Part 9

Kullervo, Kalervo's offspring, Made him answer on the instant: "Is she dead, so let her perish. In the house a mare is waiting, 200 Which unto the grave can drag her, And can sink her down to Kalma."

Through the meadows marched he shouting, In the grassfields he was shouting, And a messenger o'ertook him, In his ear these words he whispered: "Now has died thy tender mother, And thy darling mother perished. Now return to gaze upon her, And arrange for her interment." 210

Kullervo, Kalervo's offspring, Answered in the words which follow: "Woe to me, a youth unhappy, For my mother now has perished, Wearied as she made the curtains, And the counterpane embroidered. With her long spool she was working, As she turned around her spindle. I was not at her departure, Near her when her soul was parting. 220 Perhaps the cold was great and killed her, Or perchance was bread too scanty.

"In the house with care, O wash her, With the Saxon soap, the finest, Wind her then in silken wrappings, Wrap her in the finest linen, Thus unto the grave convey her, Sink her gently down to Kalma, Then upraise the songs of mourning, Let resound the songs of mourning, 230 For not yet can I turn homeward, Untamo is still unfallen, Yet unfelled the man of evil, Undestroyed is yet the villain."

Forth he went to battle, playing, Went to Untola rejoicing, And he said the words which follow: "Ukko, thou, of Gods the highest, Give me now a sword befitting, Give me now a sword most splendid, 240 Which were worth an army to me, Though a hundred came against me."

Then the sword he asked was granted, And a sword of all most splendid, And he slaughtered all the people, Untamo's whole tribe he slaughtered, Burned the houses all to ashes, And with flame completely burned them, Leaving nothing but the hearthstones, Nought but in each yard the rowan. 250

Kullervo, Kalervo's offspring, Then to his own home retired, To his father's former dwelling, To the home-fields of his parents. Empty did he find the homestead, Desolate the open places; No one forward came to greet him, No one came his hand to offer.

To the hearth he stretched his hand out, On the hearth the coals were frozen, 260 And he knew on his arrival, That his mother was not living.

To the stove he stretched his hand out, At the stove the stones were frozen, And he knew on his arrival, That his father was not living.

On the floor his eyes then casting, All he noticed in confusion, And he knew on his arrival, That his sister was not living. 270

To the mooring-place he hastened, But no boats were at their moorings, And he knew on his arrival, That his brother was not living.

Thereupon he broke out weeping, And he wept one day, a second, And he spoke the words which follow: "O my mother, O my dearest, Hast thou left me nought behind thee, When thou livedst in this country? 280

"But thou hearest not, O mother, Even though my eyes are sobbing, And my temples are lamenting, And my head is all complaining."

In the grave his mother wakened, And beneath the mould made answer: "Still there lives the black dog, Musti, Go with him into the forest, At thy side let him attend thee, Take him to the wooded country, 290 Where the forest rises thickest, Where reside the forest-maidens, Where the Blue Maids have their dwelling, And the birds frequent the pine-trees, There to seek for their assistance, And to seek to win their favour."

Kullervo, Kalervo's offspring, At his side the black dog taking, Tracked his path through trees of forest, Where the forest rose the thickest. 300 But a short way had he wandered, But a little way walked onward, When he reached the stretch of forest, Recognized the spot before him, Where he had seduced the maiden, And his mother's child dishonoured.

There the tender grass was weeping, And the lovely spot lamenting, And the young grass was deploring, And the flowers of heath were grieving, 310 For the ruin of the maiden, For the mother's child's destruction. Neither was the young grass sprouting, Nor the flowers of heath expanding, Nor the spot had covered over, Where the evil thing had happened, Where he had seduced the maiden, And his mother's child dishonoured.

Kullervo, Kalervo's offspring, Grasped the sharpened sword he carried, 320 Looked upon the sword and turned it, And he questioned it and asked it, And he asked the sword's opinion, If it was disposed to slay him, To devour his guilty body, And his evil blood to swallow.

Understood the sword his meaning, Understood the hero's question, And it answered him as follows: "Wherefore at thy heart's desire 330 Should I not thy flesh devour, And drink up thy blood so evil? I who guiltless flesh have eaten, Drank the blood of those who sinned not?"

Kullervo, Kalervo's offspring, With the very bluest stockings, On the ground the haft set firmly, On the heath the hilt pressed tightly, Turned the point against his bosom, And upon the point he threw him, 340 Thus he found the death he sought for, Cast himself into destruction.

Even so the young man perished, Thus died Kullervo the hero, Thus the hero's life was ended, Perished thus the hapless hero.

Then the aged Väinämöinen, When he heard that he had perished, And that Kullervo had fallen, Spoke his mind in words that follow: 350 "Never, people, in the future, Rear a child in crooked fashion, Rocking them in stupid fashion, Soothing them to sleep like strangers. Children reared in crooked fashion, Boys thus rocked in stupid fashion, Grow not up with understanding, Nor attain to man's discretion, Though they live till they are aged, And in body well-developed." 360

RUNO XXXVII.--THE GOLD AND SILVER BRIDE

_Argument_

Ilmarinen weeps long for his dead wife and then forges himself a wife of gold and silver with great labour and trouble (1-162). At night he rests by the golden bride, but finds in the morning that the side which he has turned towards her is quite cold (163-196). He offers his golden bride to Väinämöinen, who declines to receive her, and advises him to forge more useful things, or to send her to other countries where people wish for gold (197-250).

Afterwards smith Ilmarinen Mourned his wife throughout the evenings, And through sleepless nights was weeping, All the days bewailed her fasting, And he mourned her all the mornings, In the morning hours lamented, Since the time his young wife perished, Death the fair one had o'ertaken. In his hand he swung no longer, Copper handle of his hammer, 10 Nor his hammer's clang resounded, While a month its course was running.

Said the smith, said Ilmarinen, "Hapless youth, I know no longer, How to pass my sad existence, For at night I sit and sleep not, Always in the night comes sorrow, And my strength grows weak from trouble.

"All my evenings now are weary, Sorrowful are all my mornings, 20 And the nights indeed are dismal, Worst of all when I am waking. Grieve I not because 'tis evening, Sorrow not because 'tis morning, Trouble not for other seasons; But I sorrow for my fair one, And I sorrow for my dear one, Grieve for her, the dark-browed beauty.

"Sometimes in these times so dismal, Often in my time of trouble, 30 Often in my dreams at midnight, Has my hand felt out at nothing, And my hand seized only trouble, As it strayed about in strangeness."

Thus the smith awhile lived wifeless, And without his wife grew older, Wept for two months and for three months, But upon the fourth month after, Gold from out the lake he gathered, Gathered silver from the billows, 40 And a pile of wood collected, Nothing short of thirty sledgeloads, Then he burned the wood to charcoal, Took the charcoal to the smithy.

Of the gold he took a portion, And he chose him out some silver, Even like a ewe of autumn, Even like a hare of winter, And the gold to redness heated, Cast the silver in the furnace, 50 Set his slaves to work the bellows, And his labourers pressed the bellows.

Toiled the slaves, and worked the bellows, And the labourers pressed the bellows, With their ungloved hands they pressed them, Worked them with their naked shoulders, While himself, smith Ilmarinen, Carefully the fire was tending, As he strove a bride to fashion Out of gold and out of silver. 60

Badly worked the slaves the bellows, And the labourers did not press them, And on this smith Ilmarinen Went himself to work the bellows. Once and twice he worked the bellows, For a third time worked the bellows, Then looked down into the furnace, Looking closely to the bellows, What rose up from out the furnace, What from out the flames ascended. 70

Then a ewe rose from the furnace, And it rose from out the bellows. One hair gold, another copper, And the third was all of silver; Others might therein feel pleasure, Ilmarinen felt no pleasure.

Said the smith, said Ilmarinen, "Such as you a wolf may wish for, But I want a golden consort, One of silver half constructed." 80

Thereupon smith Ilmarinen Thrust the ewe into the furnace, Gold unto the mass he added, And he added silver to it, Set his slaves to work the bellows, And his labourers pressed the bellows.

Toiled the slaves and worked the bellows, And the labourers pressed the bellows, With their ungloved hands they pressed them Worked them with their naked shoulders, 90 While himself, smith Ilmarinen, Carefully the fire was tending, As he strove a bride to fashion Out of gold and out of silver.

Badly worked the slaves the bellows, And the labourers did not press them, And on this smith Ilmarinen Went himself to work the bellows. Once and twice he worked the bellows, For the third time worked the bellows, 100 Then looked down into the furnace, Looking closely to the bellows, What rose up from out the furnace, What from out the flames ascended.

Then a foal rose from the furnace, And it rose from out the bellows, Mane of gold, and head of silver, And his hoofs were all of copper; But though others it delighted, Ilmarinen felt no pleasure. 110

Said the smith, said Ilmarinen, "Such as you a wolf may wish for, But I want a golden consort, One of silver half constructed."

Thereupon smith Ilmarinen Thrust the foal into the furnace, Gold unto the mass he added, And he added silver to it, Set his slaves to work the bellows, And his labourers pressed the bellows. 120

Toiled the slaves and worked the bellows, And the labourers pressed the bellows, With their ungloved hands they pressed them, Worked them with their naked shoulders, While himself, smith Ilmarinen, Carefully the fire was tending, As he strove a bride to fashion, Out of gold and out of silver.

Badly worked the slaves the bellows, And the labourers did not press them, 130 And on this, smith Ilmarinen Went himself to work the bellows, Once and twice he worked the bellows, For a third time worked the bellows, Then looked down into the furnace, Looking closely to the bellows, What rose up from out the furnace, What from out the flames ascended.

Then a maid rose from the furnace, Golden-locked, from out the bellows, 140 Head of silver, hair all golden, And her figure all was lovely. Others might have shuddered at her, Ilmarinen was not frightened.

Thereupon smith Ilmarinen Set to work to shape the image, Worked at night without cessation, And by day he worked unresting. Feet he fashioned for the maiden, Fashioned feet; and hands he made her, 150 But the feet would not support her, Neither would the arms embrace him.

Ears he fashioned for the maiden, But the ears served not for hearing, And a dainty mouth he made her, Tender mouth and shining eyeballs, But the mouth served not for speaking, And the eyes served not for smiling.

Said the smith, said Ilmarinen "She would be a pretty maiden, 160 If she had the art of speaking, And had sense, and spoke discreetly."

After this he laid the maiden On the softest of the blankets, Smoothed for her the softest pillows, On the silken bed he laid her.

After this smith Ilmarinen, Quickly warmed the steaming bath-room, Took the soap into the bath-room, And provided twigs for bath-whisks, 170 And of water took three tubs full, That the little finch should wash her, And the little goldfinch cleanse her, Cleanse her beauty from the ashes.

When the smith had also bathed him, Washed him to his satisfaction, At the maiden's side he stretched him, On the softest of the blankets, 'Neath the steel-supported hangings, 'Neath the over-arching iron. 180

After this smith Ilmarinen, Even on the very first night, Asked for coverlets in plenty, And for blankets to protect him, Also two and three of bearskins, Five or six of woollen mantles, All upon one side to lay him, That towards the golden image.

And one side had warmth sufficient Which was covered by the bedclothes; 190 That beside the youthful damsel, Turned towards the golden image, All that side was fully frozen, And with frost was quite contracted, Like the ice on lake when frozen, Frozen into stony hardness.

Said the smith, said Ilmarinen, "This is not so pleasant for me. I will take the maid to Väinö, Pass her on to Väinämöinen, 200 On his knee as wife to seat her, Dovelike in his arms to nestle."

So to Väinölä he took her, And he said upon his coming, In the very words which follow: "O thou aged Väinämöinen, Here I bring a damsel for you, And a damsel fair to gaze on, And her mouth gapes not too widely, And her chin is not too broadened." 210

Väinämöinen, old and steadfast, Looked upon the golden image, Looked upon her head all golden, And he spoke the words which follow: "Wherefore have you brought her to me, Brought to me this golden spectre?"

Said the smith, said Ilmarinen, "With the best intent I brought her, On your knee as wife to rest her, Dovelike in your arms to nestle." 220

Said the aged Väinämöinen, "O thou smith, my dearest brother, Thrust the damsel in the furnace, Forge all sorts of objects from her, Or convey her hence to Russia, Take your image to the Saxons, Since they wed the spoils of battle, And they woo in fiercest combat; But it suits not my position, Nor to me myself is suited, 230 Thus to woo a bride all golden, Or distress myself for silver."

Then dissuaded Väinämöinen, And forbade the wave-sprung hero, All the rising generation, Likewise those upgrown already, For the sake of gold to bow them, Or debase themselves for silver, And he spoke the words which follow, And in words like these expressed him: 240 "Never, youths, however wretched, Nor in future, upgrown heroes, Whether you have large possessions, Or are poor in your possessions, In the course of all your lifetime, While the golden moon is shining, May you woo a golden woman, Or distress yourselves for silver, For the gleam of gold is freezing, Only frost is breathed by silver." 250

RUNO XXXVIII.--ILMARINEN'S NEW BRIDE FROM POHJOLA

_Argument_

Ilmarinen goes to Pohjola to woo the younger sister of his first wife, but as he receives only insulting words in reply, he becomes angry, seizes the maiden, and starts on his homeward journey (1-124). On the way the maiden treats Ilmarinen with contempt, and provokes him till he changes her into a seagull (125-286). When Ilmarinen comes home, he relates to Väinämöinen how the inhabitants of Pohjola live free from care since they possessed the Sampo; and also tells him how badly his wooing has prospered (287-328).

Thereupon smith Ilmarinen, He the great primeval craftsman, Cast away the golden image, Cast away the silver damsel, Afterwards his horse he harnessed, Yoked before the sledge the chestnut, On the sledge himself he mounted, And within the sledge he sat him, And departed on his journey, And proposed, as he was driving, 10 He to Pohjola would travel, There to ask another daughter.

So he drove for one day onward, Journeyed also on the second, And at length upon the third day, Came to Pohjola's broad courtyard.

Louhi, Pohjola's old Mistress Came into the yard to meet him, And began the conversation, And she turned to him and asked him 20 How her child's health was at present, If her daughter was contented, As the daughter-in-law of master, And the daughter-in-law of mistress.

Thereupon smith Ilmarinen, Head bowed down, and deeply grieving, And his cap all sloping sideways, Answered in the words which follow: "Do thou not, O mother, ask me, Do not question me in thiswise 30 How your daughter may be living, How your dear one now is dwelling! Death has borne her off already, Grisly death has seized upon her. In the ground is now my berry, On the heath is now my fair one, And her dark locks 'neath the stubble, 'Neath the grass my silver-fair one. Give me now your second daughter, Give me now that youthful maiden, 40 Give her to me, dearest mother, Give me now your second daughter, Thus to occupy the dwelling, And the station of her sister."

Louhi, Pohjola's old Mistress, Answered in the words which follow: "Ill have I, unhappy, acted, And it was a sad misfortune When to thee my child I promised, And I gave to thee the other, 50 In her early youth to slumber, For the rosy-cheeked one perished. To the mouth of wolf I gave her, To the jaws of bear when growling.

"No more daughters will I give you, Nor my daughter will I give you, That she wash the soot from off you, And she scratch the soot from off you, Sooner would I give my daughter, And would give my tender daughter, 60 To the fiercely-foaming cataract, To the ever-seething whirlpool, As a prey to worms of Mana, To the teeth of pike of Tuoni."

Thereupon smith Ilmarinen, Mouth and head both turning sideways, With his black hair in disorder, As his head he shook in anger, Pushed his way into the chamber, And beneath the roof he entered, 70 And he spoke the words which follow: "Come thou now with me, O maiden, In the station of thy sister, And to occupy her dwelling, Cakes of honey there to bake me, And the best of ale to brew me."

From the floor there sang a baby, Thus he sang, and thus made answer: "Quit our castle, guest unwelcome, From our doors, O stranger, hasten! 80 Thou before hast harmed our castle, Evil much hast wrought our castle, When the first time here thou camest, And within our doors hast entered.

"Maiden, O my dearest sister, O rejoice not in this lover, Neither in his mouth so subtle, Neither in his feet well-shapen, For his gums are like a wolf's gums, Curved his claws like those of foxes, 90 And the claws of bears conceals he, And his belt-knife blood is drinking, 'Tis with this that heads he severs, And with this the backs lays open."

Then the maiden's self made answer, Thus she spoke to Ilmarinen: "I myself will not go with you, Trouble not for such a scoundrel, For your first wife you have murdered, And my sister you have slaughtered. 100 You perchance would also slay me, Murder me, as her you murdered. Such a maiden is deserving Of a man of greater standing, And whose form is far more handsome, In a finer sledge to take me, To a larger, finer dwelling, To a better home than thou hast, Not unto a smith's black coalhouse, To a stupid husband's homestead." 110

Thereupon smith Ilmarinen, He the great primeval craftsman, Mouth and head both turning sideways, And his black hair in disorder, Seized without ado the maiden, In his grasp he seized the maiden, From the room he rushed like snowstorm, Dragged her where his sledge was standing, In the sledge he pushed the maiden, And within the sledge he cast her, 120 Started quickly on his journey, And prepared him for his journey, With one hand the horse he guided, On the girl's breast laid the other.

Wept the maiden and lamented, And she spoke the words which follow: "Now I come where grow the cranberries, To the swamps where grow the arums, Now the dove approaches ruin, And the bird is near destruction. 130

"Hear me now, smith Ilmarinen, If you will not now release me, I will smash your sledge to pieces, And will break it into fragments, Break it with my knees asunder, Break it with my legs to fragments."

Thereupon smith Ilmarinen Answered in the words that follow: "Know, the sledge by smith was fashioned, And the boards are bound with iron, 140 And it can withstand the pushing, And the noble maiden's struggles."

Then the hapless girl lamented, And bewailed, the copper-belted, Struggled till she broke her fingers, Struggled till her hands were twisted, And she spoke the words which follow: "If you will not now release me, To a lake-fish I'll transform me, In the deepest waves a powan." 150

Thereupon smith Ilmarinen Answered in the words which follow: "Even so you will not 'scape me, I myself as pike will follow."

Then the hapless girl lamented, And bewailed, the copper-belted, Struggled till she broke her fingers, Struggled till her hands were twisted, And she spoke the words which follow: "If you will not now release me, 160 To the wood will I betake me, Hiding in the rocks like ermine."

Thereupon smith Ilmarinen Answered in the words which follow: "Even thus you will not 'scape me, For as otter I'll pursue you."