Chapter XXV: The Home-Coming of the Bride and Bridegroom 300 (7)

What provisions were provided,
What did they collect together,
For a lengthy feast at Pohja,
For the multitude of drinkers,
For the feasting of the people,
For the multitude of feasters?

In Carelia grew a bullock,
Fat the ox they reared in Suomi,
Not a large one, not a small one,
But a calf of middle stature. 20
While he switched his tail in Hame
Stooped his head to Kemi's river,
Long his horns one hundred fathoms,
Muzzle broad as half a hundred,
For a week there ran an ermine
All along the yoke he carried,
All day long there flew a swallow
'Twixt the mighty ox's horn-tips,
Striving through the space to hasten,
Nor found resting-place between them; 30
Month-long ran a summer-squirrel
From his neck unto his tail-end,
Nor did he attain the tail-tip,
Till a month had quite passed over.

'Twas this calf of size stupendous,
'Twas this mighty bull of Suomi,
Whom they led forth from Carelia
Till they reached the fields of Pohja.
By his horns, a hundred led him,
And a thousand dragged his muzzle, 40
And they led the ox still further,
Till to Pohjola they brought him.

On his road the ox proceeded
By the Sound of Sariola strayed;
Browsed the grass in marshy places,
While his back the clouds were touching;
But they could not find a butcher,
Who could fell the country's marvel
On the list of Suomi's children,
'Mid the mighty host of people, 50
Not among the youthful people,
Nor among the very aged.

From afar an old man journeyed
Virokannas from Carelia;
And he spoke the words which follow:
"Wait thous wait, thou ox unhappy,
While I go and fetch my mallet.
If I strike you with my mallet
On the skull, unhappy creature,
Never in another summer, 60
Would you turn about your muzzle,
Or your tail would jerk around you,
Here among the fields of Pohja,
By the Sound of Sariola stray."

Then the old man went to strike him,
Virokannas moved against him,
Went to slay the ox unhappy;
But his head the ox was turning,
And his black eyes he was blinking.
To a pine-tree sprang the old man, 70
Virokannas in the bushes,
In the scrubby willow-thicket.

After this they sought a butcher,
Who the mighty ox could slaughter,
From Carelia's lovely country,
From the vast expanse of Suomi,
From the peaceful land of Russia,
From the hardy land of Sweden,
From the regions wide of Lapland,
From the mighty land of Turja, 80
And they sought through Tuoni's regions,
In the depths of Mana's kingdom,
And they sought, but no one found they,
Long they searched; but vainly searched they.

Yet again they sought a butcher,
Sought again to find a slaughterer,
On the ocean's shining surface,
On the wide-extending billows.
From the dark sea rose a hero,
Rose a hero from the sea-swell, 90
From the shining surface rising,
From the wide expanse of water.
He was not among the greatest,
But in nowise of the smallest.
In a bowl would he lie sleeping,
And beneath a sieve stand upright.

'Twas an old man, iron-fisted,
Iron-coloured, too, to gaze on;
On his head a stony helmet;
Shoes of stone his feet protected; 100
In his hand a knife, gold-bladed,
And the haft o'erlaid with copper.

Thus the people found a butcher,
And at length they found a slaughterer,
Who should fell the bull of Suomi,
And should fell the country's marvel.
Scarce had he beheld the quarry,
Than at once his neck he shattered,
On his knees he forced the bullock,
And upon his side he threw him. 110
Did he yield them much provisions?
Not so very much he yielded.
Of his flesh a hundred barrels,
And a hundred fathoms sausage;
Seven boat-loads of blood they gathered,
Six large casks with fat were loaded,
All for Pohjola's great banquet,
Feast of Sariola the misty.

Then they built a house in Pohja,
Built a house with hall enormous, 120
Fathoms nine its sides extended,
And the breadth thereof was seven.
If a cock crowed at the smoke-hole,
Underneath they could not hear it,
If a dog at end was barking,
At the door they did not hear it.

Then did Pohjola's old Mistress
Walk across the flooring's planking,
To the middle of the chamber,
And she pondered and reflected: 130
"How shall I get ale sufficient,
And shall brew the beer most wisely,
To prepare it for the wedding,
When the beer will much be needed?
How to brew the beer I know not,
Nor how ale was first concocted."

By the stove there sat an old man,
From the stove spoke up the old man:
"Ale of barley is concocted,
And the drink with hops is flavoured, 140
Yet they brew not save with water,
And the aid of furious fire.

"Hop is called the son of Revel;
Planted in the ground when little,
With a plough they ploughed the region,
Like an ant, away they cast him
Close to Kaleva's great well-spring,
There where Osmo's field is sloping;
There the tender plant sprang upward,
And the green shoot mounted quickly. 150
Up a little tree it mounted,
Rising to the leafy summit.

"Sowed, by chance, an old man barley,
In the fresh-ploughed field of Osmo,
And the barley sprouted bravely,
And It grew and flourished greatly,
On the new-ploughed field of Osmo,
Kaleva's descendant's cornland.

"But a little time passed over,
When the hops exclaimed from tree-top, 160
And upon the field the barley,
And in Kaleva's well-water,
'When shall we be yoked together,
Each with other be united?
Life in solitude is weary;
Better two or three together.'

"Osmotar, the ale-constructer
She, the maid who beer concocted,
Took, on this, the grains of barley,
Gathered six of grains of barley, 170
Seven hop-tassels next she gathered,
And eight ladles took of water,
Then upon the fire she placed it,
And allowed it there to simmer,
And she boiled the ale of barley
Through the fleeting days of summer,
Out upon the cloudy headland,
Cape upon the shady island;
Poured it then in wooden barrels,
And in tubs of birchwood stored it. 180

"Thus she brewed the ale and stored it,
But the ale was not fermented,
And she pondered and reflected,
And she spoke the words which follow:
'What must now be added to it,
What is needful to provide for,
That the ale may be fermented,
And the beer be brought to foaming?'

"Kalevatar, beauteous maiden,
She the maid with slender fingers, 190
Which she ever moves so deftly,
She whose feet are shod so lightly,
Felt about the seams of staving,
Groping all about the bottom,
Trying one and then the other,
In the midst of both the kettles;
Found a splinter at the bottom,
From the bottom took a splinter.

"Then she turned it and reflected:
'What might perhaps be fashioned from it, 200
In the hands of lovely maiden,
In the noble damsel's fingers,
Brought into the hands of maiden,
To the noble damsel's fingers?'

"In her hands the maiden took it,
In the noble damsel's fingers,
And she clapped her hands together,
Both her hands she rubbed together,
Rubbed them on her thighs together,
And a squirrel white created. 210

"Then she gave her son directions,
And instructed thus the squirrel:
'O thou squirrel, gold of woodlands,
Flower of woodlands, charm of country,
Speed then forth where I shall bid thee,
Where I bid thee and direct thee,
Forth to Metsola's bright regions,
And to Tapiola's great wisdom.
There a little tree upclimbing,
Heedful to the leafy summit, 220
That the eagle may not seize thee,
Nor the bird of air may grasp thee.
From the pine-tree bring me pine-cones,
From the fir bring shoots of fir-tree,
Bring them to the hands of maiden,
For the beer of Osmo's daughter.'

"Knew the squirrel now his pathway,
Trailed his bushy tail behind him,
And his journey soon accomplished,
Quickly through the open spaces, 230
Past one wood, and then a second,
And a third he crossed obliquely,
Into Metsola's bright regions,
And to Tapiola's great wisdom.

"There he saw three lofty pine-trees,
There he saw four slender fir-trees,
Climbed a pine-tree in the valley,
On the heath he climbed a fir-tree,
And the eagle did not seize him,
Nor the bird of air did grasp him. 240

"From the pine he broke the pine-cones,
From the fir the leafy tassels,
In his claws he hid the pine-cones,
And within his paws he rolled them,
To the maiden's hands he brought them,
To the noble damsel's fingers.

"In the beer the maiden laid them,
In the ale she placed them likewise,
But the ale was not fermented,
Nor the fresh drink yet was working. 250

"Osmotar, the ale-preparer,
She, the maid who beer concocted,
Pondered yet again the matter.
'What must now be added to it,
That the ale shall be fermented,
And the beer be brought to foaming?'

"Kalevatar, beauteous maiden,
She, the maid with slender fingers,
Which she ever moves so deftly,
She whose feet are shod so lightly, 260
Felt about the seams of staving,
Groping all about the bottom,
Trying one, and then the other,
In the midst of both the kettles,
Found a chip upon the bottom,
Took the chip from off the bottom.

"Then she turned it and reflected,
'What might perhaps be fashioned from it,
In the hands of lovely maiden,
In the noble damsel's fingers, 270
Brought into the hands of maiden,
To the noble damsel's fingers?'

"In her hands the maiden took it
In the noble damsel's fingers,
And she clapped her hands together,
Both her hands she rubbed together,
Rubbed them on her thighs together,
And she made a gold-breast marten.

"Thus the marten she instructed,
Thus the orphan child directed: 280
'O my marten, O my birdling,
O my fair one, beauteous-hided!
Thither go, where I shall bid thee,
Where I bid thee, and direct thee,
To the Bear's own rocky cavern,
Where the forest bears are prowling,
Where the bears are always fighting,
Where they lurk in all their fierceness.
With thy hands scrape foam together,
In thy paws the foam then carry, 290
To the maiden's hands convey it,
And to Osmo's daughter's shoulders.'

"Understood the way the marten,
Forth the golden-breasted hastened,
And his journey soon accomplished,
Quickly through the open spaces,
Past one wood, and then a second,
And a third he crossed obliquely,
To the Bear's own rocky cavern,
To the caverns bear-frequented, 300
Where the bears are always fighting,
Where they lurk In all their fierceness,
In the rocks as hard as iron,
And among the steel-hard mountains.

"From the bears' mouths foam was dropping,
From their furious jaws exuding;
In his hands the foam he gathered,
With his paws the foam collected,
To the maiden's hands he brought it,
To the noble damsel's fingers. 310

"In the ale the maiden poured it,
In the beer she poured it likewise,
But the ale was not fermented,
Nor the drink of men foamed over.

"Osmotar, the ale-preparer,
She the maid who beer concocted,
Pondered yet again the matter,
'What must now be added to it,
That the ale shall be fermented,
And the beer be brought to foaming?' 320

"Kalevatar, beauteous maiden,
She the maid with slender fingers,
Which she ever moves so deftly,
She whose feet are shod so lightly
Felt about the seams of staving,
Groping all about the bottom,
Trying one and then the other,
Then the space between the kettles,
And a mustard-pod she saw there;
From the ground the pod she lifted. 330

"Then she turned It, and surveyed it,
'What might perhaps be fashioned from it,
In the hands of lovely maiden,
In the noble damsel's fingers,
Brought into the hands of maiden,
To the noble damsel's fingers?'

"In her hands the maiden took it,
In the noble damsel's fingers,
And she clapped her hands together,
Both her hands she rubbed together, 340
Rubbed them on her thighs together,
And a bee she thus created.

"And the bee she thus instructed,
And the bee she thus directed:
'O thou bee, thou bird so nimble,
King of all the flowery meadows,
Thither fly, where I shall bid thee,
Where I bid thee and direct thee,
To an isle on ocean's surface,
Where the reefs arise from ocean. 350
There a maiden lies in slumber,
With her belt of copper loosened;
By her side springs sweetest herbage,
On her lap rest honey grasses,
On thy wings bring sweetest honey,
Bring thou honey on thy clothing,
From the fairest of the herbage,
From the bloom of golden flowerets,
To the maiden's hands convey it,
And to Osmo's daughter's shoulders.' 360

"Then the bee, that bird so nimble,
Flew away, and hastened onward,
And his journey soon accomplished,
Speeding o'er the open spaces,
First across the sea, along it,
Then in an oblique direction,
To an isle on ocean's surface,
Where the reefs arise from ocean.
There he saw the maiden sleeping,
With a tin brooch on her bosom, 370
Resting in an unmowed meadow,
All among the fields of honey;
By her side grew golden grasses,
At her belt sprang silver grasses.

"Then he soaked his wings with honey,
Plunged his plumes in liquid honey,
From the brightest of the herbage,
From the tips of golden flowerets;
To the maiden's hands he brought it,
To the noble damsel's fingers. 380

"In the ale the maiden cast it,
In the beer she poured it likewise,
And the beer at length fermented,
And the fresh drink now foamed upward,
From within the new-made barrels,
From within the tubs of birchwood,
Foaming upward to the handles,
Rushing over all the edges;
To the ground it wished to trickle,
And upon the floor ran downward. 390

"But a little time passed over,
Very little time passed over,
When the heroes flocked to drink it,
Chief among them Lemminkainen.
Drunk was Ahti, drunk was Kauko,
Drunken was the ruddy rascal,
With the ale of Osmo's daughter,
And the beer of Kalevatar.

"Osmotar, the ale-preparer,
She, the maid who beer concocted, 400
Uttered then the words which follow:
'Woe is me, my day is wretched,
For I brewed the ale so badly
And the beer so ill concocted,
That from out the tubs 'tis flowing,
And upon the floor is gushing.'

"From a tree there sang a bullfinch.
From the roof-tree sang a throstle,
'No, the ale is not so worthless;
'Tis the best of ale for drinking; 410
If into the casks you pour it,
And should store it in the cellar,
Store it in the casks of oakwood,
And within the hoops of copper.'

"Thus was ale at first created,
Beer of Kaleva concocted,
Therefore is it praised so highly,
Therefore held in greatest honour,
For the ale is of the finest,
Best of drinks for prudent people; 420
Women soon it brings to laughter,
Men it warms into good humour,
And it makes the prudent merry,
But it brings the fools to raving."

Then did Pohjola's old Mistress,
When she heard how ale was fashioned,
Water pour in tubs the largest,
Half she filled the new-made barrels,
Adding barley as 'twas needed,
Shoots of hop enough she added, 430
And the ale began she brewing,
And the beer began its working,
In the new tubs that contained it,
And within the tubs of birch wood.

'Twas for months the stones were glowing,
And for summers water boiling,
Trees were burning on the islands,
Water from the wells was carried.
Bare of trees they left the islands,
And the lakes were greatly shrunken, 440
For the ale was in the barrels,
And the beer was stored securely
For the mighty feast of Pohja,
For carousing at the mansion.

From the island smoke was rising,
On the headland fire was glowing;
Thick the clouds of smoke were rising,
In the air there rose the vapour.
For the fire was burning fiercely,
And the fire was brightly glowing, 450
Half it filled the land of Pohja,
Over all Carelia spreading.

All the people gazed upon it,
Gazed, and then they asked each other,
"Wherefore is the smoke arising,
In the air the vapour rising?
'Tis too small for smoke of battle,
'Tis too large for herdsman's bonfire."

Then rose Lemminkainen's mother,
At the earliest dawn of morning, 460
And she went to fetch some water.
Clouds of smoke she saw arising,
Up from Pohjola's dominions,
And she spoke the words which follow:
"Perhaps it is the smoke of combat,
Perhaps it is the fire of battle."

Ahti, dweller on the island,
He the handsome Kaukomieli,
Wandered round and gazed about him,
And he pondered and reflected, 470
"I must go and look upon it,
From a nearer spot examine,
Whence the smoke is thus ascending
Filling all the air with vapour,
If it be the smoke of combat,
If it be the fire of battle."

Kauko went to gaze about him,
And to learn whence smoke was rising,
But it was not fire of battle,
Neither was it fire of combat, 480
But 'twas fire where ale was brewing,
Likewise where the beer was brewing,
Near where Sound of Sariola spreads,
Out upon the jutting headland.

Then did Kauko gaze around him,
And one eye he rolled obliquely,
And he squinted with the other,
And his mouth he pursed up slowly,
And at last he spoke, while gazing,
And across the sound he shouted, 490
"O my dearest foster-mother,
Pohjola's most gracious Mistress!
Brew thou ale of extra goodness,
Brew thou beer the best of any,
For carousing at the mansion,
Specially for Lemminkainen,
At my wedding, now preparing,
With thy young and lovely daughter."

Now the ale was quite fermented,
And the drink of men was ripened, 500
And the red ale stored they safely,
And the good beer stored securely.
Underneath the ground they stored it,
Stored it in the rocky cellars,
In the casks of oak constructed,
And behind the taps of copper.

Then did Pohjola's old Mistress
All the food provide for feasting,
And the kettles all were singing,
And the stewpans all were hissing, 510
And large loaves of bread were baking,
And she stirred great pots of porridge,
Thus to feed the crowds of people,
At the banquet at the mansion,
At the mighty feast of Pohja,
The carouse at Sariola dim.

Now the bread they baked was ready,
And were stirred the pots of porridges,
And a little time passed over,
Very little time passed over, 520
When the ale worked in the barrels,
And the beer foamed in the cellars,
"Now must some one come to drink me,
Now must some one come to taste me,
That my fame may be reported,
And that they may sing my praises."

Then they went to seek a minstrel,
Went to seek a famous singer,
One whose voice was of the strongest,
One who knew the finest legends. 530
First to sing they tried a salmon,
If the voice of trout was strongest;
Singing is not work for salmon,
And the pike recites no legends.
Crooked are the jaws of salmon,
And the teeth of pike spread widely.

Yet again they sought a singer,
Went to seek a famous singer,
One whose voice was of the strongest,
One who knew the finest legends, 540
And they took a child for singer,
Thought a boy might sing the strongest.
Singing is not work for children.
Nor are splutterers fit for shouting.
Crooked are the tongues of children,
And the roots thereof are crooked.

Then the red ale grew indignant,
And the fresh drink fell to cursing,
Pent within the oaken barrels,
And behind the taps of copper. 550
"If you do not find a minstrel,
Do not find a famous singer,
One whose voice is of the strongest,
One who knows the finest legends,
Then the hoops I'll burst asunder,
And among the dust will trickle."

Then did Pohjola's old Mistress
Send the guests their invitations,
Sent her messengers to journey,
And she spoke the words which follow: 560
"O my maid, of all the smallest,
O my waiting-maid obedient,
Call the people all together,
To the great carouse invite them,
Call the poor, and call the needy,
Call the blind, and call the wretched,
Call the lame, and call the cripples;
In the boat row thou the blind men;
Bring the lame ones here on horseback,
And in sledges bring the cripples. 570

"Ask thou all the folk of Pohja,
And of Kaleva the people:
Ask the aged Väinämöinen,
Greatest he of all the minstrels,
Only ask not Lemminkainen,
Ask not Ahti Saarelainen."

Then the maid, of all the smallest,
Answered In the words which follow:
"Wherefore ask not Lemminkainen,
Only Ahti Saarelainen?" 580

Then did Pohjola's old Mistress,
In these very words make answer:
"Therefore ask not Kaukomieli,
Not the reckless Lemminkainen.
He is always quick to quarrel,
And to fight is always ready.
And at weddings works he mischief,
And at banquets grievous scandal,
Brings to shame the modest maidens,
Clad in all their festive garments." 590

Then the maid, of all the smallest,
Answered in the words which follow:
"How shall I know Kaukomieli
That I leave him uninvited?
For I know not Ahti's dwelling,
Nor the house of Kaukomieli."

Then did Pohjola's old Mistress,
Answer in the words which follow:
"Easy may you hear of Kauko,
Learn of Ahti Saarelainen. 600
Ahti dwells upon an island,
Dwells the rascal near the water,
Where the bay outspreads the broadest,
At the curve of Kauko's headland."

Then the maid, of all the smallest,
She the handmaid hired for money,
Bid the guests from six directions,
And in eight the news she carried;
All she asked of Pohja's people,
And of Kaleva the people, 610
Of the householders the poorest,
And the poorest clad amongst them,
Only not the youth named Ahti,
For she left him uninvited.

RUNO XXI.--THE WEDDING FEAST AT POHJOLA

_Argument_

The bridegroom and his party are received at Pohjola (1-226). The guests are hospitably entertained with abundance of food and drink (227-252). Väinämöinen sings and praises the people of the house (253-438).

Then did Pohjola's old Mistress,
Crone of Sariola the misty,
Sometimes out of doors employ her,
Sometimes in the house was busied;
And she heard how whips were cracking,
On the shore heard sledges rattling,
And her eyes she turned to northward,
Towards the sun her head then turning,
And she pondered and reflected,
"Wherefore are these people coming 10
On my shore, to me unhappy?
Is it perhaps a hostile army?"

So she went to gaze around her,
And observe the portent nearer;
It was not a hostile army,
But of guests a great assembly,
And her son-in-law amid them,
With a mighty host of people.

Then did Pohjola's old Mistress,
Crone of Sariola the misty, 20
When she saw the bridegroom's party,
Speak aloud the words which follow:
"As I thought, the wind was blowing
And a faggot-stack overthrowing,
On the beach the billows breaking,
On the strand the shingle rattling.
So I went to gaze around me,
And observe the portent nearer;
But I found no wind was blowing,
Nor the faggot-stack was falling, 30
On the beach no waves were breaking,
On the strand no shingle rattling.
'Twas my son-in-law's assemblage,
Twice a hundred men in number.

"How shall I detect the bridegroom
In the concourse of the people?
He is known among the people,
As in clumps of trees the cherry,
Like an oak-tree in the thickets,
Or the moon, 'mid stars in heaven. 40

"Black the steed that he is driving;
Which a ravenous wolf resembles;
Or a raven, keen for quarry,
Or a lark, with fluttering pinions.
Six there are of golden song-birds,
On his shafts all sweetly singing,
And of blue birds, seven are singing
Sitting on the sledge's traces."

From the road was heard a clatter,
Past the well the runners rattled, 50
In the court arrived the bridegroom,
In the yard the people with him,
In the midst appeared the bridegroom,
With the greatest of the party.
He was not the first among them,
But by no means last among them.

"Off, ye youths, and out ye heroes,
To the court, O ye who loiter,
That ye may remove the breastbands,
And the traces ye may loosen, 60
That the shafts may quick be lowered:
Lead into the house the bridegroom."

Then the bridegroom's horse sped onward,
And the bright-hued sledge drew forward
Through the courtyard of the Master,
When said Pohjola's old Mistress:
"O my man, whom I have hired,
Best among the village servants,
Take the horse that brought the bridegroom,
With the white mark on his frontlet, 70
From the copper-plated harness,
From the tin-decked breastband likewise,
From the best of reins of leather,
And from harness of the finest,
Lead the courser of the bridegroom,
And with greatest care conduct him
By the reins, of silken fabric,
By the bridle, decked with silver,
To the softest place for rolling,
Where the meadow is the smoothest, 80
Where the drifted snow is finest,
And the land of milky whiteness.

"Lead the bridegroom's horse to water,
To the spring that flows the nearest,
Where the water all unfrozen,
Gushes forth; like milk the sweetest,
'Neath the roots of golden pine-trees,
Underneath the bushy fir-trees.

"Fodder thou the bridegroom's courser,
From the golden bowl of fodder, 90
From the bow! adorned with copper,
With the choicest meal of barley,
And with well-boiled wheat of summer,
And with pounded rye of summer.

"Then conduct the bridegroom's courser
To the best of all the stables,
To the best of resting-places,
To the hindmost of the stables.
Tether there the bridegroom's courser,
To the ring of gold constructed, 100
To the smaller ring of iron,
To the post of curving birchwood,
Place before the bridegroom's courser,
Next a tray with oats overloaded,
And with softest hay another,
And a third with chaff the finest.

"Curry then the bridegroom's courser,
With the comb of bones of walrus,
That the hair remain uninjured,
Nor his handsome tail be twisted; 110
Cover then the bridegroom's courser
With a cloth of silver fabric,
And a mat of golden texture,
And a horse-wrap decked with copper.

"Now my little village laddies,
To the house conduct the bridegroom,
Gently lift his hat from off him,
From his hands his gloves take likewise.

"I would fain see if the bridegroom
Presently the house can enter, 120
Ere the doors are lifted from it,
And they have removed the doorposts,
And have lifted up the crossbars,
And the threshold has been sunken,
And the nearer walls are broken,
And the floor-planks have been shifted.

"But the house suits not the bridegroom,
Nor the great gift suits the dwelling,
Till the doors are lifted from it,
And they have removed the doorposts, 130
And have lifted up the crossbars,
And the threshold has been sunken,
And the nearer walls been broken,
And the flooring-planks been shifted,
For the bridegroom's head is longer,
And the bridegroom's ears are higher.

"Let the crossbars then be lifted,
That his head the roof may touch not,
Let the threshold now be sunken,
That his footsoles may not touch it, 140
Let them now set back the doorposts,
That the doors may open widely,
When at length the bridegroom enters,
When the noble youth approaches.

"Praise, O Jumala most gracious,
For the bridegroom now has entered.
I would now the house examine,
Cast my gaze around within it,
See that washed are all the tables,
And the benches swabbed with water, 150
Scoured the smooth planks of the boarding,
And the flooring swept and polished.

"Now that I the house examine,
'Tis so changed I scarcely know it,
From what wood the room was fashioned,
How the roof has been constructed,
And the walls have been erected,
And the flooring been constructed.

"Side-walls are of bones of hedgehog,
Hinder-walls of bones of reindeer, 160
Front-walls of the bones of glutton,
And of bones of lamb the crossbar.
All the beams are wood of apple,
And the posts of curving birchwood,
Round the stove rest water-lilies,
Scales of bream compose the ceiling.

"And one bench is formed of iron,
Others made from Saxon timber,
Gold-inlaid are all the tables;
Floor o'erspread with silken carpets. 170

"And the stove is bright with copper,
And the stove-bench stone-constructed,
And the hearth composed of boulders,
And with Kaleva's tree is boarded."

Then the house the bridegroom entered,
Hastened on beneath the roof-tree,
And he spoke the words which follow:
"Grant, O Jumala, thy blessing
Underneath this noble roof-tree,
Underneath this roof so splendid." 180

Then said Pohjola's old Mistress,
"Hail, all hail, to thee, who enters
In this room of small dimensions,
In this very lowly cottage,
In this wretched house of firwood,
In this house of pine constructed.

"O my little waiting-maiden,
Thou the village maid I hired,
Bring a piece of lighted birchbark,
To a tarry torch apply it, 190
That I may behold the bridegroom,
And the bridegroom's eyes examine,
Whether they are blue or reddish;
Whether they are white as linen."

Then the little waiting-maiden,
She, the little village maiden,
Brought a piece of lighted birchbark,
To a tarry torch applied it.
"From the bark the flame springs spluttering,
From the tar black smoke's ascending, 200
So his eyes might perhaps be sooted,
And his handsome face be blackened,
Therefore bring a torch all flaming,
Of the whitest wax constructed."

Then the little waiting-maiden,
She the little village maiden,
Lit a torch, and brought it flaming,
Of the whitest wax constructed.

White like wax the smoke was rising,
And the flame ascended brightly, 210
And the bridegroom's eyes were shining,
And his face was all illumined.
"Now the bridegroom's eyes I gaze on!
They are neither blue nor reddish,
Neither are they white like linen,
But his eyes they shine like lake-foam,
Like the lake-reed are they brownish,
And as lovely as the bulrush.

"Now my little village laddies,
Hasten to conduct the bridegroom 220
To a seat among the highest,
To a place the most distinguished,
With his back towards the blue wall,
With his face towards the red board,
There among the guests invited,
Facing all the shouting people."

Then did Pohjola's old Mistress,
Feast her guests in noble fashion,
Feast them on the best of butter,
And with cream-cakes in abundance; 230
Thus she served the guests invited,
And among them first the bridegroom.

On the plates was placed the salmon,
At the sides the pork was stationed,
Dishes filled to overflowing,
Laden to the very utmost,
Thus to feast the guests invited;
And among them first the bridegroom.

Then said Pohjola's old Mistress,
"O my little waiting-maiden, 240
Bring me now the ale in measures,
Bring it in the jugs two-handled,
For the guests we have invited,
And the bridegroom chief among them."

Then the little waiting-maiden,
She, the servant hired for money,
Brought the measures as directed,
Handed round the five-hooped tankards,
Till, with ale from hops concocted,
All the beards with foam were whitened; 250
All the beards of guests invited;
And among them most the bridegroom's.

What about the ale was spoken,
Of the ale in five-hooped tankards,
When at length it reached the minstrel,
Reached the greatest of the singers,
He the aged Väinämöinen,
First and oldest of the singers,
He the minstrel most illustrious,
He the greatest of the Sages? 260

First of all the ale he lifted,
Then he spoke the words which follow:
"O thou ale, thou drink delicious,
Let the drinkers not be moody!
Urge the people on to singing,
Let them shout, with mouth all golden,
Till our lords shall wonder at it,
And our ladies ponder o'er it,
For the songs already falter,
And the joyous tongues are silenced. 270
When the ale is ill-concocted,
And bad drink is set before us,
Then the minstrels fail in singing,
And the best of songs they sing not,
And our cherished guests are silent,
And the cuckoos call no longer.

"Therefore who shall chant unto us,
And whose tongue shall sing unto us,
At the wedding feast of Pohja,
This carouse at Sariola held? 280
Benches will not sing unto us,
Save when people sit upon them,
Nor will floors hold cheerful converse,
Save when people walk upon them,
Neither are the windows joyful,
If the lords should gaze not from them,
Nor resound the table's edges,
If men sit not round the tables,
Neither do the smoke-holes echo,
If men sit not 'neath the smoke-holes." 290

On the floor a child was sitting,
On the stove-bench sat a milkbeard,
From the floor exclaimed the infant,
And the boy spoke from the stove-bench:
"I am not in years a father,
Undeveloped yet my body,
But however small I may be,
If the other big ones sing not,
And the stouter men will shout not,
And the rosier cheeked will sing not, 300
Then I'll sing, although a lean boy,
Though a thin boy, I will whistle,
I will sing, though weak and meagre,
Though my stomach is not rounded,
That the evening may be cheerful,
And the day may be more honoured."

By the stove there sat an old man,
And he spoke the words which follow:
"That the children sing befits not,
Nor these feeble folk should carol. 310
Children's songs are only falsehoods,
And the songs of girls are foolish.
Let the wisest sing among us,
Who upon the bench is seated."

Then the aged Väinämöinen,
Answered in the words which follow:
"Are there any who are youthful,
Of the noblest of the people,
Who will clasp their hands together,
Hook their hands in one another, 320
And begin to speak unto us,
Swaying back and forth in singing,
That the day may be more joyful,
And the evening be more blessed?"

From the stove there spoke the old man,
"Never was it heard among us,
Never heard or seen among us,
Nor so long as time existed,
That there lived a better minstrel,
One more skilled in all enchantment, 330
Than myself when I was warbling,
As a child when I was singing,
Singing sweetly by the water,
Making all the heath re-echo,
Chanting loudly in the firwood,
Talking likewise In the forest.

"Then my voice was loud and tuneful,
And its tones were most melodious,
Like the flowing of a river,
Or the murmur of a streamlet, 340
Gliding as o'er snow the snowshoes,
Like a yacht across the billows;
But 'tis hard for me to tell you
How my wisdom has departed,
How my voice so strong has failed me,
And its sweetness has departed.
Now it flows no more like river,
Rising like the tossing billows,
But it halts like rake in stubble,
Like the hoe among the pine-roots, 350
Like a sledge in sand embedded,
Or a boat on rocks when stranded."

Then the aged Väinämöinen
In such words as these expressed him:
"If no other bard comes forward
To accompany my singing,
Then alone my songs I'll carol,
And will now commence my singing,
For to sing was I created,
As an orator was fashioned; 360
How, I ask not in the village,
Nor I learn my songs from strangers."

Then the aged Väinämöinen
Of the song the lifelong pillar,
Set him to the pleasant labour,
Girt him for the toil of singing,
Loud he sang his songs so pleasing,
Loud he spoke his words of wisdom.

Sang the aged Väinämöinen,
Sang by turns, and spoke his wisdom, 370
Nor did words that suited fall him,
Neither were his songs exhausted,
Sooner stones in rocks were missing,
Or a pond lacked water-lilies.

Therefore thus sang Väinämöinen
Through the evening for their pleasure,
And the women all were laughing,
And the men in high good-humour,
While they listened and they wondered
At the chants of Väinämöinen, 380
For amazement filled the hearers,
Wonder those who heard him singing.

Said the aged Väinämöinen,
When at length his song he ended,
"This is what I have accomplished
As a singer and magician,
Little can I thus accomplish,
And my efforts lead me nowhere:
But, If sang the great Creator,
Speaking with his mouth of sweetness, 390
He would sing his songs unto you,
As a singer and magician.

"He would sing the sea to honey,
And to peas would sing the gravel,
And to malt would sing the seasand,
And to salt would sing the gravel,
Forest broad would sing to cornland,
And the wastes would sing to wheatfields,
Into cakes would sing the mountains,
And to hens' eggs change the mountains. 400

"As a singer and magician,
He would speak, and he would order,
And would sing unto this homestead,
Cowsheds ever filled with cattle,
Lanes o'erfilled with beauteous blossoms,
And the plains o'erfilled with milch-kine,
Full a hundred horned cattle,
And with udders full, a thousand.

"As a singer and magician,
He would speak and he would order 410
For our host a coat of lynxskin,
For our mistress cloth-wrought dresses,
For her daughters boots with laces,
And her sons with red shirts furnish.

"Grant, O Jumala, thy blessing,
Evermore, O great Creator,
Unto those we see around us,
And again in all their doings,
Here, at Pohjola's great banquet,
This carouse at Sariola held, 420
That the ale may stream in rivers,
And the mead may flow in torrents,
Here in Pohjola's great household,
In the halls at Sariola built,
That by day we may be singing,
And may still rejoice at evening
Long as our good host is living,
In the lifetime of our hostess.

"Jumala, do thou grant thy blessing,
O Creator, shed thy blessing, 430
On our host at head of table,
On our hostess in her storehouse,
On their sons, the nets when casting,
On their daughters at their weaving.
May they have no cause for trouble,
Nor lament the year that follows,
After their protracted banquet,
This carousal at the mansion!"

RUNO XXII.--THE TORMENTING OF THE BRIDE

_Argument_

The bride is prepared for her journey and is reminded of her past life and of the altered life that now lies before her (1-124). She becomes very sorrowful (125-184). They bring her to weeping (185-382). She weeps (383-448). They comfort her (449-522).

When the drinking-bout was ended,
And the feast at length was over,
At the festival at Pohja,
Bridal feast held at Pimentola,
Then said Pohjola's old Mistress,
To the bridegroom, Ilmarinen,
"Wherefore sit'st thou, highly-born one,
Waitest thou, O pride of country?
Sit'st thou here to please the father,
Or for love of mother waitest, 10
Or our dwelling to illumine,
Or the wedding guests to honour?

"Not for father's pleasure wait'st thou,
Nor for love thou bear'st the mother,
Nor the dwelling to illumine,
Nor the wedding guests to honour;
Here thou sit'st for maiden's pleasure,
For a young girl's love delaying,
For the fair one whom thou long'st for,
Fair one with unbraided tresses. 20

"Bridegroom, dearest of my brothers,
Wait a week, and yet another;
For thy loved one is not ready,
And her toilet is not finished.
Only half her hair is plaited,
And a half is still unplaited.

"Bridegroom, dearest of my brothers,
Wait a week, and yet another,
For thy loved one is not ready,
And her toilet is not finished; 30
One sleeve only is adjusted,
And unfitted still the other.

"Bridegroom, dearest of my brothers,
Wait a week, and yet another,
For thy loved one is not ready,
And her toilet is not finished.
For one foot is shod already,
But unshod remains the other.

"Bridegroom, dearest of my brothers,
Wait a week, and yet another, 40
For thy loved one is not ready,
And her toilet is not finished.
For one hand is gloved already,
And ungloved is still the other.

"Bridegroom, dearest of my brothers,
Thou hast waited long unwearied;
For thy love at length is ready,
And thy duck has made her toilet.

"Go thou forth. O plighted maiden,
Follow thou, O dove new-purchased! 50
Near to thee is now thy union,
Nearer still is thy departure,
He who leads thee forth is with thee,
At the door is thy conductor,
And his horse the bit is champing,
And his sledge awaits the maiden.

"Thou wast fond of bridegroom's money
Reaching forth thy hands most greedy
Glad to take the chain he offered,
And to fit the rings upon thee. 60
Now the longed-for sledge is ready,
Eager mount the sledge so gaudy,
Travel quickly to the village,
Quickly speeding on thy journey.

"Hast thou never, youthful maiden,
On both sides surveyed the question,
Looked beyond the present moment,
When the bargain was concluded?
All thy life must thou be weeping,
And for many years lamenting, 70
How thou left'st thy father's household,
And thy native land abandoned,
From beside thy tender mother,
From the home of she who bore thee.

"O the happy life thou leddest,
In this household of thy father!
Like a wayside flower thou grewest,
Or upon the heath a strawberry,
Waking up to feast on butter,
Milk, when from thy bed arising, 80
Wheaten-bread, from couch upstanding,
From thy straw, the fresh-made butter,
Or, if thou could eat no butter,
Strips of pork thou then could'st cut thee.

"Never yet wast thou in trouble,
Never hadst thou cause to worry,
To the fir-trees tossed thou trouble,
Worry to the stumps abandoned,
Care to pine-trees in the marshlands,
And upon the heaths the birch-trees. 90
Like a leaflet thou wast fluttering,
As a butterfly wast fluttering,
Berry-like in native soil,
Or on open ground a raspberry.

"But thy home thou now art leaving,
To another home thou goest,
To another mother's orders,
To the household of a stranger.
Different there from here thou'lt find it
In another house 'tis different; 100
Other tunes the horns are blowing,
Other doors thou hearest jarring,
Other gates thou hearest creaking,
Other voices at the fishlines.

"There the doors thou hardly findest,
Strange unto thee are the gateways,
Not like household daughter art thou,
May not dare to blow the fire,
Nor the stove canst rightly heaten,
So that thou canst please the master. 110

"Didst thou think, O youthful maiden,
Didst thou think, or didst imagine,
Only for a night to wander,
In the morn again returning?
'Tis not for one night thou goest,
Not for one night, not for two nights,
For a longer time thou goest.
Thou for months and days hast vanished,
Lifelong from thy father's dwelling,
For the lifetime of thy mother, 120
And the yard will then be longer,
And the threshold lifted higher,
If again thou ever earnest,
To thy former home returning."

Now the hapless girl was sighing,
Piteously she sighed and panted,
And her heart was filled with trouble,
In her eyes the tears were standing,
And at length she spoke as follows:
"Thus I thought, and thus imagined, 130
And throughout my life imagined,
Said throughout my years of childhood,
Thou art not as maid a lady
In the wardship of thy parents,
In the meadows of thy father,
In thy aged mother's dwelling.
Thou wilt only be a lady
When thy husband's home thou seekest,
Resting one foot on the threshold,
In his sledge the other placing, 140
Then thy head thou liftest higher,
And thy ears thou liftest higher.

"This throughout my life I wished for,
All my youthful days I hoped for,
And throughout the year I wished it,
Like the coming of the summer.
Now my hope has found fulfilment;
Near the time of my departure;
One foot resting on the threshold,
In my husband's sledge the other, 150
But I do not yet know rightly,
If my mind has not been altered.
Not with joyful thoughts I wander
Nor do I depart with pleasure
From the golden home beloved,
Where I passed my life in childhood,
Where I passed my days of girlhood,
Where my father lived before me.
Sadly I depart in sorrow,
Forth I go, most sadly longing, 160
As into the night of autumn,
As on slippery ice in springtime,
When on ice no track remaineth,
On its smoothness rests no footprint.

"What may be the thoughts of others,
And of other brides the feelings?
Do not other brides encounter,
Bear within their hearts the trouble,
Such as I, unhappy, carry?
Blackest trouble rests upon me, 170
Black as coal my heart within me,
Coal-black trouble weighs upon me.

"Such the feelings of the blessed,
Such the feelings of the happy;
As the spring day at its dawning,
Or the sunny spring-day morning;
But what thoughts do now torment me,
And what thoughts arise within me?
Like unto a pond's flat margin,
Or of clouds the murky border; 180
Like the gloomy nights of autumn,
Or the dusky day of winter,
Or, as I might better say it,
Darker than the nights of autumn!"

Then an old crone of the household,
In the house for long abiding,
Answered in the words which follow:
"Quiet, quiet, youthful maiden!
Dost remember, how I told thee,
And a hundred times repeated, 190
Take no pleasure in a lover,
In a lover's mouth rejoice not,
Do not let his eyes bewitch thee,
Nor his handsome feet admire?
Though his mouth speaks charming converse,
And his eyes are fair to gaze on,
Yet upon his chin is Lempo;
In his mouth there lurks destruction.

"Thus I always counsel maidens,
And to all their kind I counsel, 200
Though great people come as suitors,
Mighty men should come as wooers,
Yet return them all this answer;
And on thy side speak unto them,
In such words as these address them,
And in thiswise speak unto them:
'Not the least would it beseem me,
Not beseem me, or become me,
As a daughter-in-law to yield me,
As a slave to yield my freedom. 210
Such a pretty girl as I am,
Suits it not to live as slave-girl,
To depart consent I never,
To submit to rule of others.
If another word you utter,
I will give you two in answer,
If you by my hair would pull me,
And you by my locks would drag me,
From my hair I'd quickly shake you,
From my locks dishevelled drive you.' 220

"But to this thou hast not hearkened,
To my words thou hast not listened,
Wilfully thou sought'st the fire,
In the boiling tar hast cast thee.
Now the fox's sledge awaits thee,
To the bear's hug art thou going,
And the fox's sledge will take thee,
Far away the bear convey thee,
Ever slave to other masters,
Ever slave of husband's mother. 230

"From thy home to school thou goest,
From thy father's house to suffering.
Hard the school to which thou goest,
Long the pain to which thou goest.
Reins for thee are bought already,
Iron fetters all in order,
Not for others are they destined,
But alas, for thee, unhappy.

"Shortly wilt thou feel their harshness,
Helpless feel, and unprotected, 240
For the father's chin is wagging,
And the mother's tongue is stormy;
And the brother's words are coldness,
And the sister's harsh reproaches.

"Hear, O maiden, what I tell thee,
What I speak, and what I tell thee,
In thy home thou wast a floweret,
And the joy of father's household,
And thy father called thee Moonlight,
And thy mother called thee Sunshine, 250
And thy brother Sparkling Water,
And thy sister called thee Blue-cloth.
To another home thou goest,
There to find a stranger mother.
Never is a stranger mother
Like the mother who has borne thee:
Seldom does she give good counsel,
Seldom gives the right instructions.
Sprig the father shouts against thee,
Slut the mother calls unto thee, 260
And the brother calls thee Doorstep,
And the sister, Nasty Creature.

"Now the best that could await thee,
Best the fate that could await thee,
If as fog thou wert dispersing,
From the house like smoke departing,
Blown like leaf away that flutters,
As a spark away is drifted.

"But a bird that flies thou art not,
Nor a leaf away that flutters, 270
Nor a spark in drafts that's drifting,
Nor the smoke from house ascending.

"Lack-a-day, O maid, my sister!
Changed hast thou, and what art changing!
Thou hast changed thy much-loved father
For a father-in-law, a bad one;
Thou hast changed thy tender mother
For a mother-in-law most stringent;
Thou hast changed thy noble brother
For a brother-in-law so crook-necked, 280
And exchanged thy gentle sister
For a sister-in-law all cross-eyed;
And hast changed thy couch of linen
For a sooty hearth to rest on;
And exchanged the clearest water
For the muddy margin-water,
And the sandy shore hast bartered
For the black mud at the bottom;
And thy pleasant meadow bartered
For a dreary waste of heathland; 290
And thy hills of berries bartered
For the hard stumps of a clearing.

"Didst thou think, O youthful maiden,
Think, O dove, full-fledged at present,
Care would end and toil be lessened,
With the party of this evening,
When to rest thou shalt betake thee,
And to sleep thou art conducted?

"But to rest they will not lead thee,
Nor to sleep will they conduct thee; 300
Nought awaits thee now but watching,
Nought awaits thee now save trouble,
Heavy thoughts will come upon thee,
Saddened thoughts will overwhelm thee.

"Long as thou didst wear no head-dress,
Wert thou also free from trouble;
When no linen veil waved round thee,
Thou wast also free from sorrow.
Now the head-dress brings thee trouble,
Heavy thoughts the linen fabric, 310
And the linen veil brings sorrow,
And the flax brings endless trouble.

"How may live at home a maiden?
Maid in father's house abiding;
Like a monarch in his palace,
Only that the sword is wanting,
But a son's wife's fate is dismal!
With her husband she is living
As a prisoner lives in Russia,
Only that the jailor's wanting. 320

"Work she must in working season,
And her shoulders stoop with weakness,
And her body faints with weakness,
And with sweat her face is shining.
Then there comes another hour
When there's need to make the fire,
And to put the hearth in order,
She must force her hands to do it.

"Long must seek, this girl unhappy,
Long the hapless one must seek for, 330
Salmon's mind, and tongue of perchling,
And her thoughts from perch in fishpond,
Mouth of bream, of chub the belly,
And from water-hen learn wisdom.

"'Tis beyond my comprehension,
Nine times can I not imagine,
To the mother's much-loved daughters,
Best beloved of all her treasures,
Whence should come to them the spoiler,
Where the greedy one was nurtured, 340
Eating flesh, and bones devouring,
To the wind their hair abandoning,
And their tresses wildly tossing,
To the wind of springtime gives them.

"Weep thou, weep thou, youthful maiden,
When thou weepest, weep thou sorely.
Weep thyself of tears a handful,
Fill thy fists with tears of longing,
Drop them in thy father's dwelling,
Pools of tears upon the flooring, 350
Till the room itself is flooded,
And above the floor in billows!
If thou weepest yet not freely
Thou shalt weep when thou returnest,
When to father's house thou comest,
And shalt find thy aged father
Suffocated in the bathroom,
'Neath his arm a dried-up bath-whisk.

"Weep thou, weep thou, youthful maiden,
When thou weepest, weep thou sorely; 360
If thou weepest not yet freely,
Thou shalt weep when thou returnest,
When to mother's house thou comest,
And thou find'st thy aged mother
Suffocated in the cowshed,
In her dying lap a straw-sheaf.

"Weep thou, weep thou, youthful maiden,
When thou weepest, weep thou sorely.
If thou weepest yet not freely,
Thou shalt weep when thou returnest, 370
When to this same house thou comest,
And thou find'st thy rosy brother
Fallen in the porch before it,
In the courtyard helpless fallen.

"Weep thou, weep thou, youthful maiden,
When thou weepest, weep thou sorely.
If thou weepest yet not freely,
Thou shalt weep when thou returnest,
When to this same house thou comest,
And thou find'st thy gentle sister 380
Fallen down upon the pathway,
And beneath her arm a mallet."

Then the poor girl broke out sobbing,
And awhile she sobbed and panted,
And she soon commenced her weeping,
Pouring forth her tears in torrents.

Then she wept of tears a handful,
Filled her fists with tears of longing,
Wet she wept her father's dwelling,
Pools of tears upon the flooring, 390
And she spoke the words which follow,
And expressed herself in thiswise:
"O my sisters, dearest to me,
Of my life the dear companions,
All companions of my childhood,
Listen now to what I tell you.
'Tis beyond my comprehension
Why I feel such deep oppression,
Making now my life so heavy,
Why this trouble weighs upon me, 400
Why this darkness rests upon me;
How I should express my sorrow.

"Otherwise I thought and fancied,
Wished it different, all my lifetime,
Thought to go as goes the cuckoo,
Crying 'Cuckoo' from the hill-tops,
Now the day I have attained to,
Come the time that I had wished for;
But I go not like the cuckoo,
Crying 'Cuckoo' from the hill-tops, 410
More as duck amid the billows,
On the wide bay's open waters,
Swimming in the freezing water,
Shivering in the icy water.