Kalevala : the Epic Poem of Finland Part 27

"For my herds give food and shelter, Feed them all on honeyed pastures, Give them drink at honeyed fountains Feed them on thy golden gra.s.ses, On the leaves of silver saplings, From the springs of life and beauty, From the crystal-waters flowing, From the waterfalls of Rutya, From the uplands green and golden, From the glens enriched in silver.

Dig thou also golden fountains On the four sides of the willow, That the cows may drink in sweetness, And their udders swell with honey, That their milk may flow in streamlets; Let the milk be caught in vessels, Let the cow's gift be not wasted, Be not given to Ma.n.a.la.

"Many are the sons of evil, That to Mana take their milkings, Give their milk to evil-doers, Waste it in Tuoni's empire; Few there are, and they the worthy, That can get the milk from Mana; Never did my ancient mother Ask for counsel in the village, Never in the courts for wisdom; She obtained her milk from Mana, Took the sour-milk from the dealers, Sweet-milk from the greater distance, From the kingdom of Ma.n.a.la, From Tuoni's fields and pastures; Brought it in the dusk of evening, Through the by-ways in the darkness, That the wicked should not know it, That it should not find destruction.

"This the language of my mother, And these words I also echo: Whither does the cow's gift wander, Whither has the milk departed?

Has it gone to feed the strangers, Banished to the distant village, Gone to feed the hamlet-lover, Or perchance to feed the forest, Disappeared within the woodlands, Scattered o'er the hills and mountains, Mingled with the lakes and rivers?

It shall never go to Mana, Never go to feed the stranger, Never to the village-lover; Neither shall it feed the forest, Nor be lost upon the mountains, Neither sprinkled in the woodlands, Nor be mingled with the waters; It is needed for our tables, Worthy food for all our children.'

Summer-daughter, maid of beauty, Southern daughter of Creation, Give Suotikki tender fodder, To Watikki, give pure water, To Hermikki milk abundant, Fresh provisions to Tuorikki, From Mairikki let the milk flow, Fresh milk from my cows in plenty, Coming from the tips of gra.s.ses, From the tender herbs and leaflets, From the meadows rich in honey, From the mother of the forest, From the meadows sweetly dripping, From the berry-laden branches, From the heath of flower-maidens, From the verdure, maiden bowers, From the clouds of milk-providers, From the virgin of the heavens, That the milk may flow abundant From the cows that I have given To the keeping of Kullervo.

"Rise thou virgin of the valley, From the springs arise in beauty, Rise thou maiden of the fountain, Beautiful, arise in ether, Take the waters from the cloudlets, And my roaming herds besprinkle, That my cows may drink and flourish, May be ready for the coming Of the shepherdess of evening.

"O Millikki, forest-hostess, Mother of the herds at pasture, Send the tallest of thy servants, Send the best of thine a.s.sistants, That my herds may well be guarded, Through the pleasant days of summer, Given us by our Creator.

"Beauteous virgin of the woodlands, Tapio's most charming daughter, Fair Tellervo, forest-maiden, Softly clad in silken raiment, Beautiful in golden ringlets, Do thou give my herds protection, In the Metsola dominions, On the hills of Tapiola; Shield them with thy hands of beauty, Stroke them gently with thy fingers, Give to them a golden l.u.s.tre, Make them shine like fins of salmon, Grow them robes as soft as ermine.

"When the evening star brings darkness, When appears the hour of twilight, Send my lowing cattle homeward, Milk within their vessels coursing, Water on their backs in lakelets.

When the Sun has set in ocean, When the evening-bird is singing, Thus address my herds of cattle: "Ye that carry horns, now hasten To the sheds of Ilmarinen; Ye enriched in milk go homeward, To the hostess now in waiting, Home, the better place for sleeping, Forest-beds are full of danger; When the evening comes in darkness, Straightway journey to the milkmaids Building fires to light the pathway On the turf enriched in honey, In the pastures berry-laden!

"Thou, O Tapio's son, Nyrikki, Forest-son, enrobed in purple, Cut the fir-trees on the mountains, Cut the pines with cones of beauty, Lay them o'er the streams for bridges, Cover well the sloughs of quicksand, In the swamps and in the lowlands, That my herd may pa.s.s in safety, On their long and dismal journey, To the clouds of smoke may hasten, Where the milkmaids wait their coming.

If the cows heed not this order, Do not hasten home at evening, Then, O service-berry maiden, Cut a birch-rod from the glenwood, From the juniper, a whip-stick, Near to Tapio's s.p.a.cious mansion, Standing on the ash-tree mountain, Drive my wayward, lowing cattle, Into Metsola's wide milk-yards, When the evening-star is rising.

"Thou, O Otso, forest-apple, Woodland bear, with honeyed fingers, Let us make a lasting treaty, Make a vow for future ages, That thou wilt not kill my cattle, Wilt not eat my milk-providers; That I will not send my hunters To destroy thee and thy kindred, Never in the days of summer, The Creator's warmest season.

"Dost thou hear the tones of cow-bells, Hear the calling of the bugles, Ride thyself within the meadow, Sink upon the turf in slumber, Bury both thine ears in clover, Crouch within some alder-thicket Climb between the mossy ledges, Visit thou some rocky cavern, Flee away to other mountains, Till thou canst not hear the cow-bells, Nor the calling of the herdsmen.

"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; Ride 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 b.l.o.o.d.y 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 gra.s.s 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 x.x.xIII.

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 b.u.t.ter; Only dry bread has the herdsman, Eats with pain the oaten bread-crusts,'

Filled with chaff his and biscuit, Feeds upon the worst of straw-bread, Pine-tree bark, the broad he feeds on, Sipping water from the birch-bark, Drinking from the tips of gra.s.ses I 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-b.u.t.tered, 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 gra.s.sy hillock, Took his basket from his shoulders, Took therefrom the and 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 bold 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 b.u.t.ter, 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 pa.s.sage, 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 a.s.sistance, 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 pa.s.sage, 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 b.l.o.o.d.y wolves disguising, Quick attack the hostess milking, And the bears lend their a.s.sistance, 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 b.l.o.o.d.y 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: "n.o.ble 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 b.u.t.ter, 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 G.o.d 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, G.o.d 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 x.x.xIV.

KULLERVO FINDS HIS TRIBE-FOLK.