The Kalevala (complete)
by John Martin Crawford, trans.
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mine own misfortunes, All alone the nights to wander, Shine alone without a respite, In the winter ever watching, In the summer sink and perish." Still the mother seeks, and wanders, Seeks, and does not find her hero, Sees the Sun in the horizon, And the mother thus entreats him: Silver Sun, whom God has fashioned, Thou that giveth warmth and comfort, Hast thou lately seen my hero, Hast thou seen my Lemminkainen, Wandering in thy dominions?" Thus the Sun in kindness answers: "Surely has thy hero perished, To ingratitude a victim; Lemminkainen died and vanished In Tuoni's fatal river, In the waters of Manala, In the sacred stream and whirlpool, In the cataract and rapids, Sank within the drowning current To the realm of Tuonela, To Manala's lower regions." Lemminkainen's mother weeping, Wailing in the deeps of anguish, Mourns the fate of Kaukomieli, Hastens to the Northland smithy, To the forge of Ilmarinen, These the words the mother utters: "Ilmarinen, metal-artist, Thou that long ago wert forging, Forging earth a concave cover, Yesterday wert forging wonders, Forge thou now, immortal blacksmith, Forge a rake with shaft of copper, Forge the teeth of strongest metal, Teeth in length a hundred fathoms, And five hundred long the handle." Ilmarinen does as bidden, Makes the rake in full perfection. Lemminkainen's anxious mother Takes the magic rake and hastens To the river of Tuoni, Praying to the Sun as follows: "Thou, O Sun, by God created, Thou that shinest on thy Maker, Shine for me in heat of magic, Give me warmth, and strength, and courage, Shine a third time full of power, Lull to sleep the wicked people, Still the people of Manala, Quiet all Tuoni's empire." Thereupon the sun of Ukko, Dearest child of the Creator, Flying through the groves of Northland, Sitting on a curving birch-tree, Shines a little while in ardor, Shines again in greater fervor, Shines a third time full of power, Lulls to sleep the wicked people In the Manala home and kingdom, Still the heroes with their broadswords, Makes the lancers halt and totter, Stills the stoutest of the spearmen, Quiets Tuoni's ghastly empire. Now the Sun retires in magic, Hovers here and there a moment Over Tuoni's hapless sleepers, Hastens upward to his station, To his Jumala home and kingdom. Lemminkainen's faithful mother Takes the rake of magic metals, Rakes the Tuoni river bottoms, Rakes the cataract and whirlpool, Rakes the swift and boiling current Of the sacred stream of death-land, In the Manala home and kingdom. Searching for her long-lost hero, Rakes a long time, finding nothing; Now she wades the river deeper, To her belt in mud and water, Deeper, deeper, rakes the death-stream, Rakes the river's deepest caverns, Raking up and down the current, Till at last she finds his tunic, Heavy-hearted, finds his jacket; Rakes again and rakes unceasing, Finds the hero's shoes and stockings, Sorely troubled, finds these relies; Now she wades the river deeper, Rakes the Manala shoals and shallows, Rakes the deeps at every angle; As she draws the rake the third time From the Tuoni shores and waters, In the rake she finds the body Of her long-lost Lemminkainen, In the metal teeth entangled, In the rake with copper handle. Thus the reckless Lemminkainen, Thus the son of Kalevala, Was recovered from the bottom Of the Manala lake and river. There were wanting many fragments, Half the head, a hand, a fore-arm, Many other smaller portions, Life, above all else, was missing. Then the mother, well reflecting, Spake these words in bitter weeping: "From these fragments, with my magic, I will bring to life my hero." Hearing this, the raven answered, Spake these measures to the mother: "There is not in these a hero, Thou canst not revive these fragments; Eels have fed upon his body, On his eyes have fed the whiting; Cast the dead upon the waters, On the streams of Tuonela, Let him there become a walrus, Or a seal, or whale, or porpoise." Lemminkainen's mother does not Cast the dead upon the waters, On the streams of Tuonela, She again with hope and courage, Rakes the river lengthwise, crosswise, Through the Manala pools and caverns, Rakes up half the head, a fore-arm, Finds a hand and half the back-bone, Many other smaller portions; Shapes her son from all the fragments, Shapes anew her Lemminkainen, Flesh to flesh with skill she places, Gives the bones their proper stations, Binds one member to the other, Joins the ends of severed vessels, Counts the threads of all the venules, Knits the parts in apposition; Then this prayer the mother offers: "Suonetar, thou slender virgin, Goddess of the veins of heroes, Skilful spinner of the vessels, With thy slender, silver spindle, With thy spinning-wheel of copper, Set in frame of molten silver, Come thou hither, thou art needed; Bring the instruments for mending, Firmly knit the veins together, At the end join well the venules, In the wounds that still are open, In the members that are injured. "Should this aid be inefficient; There is living in the ether, In a boat enriched with silver, In a copper boat, a maiden, That can bring to thee assistance. Come, O maiden, from the ether, Virgin from the belt of heaven, Row throughout these veins, O maiden, Row through all these lifeless members, Through the channels of the long-bones, Row through every form of tissue. Set the vessels in their places, Lay the heart in right position, Make the pulses beat together, Join the smallest of the veinlets, And unite with skill the sinews. Take thou now a slender needle, Silken thread within its eyelet, Ply the silver needle gently, Sew with care the wounds together. "Should this aid be inefficient, Thou, O God, that knowest all things, Come and give us thine assistance, Harness thou thy fleetest racer Call to aid thy strongest courser, In thy scarlet sledge come swiftly, Drive through all the bones and channels, Drive throughout these lifeless tissues, Drive thy courser through each vessel, Bind the flesh and bones securely, In the joints put finest silver, Purest gold in all the fissures. "Where the skin is broken open, Where the veins are torn asunder, Mend these injuries with magic; Where the blood has left the body, There make new blood flow abundant; Where the bones are rudely broken, Set the parts in full perfection; Where the flesh is bruised and loosened, Touch the wounds with magic balsam, Do not leave a part imperfect; Bone, and vein, and nerve, and sinew, Heart, and brain, and gland, and vessel, Heal as Thou alone canst heal them." These the means the mother uses, Thus she joins the lifeless members, Thus she heals the death-like tissues, Thus restores her son and hero To his former life and likeness; All his veins are knit together, All their ends are firmly fastened, All the parts in apposition, Life returns, but speech is wanting, Deaf and dumb, and blind, and senseless. Now the mother speaks as follows: "Where may I procure the balsam, Where the drops of magic honey, To anoint my son and hero, Thus to heal my Lemminkainen, That again his month may open, May again begin his singing, Speak again in words of wonder, Sing again his incantations? "Tiny bee, thou honey-birdling, Lord of all the forest flowers, Fly away and gather honey, Bring to me the forest-sweetness, Found in Metsola's rich gardens, And in Tapio's fragrant meadows, From the petals of the flowers, From the blooming herbs and grasses, Thus to heal my hero's anguish, Thus to heal his wounds of evil." Thereupon the honey-birdling Flies away on wings of swiftness, Into Metsola's rich gardens, Into Tapio's flowery meadows, Gathers sweetness from the meadows, With the tongue distills the honey From the cups of seven flowers, From the bloom of countless grasses; Quick from Metsola returning, Flying, humming darting onward, With his winglets honey-laden, With the store of sweetest odors, To the mother brings the balsam. Lemminkainen's anxious mother Takes the balm of magic virtues, And anoints the injured hero, Heals his wounds and stills his anguish; But the balm is inefficient, For her son is deaf and speechless. Then again out-speaks the mother: Lemminkainen's Restoration. "Little bee, my honey-birdling, Fly away in one direction, Fly across the seven oceans, In the eighth, a magic island, Where the honey is enchanted, To the distant Turi-castles, To the chambers of Palwoinen; There the honey is effective, There, the wonder-working balsam, This may heal the wounded hero; Bring me of this magic ointment, That I may anoint his eyelids, May restore his injured senses." Thereupon the honey-birdling Flew away o'er seven oceans, To the old enchanted island; Flies one day, and then a second, On the verdure does not settle, Does not rest upon the flowers; Flies a third day, fleetly onward, Till a third day evening brings him To the island in the ocean, To the meadows rich in honey, To the cataract and fire-flow, To the sacred stream and whirlpool. There the honey was preparing, There the magic balm distilling In the tiny earthen vessels, In the burnished copper kettles, Smaller than a maiden's thimble, Smaller than the tips of fingers. Faithfully the busy insect Gathers the enchanted honey From the magic Turi-cuplets In the chambers of Palwoinen. Time had gone but little distance, Ere the bee came loudly humming Flying fleetly, honey-laden; In his arms were seven vessels, Seven, the vessels on each shoulder; All were filled with honey-balsam, With the balm of magic virtues. Lemminkainen's tireless mother Quick anoints her speechless hero, With the magic Turi-balsam, With the balm of seven virtues; Nine the times that she anoints him With the honey of Palwoinen, With the wonder-working balsam; But the balm is inefficient, For the hero still is speechless. Then again out-speaks the mother: "Honey-bee, thou ether birdling, Fly a third time on thy journey, Fly away to high Jumala, Fly thou to the seventh heaven, Honey there thou'lt find abundant, Balsam of the highest virtue, Only used by the Creator, Only made from the breath of Ukko. God anoints his faithful children, With the honey of his wisdom, When they feel the pangs of sorrow, When they meet the powers of evil. Dip thy winglets in this honey, Steep thy plumage in His sweetness, Hither bring the all-sufficient Balsam of the great Creator; This will still my hero's anguish, This will heal his wounded tissues, This restore his long-lost vision, Make the Northland hills re-echo With the magic of his singing, With his wonderful enchantment." Thus the honey-bee made answer: "I can never fly to heaven, To the seventh of the heavens, To the distant home of Ukko, With these wings of little virtue." Lemminkainen's mother answered: "Thou canst surely fly to heaven, To the seventh of the heavens, O'er the Moon, beneath the sunshine, Through the dim and distant starlight. On the first day, flying upward, Thou wilt near the Moon in heaven, Fan the brow of Kootamoinen; On the second thou canst rest thee On the shoulders of Otava; On the third day, flying higher, Rest upon the seven starlets, On the heads of Hetewan; Short the journey that is left thee, Inconsiderable the distance To the home of mighty Ukko, To the dwellings of the blessed." Thereupon the bee arising, From the earth flies swiftly upward, Hastens on with graceful motion, By his tiny wings borne heavenward, In the paths of golden moonbeams, Touches on the Moon's bright borders, Fans the brow of Kootamoinen, Rests upon Otava's shoulders, Hastens to the seven starlets., To the heads of Hetewan, Flies to the Creator's castle, To the home of generous Ukko, Finds the remedy preparing, Finds the balm of life distilling, In the silver-tinted caldrons, In the purest golden kettles; On one side, heart-easing honey, On a second, balm of joyance, On the third, life-giving balsam. Here the magic bee, selecting, Culls the sweet, life-giving balsam, Gathers too, heart-easing honey, Heavy-laden hastens homeward. Time had traveled little distance, Ere the busy bee came humming To the anxious mother waiting, In his arms a hundred cuplets, And a thousand other vessels, Filled with honey, filled with balsam, Filled with the balm of the Creator. Lemminkainen's mother quickly Takes them on her, tongue and tests them, Finds a balsam all-sufficient. Then the mother spake as follows: "I have found the long-sought balsam, Found the remedy of Ukko, Where-with God anoints his people, Gives them life, and faith, and wisdom, Heals their wounds and stills their anguish, Makes them strong against temptation, Guards them from the evil-doers." Now the mother well anointing, Heals her son, the magic singer, Eyes, and ears, and tongue, and temples, Breaks, and cuts, and seams, anointing, Touching well the life-blood centres, Speaks these words of magic import To the sleeping Lemminkainen: "Wake, arise from out thy slumber, From the worst of low conditions, From thy state of dire misfortune!" Slowly wakes the son and hero, Rises from the depths of slumber, Speaks again in magic accents, These the first words of the singer: "Long, indeed, have I been sleeping, Long unconscious of existence, But my sleep was full of sweetness, Sweet the sleep in Tuonela, Knowing neither joy nor sorrow!" This the answer of his mother: "Longer still thou wouldst have slumbered, Were it not for me, thy, mother; Tell me now, my son beloved, Tell me that I well may hear thee, Who enticed thee to Manala, To the river of Tuoni, To the fatal stream and whirlpool?" Then the hero, Lemminkainen, Gave this answer to his mother: "Nasshut, the decrepit shepherd Of the flocks of Sariola, Blind, and halt, and poor, and wretched, And to whom I did a favor; From the slumber-land of envy Nasshut sent me to Manala, To the river of Tuoni; Sent a serpent from the waters, Sent an adder from the death-stream, Through the heart of Lemminkainen; Did not recognize the serpent, Could not speak the serpent-language, Did not know the sting of adders." Spake again the ancient mother: "O thou son of little insight, Senseless hero, fool-magician, Thou didst boast betimes thy magic To enchant the wise enchanters, On the dismal shores of Lapland, Thou didst think to banish heroes, From the borders of Pohyola; Didst not know the sting of serpents, Didst not know the reed of waters, Nor the magic word-protector! Learn the origin of serpents, Whence the poison of the adder. "In the floods was born the serpent, From the marrow of the gray-duck, From the brain of ocean-swallows; Suoyatar had made saliva, Cast it on the waves of ocean, Currents drove it outward, onward, Softly shone the sun upon it, By the winds 'twas gently cradled, Gently nursed by winds and waters, By the waves was driven shoreward, Landed by the surging billows. Thus the serpent, thing of evil, Filling all the world with trouble, Was created in the waters Born from Suoyatar, its maker." Then the mother of the hero Rocked her son to rest and comfort, Rocked him to his former being, To his former life and spirit, Into greater magic powers; Wiser, handsomer than ever Grew the hero of the islands; But his heart was full of trouble, And his mother, ever watchful, Asked the cause of his dejection. This is Lemminkainen's answer: "This the cause of all my sorrow; Far away my heart is roaming, All my thoughts forever wander To the Northland's blooming virgins, To the maids of braided tresses. Northland's ugly hostess, Louhi, Will not give to me her daughter, Fairest maiden of Pohyola, Till I kill the swan of Mana, With my bow and but one arrow, In the river of Tuoni. Lemminkainen's mother answers, In the sacred stream and whirlpool. "Let the swan swim on in safety, Give the water-bird his freedom, In the river of Manala, In the whirlpool of Tuoni; Leave the maiden in the Northland., With her charms and fading beauty; With thy fond and faithful mother, Go at once to Kalevala, To thy native fields and fallows. Praise thy fortune, all sufficient, Praise, above all else, thy Maker. Ukko gave thee aid when needed, Thou wert saved by thy Creator, From thy long and hopeless slumber, In the waters of Tuoni, In the chambers of Manala. I unaided could not save thee, Could not give the least assistance; God alone, omniscient Ukko, First and last of the creators, Can revive the dead and dying, Can protect his worthy people From the waters of Manala, . From the fatal stream and whirlpool, In the kingdom of Tuoni." Lemminkainen, filled with wisdom, With his fond and faithful mother, Hastened straightway on his journey To his distant home and kindred, To the Wainola fields and meadows, To the plains of Kalevala. * * * * * Here I leave my Kaukomieli, Leave my hero Lemminkainen, Long I leave him from my singing, Turn my song to other heroes, Send it forth on other pathways, Sing some other golden legend.



Wainamoinen, ancient minstrel, The eternal wisdom-singer, For his boat was working lumber, Working long upon his vessel, On a fog-point jutting seaward, On an island, forest-covered; But the lumber failed the master, Beams were wanting for his vessel, Beams and scantling, ribs and flooring. Who will find for him the lumber, Who procure the timber needed For the boat of Wainamoinen, For the bottom of his vessel? Pellerwoinen of the prairies, Sampsa, slender-grown and ancient, He will seek the needful timber, He procure the beams of oak-wood For the boat of Wainamoinen, For the bottom of his vessel. Soon he starts upon his journey To the eastern fields and forests, Hunts throughout the Northland mountain To a second mountain wanders, To a third he hastens, searching, Golden axe upon his shoulder, In his hand a copper hatchet. Comes an aspen-tree to meet him Of the height of seven fathoms. Sampsa takes his axe of copper, Starts to fell the stately aspen, But the aspen quickly halting, Speaks these words to Pellerwoinen: "Tell me, hero, what thou wishest, What the service thou art needing?" Sampsa Pellerwoinen answers: "This indeed, the needed service That I ask of thee, O aspen: Need thy lumber for a vessel, For the boat of Wainamoinen, Wisest of the wisdom-singers." Quick and wisely speaks the aspen, Thus its hundred branches answer: "All the boats that have been fashioned From my wood have proved but failures; Such a vessel floats a distance, Then it sinks upon the bottom Of the waters it should travel. All my trunk is filled with hollows, Three times in the summer seasons Worms devour my stem and branches, Feed upon my heart and tissues." Pellerwoinen leaves the aspen, Hunts again through all the forest, Wanders through the woods of Northland, Where a pine-tree comes to meet him, Of the height of fourteen fathoms. With his axe he chops the pine-tree, Strikes it with his axe of copper, As he asks the pine this question: "Will thy trunk give worthy timber For the boat of Wainamoinen, Wisest of the wisdom-singers?" Loudly does the pine-tree answer: "All the ships that have been fashioned From my body are unworthy; I am full of imperfections, Cannot give thee needed timber Wherewithal to build thy vessel; Ravens live within ray branches, Build their nests and hatch their younglings Three times in my trunk in summer." Sampsa leaves the lofty pine-tree, Wanders onward, onward, onward, To the woods of gladsome summer, Where an oak-tree comes to meet him, In circumference, three fathoms, And the oak he thus addresses: "Ancient oak-tree, will thy body Furnish wood to build a vessel, Build a boat for Wainamoinen, Master-boat for the magician, Wisest of the wisdom-singers?" Thus the oak replies to Sampsa: "I for thee will gladly furnish Wood to build the hero's vessel; I am tall, and sound, and hardy, Have no flaws within my body; Three times in the months of summer, In the warmest of the seasons, Does the sun dwell in my tree-top, On my trunk the moonlight glimmers, In my branches sings the cuckoo, In my top her nestlings slumber." Now the ancient Pellerwoinen Takes the hatchet from his shoulder, Takes his axe with copper handle, Chops the body of the oak-tree; Well he knows the art of chopping. Soon he fells the tree majestic, Fells the mighty forest-monarch, With his magic axe and power. From the stems he lops the branches, Splits the trunk in many pieces, Fashions lumber for the bottom, Countless boards, and ribs, and braces, For the singer's magic vessel, For the boat of the magician. Wainamoinen, old and skilful, The eternal wonder-worker, Builds his vessel with enchantment, Builds his boat by art of magic, From the timber of the oak-tree, From its posts, and planks, and flooring. Sings a song, and joins the frame-work; Sings a second, sets the siding; Sings a third time, sets the row-locks; Fashions oars, and ribs, and rudder, Joins the sides and ribs together. When the ribs were firmly fastened, When the sides were tightly jointed, Then alas! three words were wanting, Lost the words of master-magic, How to fasten in the ledges, How the stern should be completed, How complete the boat's forecastle. Then the ancient Wainamoinen, Wise and wonderful enchanter, Heavy-hearted spake as follows: "Woe is me, my life hard-fated! Never will this magic vessel Pass in safety o'er the water, Never ride the rough sea-billows." Then he thought and long considered, Where to find these words of magic, Find the lost-words of the Master: "From the brains of countless swallows, From the heads of swans in dying, From the plumage of the gray-duck?" For these words the hero searches, Kills of swans a goodly number, Kills a flock of fattened gray-duck, Kills of swallows countless numbers, Cannot find the words of magic, Not the lost-words of the Master. Wainamoinen, wisdom-singer, Still reflected and debated: "I perchance may find the lost-words On the tongue of summer-reindeer, In the mouth of the white squirrel." Now again he hunts the lost-words, Hastes to find the magic sayings, Kills a countless host of reindeer, Kills a rafterful of squirrels, Finds of words a goodly number, But they are of little value, Cannot find the magic lost-word. Long he thought and well considered: "I can find of words a hundred In the dwellings of Tuoni, In the Manala fields and castles." Wainamoinen quickly journeys To the kingdom of Tuoni, There to find the ancient wisdom, There to learn the secret doctrine; Hastens on through fen and forest, Over meads and over marshes, Through the ever-rising woodlands, Journeys one week through the brambles, And a second through the hazels, Through the junipers the third week, When appear Tuoni's islands, And the Manala fields and castles. Wainamoinen, brave and ancient, Calls aloud in tones of thunder, To the Tuonela deeps and dungeons, And to Manala's magic castle: "Bring a boat, Tuoni's daughter, Bring a ferry-boat, O maiden, That may bear me o'er this channel, O'er this black and fatal river." Quick the daughter of Tuoni, Magic maid of little stature, Tiny virgin of Manala, Tiny washer of the linen, Tiny cleaner of the dresses, At the river of Tuoni, In Manala's ancient castles, Speaks these words to Wainamoinen, Gives this answer to his calling: "Straightway will I bring the row-boat, When the reasons thou hast given Why thou comest to Manala In a hale and active body." Wainamoinen, old and artful., Gives this answer to the maiden: "I was brought here by Tuoni, Mana raised me from the coffin." Speaks the maiden of Manala: "This a tale of wretched liars; Had Tuoni brought thee hither, Mana raised thee from the coffin, Then Tuoni would be with thee, Manalainen too would lead thee, With Tuoni's hat upon thee, On thy hands, the gloves of Mana; Tell the truth now, Wainamoinen, What has brought thee to Manala?" Wainamoinen, artful hero, Gives this answer, still finessing: "Iron brought me to Manala, To the kingdom of Tuoni." Speaks the virgin of the death-land, Mana's wise and tiny daughter: "Well I know that this is falsehood, Had the iron brought thee hither, Brought thee to Tuoni's kingdom, Blood would trickle from thy vesture, And the blood-drops, scarlet-colored. Speak the truth now, Wainamoinen, This the third time that I ask thee." Wainamoinen, little heeding, Still finesses to the daughter: "Water brought me to Manala, To the kingdom of Tuoui." This the tiny maiden's answer: "Well I know thou speakest falsely; If the waters of Manala, If the cataract and whirlpool, Or the waves had brought thee hither, From thy robes the drops would trickle, Water drip from all thy raiment. Tell the truth and I will serve thee, What has brought thee to Manala?" Then the wilful Wainamoinen Told this falsehood to the maiden: "Fire has brought me to Manala, To the kingdom of Tuoni." Spake again Tuoni's daughter: "Well I know the voice of falsehood. If the fire had brought thee hither, Brought thee to Tuoni's empire, Singed would be thy locks and eyebrows, And thy beard be crisped and tangled. O, thou foolish Wainamoinen, If I row thee o'er the ferry, Thou must speak the truth in answer, This the last time I will ask thee; Make an end of thy deception. What has brought thee to Manala, Still unharmed by pain or sickness, Still untouched by Death's dark angel Spake the ancient Wainamoinen: "At the first I spake, not truly, Now I give thee rightful answer: I a boat with ancient wisdom, Fashioned with my powers of magic, Sang one day and then a second, Sang the third day until evening, When I broke the magic main-spring, Broke my magic sledge in pieces, Of my song the fleetest runners; Then I come to Mana's kingdom, Came to borrow here a hatchet, Thus to mend my sledge of magic, Thus to join the parts together. Send the boat now quickly over, Send me, quick, Tuoni's row-boat, Help me cross this fatal river, Cross the channel of Manala." Spake the daughter of Tuoni, Mana's maiden thus replying: "Thou art sure a stupid fellow, Foresight wanting, judgment lacking, Having neither wit nor wisdom, Coming here without a reason, Coming to Tuoni's empire; Better far if thou shouldst journey To thy distant home and kindred; Man they that visit Mana, Few return from Maria's kingdom." Spake the good old Wainamoinen: "Women old retreat from danger, Not a man of any courage, Not the weakest of the heroes. Bring thy boat, Tuoni's daughter, Tiny maiden of Manala, Come and row me o'er the ferry." Mana's daughter does as bidden, Brings her boat to Wainamoinen, Quickly rows him through the channel, O'er the black and fatal river, To the kingdom of Manala, Speaks these words to the magician: "Woe to thee! O Wainamoinen! Wonderful indeed, thy magic, Since thou comest to Manala, Comest neither dead nor dying." Tuonetar, the death-land hostess, Ancient hostess of Tuoni, Brings him pitchers filled with strong-beer, Fills her massive golden goblets, Speaks these measures to the stranger: "Drink, thou ancient Wainamoinen, Drink the beer of king Tuoni!" Wainamoinen, wise and cautious, Carefully inspects the liquor, Looks a long time in the pitchers, Sees the spawning of the black-frogs, Sees the young of poison-serpents, Lizards, worms, and writhing adders, Thus addresses Tuonetar: "Have not come with this intention, Have not come to drink thy poisons, Drink the beer of Tuonela; Those that drink Tuoni's liquors, Those that sip the cups of Mana, Court the Devil and destruction, End their lives in want and ruin." Tuonetar makes this answer: "Ancient minstrel, Wainamoinen, Tell me what has brought thee hither, Brought thee to the, realm of Mana, To the courts of Tuonela, Ere Tuoni sent his angels To thy home in Kalevala, There to cut thy magic life-thread." Spake the singer, Wainamoinen: "I was building me a vessel, At my craft was working, singing, Needed three words of the Master, How to fasten in the ledges, How the stern should be completed, How complete the boat's forecastle. This the reason of my coming To the empire of Tuoni, To the castles of Manala: Came to learn these magic sayings, Learn the lost-words of the Master." Spake the hostess, Tuonetar: "Mana never gives these sayings, Canst not learn them from Tuoni, Not the lost-words of the Master; Thou shalt never leave this kingdom, Never in thy magic life-time, Never go to Kalevala, To Wainola's peaceful meadows. To thy distant home and country." Quick the hostess, Tuonetar, Waves her magic wand of slumber O'er the head of Wainamoinen, Puts to rest the wisdom-hero, Lays him on the couch of Mana, In the robes of living heroes, Deep the sleep that settles o'er him. In Manala lived a woman, In the kingdom of Tuoni, Evil witch and toothless wizard, Spinner of the threads of iron, Moulder of the bands of copper, Weaver of a hundred fish-nets, Of a thousand nets of copper, Spinning in the days of summer, Weaving in the winter evenings, Seated on a rock in water. In the kingdom of Tuoni Lived a man, a wicked wizard, Three the fingers of the hero, Spinner he of iron meshes, Maker too of nets of copper, Countless were his nets of metal, Moulded on a rock in water, Through the many days of summer. Mana's son with crooked fingers, Iron-pointed, copper fingers, Pulls of nets, at least a thousand, Through the river of Tuoni, Sets them lengthwise, sets them crosswise, In the fatal, darksome river, That the sleeping Wainamomen, Friend and brother of the waters, May not leave the isle of Mana, Never in the course of ages, Never leave the death-land castles, Never while the moonlight glimmers On the empire of Tuoni. Wainamoinen, wise and wary, Rising from his couch of slumber, Speaks these words as he is waking: "Is there not some mischief brewing, Am I not at last in danger, In the chambers of Tuoni, In the Manala home and household?" Quick he changes his complexion, Changes too his form and feature, Slips into another body; Like a serpent in a circle, Rolls black-dyed upon the waters; Like a snake among the willows, Crawls he like a worm of magic, Like an adder through the grasses, Through the coal-black stream of death-land, Through a thousand nets of copper Interlaced with threads of iron, From the kingdom of Tuoni, From the castles of Manala. Mana's son, the wicked wizard, With his iron-pointed fingers, In the early morning hastens To his thousand nets of copper, Set within the Tuoni river, Finds therein a countless number Of the death-stream fish and serpents; Does not find old Wainamoinen, Wainamoinen, wise and wary, Friend and fellow of the waters. When the wonder-working hero Had escaped from Tuonela, Spake he thus in supplication: "Gratitude to thee, O Ukko, Do I bring for thy protection! Never suffer other heroes, Of thy heroes not the wisest, To transgress the laws of nature; Never let another singer, While he lives within the body, Cross the river of Tuoni, As thou lovest thy creations. Many heroes cross the channel, Cross the fatal stream of Mana, Few return to tell the story, Few return from Tuonela, From Manala's courts and castles." Wainamoinen calls his people, On the plains of Kalevala, Speaks these words of ancient wisdom, To the young men, to the maidens, To the rising generation: "Every child of Northland, listen: If thou wishest joy eternal, Never disobey thy parents, Never evil treat the guiltless, Never wrong the feeble-minded, Never harm thy weakest fellow, Never stain thy lips with falsehood, Never cheat thy trusting neighbor, Never injure thy companion, Lest thou surely payest penance In the kingdom of Tuoni, In the prison of Manala; There, the home of all the wicked, There the couch of the unworthy, There the chambers of the guilty. Underneath Manala's fire-rock Are their ever-flaming couches, For their pillows hissing serpents, Vipers green their writhing covers, For their drink the blood of adders, For their food the pangs of hunger, Pain and agony their solace; If thou wishest joy eternal, Shun the kingdom of Tuoui!"



Wainamoinen, old and truthful, Did not learn the words of magic In Tuoni's gloomy regions, In the kingdom of Manala. Thereupon he long debated, Well considered, long reflected, Where to find the magic sayings; When a shepherd came to meet him, Speaking thus to Wainamoinen: "Thou canst find of words a hundred, Find a thousand wisdom-sayings, In the mouth of wise Wipunen, In the body of the hero; To the spot I know the foot-path, To his tomb the magic highway, Trodden by a host of heroes; Long the distance thou must travel, On the sharpened points of needles; Then a long way thou must journey On the edges of the broadswords; Thirdly thou must travel farther On the edges of the hatchets." Wainamoinen, old and trustful, Well considered all these journeys, Travelled to the forge and smithy, Thus addressed the metal-worker: "Ilmarinen, worthy blacksmith, Make a shoe for me of iron, Forge me gloves of burnished copper, Mold a staff of strongest metal, Lay the steel upon the inside, Forge within the might of magic; I am going on a journey To procure the magic sayings, Find the lost-words of the Master, From the mouth of the magician, From the tongue of wise Wipunen." Spake the artist, Ilmarinen: "Long ago died wise Wipunen, Disappeared these many ages, Lays no more his snares of copper, Sets no longer traps of iron, Cannot learn from him the wisdom, Cannot find in him the lost-words." Wainamoinen, old and hopeful, Little heeding, not discouraged, In his metal shoes and armor, Hastens forward on his journey, Runs the first day fleetly onward, On the sharpened points of needles; 'Wearily he strides the second, On the edges of the broadswords Swings himself the third day forward, On the edges of the hatchets. Wise Wipunen, wisdom-singer, Ancient bard, and great magician, With his magic songs lay yonder, Stretched beside him, lay his sayings, On his shoulder grew the aspen, On each temple grew the birch-tree, On his mighty chin the alder, From his beard grew willow-bushes, From his mouth the dark green fir-tree, And the oak-tree from his forehead. Wainamoinen, coming closer, Draws his sword, lays bare his hatchet From his magic leathern scabbard, Fells the aspen from his shoulder, Fells the birch-tree from his temples, From his chin he fells the alder, From his beard, the branching willows, From his mouth the dark-green fir-tree, Fells the oak-tree from his forehead. Now he thrusts his staff of iron Through the mouth of wise Wipunen, Pries his mighty jaws asunder, Speaks these words of master-magic: "Rise, thou master of magicians, From the sleep of Tuonela, From thine everlasting slumber!" Wise Wipunen, ancient singer, Quickly wakens from his sleeping, Keenly feels the pangs of torture, From the cruel staff of iron; Bites with mighty force the metal, Bites in twain the softer iron, Cannot bite the steel asunder, Opens wide his mouth in anguish. Wainamoinen of Wainola, In his iron-shoes and armor, Careless walking, headlong stumbles In the spacious mouth and fauces Of the magic bard, Wipunen. Wise Wipunen, full of song-charms, Opens wide his mouth and swallows Wainamoinen and his magic, Shoes, and staff, and iron armor. Then outspeaks the wise Wipunen: "Many things before I've eaten, Dined on goat, and sheep, and reindeer, Bear, and ox, and wolf, and wild-boar, Never in my recollection, Have I tasted sweeter morsels!" Spake the ancient Wainamoinen: "Now I see the evil symbols, See misfortune hanging o'er me, In the darksome Hisi-hurdles, In the catacombs of Kalma." Wainamoinen long considered How to live and how to prosper, How to conquer this condition. In his belt he wore a poniard, With a handle hewn from birch-wood, From the handle builds a vessel, Builds a boat through magic science; In this vessel rows he swiftly Through the entrails of the hero, Rows through every gland and vessel Of the wisest of magicians. Old Wipunen, master-singer, Barely feels the hero's presence, Gives no heed to Wainamoinen. Then the artist of Wainola Straightway sets himself to forging, Sets at work to hammer metals; Makes a smithy from his armor, Of his sleeves he makes the bellows, Makes the air-valve from his fur-coat, From his stockings, makes the muzzle, Uses knees instead of anvil, Makes a hammer of his fore-arm; Like the storm-wind roars the bellows, Like the thunder rings the anvil; Forges one day, then a second, Forges till the third day closes, In the body of Wipunen, In the sorcerer's abdomen. Old Wipunen, full of magic, Speaks these words in wonder, guessing: "Who art thou of ancient heroes, Who of all the host of heroes? Many heroes I have eaten, And of men a countless number, Have not eaten such as thou art; Smoke arises from my nostrils, From my mouth the fire is streaming, In my throat are iron-clinkers. "Go, thou monster, hence to wander, Flee this place, thou plague of Northland, Ere I go to seek thy mother, Tell the ancient dame thy mischief; She shall bear thine evil conduct, Great the burden she shall carry; Great a mother's pain and anguish, When her child runs wild and lawless; Cannot comprehend the meaning, Nor this mystery unravel, Why thou camest here, O monster, Camest here to give me torture. Art thou Hisi sent from heaven, Some calamity from Ukko? Art, perchance, some new creation, Ordered here to do me evil? If thou art some evil genius, Some calamity from Ukko, Sent to me by my Creator, Then am I resigned to suffer God does not forsake the worthy, Does not ruin those that trust him, Never are the good forsaken. If by man thou wert created, If some hero sent thee hither, I shall learn thy race of evil, Shall destroy thy wicked tribe-folk. "Thence arose the violation, Thence arose the first destruction, Thence came all the evil-doings: From the neighborhood of wizards, From the homes of the magicians, From the eaves of vicious spirits, From the haunts of fortune-tellers, From the cabins of the witches, From the castles of Tuoni, From the bottom of Manala, From the ground with envy swollen, From Ingratitude's dominions, From the rocky shoals and quicksands, From the marshes filled with danger, From the cataract's commotion, From the bear-caves in the mountains, From the wolves within the thickets, From the roarings of the pine-tree, From the burrows of the fox-dog, From the woodlands of the reindeer, From the eaves and Hisi-hurdles, From the battles of the giants, From uncultivated pastures, From the billows of the oceans, From the streams of boiling waters, From the waterfalls of Rutya, From the limits of the storm-clouds, From the pathways of the thunders, From the flashings of the lightnings, From the distant plains of Pohya, From the fatal stream and whirlpool, From the birthplace of Tuoni. "Art thou coming from these places? Hast thou, evil, hastened hither, To the heart of sinless hero, To devour my guiltless body, To destroy this wisdom-singer? Get thee hence, thou dog of Lempo, Leave, thou monster from Manala, Flee from mine immortal body, Leave my liver, thing of evil, In my body cease thy forging, Cease this torture of my vitals, Let me rest in peace and slumber. "Should I want in means efficient, Should I lack the magic power To outroot thine evil genius, I shall call a better hero, Call upon a higher power, To remove this dire misfortune, To annihilate this monster. I shall call the will of woman, From the fields, the old-time heroes? Mounted heroes from the sand-hills, Thus to rescue me from danger, From these pains and ceaseless tortures. "If this force prove inefficient, Should not drive thee from my body, Come, thou forest, with thy heroes, Come, ye junipers and pine-trees, With your messengers of power, Come, ye mountains, with your wood-nymphs, Come, ye lakes, with all your mermaids, Come, ye hundred ocean-spearmen, Come, torment this son of Hisi, Come and kill this evil monster. "If this call is inefficient, Does not drive thee from my vitals, Rise, thou ancient water-mother, With thy blue-cap from the ocean, From the seas, the lakes, the rivers, Bring protection to thy hero, Comfort bring and full assistance, That I guiltless may not suffer, May not perish prematurely. "Shouldst thou brave this invocation, Kap, daughter of Creation, Come, thou beauteous, golden maiden, Oldest of the race of women, Come and witness my misfortunes, Come and turn away this evil, Come, remove this biting torment, Take away this plague of Piru. "If this call be disregarded, If thou wilt not leave me guiltless, Ukko, on the arch of heaven, In the thunder-cloud dominions, Come thou quickly, thou art needed, Come, protect thy tortured hero, Drive away this magic demon, Banish ever his enchantment, With his sword and flaming furnace, With his fire-enkindling bellows. "Go, thou demon, hence to wander, Flee, thou plague of Northland heroes; Never come again for shelter, Nevermore build thou thy dwelling In the body of Wipunen; Take at once thy habitation To the regions of thy kindred, To thy distant fields and firesides; When thy journey thou hast ended, Gained the borders of thy country, Gained the meads of thy Creator, Give a signal of thy coming, Rumble like the peals of thunder, Glisten like the gleam of lightning, Knock upon the outer portals, Enter through the open windows, Glide about the many chambers, Seize the host and seize the hostess, Knock their evil beads together, Wring their necks and hurl their bodies To the black-dogs of the forest. "Should this prove of little value, Hover like the bird of battle, O'er the dwellings of the master, Scare the horses from the mangers, From the troughs affright the cattle, Twist their tails, and horns, and forelocks, Hurl their carcasses to Lempo. "If some scourge the winds have sent me, Sent me on the air of spring-tide, Brought me by the frosts of winter, Quickly journey whence thou camest, On the air-path of the heavens, Perching not upon some aspen, Resting not upon the birch-tree; Fly away to copper mountains, That the copper-winds may nurse thee, Waves of ether, thy protection. "Didst those come from high Jumala, From the hems of ragged snow-clouds, Quick ascend beyond the cloud-space, Quickly journey whence thou camest, To the snow-clouds, crystal-sprinkled, To the twinkling stars of heaven There thy fire may burn forever, There may flash thy forked lightnings, In the Sun's undying furnace. "Wert thou sent here by the spring-floods, Driven here by river-torrents? Quickly journey whence thou camest, Quickly hasten to the waters, To the borders of the rivers, To the ancient water-mountain, That the floods again may rock thee, And thy water-mother nurse thee. "Didst thou come from Kalma's kingdom, From the castles of the death-land? Haste thou back to thine own country, To the Kalma-halls and castles, To the fields with envy swollen, Where contending armies perish. "Art thou from the Hisi-woodlands, From ravines in Lempo's forest, From the thickets of the pine-wood, From the dwellings of the fir-glen? Quick retrace thine evil footsteps To the dwellings of thy master, To the thickets of thy kindred; There thou mayest dwell at pleasure, Till thy house decays about thee, Till thy walls shall mould and crumble. Evil genius, thee I banish, Got thee hence, thou horrid monster, To the caverns of the white-bear, To the deep abysm of serpents, To the vales, and swamps, and fenlands, To the ever-silent waters, To the hot-springs of the mountains, To the dead-seas of the Northland, To the lifeless lakes and rivers, To the sacred stream and whirlpool. "Shouldst thou find no place of resting, I will banish thee still farther, To the Northland's distant borders, To the broad expanse of Lapland, To the ever-lifeless deserts, To the unproductive prairies, Sunless, moonless, starless, lifeless, In the dark abyss of Northland; This for thee, a place befitting, Pitch thy tents and feast forever On the dead plains of Pohyola. "Shouldst thou find no means of living, I will banish thee still farther, To the cataract of Rutya, To the fire-emitting whirlpool, Where the firs are ever falling, To the windfalls of the forest; Swim hereafter in the waters Of the fire-emitting whirlpool, Whirl thou ever in the current Of the cataract's commotion, In its foam and boiling waters. Should this place be unbefitting, I will drive thee farther onward, To Tuoni's coal-black river, To the endless stream of Mana, Where thou shalt forever linger; Thou canst never leave Manala, Should I not thy head deliver, Should I never pay thy ransom; Thou canst never safely journey Through nine brother-rams abutting, Through nine brother-bulls opposing Through nine brother-stallions thwarting, Thou canst not re-cross Death-river Thickly set with iron netting, Interlaced with threads of copper. "Shouldst thou ask for steeds for saddle, Shouldst thou need a fleet-foot courser, I will give thee worthy racers, I will give thee saddle-horses; Evil Hisi has a charger, Crimson mane, and tail, and foretop, Fire emitting from his nostrils, As he prances through his pastures; Hoofs are made of strongest iron, Legs are made of steel and copper, Quickly scales the highest mountains, Darts like lightning through the valleys, When a skilful master rides him. "Should this steed be insufficient, I will give thee Lempo's snow-shoes, Give thee Hisi's shoes of elm-wood, Give to thee the staff of Piru, That with these thou mayest journey Into Hisi's courts and castles, To the woods and fields of Juutas; If the rocks should rise before thee, Dash the flinty rocks in pieces, Hurl the fragments to the heavens; If the branches cross thy pathway, Make them turn aside in greeting; If some mighty hero hail thee, Hurl him headlong to the woodlands. "Hasten hence, thou thing of evil, Heinous monster, leave my body, Ere the breaking of the morning Ere the Sun awakes from slumber, Ere the sinning of the cuckoo; Haste away, thou plague of Northland, Haste along the track of' moonbeams, Wander hence, forever wander, To the darksome fields or Pohya. "If at once thou dost not leave me, I will send the eagle's talons, Send to thee the beaks of vultures, To devour thine evil body, Hurl thy skeleton to Hisi. Much more quickly cruel Lempo Left my vitals when commanded, When I called the aid of Ukko, Called the help of my Creator. Flee, thou motherless offendant, Flee, thou fiend of Sariola, Flee, thou hound without a master, Ere the morning sun arises, Ere the Moon withdraws to slumber!" Wainamoinen, ancient hero, Speaks at last to old Wipunen: "Satisfied am I to linger In these old and spacious caverns, Pleasant here my home and dwelling; For my meat I have thy tissues, Have thy heart, and spleen, and liver, For my drink the blood of ages, Goodly home for Wainamoinen. "I shall set my forge and bellows Deeper, deeper in thy vitals; I shall swing my heavy hammer, Swing it with a greater power On thy heart, and lungs, and liver; I shall never, never leave thee Till I learn thine incantations, Learn thy many wisdom-sayings, Learn the lost-words of the Master; Never must these words be bidden, Earth must never lose this wisdom, Though the wisdom-singers perish." Old Wipunen, wise magician, Ancient prophet, filled with power, Opens fall his store of knowledge, Lifts the covers from his cases, Filled with old-time incantations, Filled with songs of times primeval, Filled with ancient wit and wisdom; Sings the very oldest folk-songs, Sings the origin of witchcraft, Sings of Earth and its beginning Sings the first of all creations, Sings the source of good and evil Sung alas! by youth no longer, Only sung in part by heroes In these days of sin and sorrow. Evil days our land befallen. Sings the orders of enchantment. How, upon the will of Ukko, By command of the Creator, How the air was first divided, How the water came from ether, How the earth arose from water, How from earth came vegetation, Fish, and fowl, and man, and hero. Sings again the wise Wipunen, How the Moon was first created, How the Sun was set in heaven, Whence the colors of the rainbow, Whence the ether's crystal pillars, How the skies with stars were sprinkled. Then again sings wise Wipunen, Sings in miracles of concord, Sings in magic tones of wisdom, Never was there heard such singing; Songs he sings in countless numbers, Swift his notes as tongues of serpents, All the distant hills re-echo; Sings one day, and then a second, Sings a third from dawn till evening, Sings from evening till the morning; Listen all the stars of heaven, And the Moon stands still and listens Fall the waves upon the deep-sea, In the bay the tides cease rising, Stop the rivers in their courses, Stops the waterfall of Rutya, Even Jordan ceases flowing, And the Wuoksen stops and listens. When the ancient Wainamoinen Well had learned the magic sayings, Learned the ancient songs and legends, Learned the words of ancient wisdom, Learned the lost-words of the Master, Well had learned the secret doctrine, He prepared to leave the body Of the wisdom-bard, Wipunen, Leave the bosom of the master, Leave the wonderful enchanter. Spake the hero, Wainamoinen: "O, thou Antero Wipunen, Open wide thy mouth and fauces, I have found the magic lost-words, I will leave thee now forever, Leave thee and thy wondrous singing, Will return to Kalevala, To Wainola's fields and firesides." Thus Wipunen spake in answer: "Many are the things I've eaten, Eaten bear, and elk, and reindeer, Eaten ox, and wolf, and wild-boar, Eaten man, and eaten hero, Never, never have I eaten Such a thing as Wainamoinen; Thou hast found what thou desirest, Found the three words of the Master; Go in peace, and ne'er returning, Take my blessing on thy going." Thereupon the bard Wipunen Opens wide his mouth, and wider; And the good, old Wainamoinen Straightway leaves the wise enchanter, Leaves Wipunen's great abdomen; From the mouth he glides and journeys O'er the hills and vales of Northland, Swift as red-deer or the forest, Swift as yellow-breasted marten, To the firesides of Wainola, To the plains of Kalevala. Straightway hastes he to the smithy Of his brother, Ilmarinen, Thus the iron-artist greets him: Hast thou found the long-lost wisdom, Hast thou heard the secret doctrine, Hast thou learned the master magic, How to fasten in the ledges, How the stern should be completed, How complete the ship's forecastle? Wainamoinen thus made answer: "I have learned of words a hundred, Learned a thousand incantations, Hidden deep for many ages, Learned the words of ancient wisdom, Found the keys of secret doctrine, Found the lost-words of the Master." Wainamoinen, magic-builder, Straightway journeys to his vessel, To the spot of magic labor, Quickly fastens in the ledges, Firmly binds the stern together And completes the boat's forecastle. Thus the ancient Wainamoinen Built the boat with magic only, And with magic launched his vessel, Using not the hand to touch it, Using not the foot to move it, Using not the knee to turn it, Using nothing to propel it. Thus the third task was completed, For the hostess of Pohyola, Dowry for the Maid of Beauty Sitting on the arch of heaven, On the bow of many colors.



Wainamoinen, old and truthful, Long considered, long debated, How to woo and win the daughter Of the hostess of Pohyola, How to lead the Bride of Beauty, Fairy maiden of the rainbow, To the meadows of Wainola, From the dismal Sariola. Now he decks his magic vessel, Paints the boat in blue and scarlet, Trims in gold the ship's forecastle, Decks the prow in molten silver; Sings his magic ship down gliding, On the cylinders of fir-tree: Now erects the masts of pine-wood, On each mast the sails of linen, Sails of blue, and white, and scarlet, Woven into finest fabric. Wainamoinen, the magician, Steps aboard his wondrous vessel, Steers the bark across the waters, On the blue back of the broad-sea, Speaks these words in sailing northward, Sailing to the dark Pohyola: "Come aboard my ship, O Ukko, Come with me, thou God of mercy, To protect thine ancient hero, To support thy trusting servant, On the breasts of raging billows, On the far out-stretching waters. "Rock, O winds, this wondrous vessel, Causing not a single ripple; Rolling waves, bear ye me northward, That the oar may not be needed In my journey to Pohyola, O'er this mighty waste of waters." Ilmarinen's beauteous sister, Fair and goodly maid, Annikki, Of the Night and Dawn, the daughter, Who awakes each morning early, Rises long before the daylight, Stood one morning on the sea-shore, Washing in the foam her dresses, Rinsing out her silken ribbons, On the bridge of scarlet color, On the border of the highway, On a headland jutting seaward, On the forest-covered island. Here Annikki, looking round her, Looking through the fog and ether, Looking through the clouds of heaven, Gazing far out on the blue-sea, Sees the morning sun arising, Glimmering along the billows, Looks with eyes of distant vision Toward the sunrise on the waters, Toward the winding streams of Suomi, Where the Wina-waves were flowing. There she sees, on the horizon, Something darkle in the sunlight, Something blue upon the billows, Speaks these words in wonder guessing: What is this upon the surges, What this blue upon the waters, What this darkling in the sunlight? 'Tis perhaps a flock of wild-geese, Or perchance the blue-duck flying; Then upon thy wings arising, Fly away to highest heaven. "Art thou then a shoal of sea-trout, Or perchance a school of salmon? Dive then to the deep sea-bottom, In the waters swim and frolic. "Art thou then a cliff of granite, Or perchance a mighty oak-tree, Floating on the rough sea-billows? May the floods then wash and beat thee Break thee to a thousand fragments." Wainamoinen, sailing northward, Steers his wondrous ship of magic Toward the headland jutting seaward, Toward the island forest-covered. Now Annikki, goodly maiden, Sees it is the magic vessel Of a wonderful enchanter, Of a mighty bard and hero, And she asks this simple question: "Art thou then my father's vessel, Or my brother's ship of magic? Haste away then to thy harbor, To thy refuge in Wainola. Hast thou come a goodly distance? Sail then farther on thy journey, Point thy prow to other waters." It was not her father's vessel, Not a sail-boat from the distance, 'Twas the ship of Wainamoinen, Bark of the eternal singer; Sails within a hailing distance, Swims still nearer o'er the waters, Brings one word and takes another, Brings a third of magic import. Speaks the goodly maid, Annikki, Of the Night and Dawn, the daughter, To the sailor of the vessel: "Whither sailest, Wainamoinen, Whither bound, thou friend of waters, Pride and joy of Kalevala?" From the vessel Wainamomen Gives this answer to the maiden: "I have come to catch some sea-trout, Catch the young and toothsome whiting, Hiding in tbese-reeds and rushes." This the answer of Annikki: "Do not speak to me in falsehood, Know I well the times of fishing; Long ago my honored father Was a fisherman in Northland, Came to catch the trout and whiting, Fished within these seas and rivers. Very well do I remember How the fisherman disposes, How he rigs his fishing vessel, Lines, and gaffs, and poles, and fish-nets; Hast not come a-fishing hither. Whither goest, Wainamoinen, Whither sailest, friend of waters? Spake the ancient Wainamoinen: "I have come to catch some wild-geese, Catch the hissing birds of Suomi, In these far-extending borders, In the Sachsensund dominions." Good Annikki gives this answer: "Know I well a truthful speaker, Easily detect a falsehood; Formerly my aged father Often came a-hunting hither, Came to hunt the hissing wild-geese, Hunt the red-bill of these waters. Very well do I remember How the hunter rigs his vessel, Bows, and arrows, knives, and quiver, Dogs enchained within the vessel, Pointers hunting on the sea-shore, Setters seeking in the marshes, Tell the truth now Wainamoinen, Whither is thy vessel sailing?" Spake the hero of the Northland: "To the wars my ship is sailing, To the bloody fields of battle, Where the streams run scarlet-colored, Where the paths are paved with bodies!' These the words of fair Annikki: "Know I well the paths to battle. Formerly my aged father Often sounded war's alarum, Often led the hosts to conquest; In each ship a hundred rowers, And in arms a thousand heroes, Oil the prow a thousand cross-bows, Swords, and spears, and battle-axes; Know I well the ship of battle. Speak Do longer fruitless falsehoods, Whither sailest, Wainamoinen, Whither steerest, friend of waters? These the words of Wainamoinen: "Come, O maiden, to my vessel, In my magic ship be seated, Then I'll give thee truthful answer." Thus Annikki, silver-tinselled, Answers ancient Wainamoinen: "With the winds I'll fill thy vessel, To thy bark I'll send the storm-winds And capsize thy ship of magic, Break in pieces its forecastle, If the truth thou dost not tell me, If thou dost not cease thy falsehoods, If thou dost not tell me truly Whither sails thy magic vessel." These the words of Wainamoinen: "Now I make thee truthful answer, Though at first I spake deception: I am sailing to the Northland To the dismal Sariola, Where the ogres live and flourish, Where they drown the worthy heroes, There to woo the Maid of Beauty Sitting on the bow of heaven, Woo and win the fairy virgin, Bring her to my home and kindred, To the firesides of Walnola." Then Aunikki, graceful maiden, Of the Night and Dawn, the daughter, As she heard the rightful answer, Knew the truth was fully spoken, Straightway left her coats unbeaten, Left unwashed her linen garments, Left unrinsed her silks and ribbons On the highway by the sea-shore, On the bridge of scarlet color On her arm she threw her long-robes, Hastened off with speed of roebuck To the shops of Ilmarinen, To the iron-forger's furnace, To the blacksmith's home and smithy, Here she found the hero-artist, Forging out a bench of iron, And adorning it with silver. Soot lay thick upon his forehead, Soot and coal upon his shoulders. On the threshold speaks Annikki, These the words his sister uses: "Ilmarinen, dearest brother, Thou eternal artist-forger, Forge me now a loom of silver, Golden rings to grace my fingers, Forge me gold and silver ear-rings, Six or seven golden girdles, Golden crosslets for my bosom, For my head forge golden trinkets, And I'll tell a tale surprising, Tell a story that concerns thee Truthfully I'll tell the story." Then the blacksmith Ilmarinen Spake and these the words he uttered: "If thou'lt tell the tale sincerely, I will forge the loom of silver, Golden rings to grace thy fingers, Forge thee gold and silver ear-rings, Six or seven golden girdles, Golden crosslets for thy bosom, For thy head forge golden trinkets; But if thou shouldst tell me falsely, I shall break thy beauteous jewels, Break thine ornaments in pieces, Hurl them to the fire and furnace, Never forge thee other trinkets." This the answer of Annikki: "Ancient blacksmith, Ilmarinen, Dost thou ever think to marry Her already thine affianced, Beauteous Maiden of the Rainbow, Fairest virgin of the Northland, Chosen bride of Sariola? Shouldst thou wish the Maid of Beauty, Thou must forge, and forge unceasing, Hammering the days and nights through; Forge the summer hoofs for horses, Forge them iron hoofs for winter, In the long nights forge the snow-sledge, Gaily trim it in the daytime, Haste thou then upon thy journey To thy wooing in the Northland, To the dismal Sariola; Thither journeys one more clever, Sails another now before thee, There to woo thy bride affianced, Thence to lead thy chosen virgin, Woo and win the Maid of Beauty; Three long years thou hast been wooing. Wainamoinen now is sailing On the blue back of the waters, Sitting at his helm of copper; On the prow are golden carvings, Beautiful his boat of magic, Sailing fleetly o'er the billows, To the never-pleasant Northland, To the dismal Sariola." Ilmarinen stood in wonder, Stood a statue at the story; Silent grief had settled o'er him, Settled o'er the iron-artist; From one hand the tongs descended, From the other fell the hammer, As the blacksmith made this answer: "Good Annikki, worthy sister, I shall forge the loom of silver, Golden rings to grace thy fingers, Forge thee gold and silver ear-rings, Six or seven golden girdles, Golden crosslets for thy bosom; Go and heat for me the bath-room, Fill with heat the honey-chambers, Lay the faggots on the fire-place, Lay the smaller woods around them, Pour some water through the ashes, Make a soap of magic virtue, Thus to cleanse my blackened visage, Thus to cleanse the blacksmith's body, Thus remove the soot and ashes." Then Annikki, kindly sister, Quickly warmed her brother's bath-room, Warmed it with the knots of fir-trees, That the thunder-winds had broken; Gathered pebbles from the fire-stream, Threw them in the heating waters; Broke the tassels from the birch-trees, Steeped the foliage in honey, Made a lye from milk and ashes, Made of these a strong decoction, Mixed it with the fat and marrow Of the reindeer of the mountains, Made a soap of magic virtue, Thus to cleanse the iron-artist, Thus to beautify the suitor, Thus to make the hero worthy. Ilmarinen, ancient blacksmith, The eternal metal-worker, Forged the wishes of his sister, Ornaments for fair Annikki, Rings, and bracelets, pins and ear-drops, Forged for her six golden girdles, Forged a weaving loom of silver, While the maid prepared the bath-room, Set his toilet-room in order. To the maid he gave the trinkets, Gave the loom of molten silver, And the sister thus made answer: "I have heated well thy bath-room, Have thy toilet-things in order, Everything as thou desirest; Go prepare thyself for wooing, Lave thy bead to flaxen whiteness, Make thy cheeks look fresh and ruddy, Lave thyself in Love's aroma, That thy wooing prove successful." Ilmarinen, magic artist, Quick repairing to his bath-room, Bathed his head to flaxen whiteness, Made his cheeks look fresh and ruddy, Laved his eyes until they sparkled Like the moonlight on the waters; Wondrous were his form and features, And his cheeks like ruddy berries. These the words of Ilmarinen: "Fair Annikki, lovely sister, Bring me now my silken raiment, Bring my best and richest vesture, Bring me now my softest linen, That my wooing prove successful." Straightway did the helpful sister Bring the finest of his raiment, Bring the softest of his linen, Raiment fashioned by his mother; Brought to him his silken stockings, Brought him shoes of marten-leather, Brought a vest of sky-blue color, Brought him scarlet-colored trousers, Brought a coat with scarlet trimming, Brought a red shawl trimmed in ermine Fourfold wrapped about his body; Brought a fur-coat made of seal-skin, Fastened with a thousand bottons, And adorned with countless jewels; Brought for him his magic girdle, Fastened well with golden buckles, That his artist-mother fashioned; Brought him gloves with golden wristlets, That the Laplanders had woven For a head of many ringlets; Brought the finest cap in Northland, That his ancient father purchased When he first began his wooing. Ilmarinen, blacksmith-artist, Clad himself to look his finest, When he thus addressed a servant: "Hitch for me a fleet-foot racer, Hitch him to my willing snow-sledge, For I start upon a journey To the distant shores of Pohya, To the dismal Sariola." Spake the servant thus in answer: "Thou hast seven fleet-foot racers, Munching grain within their mangers, Which of these shall I make ready?" Spake the blacksmith, Ilmarinen: "Take the fleetest of my coursers, Put the gray steed in the harness, Hitch him to my sledge of magic; Place six cuckoos on the break-board, Seven bluebirds on the cross-bars, Thus to charm the Northland maidens, Thus to make them look and listen, As the cuckoos call and echo. Bring me too my largest bear-skin, Fold it warm about the cross-bench; Bring me then my marten fur-robes, As a cover and protection." Straightway then the trusty servant Of the blacksmith, Ilmarinen, Put the gray steed in the harness, Hitched the racer to the snow-sledge, Placed six cuckoos on the break-board, Seven bluebirds on the cross-bars, On the front to sing and twitter; Then he brought the largest bear-skin, Folded it upon the cross-bench; Brought the finest robes of marten, Warm protection for the master. Ilmarinen, forger-artist, The eternal metal-worker, Earnestly entreated Ukko: "Send thy snow-flakes, Ukko, father, Let them gently fall from heaven, Let them cover all the heather, Let them hide the berry-bushes, That my sledge may glide in freedom O'er the hills to Sariola!" Ukko sent the snow from heaven, Gently dropped the crystal snow-flakes, Lending thus his kind assistance To the hero, Ilmarinen, On his journey to the Northland. Reins in hand, the ancient artist Seats him in his metal snow-sledge, And beseeches thus his Master: "Good luck to my reins and traces, Good luck to my shafts and runners! God protect my magic snow-sledge, Be my safeguard on my journey To the dismal Sariola!" Now the ancient Ilmarinen Draws the reins upon the racer, Snaps his whip above the courser, To the gray steed gives this order, And the charger plunges northward: "Haste away, my flaxen stallion, Haste thee onward, noble white-face, To the never-pleasant Pohya, To the dreary Sariola!" Fast and faster flies the fleet-foot, On the curving snow-capped sea-coast, On the borders of the lowlands, O'er the alder-hills and mountains. Merrily the steed flies onward, Bluebirds singing, cuckoos calling, On the sea-shore looking northward, Through the sand and falling snow-flakes Blinding winds, and snow, and sea-foam, Cloud the hero, Ilmarinen, As he glides upon his journey, Looking seaward for the vessel Of the ancient Wainamoinen; Travels one day, then a second, Travels all the next day northward, Till the third day Ilmarinen Overtakes old Wainamoinen, Rails him in his magic vessel, And addresses thus the minstrel: "O thou ancient Wainamoinen, Let us woo in peace the maiden, Fairest daughter or the Northland, Sitting on the bow of heaven, Let each labor long to win her, Let her wed the one she chooses, Him selecting, let her follow." Wainamoinen thus makes answer: "I agree to thy proposal, Let us woo in peace the maiden, Not by force, nor faithless measures, Shall we woo the Maid of Beauty, Let her follow him she chooses; Let the unsuccessful suitor Harbor neither wrath nor envy For the hero that she follows." Thus agreeing, on they journey, Each according to his pleasure; Fleetly does the steed fly onward, Quickly flies the magic vessel, Sailing on the broad-sea northward; Ilmarinen's fleet-foot racer Makes the hills of Northland tremble, As he gallops on his journey To the dismal Sariola. Wainamoinen calls the South-winds, And they fly to his assistance; Swiftly sails his ship of beauty, Swiftly plows the rough sea-billows In her pathway to Pohyola. Time had gone but little distance, Scarce a moment had passed over, Ere the dogs began their barking, In the mansions of the Northland, In the courts of Sariola, Watch-dogs of the court of Louhi; Never had they growled so fiercely, Never had they barked so loudly, Never with their tails had beaten Northland into such an uproar. Spake the master of Pohyola: "Go and learn, my worthy daughter, Why the watch-dogs have been barking, Why the black-dog signals danger." Quickly does the daughter answer: "I am occupied, dear father, I have work of more importance, I must tend my flock of lambkins, I must turn the nether millstone, Grind to flour the grains of barley, Run the grindings through the sifter, Only have I time for grinding." Lowly growls the faithful watch-dog, Seldom does he growl so strangely. Spake the master of Pohyola: "Go and learn, my trusted consort, Why the Northland dogs are barking, Why the black-dog signals danger." Thus his aged wife makes answer; "Have no time, nor inclination, I must feed my hungry household, Must prepare a worthy dinner, I must bake the toothsome biscuit, Knead the dough till it is ready, Only have I strength for kneading." Spake the master of Pohyola: "Dames are always in a hurry, Maidens too are ever busy, Whether warming at the oven, Or asleep upon their couches; Go my son, and learn the danger, Why the black-dog growls displeasure," Quickly does the son give answer: "Have no time, nor inclination, Am in haste to grind my hatchet; I must chop this log to cordwood, For the fire must cut the faggots, I must split the wood in fragments, Large the pile and small the fire-wood, Only have I strength for chopping." Still the watch-dog growls in anger, Growl the whelps within the mansion, Growl the dogs chained in the kennel, Growls the black-dog on the hill-top, Setting Northland in an uproar. Spake the master of Pohyola: "Never, never does my black-dog Growl like this without a reason; Never does he bark for nothing, Does not growl at angry billows, Nor the sighing of the pine-trees." Then the master of Pohyola Went himself to learn the reason For the barking of the watch-dogs; Strode he through the spacious court-yard, Through the open fields beyond it, To the summit of the uplands. Looking toward his black-dog barking, He beholds the muzzle pointed To a distant, stormy hill-top, To a mound with alders covered; There he learned the rightful reason, Why his dogs had barked so loudly, Why had growled the wool-tail bearer, Why his whelps had signalled danger. At full sail, he saw a vessel, And the ship was scarlet-colored, Entering the bay of Lempo; Saw a sledge of magic colors, Gliding up the curving sea-shore, O'er the snow-fields of Pohyola. Then the master of the Northland Hastened straightway to his dwelling, Hastened forward to his court-room, These the accents of the master: "Often strangers journey hither, On the blue back of the ocean, Sailing in a scarlet vessel, Rocking in the bay of Lempo; Often strangers come in sledges To the honey-lands of Louhi." Spake the hostess of Pohyola: How shall we obtain a token Why these strangers journey hither? My beloved, faithful daughter, Lay a branch upon the fire-place, Let it burn with fire of magic If it trickle drops of scarlet, War and bloodshed do they bring us; If it trickle drops of water, Peace and plenty bring the strangers." Northland's fair and slender maiden, Beautiful and modest daughter, Lays a sorb-branch on the fire-place, Lights it with the fire of magic; Does not trickle drops of scarlet, Trickles neither blood, nor water, From the wand come drops of honey. From the corner spake Suowakko, This the language of the wizard: "If the wand is dripping honey, Then the strangers that are coming Are but worthy friends and suitors." Then the hostess of the Northland, With the daughter of the hostess, Straightway left their work, and hastened From their dwelling to the court-yard; Looked about in all directions, Turned their eyes upon the waters, Saw a magic-colored vessel Rocking slowly in the harbor, Having sailed the bay of Lempo, Triple sails, and masts, and rigging, Sable was the nether portion, And the upper, scarlet-colored, At the helm an ancient hero Leaning on his oars of copper; Saw a fleet-foot racer running, Saw a red sledge lightly follow, Saw the magic sledge emblazoned, Guided toward the courts of Louhi; Saw and heard six golden cuckoos Sitting on the break-board, calling, Seven bluebirds richly colored Singing from the yoke and cross-bar; In the sledge a magic hero, Young, and strong, and proud, and handsome, Holding reins upon the courser. Spake the hostess of Pohyola: "Dearest daughter, winsome maiden, Dost thou wish a noble suitor? Should these heroes come to woo thee, Wouldst thou leave thy home and country, Be the bride of him that pleases, Be his faithful life-companion? "He that comes upon the waters, Sailing in a magic vessel, Having sailed the bay of Lempo, Is the good, old Wainamoinen; In his ship are countless treasures, Richest presents from Wainola. "He that rides here in his snow-sledge In his sledge of magic beauty, With the cuckoos and the bluebirds, Is the blacksmith, Ilmarinen, Cometh hither empty-handed, Only brings some wisdom-sayings. When they come within the dwelling, Bring a bowl of honeyed viands, Bring a pitcher with two handles, Give to him that thou wouldst follow Give it to old Wainamoinen, Him that brings thee countless treasures, Costly presents in his vessel, Priceless gems from Kalevala." Spake the Northland's lovely daughter, This the language of the maiden "Good, indeed, advice maternal, But I will not wed for riches, Wed no man for countless treasures; For his worth I'll choose a husband, For his youth and fine appearance, For his noble form and features; In the olden times the maidens Were not sold by anxious mothers To the suitors that they loved not. I shall choose without his treasures Ilmarinen for his wisdom, For his worth and good behavior, Him that forged the wondrous Sampo, Hammered thee the lid in colors." Spake the hostess of Pohyola: "Senseless daughter, child of folly, Thus to choose the ancient blacksmith, From whose brow drips perspiration, Evermore to rinse his linen, Lave his hands, and eyes, and forehead, Keep his ancient house in order; Little use his wit and wisdom When compared with gold and silver." This the answer of the daughter: "I will never, never, never, Wed the ancient Wainamoinen With his gold and priceless jewels; Never will I be a helpmate To a hero in his dotage, Little thanks my compensation." Wainamoinen, safely landing In advance of Ilmarinen, Pulls his gaily-covered vessel From the waves upon the sea-beach, On the cylinders of birch-wood, On the rollers copper-banded, Straightway hastens to the guest-room Of the hostess of Pohyola, Of the master of the Northland, Speaks these words upon the threshold To the famous Maid of Beauty: "Come with me, thou lovely virgin, Be my bride and life-companion, Share with me my joys and sorrows, Be my honored wife hereafter!" This the answer of the maiden: "Hast thou built for me the vessel, Built for me the ship of magic From the fragments of the distaff, From the splinters of the spindle?" Wainamoinen thus replying: "I have built the promised vessel, Built the wondrous ship for sailing, Firmly joined the parts by magic; It will weather roughest billows, Will outlive the winds and waters, Swiftly glide upon the blue-back Of the deep and boundless ocean It will ride the waves in beauty, Like an airy bubble rising, Like a cork on lake and river, Through the angry seas of Northland, Through Pohyola's peaceful waters." Northland's fair and slender daughter Gives this answer to her suitor: "Will not wed a sea-born hero, Do not care to rock the billows, Cannot live with such a husband Storms would bring us pain and trouble, Winds would rack our hearts and temples; Therefore thee I cannot follow, Cannot keep thy home in order, Cannot be thy life-companion, Cannot wed old Wainamoinen."



Ilmarinen, hero-blacksmith, The eternal metal-worker, Hastens forward to the court-room Of the hostess of Pohyola, Of the master of the Northland, Hastens through the open portals Into Louhi's home and presence. Servants come with silver pitchers, Filled with Northland's richest brewing; Honey-drink is brought and offered To the blacksmith of Wainola, Ilmarinen thus replying: "I shall not in all my life-time Taste the drink that thou hast brought me, Till I see the Maid of Beauty, Fairy Maiden of the Rainbow; I will drink with her in gladness, For whose hand I journey hither." Spake the hostess of Pohyola: "Trouble does the one selected Give to him that wooes and watches; Not yet are her feet in sandals, Thine affianced is not ready. Only canst thou woo my daughter, Only canst thou win the maiden, When thou hast by aid of magic Plowed the serpent-field of Hisi, Plowed the field of hissing vipers, Touching neither beam nor handles. Once this field was plowed by Piru, Lempo furrowed it with horses, With a plowshare made of copper, With a beam of flaming iron; Never since has any hero Brought this field to cultivation." Ilmarinen of Wainola Straightway hastens to the chamber Of the Maiden of the Rainbow, Speaks these words in hesitation: "Thou of Night and Dawn the daughter, Tell me, dost thou not remember When for thee I forged the Sampo, Hammered thee the lid in colors? Thou didst swear by oath the strougest, By the forge and by the anvil, By the tongs and by the hammer, In the ears of the Almighty, And before omniscient Ukko, Thou wouldst follow me hereafter, Be my bride, my life-companion, Be my honored wife forever. Now thy mother is exacting, Will not give to me her daughter, Till by means of magic only, I have plowed the field of serpents, Plowed the hissing soil of Hisi." The affianced Bride of Beauty Gives this answer to the suitor: "O, thou blacksmith, Ilmarinen, The eternal wonder-forger, Forge thyself a golden plowshare, Forge the beam of shining silver, And of copper forge the handles; Then with ease, by aid of magic, Thou canst plow the field of serpents, Plow the hissing soil of Hisi." Ilmarinen, welcome suitor, Straightway builds a forge and smithy, Places gold within the furnace, In the forge he lays the silver, Forges then a golden plowshare, Forges, too, a beam of silver, Forges handles out of copper, Forges boots and gloves of iron, Forges him a mail of metal, For his limbs a safe protection, Safe protection for his body. Then a horse of fire selecting, Harnesses the flaming stallion, Goes to plow the field of serpents, Plow the viper-lands of Hisi. In the field were countless vipers, Serpents there of every species, Crawling, writhing, hissing, stinging, Harmless all against the hero, Thus he stills the snakes of Lempo: "Vipers, ye by God created, Neither best nor worst of creatures, Ye whose wisdom comes from Ukko, And whose venom comes from Hisi, Ukko is your greater Master, By His will your heads are lifted; Get ye hence before my plowing, Writ-he ye through the grass and stubble, Crawl ye to the nearest thicket, Keep your heads beneath the heather, Hunt our holes to Mana's kingdom If your poison-heads be lifted, Then will mighty Ukko smite them 'With his iron-pointed arrows, With the lightning of his anger." Thus the blacksmith, Ilmarinen, Safely plows the field of serpents, Lifts the vipers in his plowing, Buries them beneath the furrow, Harmless all against his magic. When the task had been completed, Ilmarinen, quick returning, Thus addressed Pohyola's hostess: "I have plowed the field of Hisi, Plowed the field of hissing serpents, Stilled and banished all the vipers; Give me, ancient dame, thy daughter, Fairest maiden of the Northland. Spake the hostess of Pohyola: "Shall not grant to thee my daughter, Shall not give my lovely virgin, Till Tuoni's bear is muzzled, Till Manala's wolf is conquered, In the forests of the Death-land, In the boundaries of Mana. Hundreds have been sent to hunt him, So one yet has been successful, All have perished in Manala." Thereupon young Ilmarinen To the maiden's chamber hastens, Thus addresses his affianced: "Still another test demanded, I must go to Tuonela, Bridle there the bear of Mana, Bring him from the Death-land forests, From Tuoni's grove and empire! This advice the maiden gives him: "O thou artist, Ilmarinen, The eternal metal-worker, Forge of steel a magic bridle, On a rock beneath the water, In the foaming triple currents; Make the straps of steel and copper, Bridle then the bear of Mana, Lead him from Tuoni's forests." Then the blacksmith, Ilmarinen, Forged of steel a magic bridle, On a rock beneath the water, In the foam of triple currents; Made the straps of steel and copper, Straightway went the bear to muzzle, In the forests of the Death-land, Spake these words in supplication: "Terhenetar, ether-maiden, Daughter of the fog and snow-flake, Sift the fog and let it settle O'er the bills and lowland thickets, Where the wild-bear feeds and lingers, That he may not see my coming, May not hear my stealthy footsteps!" Terhenetar hears his praying, Makes the fog and snow-flake settle On the coverts of the wild-beasts; Thus the bear he safely bridles, Fetters him in chains of magic, In the forests of Tuoni, In the blue groves of Manala. When this task had been completed, Ilmarinen, quick returning, Thus addressed the ancient Louhi: "Give me, worthy dame, thy daughter, Give me now my bride affianced, I have brought the bear of Mana From Tuoni's fields and forests." Spake the hostess of Pohyola To the blacksmith, Ilmarinen: "I will only give my daughter, Give to thee the Maid of Beauty, When the monster-pike thou catchest In the river of Tuoni, In Manala's fatal waters, Using neither hooks, nor fish-nets, Neither boat, nor fishing-tackle; Hundreds have been sent to catch him, No one yet has been successful, All have perished in Manala." Much disheartened, Ilmarinen Hastened to the maiden's chamber, Thus addressed the rainbow-maiden: "Now a third test is demanded, Much more difficult than ever; I must catch the pike of Mana, In the river of Tuoni, And without my fishing-tackle, Hard the third test of the hero! This advice the maiden gives him: "O thou hero, Ilmarinen, Never, never be discouraged: In thy furnace, forge an eagle, From the fire of ancient magic; He will catch the pike of Mana, Catch the monster-fish in safety, From the death-stream of Tuoni, From Manala's fatal waters." Then the suitor, Ilmarinen, The eternal artist-forgeman, In the furnace forged an eagle From the fire of ancient wisdom; For this giant bird of magic Forged he talons out of iron, And his beak of steel and copper; Seats himself upon the eagle, On his back between the wing-bones, Thus addresses he his creature, Gives the bird of fire, this order: "Mighty eagle, bird of beauty, Fly thou whither I direct thee, To Tuoni's coal-black river, To the blue deeps of the Death-stream, Seize the mighty fish of Mana, Catch for me this water-monster." Swiftly flies the magic eagle, Giant-bird of worth and wonder, To the river of Tuoni, There to catch the pike of Mana; One wing brushes on the waters, While the other sweeps the heavens; In the ocean dips his talons, Whets his beak on mountain-ledges. Safely landing, Ilmarinen, The immortal artist-forger, Hunts the monster of the Death-stream, While the eagle hunts and fishes In the waters of Manala. From the river rose a monster, Grasped the blacksmith, Ilmarinen, Tried to drag him to his sea-cave; Quick the eagle pounced upon him, With his metal-beak he seized him, Wrenched his head, and rent his body, Hurled him back upon the bottom Of the deep and fatal river, Freed his master, Ilmarinen. Then arose the pike of Mana, Came the water-dog in silence, Of the pikes was not the largest, Nor belonged he to the smallest; Tongue the length of double hatchets, Teeth as long as fen-rake handles, Mouth as broad as triple streamlets, Back as wide as seven sea-boats, Tried to snap the magic blacksmith, Tried to swallow Ilmarinen. Swiftly swoops the mighty eagle, Of the birds was not the largest, Nor belonged he to the smallest; Mouth as wide as seven streamlets, Tongue as long as seven javelins, Like five crooked scythes his talons; Swoops upon the pike of Mana. Quick the giant fish endangered, Darts and flounders in the river, Dragging down the mighty eagle, Lashing up the very bottom To the surface of the river; When the mighty bird uprising Leaves the wounded pike in water, Soars aloft on worsted pinions To his home in upper ether; Soars awhile, and sails, and circles, Circles o'er the reddened waters, Swoops again on lightning-pinions, Strikes with mighty force his talons Into the shoulder of his victim; Strikes the second of his talons On the flinty mountain-ledges, On the rocks with iron hardened; From the cliffs rebound his talons, Slip the flinty rocks o'erhanging, And the monster-pike resisting Dives again beneath the surface To the bottom of the river, From the talons of the eagle; Deep, the wounds upon the body Of the monster of Tuoni. Still a third time soars the eagle, Soars, and sails, and quickly circles, Swoops again upon the monster, Fire out-shooting from his pinoins, Both his eyeballs flashing lightning; With his beak of steel and copper Grasps again the pike of Mana Firmly planted are his talons In the rocks and in his victim, Drags the monster from the river, Lifts the pike above the waters, From Tuoni's coal-black river, From the blue-back of Manala. Thus the third time does the eagle Bring success from former failures; Thus at last the eagle catches Mana's pike, the worst of fishes, Swiftest swimmer of the waters, From the river of Tuoni; None could see Manala's river, For the myriad of fish-scales; Hardly could one see through ether, For the feathers of the eagle, Relicts of the mighty contest. Then the bird of copper talons Took the pike, with scales of silver, To the pine-tree's topmost branches, To the fir-tree plumed with needles, Tore the monster-fish in pieces, Ate the body of his victim, Left the head for Ilmarinen. Spake the blacksmith to the eagle: "O thou bird of evil nature, What thy thought and what thy motive? Thou hast eaten what I needed, Evidence of my successes; Thoughtless eagle, witless instinct, Thus to mar the spoils of conquest!" But the bird of metal talons Hastened onward, soaring upward, Rising higher into ether, Rising, flying, soaring, sailing, To the borders of the long-clouds, Made the vault of ether tremble, Split apart the dome of heaven, Broke the colored bow of Ukko, Tore the Moon-horns from their sockets, Disappeared beyond the Sun-land, To the home of the triumphant. Then the blacksmith, Ilmarinen, Took the pike-head to the hostess Of the ever-dismal Northland, Thus addressed the ancient Louhi: "Let this head forever serve thee As a guest-bench for thy dwelling, Evidence of hero-triumphs; I have caught the pike of Mana, I have done as thou demandest, Three my victories in Death-land, Three the tests of magic heroes; Wilt thou give me now thy daughter, Give to me the Maid of Beauty?" Spake the hostess of Pohyola: "Badly is the test accomplished, Thou has torn the pike in pieces, From his neck the head is severed, Of his body thou hast eaten, Brought to me this worthless relic! These the words of Ilmarinen: "When the victory is greatest, Do we suffer greatest losses! From the river of Tuoni, From the kingdom of Manala, I have brought to thee this trophy, Thus the third task is completed. Tell me is the maiden ready, Wilt thou give the bride affianced? Spake the hostess of Pohyola: "I will give to thee my daughter, Will prepare my snow-white virgin, For the suitor, Ilmarinen; Thou hast won the Maid of Beauty, Bride is she of thine hereafter, Fit companion of thy fireside, Help and joy of all thy lifetime." On the floor a child was sitting, And the babe this tale related. "There appeared within this dwelling, Came a bird within the castle, From the East came flying hither, From the East, a monstrous eagle, One wing touched the vault of heaven, While the other swept the ocean; With his tail upon the waters, Reached his beak beyond the cloudlets, Looked about, and eager watching, Flew around, and sailing, soaring, Flew away to hero-castle, Knocked three times with beak of copper On the castle-roof of iron; But the eagle could not enter. "Then the eagle, looking round him, Flew again, and sailed, and circled, Flew then to the mothers' castle, Loudly rapped with heavy knocking On the mothers' roof of copper; But the eagle could not enter. "Then the eagle, looking round him, Flew a third time, sailing, soaring, Flew then to the virgins' castle, Knocked again with beak of copper, On the virgins' roof of linen, Easy for him there to enter; Flew upon the castle-chimney, Quick descending to the chamber, Pulled the clapboards from the studding, Tore the linen from the rafters, Perched upon the chamber-window, Near the walls of many colors, On the cross-bars gaily-feathered, Looked upon the curly-beaded, Looked upon their golden ringlets, Looked upon the snow-white virgins, On the purest of the maidens, On the fairest of the daughters, On the maid with pearly necklace, On the maiden wreathed in flowers; Perched awhile, and looked, admiring, Swooped upon the Maid of Beauty, On the purest of the virgins, On the whitest, on the fairest, On the stateliest and grandest, Swooped upon the rainbow-daughter Of the dismal Sariola; Grasped her in his mighty talons, Bore away the Maid of Beauty, Maid of fairest form and feature, Maid adorned with pearly necklace, Decked in feathers iridescent, Fragrant flowers upon her bosom, Scarlet band around her forehead, Golden rings upon her fingers, Fairest maiden of the Northland." Spake the hostess of Pohyola, When the babe his tale had ended: "Tell me bow, my child beloved, Thou hast learned about the maiden, Hast obtained the information, How her flaxen ringlets nestled, How the maiden's silver glistened, How the virgin's gold was lauded. Shone the silver Sun upon thee, Did the moonbeams bring this knowledge?" From the floor the child made answer: "Thus I gained the information, Moles of good-luck led me hither, To the home, of the distinguished, To the guest-room of the maiden, Good-name bore her worthy father, He that sailed the magic vessel; Better-name enjoyed the mother, She that baked the bread of barley, She that kneaded wheaten biscuits, Fed her many guests in Northland. "Thus the information reached me, Thus the distant stranger heard it, Heard the virgin had arisen: Once I walked within the court-yard, Stepping near the virgin's chamber, At an early hour of morning, Ere the Sun had broken slumber Whirling rose the soot in cloudlets, Blackened wreaths of smoke came rising From the chamber of the maiden, From thy daughter's lofty chimney; There the maid was busy grinding, Moved the handles of the millstone Making voices like the cuckoo, Like the ducks the side-holes sounded, And the sifter like the goldfinch, Like the sea-pearls sang the grindstones. "Then a second time I wandered To the border of the meadow In the forest was the maiden Rocking on a fragrant hillock, Dyeing red in iron vessels, And in copper kettles, yellow. "Then a third time did I wander To the lovely maiden's window; There I saw thy daughter weaving, Heard the flying of her shuttle, Heard the beating of her loom-lathe, Heard the rattling of her treddles, Heard the whirring of her yarn-reel." Spake the hostess of Pohyola: "Now alas! beloved daughter, I have often taught this lesson: 'Do not sing among the pine-trees, Do not call adown the valleys, Do not hang thy head in walking, Do not bare thine arms, nor shoulders, Keep the secrets of thy bosom, Hide thy beauty and thy power.' "This I told thee in the autumn, Taught thee in the summer season, Sang thee in the budding spring-time, Sang thee when the snows were falling: 'Let us build a place for hiding, Let us build the smallest windows, Where may weave my fairest daughter, Where my maid may ply her shuttle, Where my joy may work unnoticed By the heroes of the Northland, By the suitors of Wainola.'" From the floor the child made answer, Fourteen days the young child numbered; "Easy 'tis to hide a war-horse In the Northland fields and stables; Hard indeed to hide a maiden, Having lovely form and features! Build of stone a distant castle In the middle of the ocean, Keep within thy lovely maiden, Train thou there thy winsome daughter, Not long hidden canst thou keep her. Maidens will not grow and flourish, Kept apart from men and heroes, Will not live without their suitors, Will not thrive without their wooers; Thou canst never hide a maiden, Neither on the land nor water." Now the ancient Wainamoinen, Head down-bent and heavy-hearted, Wanders to his native country, To Wainola's peaceful meadows, To the plains of Kalevala, Chanting as he journeys homeward: "I have passed the age for wooing, Woe is me, rejected suitor, Woe is me, a witless minstrel, That I did not woo and marry, When my face was young and winsome, When my hand was warm and welcome! Youth dethrones my age and station, Wealth is nothing, wisdom worthless, When a hero goes a-wooing With a poor but younger brother. Fatal error that a hero Does not wed in early manhood, In his youth does not be master Of a worthy wife and household." Thus the ancient Wainamoinen Sends the edict to his people: "Old men must not go a-wooing, Must not swim the sea of anger, Must not row upon a wager, Must not run a race for glory, With the younger sons of Northland."

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