Chapter 26

“Listen, Otso of the woodlands, Sacred bear with honeyed fingers, To approach the herd of cattle Thou thyself art not forbidden, But thy tongue, and teeth, and fingers, Must not touch my herd in summer, Must not harm my harmless creatures. Go around the scented meadows, Amble through the milky pastures, From the tones of bells and shepherds. Should the herd be on the mountain, Go thou quickly to the marshes; Should my cattle browse the lowlands, Sleep thou then within the thicket; Should they feed upon the uplands, Thou must hasten to the valley; Should the herd graze at the bottom, Thou must feed upon the summit.

“Wander like the golden cuckoo, Like the dove of silver brightness, Like a little fish in ocean; Hide thy claws within thy hair-foot, Shut thy wicked teeth in darkness, That my herd may not be frightened, May not think themselves in danger. Leave my cows in peace and plenty, Let them journey home in order, Through the vales and mountain by-ways, Over plains and through the forest, Harming not my harmless creatures.

“Call to mind our former pledges, At the river of Tuoni, Near the waterfall and whirlpool, In the ears of our Creator. Thrice to Otso was it granted, In the circuit of the summer, To approach the land of cow-bells, Where the herdsmen’s voices echo; But to thee it was not granted, Otso never had permission To attempt a wicked action, To begin a work of evil. Should the blinding thing of malice Come upon thee in thy roamings, Should thy bloody teeth feel hunger, Throw thy malice to the mountains, And thy hunger to the pine-trees, Sink thy teeth within the aspens, In the dead limbs of the birches, Prune the dry stalks from the willows. Should thy hunger still impel thee, Go thou to the berry-mountain, Eat the fungus of the forest, Feed thy hunger on the ant-hills, Eat the red roots of the bear-tree, Metsola’s rich cakes of honey, Not the grass my herd would feed on. Or if Metsola’s rich honey Should ferment before the eating, On the hills of golden color, On the mountains filled with silver, There is other food for hunger, Other drink for thirsting Otso, Everlasting will the food be, And the drink be never wanting.

“Let us now agree in honor, And conclude a lasting treaty That our lives may end in pleasure, May be merry in the summer, Both enjoy the woods in common, Though our food must be distinctive. Shouldst thou still desire to fight me, Let our contests be in winter, Let our wars be on the snow-fields. Swamps will thaw in days of summer, Warm, the water in the rivers. Therefore shouldst thou break this treaty, Shouldst thou come where golden cattle Roam these woodland hills and valleys, We will slay thee with our cross-bows; Should our arrow-men be absent, We have here some archer-women, And among them is the hostess, That can use the fatal weapon, That can bring thee to destruction, Thus will end the days of trouble That thou bringest to our people, And against the will of Ukko.

“Ukko, ruler in the heavens, Lend an ear to my entreaty, Metamorphose all my cattle, Through the mighty force of magic, Into stumps and stones convert them, If the enemy should wander, Near my herd in days of summer.

“If I had been born an Otso, I would never stride and amble At the feet of aged women; Elsewhere there are hills and valleys, Farther on are honey-pastures, Where the lazy bear may wander, Where the indolent may linger; Sneak away to yonder mountain, That thy tender flesh may lessen, In the blue-glen’s deep recesses, In the bear-dens of the forest. Thou canst move through fields of acorns, Through the sand and ocean-pebbles, There for thee is tracked a pathway, Through the woodlands on the sea-coast, To the Northland’s farthest limits, To the dismal plains of Lapland, There ’tis well for thee to lumber, There to live will be a pleasure. Shoeless there to walk in summer, Stockingless in days of autumn, On the blue-back of the mountain, Through the swamps and fertile lowlands.

“If thou canst not journey thither, Canst not find the Lapland-highway, Hasten on a little distance, In the bear-path leading northward. To the grove of Tuonela, To the honey-plains of Kalma, Swamps there are in which to wander, Heaths in which to roam at pleasure, There are Kiryos, there are Karyos, And of beasts a countless number, With their fetters strong as iron, Fattening within the forest. Be ye gracious, groves and mountains, Full of grace, ye darksome thickets, Peace and plenty to my cattle, Through the pleasant days of summer, The Creator’s warmest season.

“Knippana, O King of forests, Thou the gray-beard of the woodlands, Watch thy dogs in fen and fallow, Lay a sponge within one nostril, And an acorn in the other, That they may not scent my cattle; Tie their eyes with silken fillets, That they may not see my herdlings, May not see my cattle grazing.

“Should all this seem inefficient, Drive away thy barking children, Let them run to other forests, Let them hunt in other marshes, From these verdant strips of meadow, From these far outstretching borders, Hide thy dogs within thy caverns, Firmly tie thy yelping children, Tie them with thy golden fetters, With thy chains adorned with silver, That they may not do me damage, May not do a deed of mischief.

“Should all this prove inefficient, Thou, O Ukko, King of heaven, Wise director, full of mercy, Hear the golden words I utter, Hear a voice that breathes affection, From the alder make a muzzle, For each dog within the kennel; Should the alder prove too feeble, Cast a band of purest copper; Should the copper prove a failure, Forge a band of ductile iron; Should the iron snap asunder, In each nose a small-ring fasten, Made of molten gold and silver, Chain thy dogs in forest-caverns, That my herd may not be injured.”

Then the wife of Ilmarinen, Life-companion of the blacksmith, Opened all her yards and stables, Led her herd across the meadow, Placed them in the herdman’s keeping, In the care of Kullerwoinen.

RUNE XXXIII. KULLERVO AND THE CHEAT-CAKE.

Thereupon the lad, Kullervo, Laid his luncheon in his basket, Drove the herd to mountain-pastures, O’er the hills and through the marshes, To their grazings in the woodlands, Speaking as he careless wandered: “Of the youth am I the poorest, Hapless lad and full of trouble, Evil luck to me befallen! I, alas! must idly wander O’er the hills and through the valleys, As a watch-dog for the cattle!”

Then she sat upon the greensward, In a sunny spot selected, Singing, chanting words as follow: “Shine, O shine, thou Sun of heaven, Cast thy rays, thou fire of Ukko, On the herdsman of the blacksmith, On the head of Kullerwoinen, On this poor and luckless shepherd, Not in Ilmarinen’s smithy, Nor the dwellings of his people; Good the table of the hostess, Cuts the best of wheaten biscuit, Honey-cakes she cuts in slices, Spreading each with golden butter; Only dry bread has the herdsman, Eats with pain the oaten bread-crusts, Filled with chaff his arid biscuit, Feeds upon the worst of straw-bread, Pine-tree bark, the bread he feeds on, Sipping water from the birch-bark, Drinking from the tips of grasses! Go, O Sun, and go, O barley, Haste away, thou light of Ukko, Hide within the mountain pine-trees, Go, O wheat, to yonder thickets, To the trees of purple berries, To the junipers and alders, Safely lead the herdsman homeward To the biscuit golden-buttered, To the honeyed cakes and viands!”

While the shepherd lad was singing Kullerwoinen’s song and echo, Ilmarinen’s wife was feasting On the sweetest bread of Northland, On the toothsome cakes of barley, On the richest of provisions; Only laid aside some cabbage, For the herdsman, Kullerwoinen; Set apart some wasted fragments, Leavings of the dogs at dinner, For the shepherd, home returning.

From the woods a bird came flying, Sang this song to Kullerwoinen: “’Tis the time for forest-dinners, For the fatherless companion Of the herds to eat his viands, Eat the good things from his basket!”

Kullerwoinen heard the songster, Looked upon the Sun’s long shadow, Straightway spake the words that follow: “True, the singing of the song-bird, It is time indeed for feasting, Time to eat my basket-dinner.”

Thereupon young Kullerwoinen Called his herd to rest in safety, Sat upon a grassy hillock, Took his basket from his shoulders, Took therefrom the arid oat-loaf, Turned it over in his fingers, Carefully the loaf inspected, Spake these words of ancient wisdom: “Many loaves are fine to look on, On the outside seem delicious, On the inside, chaff and tan-bark!”

Then the shepherd, Kullerwoinen, Drew his knife to cut his oat-loaf, Cut the hard and arid biscuit; Cuts against a stone imprisoned, Well imbedded in the centre, Breaks his ancient knife in pieces; When the shepherd youth, Kullervo, Saw his magic knife had broken, Weeping sore, he spake as follows: “This, the blade that I hold sacred, This the one thing that I honor, Relic of my mother’s people! On the stone within this oat-loaf, On this cheat-cake of the hostess, I my precious knife have broken. How shall I repay this insult, How avenge this woman’s malice, What the wages for deception?” From a tree the raven answered: “O thou little silver buckle, Only son of old Kalervo, Why art thou in evil humor, Wherefore sad in thy demeanor? Take a young shoot from the thicket, Take a birch-rod from the valley, Drive thy herd across the lowlands, Through the quicksands of the marshes; To the wolves let one half wander, To the bear-dens, lead the other; Sing the forest wolves together, Sing the bears down from the mountains, Call the wolves thy little children, And the bears thy standard-bearers; Drive them like a cow-herd homeward, Drive them home like spotted cattle, Drive them to thy master’s milk-yards; Thus thou wilt repay the hostess For her malice and derision.”

Thereupon the wizard answered, These the words of Kullerwoinen: “Wait, yea wait, thou bride of Hisi! Do I mourn my mother’s relic, Mourn the keep-sake thou hast broken? Thou thyself shalt mourn as sorely When thy cows come home at evening!”

From the tree he cuts a birch-wand, From the juniper a whip-stick, Drives the herd across the lowlands, Through the quicksands of the marshes, To the wolves lets one half wander, To the bear-dens leads the other; Calls the wolves his little children, Calls the bears his standard-bearers, Changes all his herd of cattle Into wolves and bears by magic.

In the west the Sun is shining, Telling that the night is coming. Quick the wizard, Kullerwoinen, Wanders o’er the pine-tree mountain, Hastens through the forest homeward, Drives the wolves and bears before him Toward the milk-yards of the hostess; To the herd he speaks as follows, As they journey on together: “Tear and kill the wicked hostess, Tear her guilty flesh in pieces, When she comes to view her cattle, When she stoops to do her milking!”

Then the wizard, Kullerwoinen, From an ox-bone makes a bugle, Makes it from Tuonikki’s cow-horn, Makes a flute from Kiryo’s shin-bone, Plays a song upon his bugle, Plays upon his flute of magic, Thrice upon the home-land hill-tops, Six times near the coming gate-ways.

Ilmarinen’s wife and hostess Long had waited for the coming Of her herd with Kullerwoinen, Waited for the milk at evening, Waited for the new-made butter, Heard the footsteps in the cow-path, On the heath she beard the bustle, Spake these joyous words of welcome: “Be thou praised, O gracious Ukko, That my herd is home returning! But I hear a bugle sounding, ’Tis the playing of my herdsman, Playing on a magic cow-horn, Bursting all our ears with music!”

Kullerwoinen, drawing nearer, To the hostess spake as follows: “Found the bugle in the woodlands, And the flute among the rushes; All thy herd are in the passage, All thy cows within the hurdles, This the time to build the camp-fire, This the time to do the milking!”

Ilmarinen’s wife, the hostess, Thus addressed an aged servant: “Go, thou old one, to the milking, Have the care of all my cattle, Do not ask for mine assistance, Since I have to knead the biscuit.” Kullerwoinen spake as follows: “Always does the worthy hostess, Ever does the wisdom-mother Go herself and do the milking, Tend the cows within the hurdles!”

Then the wife of Ilmarinen Built a field-fire in the passage, Went to milk her cows awaiting, Looked upon her herd in wonder, Spake these happy words of greeting: “Beautiful, my herd of cattle, Glistening like the skins of lynxes, Hair as soft as fur of ermine, Peaceful waiting for the milk-pail!”

On the milk-stool sits the hostess, Milks one moment, then a second, Then a third time milks and ceases; When the bloody wolves disguising, Quick attack the hostess milking, And the bears lend their assistance, Tear and mutilate her body With their teeth and sharpened fingers. Kullerwoinen, cruel wizard, Thus repaid the wicked hostess, Thus repaid her evil treatment.

Quick the wife of Ilmarinen Cried aloud in bitter anguish, Thus addressed the youth, Kullervo: “Evil son, thou bloody herdsman, Thou hast brought me wolves in malice, Driven bears within my hurdles!” These the words of Kullerwoinen: “Have I evil done as shepherd, Worse the conduct of the hostess; Baked a stone inside my oat-cake, On the inside, rock and tan-bark, On the stone my knife, was broken, Treasure of my mother’s household, Broken virtue of my people!” Ilmarinen’s wife made answer: “Noble herdsman, Kullerwoinen, Change, I pray thee, thine opinion, Take away thine incantations, From the bears and wolves release me, Save me from this spell of torture; I will give thee better raiment, Give the best of milk and butter, Set for thee the sweetest table; Thou shalt live with me in welcome, Need not labor for thy keeping. If thou dost not free me quickly, Dost not break this spell of magic, I shall sink into the Death-land, Shall return to Tuonela.” This is Kullerwoinen’s answer: “It is best that thou shouldst perish, Let destruction overtake thee, There is ample room in Mana, Room for all the dead in Kalma, There the worthiest must slumber, There must rest the good and evil.” Ilmarinen’s wife made answer: “Ukko, thou O God in heaven, Span the strongest of thy cross-bows, Test the weapon by thy wisdom, Lay an arrow forged from copper, On the cross-bow of thy forging; Rightly aim thy flaming arrow, With thy magic hurl the missile, Shoot this wizard through the vitals, Pierce the heart of Kullerwoinen With the lightning of the heavens, With thine arrows tipped with copper.” Kullerwoinen prays as follows: “Ukko, God of truth and justice. Do not slay thy magic servant, Slay the wife of Ilmarinen, Kill in her the worst of women, In these hurdles let her perish, Lest she wander hence in freedom, To perform some other mischief, Do some greater deed of malice!”

Quick as lightning fell the hostess, Quick the wife of Ilmarinen Fell and perished in the hurdles, On the ground before her cottage; Thus the death of Northland’s hostess, Cherished wife of Ilmarinen, Once the Maiden of the Rainbow, Wooed and watched for many summers, Pride and joy of Kalevala!

RUNE XXXIV. KULLERVO FINDS HIS TRIBE-FOLK.

Kullerwoinen, young magician, In his beauteous, golden ringlets, In his magic shoes of deer-skin, Left the home of Ilmarinen Wandered forth upon his journey, Ere the blacksmith heard the tidings Of the cruel death and torture Of his wife and joy-companion, Lest a bloody fight should follow.

Kullerwoinen left the smithy, Blowing on his magic bugle, Joyful left the lands of Ilma, Blowing blithely on the heather, Made the distant hills re-echo, Made the swamps and mountains tremble, Made the heather-blossoms answer To the music of his cow-horn, In its wild reverberations, To the magic of his playing. Songs were heard within the smithy, And the blacksmith stopped and listened, Hastened to the door and window, Hastened to the open court-yard, If perchance he might discover What was playing on the heather, What was sounding through the forest. Quick he learned the cruel story, Learned the cause of the rejoicing, Saw the hostess dead before him, Knew his beauteous wife had perished, Saw the lifeless form extended, In the court-yard of his dwelling. Thereupon the metal-artist Fell to bitter tears and wailings, Wept through all the dreary night-time, Deep the grief that settled o’er him, Black as night his darkened future, Could not stay his tears of sorrow.

Kullerwoinen hastened onward, Straying, roaming, hither, thither, Wandered on through field and forest, O’er the Hisi-plains and woodlands. When the darkness settled o’er him, When the bird of night was flitting, Sat the fatherless at evening, The forsaken sat and rested On a hillock of the forest. Thus he murmured, heavy-hearted: “Why was I, alas! created, Why was I so ill-begotten, Since for months and years I wander, Lost among the ether-spaces? Others have their homes to dwell in, Others hasten to their firesides As the evening gathers round them: But my home is in the forest, And my bed upon the heather, And my bath-room is the rain-cloud.

“Never didst thou, God of mercy, Never in the course of ages, Give an infant birth unwisely; Wherefore then was I created, Fatherless to roam in ether, Motherless and lone to wander? Thou, O Ukko, art my father, Thou hast given me form and feature; As the sea-gull on the ocean, As the duck upon the waters, Shines the Sun upon the swallow, Shines as bright upon the sparrow, Gives the joy-birds song and gladness, Does not shine on me unhappy; Nevermore will shine the sunlight, Never will the moonlight glimmer On this hapless son and orphan; Do not know my hero-father, Cannot tell who was my mother; On the shore, perhaps the gray-duck Left me in the sand to perish. Young was I and small of stature, When my mother left me orphaned; Dead, my father and my mother, Dead, my honored tribe of heroes; Shoes they left me that are icy, Stockings filled with frosts of ages, Let me on the freezing ice-plains Fall to perish in the rushes; From the giddy heights of mountains Let me tumble to destruction.

“O, thou wise and good Creator, Why my birth and what my service? I shall never fall and perish On the ice-plains, in the marshes, Never be a bridge in swamp-land, Not while I have arms of virtue That can serve my honored kindred!”

Then Kullervo thought to journey To the village of Untamo, To avenge his father’s murder, To avenge his mother’s tortures, And the troubles of his tribe-folk. These the words of Kullerwoinen: “Wait, yea wait, thou Untamoinen, Thou destroyer of my people; When I meet thee in the combat, I will slay thee and thy kindred, I will burn thy homes to ashes!”

Came a woman on the highway, Dressed in blue, the aged mother, To Kullervo spake as follows: “Whither goest, Kullerwoinen, Whither hastes the wayward hero?” Kullerwoinen gave this answer: “I have thought that I would journey To the far-off land of strangers, To the village of Untamo, To avenge my father’s murder, To avenge my mother’s tortures, And the troubles of my tribe-folk.” Thus the gray-haired woman answered: “Surely thou dost rest in error, For thy tribe has never perished, And thy mother still is living With thy father in the Northland, Living with the old Kalervo.”

“O, thou ancient dame beloved, Worthy mother of the woodlands, Tell me where my father liveth, Where my loving mother lingers!”

“Yonder lives thine aged father, And thy loving mother with him, On the farthest shore of Northland, On the long-point of the fish-lake!”

“Tell me, O thou woodland-mother, How to journey to my people, How to find mine honored tribe-folk.”

“Easy is the way for strangers: Thou must journey through the forest, Hasten to the river-border, Travel one day, then a second, And the third from morn till even, To the north-west, thou must journey. If a mountain comes to meet thee, Go around the nearing mountain, Westward hold thy weary journey, Till thou comest to a river, On thy right hand flowing eastward; Travel to the river border, Where three water-falls will greet thee; When thou comest to a headland, On the point thou’lt see a cottage Where the fishermen assemble; In this cottage is thy father, With thy mother and her daughters, Beautiful thy maiden sisters.”

Kullerwoinen, the magician, Hastens northward on his journey, Walks one day, and then a second, Walks the third from morn till evening; To the north-west walks Kullervo, Till a mountain comes to meet him, Walks around the nearing mountain; Westward, westward, holds his journey, Till he sees a river coming; Hastens to the river border, Walks along the streams and rapids Till three waterfalls accost him; Travels till he meets a headland, On the point he spies a cottage, Where the fishermen assemble.

Quick he journeys to the cabin, Quick he passes through the portals Of the cottage on the headland, Where he finds his long-lost kindred; No one knows the youth, Kullervo, No one knows whence comes the stranger, Where his home, nor where he goeth. These the words of young Kullervo: “Dost thou know me not, my mother, Dost thou know me not, my father? I am hapless Kullerwoinen, Whom the heroes of Untamo Carried to their distant country, When my height was but a hand-breadth.” Quick the hopeful mother answers: “O my worthy son, beloved, O my precious silver-buckle, Hast thou with thy mind of magic, Wandered through the fields of Northland Searching for thy home and kindred? As one dead I long have mourned thee, Had supposed thee in Manala. Once I had two sons and heroes, Had two good and beauteous daughters, Two of these have long been absent, Elder son and elder daughter; For the wars my son departed, While my daughter strayed and perished; If my son is home returning, Yet my daughter still is absent.” Kullerwoinen asked his mother: “Whither did my sister wander, What direction did she journey?” This the answer of the mother: “This the story of thy sister: Went for berries to the woodlands, To the mountains went my daughter, Where the lovely maiden vanished, Where my pretty berry perished, Died some death beyond my knowledge, Nameless is the death she suffered. Who is mourning for the daughter? No one mourns her as her mother, Walks and wanders, mourns and searches, For her fairest child and daughter; Therefore did the mother wander, Searching for thy lovely sister, Like the bear she roamed the forest, Ran the glenways like the adder, Searched one day and then a second, Searched the third from morn till even, Till she reached the mountain-summit, There she called and called her daughter, Till the distant mountains answered, Called to her who had departed: ‘Where art thou, my lovely maiden, Come my daughter to thy mother!’

“Thus I called, and sought thy sister, This the answer of the mountains, Thus the hills and valleys echoed: ‘Call no more, thou weeping mother, Weep no more for the departed; Nevermore in all thy lifetime, Never in the course of ages, Will she join again her kindred, At her brother’s landing-places, In her father’s humble dwelling.’”

RUNE XXXV. KULLERVO’S EVIL DEEDS.

Kullerwoinen, youthful wizard, In his blue and scarlet stockings, Henceforth lingered with his parents; But he could not change his nature, Could not gain a higher wisdom, Could not win a better judgment; As a child he was ill-nurtured, Early rocked in stupid cradles, By a nurse of many follies, By a minister of evil.

To his work went Kullerwoinen, Strove to make his labors worthy; First, Kullervo went a-fishing, Set his fishing-nets in ocean; With his hands upon the row-locks, Kullerwoinen spake as follows: “Shall I pull with all my forces, Pull with strength of youthful heroes, Or with weakness of the aged?”

From the stern arose a gray-beard, And he answered thus Kullervo: “Pull with all thy youthful vigor; Shouldst thou row with magic power, Thou couldst not destroy this vessel, Couldst not row this boat to fragments.”