Kalevala : the Epic Poem of Finland Part 15

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-sh.o.r.e, 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 s.h.i.+p is sailing, To the b.l.o.o.d.y 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 s.h.i.+p 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 s.h.i.+p 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 s.h.i.+p 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 s.h.i.+p 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-sh.o.r.e, 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 f.a.ggots 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 ta.s.sels 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 fas.h.i.+oned 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 tr.i.m.m.i.n.g, 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 fas.h.i.+oned; 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 sh.o.r.es 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 a.s.sistance 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!

G.o.d 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, n.o.ble 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-sh.o.r.e 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 a.s.sistance; Swiftly sails his s.h.i.+p of beauty, Swiftly plows the rough sea-billows In her pathway to Pohyola.

Time had gone but little distance, Scarce a moment had pa.s.sed 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 f.a.ggots, 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 s.p.a.cious 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 s.h.i.+p was scarlet-colored, Entering the bay of Lempo; Saw a sledge of magic colors, Gliding up the curving sea-sh.o.r.e, 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 n.o.ble 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 s.h.i.+p 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 n.o.ble 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 s.h.i.+p 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 s.h.i.+p 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."

RUNE XIX.

ILMARINEN'S WOOING.

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 s.h.i.+ning 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 G.o.d 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 gra.s.s 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 Ma.n.a.la'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 Ma.n.a.la."

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 Ma.n.a.la.