Chapter 6

Louhi, Pohjola's old Mistress, Old and gap-toothed dame of Pohja, 170 Hastened forth into the farmyard, Hurried to the fence's opening, Where she bent her ear to listen, And she spoke the words which follow: "This is not like childhood's weeping Nor like women's lamentation, But a bearded hero weeping; Thus weep men whose chins are bearded."

Three planks high, the boat was builded, Which she pushed into the water, 180 And herself began to row it, And she rowed, and hastened onward To the spot where Väinämöinen, Where the hero was lamenting.

There was Väinämöinen weeping, There Uvanto's swain lamented, By the dreary clumps of willow, By the tangled hedge of cherry. Moved his mouth, his beard was shaking, But his lips he did not open. 190

Then did Pohjola's old Mistress, Speak unto, and thus addressed him: "O thou aged man unhappy, Thou art in a foreign country!"

Väinämöinen, old and steadfast, Lifted up his head and answered In the very words that follow: "True it is, and well I know it, I am in a foreign country, Absolutely unfamiliar. 200 I was better in my country, Greater in the home I came from."

Louhi, Pohjola's old Mistress, Answered in the words which follow: "In the first place you must tell me, If I may make bold to ask you, From what race you take your lineage, And from what heroic nation?"

Väinämöinen, old and steadfast, Answered in the words which follow: 210 "Well my name was known aforetime, And in former days was famous, Ever cheerful in the evening, Ever singing in the valleys, There in Väinölä's sweet meadows, And on Kalevala's broad heathlands; But my grief is now so heavy That I know myself no longer."

Louhi, Pohjola's old Mistress, Answered in the words which follow: 220 "Rise, O man, from out the marshes, Hero, seek another pathway. Tell me now of thy misfortunes, And relate me thy adventure."

Thus she made him cease his weeping, Made the hero cease lamenting; And into her boat she took him, Bade him at the stern be seated, And herself resumed the oars, And she then began to row him 230 Unto Pohjola, o'er water, And she brought him to her dwelling. Then she fed the famished stranger, And she dried his dripping garments, Then she rubbed his limbs all stiffened, And she warmed him and shampooed him, Till she had restored his vigour, And the hero had recovered. After this, she spoke and asked him, In the very words which follow: 240 "Why did'st weep, O Väinämöinen, Why lament, Uvantolainen, In that miserable region, On the borders of the lakelet?"

Väinämöinen, old and steadfast, Answered in the words which follow: "Cause enough have I for weeping, Reason, too, for lamentation, In the sea I long was swimming, Tossed about upon the billows, 250 On the wide expanse of water, Out upon the open ocean.

"I must weep throughout my lifespan, And lament throughout my lifetime, That I swam beyond my country, Left the country so familiar, And have come to doors I know not, And to hedge-gates that I know not, All the trees around me pain me, All the pine-twigs seem to pierce me, 260 Every birch-tree seems to flog me, Every alder seems to wound me, But the wind is friendly to me, And the sun still shines upon me, In this unaccustomed country, And within the doors I know not."

Louhi, Pohjola's old Mistress, Answered in the words which follow: "Do not weep, O Väinämöinen, Nor lament, Uvantolainen. 270 Here 'tis good for thee to sojourn, And to pass thy days in comfort. Salmon you can eat at table, And beside it pork is standing."

But the aged Väinämöinen Answered in the words which follow: "Foreign food I do not relish, In the best of strangers' houses. In his land a man is better, In his home a man is greater. 280 Grant me, Jumala most gracious, O compassionate Creator, Once again to reach my country, And the land I used to dwell in! Better is a man's own country, Water from beneath the sabot, Than in unfamiliar countries, Mead to drink from golden goblets."

Louhi, Pohjola's old Mistress, Answered in the words which follow: 290 "What are you prepared to give me, If I send you to your country, To the borders of your cornfields, Or the bath-house of your dwelling?"

Said the aged Väinämöinen, "Tell me then what I shall give you, If you send me to my country, To the borders of my cornfields, There to hear my cuckoo calling, And my birds so sweetly singing. 300 Will you choose a gold-filled helmet. Or a hat filled up with silver?"

Louhi, Pohjola's old Mistress, Answered in the words which follow: "O thou wisest Väinämöinen, Thou the oldest of the sages, Golden gifts I do not ask for, And I wish not for thy silver. Gold is but a toy for children, Silver bells adorn the horses, 310 But if you can forge a Sampo, Weld its many-coloured cover, From the tips of swan's white wing-plumes, From the milk of barren heifer, From a single grain of barley, From a single fleece of ewe's wool, Then will I my daughter give you, Give the maiden as your guerdon, And will bring you to your country, There to hear the birds all singing, 320 There to hear your cuckoo calling, On the borders of your cornfields."

Väinämöinen, old and steadfast, Answered in the words which follow: "No, I cannot forge a Sampo, Nor can weld its pictured cover. Only bring me to my country, And I'll send you Ilmarinen, Who shall forge a Sampo for you, Weld its many-coloured cover. 330 He perchance may please the maiden, Win your daughter's young affections.

"He's a smith without an equal, None can wield the hammer like him, For 'twas he who forged the heaven, And who wrought the air's foundations, Yet we find no trace of hammer, Nor the trace of tongs discover."

Louhi, Pohjola's old Mistress, Answered in the words which follow: 340 "I will only yield my daughter, And my child I promise only To the man who welds a Sampo With its many-coloured cover, From the tips of swan's white wing-plumes, From the milk of barren heifer, From a single grain of barley, From a single fleece of ewe's wool."

Thereupon the colt she harnessed, In the front she yoked the bay one, 350 And she placed old Väinämöinen In the sledge behind the stallion. And she spoke and thus addressed him, In the very words which follow: "Do not raise your head up higher, Turn it not to gaze about you, That the steed may not be wearied, Till the evening shall have gathered. If you dare to raise your head up, Or to turn to gaze around you, 360 Then misfortune will o'ertake you, And an evil day betide you."

Then the aged Väinämöinen Whipped the horse, and urged him onward, And the white-maned courser hastened Noisily upon the journey, Forth from Pohjola's dark regions, Sariola for ever misty.

RUNO VIII.--VÄINÄMÖINEN'S WOUND

_Argument_

On his journey Väinämöinen encounters the magnificently-clad Maiden of Pohja, and makes advances to her (1-50). The maiden at length consents to his wishes if he will make a boat from the splinters of her spindle, and move it into the water without touching it (51-132). Väinämöinen sets to work, but wounds his knee severely with his axe, and cannot stanch the flow of blood (133-204). He goes in search of some magic remedy and finds an old man who promises to stop the bleeding (205-282).

Lovely was the maid of Pohja, Famed on land, on water peerless, On the arch of air high-seated, Brightly shining on the rainbow, Clad in robes of dazzling lustre, Clad in raiment white and shining. There she wove a golden fabric, Interwoven all with silver, And her shuttle was all golden, And her comb was all of silver. 10

From her hand flew swift the shuttle, In her hands the reel was turning, And the copper shafts they clattered, And the silver comb resounded, As the maiden wove the fabric, And with silver interwove it.

Väinämöinen, old and steadfast, Thundered on upon his journey, From the gloomy land of Pohja, Sariola for ever misty. 20 Short the distance he had travelled, Short the way that he had journeyed, When he heard the shuttle whizzing, High above his head he heard it.

Thereupon his head he lifted, And he gazed aloft to heaven, And beheld a glorious rainbow; On the arch the maiden seated As she wove a golden fabric. As the silver comb resounded. 30

Väinämöinen, old and steadfast, Stayed his horse upon the instant. And he raised his voice, and speaking, In such words as these addressed her: "Come into my sledge, O maiden, In the sledge beside me seat thee."

Then the maiden made him answer, And in words like these responded: "Wherefore should the maiden join you, In the sledge beside you seated?" 40

Väinämöinen, old and steadfast. Heard her words, and then responded: "Therefore should the maiden join me, In the sledge beside me seat her; Bread of honey to prepare me, And the best of beer to brew me, Singing blithely on the benches, Gaily talking at the window, When in Väinölä I sojourn, At my home in Kalevala." 50

Then the maiden gave him answer, And in words like these addressed him: "As I wandered through the bedstraws Tripping o'er the yellow meadows, Yesterday, in time of evening, As the sun was slowly sinking, In the bush a bird was singing, And I heard the fieldfare trilling, Singing of the whims of maidens, And the whims of new-wed damsels. 60

"Thus the bird was speaking to me, And I questioned it in this wise:

'Tell me O thou little fieldfare, Sing thou, that my ears may hear it, Whether it indeed is better, Whether thou hast heard 'tis better, For a girl in father's dwelling, Or in household of a husband?'

"Thereupon the bird made answer, And the fieldfare answered chirping: 70

'Brilliant is the day in summer, But a maiden's lot is brighter. And the frost makes cold the iron, Yet the new bride's lot is colder. In her father's house a maiden Lives like strawberry in the garden, But a bride in house of husband, Lives like house-dog tightly fettered. To a slave comes rarely pleasure; To a wedded damsel never.'" 80

Väinämöinen, old and steadfast, Answered in the words which follow: "Song of birds is idle chatter, And the throstle's, merely chirping; As a child a daughter's treated, But a maid must needs be married. Come into my sledge, O maiden, In the sledge beside me seat thee. I am not a man unworthy, Lazier not than other heroes." 90

But the maid gave crafty answer, And in words like these responded: "As a man I will esteem you, And as hero will regard you, If you can split up a horsehair With a blunt and pointless knife-blade, And an egg in knots you tie me, Yet no knot is seen upon it."

Väinämöinen, old and steadfast, Then the hair in twain divided, 100 With a blunt and pointless knife-blade, With a knife completely pointless, And an egg in knots he twisted, Yet no knot was seen upon it. Then again he asked the maiden In the sledge to sit beside him. But the maid gave crafty answer, "I perchance at length may join you, If you'll peel the stone I give you, And a pile of ice will hew me, 110 But no splinter scatter from it, Nor the smallest fragment loosen."

Väinämöinen, old and steadfast, Did not find the task a hard one. From the stone the rind he severed, And a pile of ice he hewed her, But no splinters scattered from it, Nor the smallest fragment loosened. Then again he asked the maiden In the sledge to sit beside him. 120

But the maid gave crafty answer, And she spoke the words which follow: "No, I will not yet go with you, If a boat you cannot carve me, From the splinters of my spindle, From the fragments of my shuttle, And shall launch the boat in water, Push it out upon the billows, But no knee shall press against it, And no hand must even touch it; 130 And no arm shall urge it onward, Neither shall a shoulder guide it."

Väinämöinen, old and steadfast, Answered in the words which follow: "None in any land or country, Under all the vault of heaven, Like myself can build a vessel, Or so deftly can construct it." Then he took the spindle-splinters, Of the reel he took the fragments, 140 And began the boat to fashion, Fixed a hundred planks together, On a mount of steel he built it, Built it on the rocks of iron.

At the boat with zeal he laboured, Toiling at the work unresting, Working thus one day, a second, On the third day likewise working, But the rocks his axe-blade touched not, And upon the hill it rang not. 150

But at length, upon the third day, Hiisi turned aside the axe-shaft, Lempo turned the edge against him, And an evil stroke delivered. On the rocks the axe-blade glinted, On the hill the blade rang loudly, From the rock the axe rebounded, In the flesh the steel was buried, In the victim's knee 'twas buried, In the toes of Väinämöinen, 160 In the flesh did Lempo drive it, To the veins did Hiisi guide it, From the wound the blood flowed freely, Bursting forth in streaming torrents.

Väinämöinen, old and steadfast, He, the oldest of magicians, Uttered words like those which follow, And expressed himself in this wise: "O thou evil axe ferocious, With thy edge of gleaming sharpness, 170 Thou hast thought to hew a tree-trunk, And to strike upon a pine-tree, Match thyself against a fir-tree, Or to fall upon a birch-tree. 'Tis my flesh that thou hast wounded, And my veins thou hast divided."

Then his magic spells he uttered, And himself began to speak them, Spells of origin, for healing, And to close the wound completely. 180 But he could not think of any Words of origin of iron, Which might serve to bind the evil, And to close the gaping edges Of the great wound from the iron, By the blue edge deeply bitten. But the blood gushed forth in torrents, Rushing like a foaming river, O'er the berry-bearing bushes, And the heath the ground that covered. 190 There remained no single hillock, Which was not completely flooded By the overflowing bloodstream, Which came rushing forth in torrents From the knee of one most worthy, From the toes of Väinämöinen.

Väinämöinen, old and steadfast, Gathered from the rocks the lichen, From the swamps the moss collected, Earth he gathered from the hillocks, 200 Hoping thus to stop the outlet Of the wound that bled so freely, But he could not check the bleeding, Nor restrain it in the slightest. And the pain he felt oppressed him, And the greatest trouble seized him.

Väinämöinen, old and steadfast, Then began to weep full sorely. Thereupon his horse he harnessed, In the sledge he yoked the chestnut, 210 On the sledge himself he mounted, And upon the seat he sat him. O'er the horse his whip he brandished, With the bead-decked whip he lashed him. And the horse sped quickly onward. Rocked the sledge, the way grew shorter, And they quickly reached a village, Where the path in three divided.

Väinämöinen, old and steadfast, Drove along the lowest pathway, 220 To the lowest of the homesteads, And he asked upon the threshold, "Is there no one in this household, Who can cure the wounds of iron. Who can soothe the hero's anguish, And can heal the wound that pains him?"

On the floor a child was playing, By the stove a boy was sitting, And he answered him in this wise: "There is no one in this household 230 Who can heal the wounds of iron, Who can soothe the hero's anguish, To the rock can fix it firmly, And can heal the wound that pains him. Such may dwell in other houses: Drive away to other houses."

Väinämöinen, old and steadfast, O'er the horse his whip then brandished, And the sledge went rattling onward. Thus a little way he travelled, 240 On the midmost of the pathways, To the midmost of the houses, And he asked upon the threshold, And beseeching at the window, "Is there no one in this household, Who can heal the wounds of iron, Who can stanch the blood when flowing, And can check the rushing bloodstream?"

'Neath the quilt a crone was resting, By the stove there sat a gossip, 250 And she spoke and answered plainly, As her three teeth gnashed together, "There is no one in this household, Who can heal the wounds of iron, None who knows efficient blood-spells, And can close the wound that pains you. Such may dwell in other houses: Drive away to other houses."

Väinämöinen, old and steadfast, O'er the horse his whip then brandished, 260 And the sledge went rattling onward. Thus a little way he travelled, On the highest of the pathways, To the highest of the houses, And he asked upon the threshold, Calling from beside the doorpost, "Is there any in this household, Who can heal the wounds of iron, Who can check this rushing bloodstream, And can stay the dark red torrent?" 270

By the stove an old man rested, On the stove-bed lay a greybeard, From the stove the old man mumbled, And the greybeard cried in answer, "Stemmed before were greater torrents, Greater floods than this were hindered, By three words of the Creator, By the mighty words primeval. Brooks and streams were checked from flowing; Mighty streams in cataracts falling, 280 Bays were formed in rocky headlands, Tongues of land were linked together."

RUNO IX.--THE ORIGIN OF IRON

_Argument_

Väinämöinen repeats to the old man the legend of the origin of iron (1-266). The old man reviles the iron and repeats spells for the stopping of blood, and the flow of blood is stayed (267-416). The old man directs his son to prepare a salve, and dresses and binds up the wound. Väinämöinen is cured, and thanks Jumala for his merciful assistance (417-586).

Then the aged Väinämöinen In the sledge at once stood upright, From the sledge he sprang unaided, And courageously stood upright. To the room he hastened quickly, And beneath the roof he hurried.

There they brought a silver beaker, And a golden goblet likewise, But they proved by far too little, Holding but the smallest measure 10 Of the blood of aged Väinö, From the hero's foot that spouted.

From the stove the old man mumbled, Cried the greybeard when he saw him, "Who among mankind may'st thou be, Who among the roll of heroes? Seven large boats with blood are brimming, Eight large tubs are overflowing From your knee, O most unhappy, On the floor in torrents gushing. 20 Other words I well remember, But the oldest I recall not, How the iron was first created, And the unworked ore was fashioned."

Then the aged Väinämöinen Answered in the words that follow: "Well I know the birth of Iron, And how steel was first created. Air is the primeval mother, Water is the eldest brother, 30 Iron is the youngest brother, And the Fire in midst between them.

"Ukko, mightiest of Creators, He, the God above in heaven, From the Air the Water parted, And the continents from water, When unborn was evil Iron, Uncreated, undeveloped.

"Ukko, God of realms supernal, Rubbed his mighty hands together. 40 Both his hands he rubbed together, On his left knee then he pressed them, And three maidens were created, Three fair Daughters of Creation, Mothers of the rust of Iron, And of blue-mouthed steel the fosterers.

"Strolled the maids with faltering footsteps On the borders of the cloudlets, And their full breasts were o'erflowing, And their nipples pained them sorely. 50 Down on earth their milk ran over, From their breasts' overflowing fulness, Milk on land, and milk on marshes, Milk upon the peaceful waters.

"Black milk from the first was flowing, From the eldest of the maidens, White milk issued from another, From the second of the maidens, Red milk by the third was yielded, By the youngest of the maidens. 60

"Where the black milk had been dropping, There was found the softest Iron, Where the white milk had been flowing, There the hardest steel was fashioned, Where the red milk had been trickling, There was undeveloped Iron.

"But a short time had passed over, When the Iron desired to visit Him, its dearest elder brother, And to make the Fire's acquaintance. 70

"But the Fire arose in fury, Blazing up in greatest anger, Seeking to consume its victim, E'en the wretched Iron, its brother.

"Then the Iron sought out a refuge, Sought for refuge and protection From the hands of furious Fire, From his mouth, all bright with anger.

"Then the Iron took refuge from him, Sought both refuge and protection 80 Down amid the quaking marshes, Where the springs have many sources, On the level mighty marshes, On the void and barren mountains, Where the swans their eggs deposit, And the goose her brood is rearing.

"In the swamps lay hid the Iron, Stretched beneath the marshy surface, Hid for one year and a second, For a third year likewise hidden, 90 Hidden there between two tree-stumps, 'Neath three roots of birch-trees hidden But it had not yet found safety From the fierce hands of the Fire, And a second time it wandered To the dwelling of the Fire, That it should be forged to weapons, And to sword-blades should be fashioned.

"On the marshes wolves were running, On the heath the bears came trooping. 100 'Neath the wolves' feet quaked the marshes, 'Neath the bears the heath was shaken, Thus was ore of iron uncovered, And the bars of steel were noticed, Where the claws of wolves had trodden, And the paws of bears had trampled.