Chapter 10

"I had thought the winds were raging, That the piles of wood were falling, Thought the pebbles in commotion, Or perchance the ocean roaring; Then I hastened nearer, nearer, Drew still nearer and examined, Found the winds were not in battle, Found the piles of wood unshaken, Found the ocean was not roaring, Nor the pebbles in commotion; Found my son-in-law was coming With his heroes and attendants, Heroes counted by the hundreds.

"Should you ask of me the question, How I recognized the bridegroom Mid the host of men and heroes, I should answer, I should tell you: 'As the hazel-bush in copses, As the oak-tree in the forest, As the moon among the planets; Drives the groom a coal-black courser, Running like a famished black-dog, Flying like the hungry raven, Graceful as the lark at morning, Golden cuckoos, six in number, Twitter on the birchen cross-bow; There are seven blue-birds singing On the racer's hame and collar.'"

Noises hear they in the court-yard, On the highway hear the sledges. To the court comes Ilmarinen, With his body-guard of heroes; In the midst the chosen suitor, Not too far in front of others, Not too far behind his fellows. Spake the hostess of Pohyola:

"Hie ye hither, men and heroes, Haste, ye watchers, to the stables, There unhitch the suitor's stallion, Lower well the racer's breast-plate, There undo the straps and buckles, Loosen well the shafts and traces, And conduct the suitor hither, Give my son-in-law good welcome!"

Ilmarinen turned his racer Into Louhi's yard and stables, And descended from his snow-sledge Spake the hostess of Pohyola:

"Come, thou servant of my bidding, Best of all my trusted servants, Take at once the bridegroom's courser From the shafts adorned with silver, From the curving arch of willow, Lift the harness trimmed in copper, Tie the white-face to the manger, Treat the suitor's steed with kindness, Lead him carefully to shelter By his soft and shining bridle, By his halter tipped with silver; Let him roll among the sand-hills, On the bottoms soft and even, On the borders of the snow-banks, In the fields of milky color. Lead the hero's steed to water, Lead him to the Pohya-fountains, Where the living streams are flowing, Sweet as milk of human kindness, From the roots of silvery birches, Underneath the shade of aspens.

"Feed the courser of the suitor, With the sweetest corn and barley, With the summer-wheat and clover, In the caldron steeped in sweetness; Feed him at the golden manger, In the boxes lined with copper, At my manger richly furnished, In the warmest of the hurdles; Tie him with a silk-like halter, To the golden rings and staples, To the hooks of purest silver, Set in beams of birch and oak-wood; Feed him on the hay the sweetest, Feed him on the grains nutritious, Give the best my barns can furnish.

"Curry well the suitor's courser With the curry-comb of fish-bone, Brush his hair with silken brushes, Put his mane and tail in order, Cover well with silken blankets, Blankets wrought in gold and silver, Buckles forged from shining copper.

"Come, ye small lads of the village, Lead the suitor to my chambers, With your auburn locks uncovered, From your hands remove your mittens, See if ye can lead the hero Through the door without his stooping, Lifting not the upper cross-bar, Sinking not the oaken threshold, Moving not the oaken casings, Great the hero who must enter.

"Ilmarinen is too stately, Cannot enter through the portals, Not the son-in-law and bridegroom, Till the portals have been lengthened; Taller by a head the suitor Than the doorways of the mansion." Quick the servants of Pohyola Tore away the upper cross-bar, That his cap might not be lifted; Made the oaken threshold lower That the hero might not stumble; Made the birch-wood portals wider, Opened full the door of welcome, Easy entrance for the suitor.

Speaks the hostess of the Northland As the bridegroom freely passes Through the doorway of her dwelling:

"Thanks are due to thee, O Ukko, That my son-in-law has entered! Let me now my halls examine; Make the bridal chambers ready, Finest linen on my tables, Softest furs upon my benches, Birchen flooring scrubbed to whiteness, All my rooms in perfect order."

Then the hostess of Pohyola Visited her spacious dwelling, Did not recognize her chambers; Every room had been remodelled, Changed by force of mighty magic; All the halls were newly burnished, Hedgehog bones were used for ceilings, Bones of reindeer for foundations, Bones of wolverine for door-sills, For the cross-bars bones of roebuck, Apple-wood were all the rafters, Alder-wood, the window casings, Scales of trout adorned the windows, And the fires were set in flowers. All the seats were made of silver, All the floors of copper-tiling, Gold-adorned were all the tables, On the floor were silken mattings, Every fire-place set in copper, Every hearth-stone cut from marble, On each shelf were colored sea-shells, Kalew's tree was their protection.

To the court-room came the hero, Chosen suitor from Wainola, These the words of Ilmarinen:

"Send, O Ukko, health and pleasure To this ancient home and dwelling, To this mansion richly fashioned!" Spake the hostess of Pohyola:

"Let thy coming be auspicious To these halls of thee unworthy, To the home of thy affianced, To this dwelling lowly fashioned, Mid the lindens and the aspens.

"Come, ye maidens that should serve me, Come, ye fellows from the village, Bring me fire upon the birch-bark, Light the fagots of the fir-tree, That I may behold the bridegroom, Chosen suitor of my daughter, Fairy Maiden of the Rainbow, See the color of his eyeballs, Whether they are blue or sable, See if they are warm and faithful."

Quick the young lads from the village Brought the fire upon the birch-bark, Brought it on the tips of pine-wood; And the fire and smoke commingled Roll and roar about the hero, Blackening the suitor's visage, And the hostess speaks as follows:

"Bring the fire upon a taper, On the waxen tapers bring it!"

Then the maidens did as bidden, Quickly brought the lighted tapers, Made the suitor's eyeballs glisten, Made his cheeks look fresh and ruddy; Eyes were neither blue nor sable, Sparkled like the foam of waters, Like the reed-grass on the margin, Colored as the ocean-jewels, Iridescent as the rainbow.

"Come, ye fellows from the hamlets, Lead my son-in-law and hero To the highest seat at table, To the seat of greatest honor, With his back upon the blue-wall, Looking on my bounteous tables, Facing all the guests of Northland."

Then the hostess of Pohyola Served her guests in great abundance, Richest drinks and rarest viands, First of all she served the bridegroom; On his platters honeyed biscuit, And the sweetest river-salmon, Seasoned butter, roasted bacon, All the dainties of Pohyola. Then the servants served the others, Filled the plates of all invited With the varied food of Northland. Spake the hostess of Pohyola:

"Come, ye maidens from the village, Hither bring the beer in pitchers, In the urns with double handles, To the many guests in-gathered. Ere all others, serve the bridegroom."

Thereupon the merry maidens Brought the beer in silver pitchers From the copper-banded vessels, For the wedding guests assembled; And the beer, fermenting, sparkled On the beard of Ilmarinen, On the beards of many heroes.

When the guests had all partaken Of the wondrous beer of barley, Spake the drink in merry accents Through the tongues of the magicians, Through the tongue of many a hero, Through the tongue of Wainamoinen, Famed to be the sweetest singer Of the Northland bards and minstrels.

* * * * *

"Grant, O Ukko, my Creator, God of love, and truth, and justice, Grant thy blessing on our feasting, Bless this company assembled, For the good of Sariola, For the happiness of Northland! May this bread and beer bring joyance, May they come in rich abundance, May they carry full contentment To the people of Pohyola, To the cabin and the mansion; May the hours we spend in singing, In the morning, in the evening, Fill our hearts with joy and gladness! Hear us in our supplications, Grant to us thy needed blessings, Send enjoyment, health, and comfort, To the people here assembled, To the host and to the hostess, To the bride and to the bridegroom, To the sons upon the waters, To the daughters at their weavings, To the hunters on the mountains, To the shepherds in the fenlands, That our lives may end in honor, That we may recall with pleasure Ilmarinen's magic marriage To the Maiden of the Rainbow, Snow-white virgin of the Northland."

_Crawford's Translation, Rune XXI._

THE BIRTH OF THE HARP.

Wainamoinen, Ilmarinen, and the wizard Lemminkainen started to the Northland to win back the Sampo forged for Louhi by Ilmarinen. On the way their boat stuck on the shoulders of a great pike, which was killed by Wainamoinen. The three then landed, ordered the pike to be cooked by the maidens, and feasted until nothing remained of the fish but a heap of bones.

Wainamoinen, ancient minstrel, Looked upon the pile of fragments, On the fish-bones looked and pondered, Spake these words in meditation:

"Wondrous things might be constructed From the relics of this monster, Were they in the blacksmith's furnace, In the hands of the magician, In the hands of Ilmarinen."

Spake the blacksmith of Wainola:

"Nothing fine can be constructed From the bones and teeth of fishes By the skilful forger-artist, By the hands of the magician." These the words of Wainamoinen:

"Something wondrous might be builded From these jaws, and teeth, and fish-bones; Might a magic harp be fashioned, Could an artist be discovered That could shape them to my wishes."

But he found no fish-bone artist That could shape the harp of joyance From the relics of their feasting, From the jaw-bones of the monster, To the will of the magician. Thereupon wise Wainamoinen Set himself at work designing; Quick became a fish-bone artist, Made a harp of wondrous beauty, Lasting joy and pride of Suomi. Whence the harp's enchanting arches? From the jaw-bones of the monster. Whence the necessary harp-pins? From the pike-teeth, firmly fastened. Whence the sweetly singing harp-strings? From the tail of Lempo's stallion. Thus was born the harp of magic From the mighty pike of Northland, From the relics from the feasting Of the heroes of Wainola. All the young men came to view it, All the aged with their children, Mothers with their beauteous daughters, Maidens with their golden tresses; All the people on the islands Came to view the harp of joyance, Pride and beauty of the Northland.

Wainamoinen, ancient minstrel, Let the aged try the harp-strings, Gave it to the young magicians, To the dames and to their daughters, To the maidens, silver-tinselled, To the singers of Wainola. When the young men touched the harp-strings, Then arose the notes of discord; When the aged played upon it, Dissonance their only music. Spake the wizard, Lemminkainen:

"O ye witless, worthless children, O ye senseless, useless maidens, O ye wisdom-lacking heroes, Cannot play this harp of magic, Cannot touch the notes of concord! Give to me this thing of beauty, Hither bring the harp of fish-bones, Let me try my skillful fingers." Lemminkainen touched the harp-strings, Carefully the strings adjusted, Turned the harp in all directions, Fingered all the strings in sequence, Played the instrument of wonder, But it did not speak in concord, Did not sing the notes of joyance. Spake the ancient Wainamoinen:

"There is none among these maidens, None among these youthful heroes, None among the old magicians, That can play the harp of magic, Touch the notes of joy and pleasure. Let us take the harp to Pohya, There to find a skillful player That can touch the strings in concord."

Then they sailed to Sariola, To Pohyola took the wonder, There to find the harp a master. All the heroes of Pohyola, All the boys and all the maidens, Ancient dames and bearded minstrels, Vainly touched the harp of beauty.

Louhi, hostess of the Northland, Took the harp-strings in her fingers; All the youth of Sariola, Youth of every tribe and station, Vainly touched the harp of fish-bone; Could not find the notes of joyance, Dissonance their only pleasure; Shrieked the harp-strings like the whirlwinds, All the tones were harsh and frightful.

* * * * *

Wainamoinen, ancient minstrel, The eternal wisdom-singer, Laves his hands to snowy whiteness, Sits upon the rock of joyance, On the stone of song he settles, On the mount of song he settles, On the mount of silver clearness, On the summit, golden colored, Takes the harp by him created, In his hands the harp of fish-bone, With his knee the arch supporting, Takes the harp-strings in his fingers, Speaks these words to those assembled:

"Hither come, ye Northland people, Come and listen to my playing,-- To the harp's entrancing measures, To my songs of joy and gladness."

Then the singer of Wainola Took the harp of his creation, Quick adjusting, sweetly tuning, Deftly plied his skillful fingers To the strings that he had fashioned. Now was gladness rolled on gladness, And the harmony of pleasure Echoed from the hills and mountains; Added singing to his playing, Out of joy did joy come welling, Now resounded marvellous music, All of Northland stopped and listened. Every creature in the forest, All the beasts that haunt the woodlands On their nimble feet came bounding, Came to listen to his playing, Came to hear his songs of joyance. Leaped the squirrels from the branches, Merrily from birch to aspen; Climbed the ermines on the fences, O'er the plains the elk deer bounded, And the lynxes purred with pleasure; Wolves awoke in far-off swamp-lands, Bounded o'er the marsh and heather, And the bear his den deserted, Left his lair within the pine-wood, Settled by a fence to listen, Leaned against the listening gate-posts, But the gate-posts yield beneath him; Now he climbs the fir-tree branches That he may enjoy and wonder, Climbs and listens to the music Of the harp of Wainamoinen.

Tapiola's wisest senior, Metsola's most noble landlord, And of Tapio, the people, Young and aged, men and maidens, Flew like red-deer up the mountains There to listen to the playing, To the harp of Wainamoinen. Tapiola's wisest mistress, Hostess of the glen and forest, Robed herself in blue and scarlet, Bound her limbs with silken ribbons, Sat upon the woodland summit, On the branches of a birch-tree, There to listen to the playing, To the high-born hero's harping, To the songs of Wainamoinen.

All the birds that fly in mid-air Fell like snow-flakes from the heavens, Flew to hear the minstrel's playing, Hear the harp of Wainamoinen. Eagles in their lofty eyrie Heard the songs of the enchanter; Swift they left their unfledged young ones, Flew and perched around the minstrel. From the heights the hawks descended, From the clouds down swooped the falcon, Ducks arose from inland waters, Swans came gliding from the marshes; Tiny finches, green and golden, Flew in flocks that darkened sunlight, Came in myriads to listen, Perched upon the head and shoulders Of the charming Wainamoinen, Sweetly singing to the playing Of the ancient bard and minstrel. And the daughters of the welkin, Nature's well-beloved daughters, Listened all in rapt attention; Some were seated on the rainbow, Some upon the crimson cloudlets, Some upon the dome of heaven.

In their hands the Moon's fair daughters Held their weaving-combs of silver; In their hands the Sun's sweet maidens Grasped the handles of their distaffs, Weaving with their golden shuttles, Spinning from their silver spindles, On the red rims of the cloudlets, On the bow of many colors. As they hear the minstrel playing, Hear the harp of Wainamoinen, Quick they drop their combs of silver, Drop the spindles from their fingers, And the golden threads are broken, Broken are the threads of silver.

All the fish in Suomi-waters Heard the songs of the magician, Came on flying fins to listen To the harp of Wainamoinen. Came the trout with graceful motions, Water-dogs with awkward movements, From the water-cliffs the salmon, From the sea-caves came the whiting, From the deeper caves the bill-fish; Came the pike from beds of sea-fern, Little fish with eyes of scarlet, Leaning on the reeds and rushes, With their heads above the surface; Came to hear the harp of joyance, Hear the songs of the enchanter.

Ahto, king of all the waters, Ancient king with beard of sea-grass, Raised his head above the billows, In a boat of water-lilies, Glided to the coast in silence, Listened to the wondrous singing, To the harp of Wainamoinen. These the words the sea-king uttered:

"Never have I heard such playing, Never heard such strains of music, Never since the sea was fashioned, As the songs of this enchanter, This sweet singer, Wainamoinen."

Satko's daughters from the blue-deep, Sisters of the wave-washed ledges, On the colored strands were sitting, Smoothing out their sea-green tresses With the combs of molten silver, With their silver-handled brushes, Brushes forged with golden bristles. When they hear the magic playing, Hear the harp of Wainamoinen, Fall their brushes on the billows, Fall their combs with silver handles To the bottom of the waters, Unadorned their heads remaining, And uncombed their sea-green tresses.

Came the hostess of the waters, Ancient hostess robed in flowers, Rising from her deep sea-castle, Swimming to the shore in wonder, Listened to the minstrel's playing, To the harp of Wainamoinen. As the magic tones re-echoed, As the singer's song outcircled, Sank the hostess into slumber, On the rocks of many colors, On her watery couch of joyance, Deep the sleep that settled o'er her.

Wainamoinen, ancient minstrel, Played one day and then a second, Played the third from morn to even. There was neither man nor hero, Neither ancient dame nor maiden, Not in Metsola a daughter, Whom he did not touch to weeping; Wept the young and wept the aged, Wept the mothers, wept the daughters, At the music of his playing, At the songs of the magician. _Crawford's Translation, Runes XL.-XLI._

THE AENEID.

The Aeneid was written by Publius Vergilius Maro, commonly known as Vergil, who was born at Andes, near Mantua, Oct. 15, 70 B. C., and died at Brundusium, Sept. 22, 19 B.C.

He was educated at Cremona, Milan, Naples, and Rome. When the lands near Cremona and Mantua were assigned by Octavianus to his soldiers after the battle of Philippi, Vergil lost his estates; but they were afterwards restored to him through Asinius Pollio.

He became a favorite of Augustus, and spent part of his time in Rome, near his patron, Maecenas, the emperor's minister.

Vergil's first work was the Bucolics, in imitation of Theocritus. His second work, the Georgics, treats of husbandry. The Aeneid relates the adventures of Aeneas, the legendary ancestor of the Romans.

The Aeneid is in twelve books, of which the first six describe the wanderings of Aeneas, and the last six his wars in Italy. Its metre is the dactyllic hexameter.

Vergil worked for eleven years on the poem, and considered it incomplete at his death.

The Aeneid tells the story of the flight of Aeneas from burning Troy to Italy, and makes him an ancestor of the Romans. With the story of his wanderings are interwoven praises of the Caesars and the glory of Rome.

It is claimed that because Vergil was essentially a poet of rural life, he was especially fitted to be the national poet, since the Roman life was founded on the agricultural country life. He also chose a theme which particularly appealed to the patriotism of the Romans. For this reason, the poem was immediately received into popular favor, and was made a text-book of the Roman youths. It is often said of Vergil by way of reproach, that his work was an imitation of Homer, and the first six books of the Aeneid are compared to the Odyssey, the last six to the Iliad. But while Vergil may be accused of imitation of subject matter, his style is his own, and is entirely different from that of Homer. There is a tender grace in the Roman writer which the Greek does not possess. Vergil also lacks that purely pagan enjoyment of life; in its place there is a tender melancholy that suggests the passing of the golden age. This difference of treatment, this added grace and charm, which are always mentioned as peculiarly Vergil's own, united with his poetical feeling, and skill in versification, are sufficient to absolve him from the reproach of a mere imitator.

The Aeneid was greatly admired and imitated during the Middle Ages, and still retains its high place in literature.

BIBLIOGRAPHY AND CRITICISM, THE AENEID.

R. W. Brown's History of Roman Classical Literature, n. d., pp. 257-265;

John Alfred Church's Story of the Aeneid, 1886;

Domenico Comparetti's Virgil in the Middle Ages, Tr. by Benecke, 1895;

C. T. Cruttwell's Virgil (see his History of Roman Literature, n. d. pp. 252-375);

John Davis's Observations on the poems of Homer and Virgil, out of the French, 1672;

James Henry's Aeneidea: or Critical, Exegetical, and Aesthetical Remarks on the Aeneis, 1873;

James Henry's Notes of Twelve Years' Voyage of Discovery in the first six Books of the Aeneid, 1853;

J. W. Mackail's Virgil (see his Latin Literature, 1895, pp. 91-106);

H. Nettleship's The Aeneid (see his Vergil, 1880, pp. 45-74);

H. T. Peck and R. Arrowsmith's Roman Life in Latin Prose and Verse, 1894, pp. 68-70;

Leonhard Schmitz's History of Latin Literature, 1877, pp. 106-108;

W. Y. Sellar's Roman Poets of the Augustan Age, Vergil, Ed. 2, 1883;

W. S. Teuffel's Aeneis (see his History of Roman Literature, 1891, pp. 434-439);

J. S. Tunison's Master Virgil, the author of the Aeneid, as he seemed in the Middle Ages, 1888;

Robert Y. Tyrrell's Virgil (see his Latin Poetry, 1895, pp. 126-161);

A Forgotten Virtue, Macmillan, 1895, xii. 51-56, an article on the Aeneid, "the epic of piety;"

Scene of the last six books of the Aeneid, Blackwood, 1832, xxxii. 76-87;

A. A. Knight's The Year in the Aeneid, Education, 1886, vi. 612-616;

William C. Cawton's The Underworld in Homer, Virgil, and Dante, Atlantic, 1884, liv. 99-110.

STANDARD ENGLISH TRANSLATIONS, THE AENEID.

The Aeneid, Tr. by J. Conington, 1887;

The Aeneid, Tr. by C. P. Cranch, 1872;

The Aeneid, Tr. by John Dryden (1697), 1884;

The Aeneid, Tr. by William Morris, 1882;

The Aeneid, Tr. by W. S. Thornhill, 1886;

The Aeneid, Tr. by J. A. Wilstach, 1884;

The Aeneid, Tr. by J. W. Mackail, 1890.

THE STORY OF THE AENEID.

For many years the heroic Aeneas, who escaped from falling Troy to seek the shores of Italy, there to found the lofty walls of Rome, was tossed upon the sea by the wrath of cruel Juno.