithal to bind the moose-deer, Bind him to his oaken hurdle. To the moose he spake as follows: "Here remain, thou moose of Juutas Skip about, my bounding courser, In my hurdle jump and frolic, Captive from the fields of Piru, From the Hisi glens and mountains." Then he stroked the captured wild-moose, Patted him upon his forehead, Spake again in measured accents: "I would like awhile to linger, I would love to rest a moment In the cottage of my maiden, With my virgin, young and lovely." Then the Hisi-moose grew angry, Stamped his feet and shook his antlers, Spake these words to Lemminkainen: "Surely Lempo soon will got thee, Shouldst thou sit beside the maiden, Shouldst thou linger by the virgin." Now the wild-moose stamps and rushes, Tears in two the bands of willow, Breaks the oak-wood pole in pieces, And upturns the hunter's hurdle, Quickly leaping from his captor, Bounds away with strength of freedom, Over hills and over lowlands, Over swamps and over snow-fields, Over mountains clothed in heather, That the eye may not behold him, Nor the hero's ear detect him. Thereupon the mighty hunter Angry grows, and much disheartened, Starts again the moose to capture, Gliding off behind the courser. With his might he plunges forward; At the instep breaks his snow-shoe, Breaks the runners into fragments, On the mountings breaks his javelins, In the centre breaks his snow-staff, And the moose bounds on before him, Through the Hisi-woods and snow-fields, Out of reach of Lemminkainen. Then the reckless Kaukomieli Looked with bended head, ill-humored, One by one upon the fragments, Speaking words of ancient wisdom: "Northland hunters, never, never, Go defiant to thy forests, In the Hisi vales and mountains, There to hunt the moose of Juutas, Like this senseless, reckless hero; I have wrecked my magic snow-shoes, Ruined too my useful snow-staff, And my javelins I have broken, While the wild-moose runs in safety Through the Hisi fields and forests."



RUNE XIV.



DEATH OF LEMMINKAINEN.

Lemminkainen, much disheartened, Deeply thought and long considered, What to do, what course to follow, Whether best to leave the wild-moose In the fastnesses of Hisi, And return to Kalevala, Or a third time hunt the ranger, Hoping thus to bring him captive, Thus return at last a victor To the forest home of Louhi, To the joy of all her daughters, To the wood-nymph's happy fireside. Taking courage Lemminkainen Spake these words in supplication: "Ukko, thou O God above me, Thou Creator of the heavens, Put my snow-shoes well in order, And endow them both with swiftness, That I rapidly may journey Over marshes, over snow-fields, Over lowlands, over highlands, Through the realms of wicked Hisi, Through the distant plains of Lapland, Through the paths of Lempo's wild-moose, To the forest hills of Juutas. To the snow-fields shall I journey, Leave the heroes to the woodlands, On the way to Tapiola, Into Tapio's wild dwellings. "Greeting bring I to the mountains, Greeting to the vales and uplands, Greet ye, heights with forests covered, Greet ye, ever-verdant fir-trees, Greet ye, groves of whitened aspen, Greetings bring to those that greet you, Fields, and streams, and woods of Lapland. Bring me favor, mountain-woodlands, Lapland-deserts, show me kindness, Mighty Tapio, be gracious, Let me wander through thy forests, Let me glide along thy rivers, Let this hunter search thy snow-fields, Where the wild-moose herds in numbers Where the bounding reindeer lingers. "O Nyrikki, mountain hero, Son of Tapio of forests, Hero with the scarlet head-gear, Notches make along the pathway, Landmarks upward to the mountains, That this hunter may not wander, May not fall, and falling perish In the snow-fields of thy kingdom, Hunting for the moose of Hisi, Dowry for the pride of Northland. "Mistress of the woods, Mielikki, Forest-mother, formed in beauty, Let thy gold flow out abundant, Let thy silver onward wander, For the hero that is seeking For the wild-moose of thy kingdom; Bring me here thy keys of silver, From the golden girdle round thee; Open Tapio's rich chambers, And unlock the forest fortress, While I here await the booty, While I hunt the moose of Lempo. "Should this service be too menial Give the order to thy servants, Send at once thy servant-maidens, And command it to thy people. Thou wilt never seem a hostess, If thou hast not in thy service, Maidens ready by the hundreds, Thousands that await thy bidding, Who thy herds may watch and nurture, Tend the game of thy dominions. "Tall and slender forest-virgin, Tapio's beloved daughter, Blow thou now thy honey flute-notes, Play upon thy forest-whistle, For the hearing of thy mistress, For thy charming woodland-mistress, Make her hear thy sweet-toned playing, That she may arise from slumber. Should thy mistress not awaken At the calling of thy flute-notes, Play again, and play unceasing, Make the golden tongue re-echo." Wild and daring Lemminkainen Steadfast prays upon his journey, Calling on the gods for succor, Hastens off through fields and moorlands, Passes on through cruel brush-wood, To the colliery of Hisi, To the burning fields of Lempo; Glided one day, then a second, Glided all the next day onward, Till he came to Big-stone mountain, Climbed upon its rocky summit, Turned his glances to the north-west, Toward the Northland moors and marshes; There appeared the Tapio-mansion. All the doors were golden-colored, Shining in the gleam of sunlight Through the thickets on the mountains, Through the distant fields of Northland. Lemminkainen, much encouraged, Hastens onward from his station Through the lowlands, o'er the uplands, Over snow-fields vast and vacant, Under snow-robed firs and aspens, Hastens forward, happy-hearted, Quickly reaches Tapio's court-yards, Halts without at Tapio's windows, Slyly looks into her mansion, Spies within some kindly women, Forest-dames outstretched before him, All are clad in scanty raiment, Dressed in soiled and ragged linens. Spake the stranger Lemminkainen: "Wherefore sit ye, forest-mothers, In your old and simple garments, In your soiled and ragged linen? Ye, forsooth! are too untidy, Too unsightly your appearance In your tattered gowns appareled. When I lived within the forest, There were then three mountain castles, One of horn and one of ivory, And the third of wood constructed; In their walls were golden windows, Six the windows in each castle, Through these windows I discovered All the host of Tapio's mansion, Saw its fair and stately hostess; Saw great Tapio's lovely daughter, Saw Tellervo in her beauty, With her train of charming maidens; All were dressed in golden raiment, Rustled all in gold and silver. Then the forest's queenly hostess, Still the hostess of these woodlands, On her arms wore golden bracelets, Golden rings upon her fingers, In her hair were sparkling, jewels, On her bead were golden fillets, In her ears were golden ear-rings, On her neck a pearly necklace, And her braidlets, silver-tinselled. "Lovely hostess of the forest, Metsola's enchanting mistress, Fling aside thine ugly straw-shoes, Cast away the shoes of birch-bark, Doff thy soiled and ragged linen, Doff thy gown of shabby fabric, Don the bright and festive raiment, Don the gown of merry-making, While I stay within thy borders, While I seek my forest-booty, Hunt the moose of evil Hisi. Here my visit will be irksome, Here thy guest will be ill-humored, Waiting in thy fields and woodlands, Hunting here the moose of Lempo, Finding not the Hisi-ranger, Shouldst thou give me no enjoyment, Should I find no joy, nor respite. Long the eve that gives no pleasure, Long the day that brings no guerdon! "Sable-bearded god of forests, In thy hat and coat of ermine, Robe thy trees in finest fibers, Deck thy groves in richest fabrics, Give the fir-trees shining silver, Deck with gold the slender balsams, Give the spruces copper belting, And the pine-trees silver girdles, Give the birches golden flowers, Deck their stems with silver fret-work, This their garb in former ages, When the days and nights were brighter, When the fir-trees shone like sunlight, And the birches like the moonbeams; Honey breathed throughout the forest, Settled in the glens and highlands Spices in the meadow-borders, Oil out-pouring from the lowlands. "Forest daughter, lovely virgin, Golden maiden, fair Tulikki, Second of the Tapio-daughters, Drive the game within these borders, To these far-extending snow-fields. Should the reindeer be too sluggish, Should the moose-deer move too slowly Cut a birch-rod from the thicket, Whip them hither in their beauty, Drive the wild-moose to my hurdle, Hither drive the long-sought booty To the hunter who is watching, Waiting in the Hisi-forests. "When the game has started hither, Keep them in the proper highway, Hold thy magic hands before them, Guard them well on either road-side, That the elk may not escape thee, May not dart adown some by-path. Should, perchance, the moose-deer wander Through some by-way of the forest, Take him by the ears and antlers, Hither lead the pride of Lempo. "If the path be filled with brush-wood Cast the brush-wood to the road-side; If the branches cross his pathway, Break the branches into fragments; Should a fence of fir or alder Cross the way that leads him hither. Make an opening within it, Open nine obstructing fences; If the way be crossed by streamlets, If the path be stopped by rivers, Make a bridge of silken fabric, Weaving webs of scarlet color, Drive the deer-herd gently over, Lead them gently o'er the waters, O'er the rivers of thy forests, O'er the streams of thy dominions. "Thou, the host of Tapio's mansion, Gracious host of Tapiola, Sable-bearded god of woodlands, Golden lord of Northland forests, Thou, O Tapio's worthy hostess, Queen of snowy woods, Mimerkki, Ancient dame in sky-blue vesture, Fenland-queen in scarlet ribbons, Come I to exchange my silver, To exchange my gold and silver; Gold I have, as old as moonlight, Silver of the age of sunshine, In the first of years was gathered, In the heat and pain of battle; It will rust within my pouches, Soon will wear away and perish, If it be not used in trading." Long the hunter, Lemminkainen, Glided through the fen and forest, Sang his songs throughout the woodlands, Through three mountain glens be sang them, Sang the forest hostess friendly, Sang he, also, Tapio friendly, Friendly, all the forest virgins, All of Metsola's fair daughters. Now they start the herds of Lempo, Start the wild-moose from his shelter, In the realms of evil Hisi, Tapio's highest mountain-region; Now they drive the ranger homeward, To the open courts of Piru, To the hero that is waiting, Hunting for the moose of Juutas. When the herd had reached the castle, Lemminkainen threw his lasso O'er the antlers of the blue-moose, Settled on the neck and shoulders Of the mighty moose of Hisi. Then the hunter, Kaukomieli, Stroked his captive's neck in safety, For the moose was well-imprisoned. Thereupon gay Lemminkainen Filled with joyance spake as follows: "Pride of forests, queen of woodlands, Metsola's enchanted hostess, Lovely forest dame, Mielikki, Mother-donor of the mountains, Take the gold that I have promised, Come and take away the silver; Spread thy kerchief well before me, Spread out here thy silken neck-wrap, Underneath the golden treasure, Underneath the shining silver, that to earth it may not settle, Scattered on the snows of winter." Then the hero went a victor To the dwellings of Pohyola, And addressed these words to Louhi: "I have caught the moose of Hisi, In the Metsola-dominions, Give, O hostess, give thy daughter, Give to me thy fairest virgin, Bride of mine to be hereafter." Louhi, hostess of the Northland, Gave this answer to the suitor: "I will give to thee my daughter, For thy wife my fairest maiden, When for me thou'lt put a bridle On the flaming horse of Hisi, Rapid messenger of Lempo, On the Hisi-plains and pastures." Nothing daunted, Lemminkainen Hastened forward to accomplish Louhi's second test of heroes, On the cultivated lowlands, On the sacred fields and forests. Everywhere he sought the racer, Sought the fire-expiring stallion, Fire out-shooting from his nostrils. Lemminkainen, fearless hunter, Bearing in his belt his bridle, On his shoulders, reins and halter, Sought one day, and then a second, Finally, upon the third day, Went he to the Hisi-mountain, Climbed, and struggled to the summit; To the east he turned his glances, Cast his eyes upon the sunrise, There beheld the flaming courser, On the heath among the far-trees. Lempo's fire-expiring stallion Fire and mingled smoke, out-shooting From his mouth, and eyes, and nostrils. Spake the daring Lemminkainen, This the hero's supplication: "Ukko, thou O God above me, Thou that rulest all the storm-clouds, Open thou the vault of heaven, Open windows through the ether, Let the icy rain come falling, Lot the heavy hailstones shower On the flaming horse of Hisi, On the fire-expiring stallion." Ukko, the benign Creator, Heard the prayer of Lemminkainen, Broke apart the dome of heaven, Rent the heights of heaven asunder, Sent the iron-hail in showers, Smaller than the heads of horses, Larger than the heads of heroes, On the flaming steed of Lempo, On the fire-expiring stallion, On the terror of the Northland. Lemminkainen, drawing nearer, Looked with care upon the courser, Then he spake the words that follow: "Wonder-steed of mighty Hisi, Flaming horse of Lempo's mountain, Bring thy mouth of gold, assenting, Gently place thy head of silver In this bright and golden halter, In this silver-mounted bridle. I shall never harshly treat thee, Never make thee fly too fleetly, On the way to Sariola, On the tracks of long duration, To the hostess of Pohyola, To her magic courts and stables, Will not lash thee on thy journey; I shall lead thee gently forward, Drive thee with the reins of kindness, Cover thee with silken blankets." Then the fire-haired steed of Juutas, Flaming horse of mighty Hisi, Put his bead of shining silver, In the bright and golden bead-stall, In the silver-mounted bridle. Thus the hero, Lemminkainen, Easy bridles Lempo's stallion, Flaming horse of evil Piru; Lays the bits within his fire-mouth, On his silver head, the halter, Mounts the fire-expiring courser, Brandishes his whip of willow, Hastens forward on his journey, Bounding o'er the hills and mountains, Dashing through the valleys northward, O'er the snow-capped hills of Lapland, To the courts of Sariola. Then the hero, quick dismounting, Stepped within the court of Louhi, Thus addressed the Northland hostess: "I have bridled Lempo's fire-horse, I have caught the Hisi-racer, Caught the fire-expiring stallion, In the Piru plains and pastures, Ridden him within thy borders; I have caught the moose of Lempo, I have done what thou demandest; Give, I pray thee, now thy daughter, Give to me thy fairest maiden, Bride of mine to be forever." Louhi, hostess of Pohyola, Made this answer to the suitor: "I will only give my daughter, Give to thee my fairest virgin, Bride of thine to be forever, When for me the swan thou killest In the river of Tuoni, Swimming in the black death-river, In the sacred stream and whirlpool; Thou canst try one cross-bow only, But one arrow from thy quiver." Then the reckless Lemminkainen, Handsome hero, Kaukomieli, Braved the third test of the hero, Started out to hunt the wild-swan, Hunt the long-necked, graceful swimmer, In Tuoni's coal-black river, In Manala's lower regions. Quick the daring hunter journeyed, Hastened off with fearless footsteps, To the river of Tuoni, To the sacred stream and whirlpool, With his bow upon his shoulder, With his quiver and one arrow. Nasshut, blind and crippled shepherd, Wretched shepherd of Pohyola, Stood beside the death-land river, Near the sacred stream and whirlpool, Guarding Tuonela's waters, Waiting there for Lemminkainen, Listening there for Kaukomieli, Waiting long the hero's coming. Finally he hears the footsteps Of the hero on his journey, Hears the tread of Lemminkainen, As he journeys nearer, nearer, To the river of Tuoni, To the cataract of death-land, To the sacred stream and whirlpool. Quick the wretched shepherd, Nasshut, From the death-stream sends a serpent, Like an arrow from a cross-bow, To the heart of Lemminkainen, Through the vitals of the hero. Lemminkainen, little conscious, Hardly knew that be was injured, Spake these measures as he perished. "Ah! unworthy is my conduct, Ah! unwisely have I acted, That I did not heed my mother, Did not take her goodly counsel, Did not learn her words of magic. Oh I for three words with my mother, How to live, and bow to suffer, In this time of dire misfortune, How to bear the stings of serpents, Tortures of the reed of waters, From the stream of Tuonela! "Ancient mother who hast borne me, Who hast trained me from my childhood, Learn, I pray thee, where I linger, Where alas! thy son is lying, Where thy reckless hero suffers. Come, I pray thee, faithful mother, Come thou quickly, thou art needed, Come deliver me from torture, From the death-jaws of Tuoni, From the sacred stream and whirlpool." Northland's old and wretched shepherd, Nasshut, the despised protector Of the flocks of Sariola, Throws the dying Lemminkainen, Throws the hero of the islands, Into Tuonela's river, To the blackest stream of death-land, To the worst of fatal whirlpools. Lemminkainen, wild and daring, Helpless falls upon the waters, Floating down the coal-black current, Through the cataract and rapids To the tombs of Tuonela. There the blood-stained son of death-land, There Tuoni's son and hero, Cuts in pieces Lemminkainen, Chops him with his mighty hatchet, Till the sharpened axe strikes flint-sparks From the rocks within his chamber, Chops the hero into fragments, Into five unequal portions, Throws each portion to Tuoni, In Manala's lowest kingdom, Speaks these words when he has ended: "Swim thou there, wild Lemminkainen, Flow thou onward in this river, Hunt forever in these waters, With thy cross-bow and thine arrow, Shoot the swan within this empire, Shoot our water-birds in welcome!" Thus the hero, Lemminkainen, Thus the handsome Kaukomieli, The untiring suitor, dieth In the river of Tuoni, In the death-realm of Manala.



RUNE XV.



LEMMINKAINEN'S RESTORATION.

Lemminkainen's aged mother Anxious roams about the islands, Anxious wonders in her chambers, What the fate of Lemminkainen, Why her son so long has tarried; Thinks that something ill has happened To her hero in Pohyola. Sad, indeed, the mother's anguish, As in vain she waits his coming, As in vain she asks the question, Where her daring son is roaming, Whether to the fir-tree mountain, Whether to the distant heath-land, Or upon the broad-sea's ridges, On the floods and rolling waters, To the war's contending armies, To the heat and din of battle, Steeped in blood of valiant heroes, Evidence of fatal warfare. Daily does the wife Kyllikki Look about her vacant chamber, In the home of Lemminkainen, At the court of Kaukomieli; Looks at evening, looks at morning, Looks, perchance, upon his hair-brush, Sees alas! the blood-drops oozing, Oozing from the golden bristles, And the blood-drops, scarlet-colored. Then the beauteous wife, Kyllikki, Spake these words in deeps of anguish: "Dead or wounded is my husband, Or at best is filled with trouble, Lost perhaps in Northland forests, In some glen unknown to heroes, Since alas! the blood is flowing From the brush of Lemminkainen, Red drops oozing from the bristles." Thereupon the anxious mother Looks upon the bleeding hair-brush And begins this wail of anguish: "Woe is me, my life hard-fated, Woe is me, all joy departed! For alas! my son and hero, Valiant hero of the islands, Son of trouble and misfortune! Some sad fate has overtaken My ill-fated Lemminkainen! Blood is flowing from his hair-brush, Oozing from its golden bristles, And the drops are scarlet-colored." Quick her garment's hem she clutches, On her arm she throws her long-robes, Fleetly flies upon her journey; With her might she hastens northward, Mountains tremble from her footsteps, Valleys rise and heights are lowered, Highlands soon become as lowlands, All the hills and valleys levelled. Soon she gains the Northland village, Quickly asks about her hero, These the words the mother utters: "O thou hostess of Pohyola, Where hast thou my Lemminkainen? Tell me of my son and hero!" Louhi, hostess of the Northland, Gives this answer to the mother: "Nothing know I of thy hero, Of the hero of the islands; Where thy son may be I know not, Cannot lend the information; Once I gave thy son a courser, Hitched the racer to his snow-sledge, This the last of Lemminkainen; May perchance be drowned in Wuhne, Frozen In the icy ocean, Fallen prey to wolves in hunger, In a bear's den may have perished." Lemminkainen's mother answers: "Thou art only speaking falsehoods, Northland wolves cannot devour us, Nor the bears kill Kaukomieli; He can slay the wolves of Pohya With the fingers of his left hand; Bears of Northland he would silence With the magic of his singing. "Hostess of Pohyola, tell me Whither thou hast sent my hero; I shall burst thy many garners, Shall destroy the magic Sampo, If thou dost not tell me truly Where to find my Lemminkainen." Spake the hostess of Pohyola: "I have well thy hero treated, Well my court has entertained him, Gave him of my rarest viands, Fed him at my well-filled tables, Placed him in a boat of copper, Thus to float adown the current, This the last of Lemminkainen; Cannot tell where he has wandered. Whether in the foam of waters, Whether in the boiling torrent, Whether in the drowning whirlpool." Lemminkainen's mother answers: Thou again art speaking falsely; Tell me now the truth I pray thee, Make an end of thy deception, Where is now my Lemminkainen, Whither hast thou sent my hero, Young and daring son of Kalew? If a third time thou deceivest, I will send thee plagues, unnumbered, I will send thee fell destruction, Certain death will overtake thee." Spake the hostess of Pohyola: "This the third time that I answer, This the truth that I shall tell thee: I have sent the Kalew-hero To the Hisi-fields and forests, There to hunt the moose of Lempo; Sent him then to catch the fire-horse, Catch the fire-expiring stallion, On the distant plains of Juutas, In the realm of cruel Hisi. Then I sent him to the Death-stream, In the kingdom of Tuoni, With his bow and but one arrow, There to shoot the swan as dowry For my best and fairest daughter; Have not heard about thy hero Since he left for Tuonela; May in misery have fallen, May have perished in Manala; Has not come to ask my daughter, Has not come to woo the maiden, Since he left to hunt the death-swan." Now the mother seeks her lost one, For her son she weeps and trembles, Like the wolf she bounds through fenlands, Like the bear, through forest thickets, Like the wild-boar, through the marshes, Like the hare, along the sea-coast, To the sea-point, like the hedgehog Like the wild-duck swims the waters, Casts the rubbish from her pathway, Tramples down opposing brush-wood, Stops at nothing in her journey Seeks a long time for her hero, Seeks, and seeks, and does not find him. Now she asks the trees the question, And the forest gives this answer: "We have care enough already, Cannot think about thy matters; Cruel fates have we to battle, Pitiful our own misfortunes! We are felled and chopped in pieces, Cut in blocks for hero-fancy, We are burned to death as fuel, No one cares how much we suffer." Now again the mother wanders, Seeks again her long-lost hero, Seeks, and seeks, and does not find him. Paths arise and come to meet her, And she questions thus the pathways: "Paths of hope that God has fashioned, Have ye seen my Lemminkainen, Has my son and golden hero Travelled through thy many kingdoms?" Sad, the many pathways answer: "We ourselves have cares sufficient, Cannot watch thy son and hero, Wretched are the lives of pathways, Deep indeed our own misfortunes; We are trodden by, the red-deer, By the wolves, and bears, and roebucks, Driven o'er by heavy cart-wheels, By the feet of dogs are trodden, Trodden under foot of heroes, Foot-paths for contending armies." Seeks again the frantic mother, Seeks her long-lost son and hero, Seeks, and seeks, and does not find him; Finds the Moon within her orbit, Asks the Moon in pleading measures: "Golden Moon, whom God has stationed In the heavens, the Sun's companion, Hast thou seen my Kaukomieli, Hast thou seen my silver apple, Anywhere in thy dominions? " Thus the golden Moon makes answer: "I have trouble all-sufficient, Cannot watch thy daring hero; Long the journey I must travel, Sad the fate to me befallen, Pitiful