Kalevala : the Epic Poem of Finland Part 28

Kullerwoinen, young magician, In his beauteous, golden ringlets, In his magic shoes of deer-skin, Left the home of Ilmarinen Wandered forth upon his journey, Ere the blacksmith heard the tidings Of the cruel death and torture Of his wife and joy-companion, Lest a b.l.o.o.d.y fight should follow.

Kullerwoinen left the smithy, Blowing on his magic bugle, Joyful left the lands of Ilma, Blowing blithely on the heather, Made the distant hills re-echo, Made the swamps and mountains tremble, Made the heather-blossoms answer To the music of his cow-horn, In its wild reverberations, To the magic of his playing.

Songs were heard within the smithy, And the blacksmith stopped and listened, Hastened to the door and window, Hastened to the open court-yard, If perchance he might discover What was playing on the heather, What was sounding through the forest.

Quick he learned the cruel story, Learned the cause of the rejoicing, Saw the hostess dead before him, Knew his beauteous wife had perished, Saw the lifeless form extended, In the court-yard of his dwelling.

Thereupon the metal-artist Fell to bitter tears and wailings, Wept through all the dreary night-time, Deep the grief that settled o'er him, Black as night his darkened future, Could not stay his tears of sorrow.

Kullerwoinen hastened onward, Straying, roaming, hither, thither, Wandered on through field and forest, O'er the Hisi-plains and woodlands.

When the darkness settled o'er him, When the bird of night was flitting, Sat the fatherless at evening, The forsaken sat and rested On a hillock of the forest.

Thus he murmured, heavy-hearted: "Why was I, alas! created, Why was I so ill-begotten, Since for months and years I wander, Lost among the ether-s.p.a.ces?

Others have their homes to dwell in, Others hasten to their firesides As the evening gathers round them: But my home is in the forest, And my bed upon the heather, And my bath-room is the rain-cloud.

"Never didst thou, G.o.d of mercy, Never in the course of ages, Give an infant birth unwisely; Wherefore then was I created, Fatherless to roam in ether, Motherless and lone to wander?

Thou, O Ukko, art my father, Thou hast given me form and feature; As the sea-gull on the ocean, As the duck upon the waters, Shines the Sun upon the swallow, Shines as bright upon the sparrow, Gives the joy-birds song and gladness, Does not shine on me unhappy; Nevermore will shine the sunlight, Never will the moonlight glimmer On this hapless son and orphan; Do not know my hero-father, Cannot tell who was my mother; On the sh.o.r.e, perhaps the gray-duck Left me in the sand to perish.

Young was I and small of stature, When my mother left me orphaned; Dead, my father and my mother, Dead, my honored tribe of heroes; Shoes they left me that are icy, Stockings filled with frosts of ages, Let me on the freezing ice-plains Fall to perish in the rushes; From the giddy heights of mountains Let me tumble to destruction.

"O, thou wise and good Creator, Why my birth and what my service?

I shall never fall and perish On the ice-plains, in the marshes, Never be a bridge in swamp-land, Not while I have arms of virtue That can serve my honored kindred!"

Then Kullervo thought to journey To the village of Untamo, To avenge his father's murder, To avenge his mother's tortures, And the troubles of his tribe-folk.

These the words of Kullerwoinen: "Wait, yea wait, thou Untamoinen, Thou destroyer of my people; When I meet thee in the combat, I will slay thee and thy kindred, I will burn thy homes to ashes!"

Came a woman on the highway, Dressed in blue, the aged mother, To Kullervo spake as follows: "Whither goest, Kullerwoinen, Whither hastes the wayward hero?

Kullerwoinen gave this answer: "I have thought that I would journey To the far-off land of strangers, To the village of Untamo, To avenge my father's murder, To avenge my mother's tortures, And the troubles of my tribe-folk."

Thus the gray-haired woman answered: "Surely thou dost rest in error, For thy tribe has never perished, And thy mother still is living With thy father in the Northland, Living with the old Kalervo."

"O, thou ancient dame beloved, Worthy mother of the woodlands, Tell me where my father liveth, Where my loving mother lingers!"

"Yonder lives thine aged father, And thy loving mother with him, On the farthest sh.o.r.e of Northland, On the long-point of the fish-lake!"

"Tell me, O thou woodland-mother, How to journey to my people, How to find mine honored tribe-folk."

"Easy is the way for strangers: Thou must journey through the forest, Hasten to the river-border, Travel one day, then a second, And the third from morn till even, To the north-west, thou must journey.

If a mountain comes to meet thee, Go around the nearing mountain, Westward bold thy weary journey, Till thou comest to a river, On thy right hand flowing eastward; Travel to the river border, Where three water-falls will greet thee; When thou comest to a headland, On the point thou'lt see a cottage Where the fishermen a.s.semble; In this cottage is thy father, With thy mother and her daughters, Beautiful thy maiden sisters."

Kullerwoinen, the magician, Hastens northward on his journey, Walks one day, and then a second, Walks the third from morn till evening; To the north-west walks Kullervo, Till a mountain comes to meet him, Walks around the nearing mountain; Westward, westward, holds his journey, Till he sees a river coming; Hastens to the river border, Walks along the streams and rapids Till three waterfalls accost him; Travels till he meets a headland, On the point he spies a cottage, Where the fishermen a.s.semble.

Quick he journeys to the cabin, Quick he pa.s.ses through the portals Of the cottage on the headland, Where he finds his long-lost kindred; No one knows the youth, Kullervo, No one knows whence comes the stranger, Where his home, nor where he goeth.

These the words of young Kullervo: "Dost thou know me not, my mother, Dost thou know me not, my father?

I am hapless Kullerwoinen Whom the heroes of Untamo Carried to their distant country, When my height was but a hand-breadth."

Quick the hopeful mother answers: "O my worthy son, beloved, O my precious silver-buckle, Hast thou with thy mind of magic, Wandered through the fields of Northland Searching for thy home and kindred?

As one dead I long have mourned thee, Had supposed thee, in Ma.n.a.la.

Once I had two sons and heroes, Had two good and beauteous daughters, Two of these have long been absent, Elder son and elder daughter; For the wars my son departed, While my daughter strayed and perished If my son is home returning, Yet my daughter still is absent, Kullerwoinen asked his mother: "Whither did my sister wander, What direction did she journey?

This the answer of the mother: "This the story of thy sister: Went for berries to the woodlands, To the mountains went my daughter, Where the lovely maiden vanished, Where my pretty berry perished, Died some death beyond my knowledge, Nameless is the death she suffered.

Who is mourning for the daughter?

No one mourns her as her mother, Walks and wanders, Mourns and searches, For her fairest child and daughter; Therefore did the mother wander, Searching for thy lovely sister, Like the bear she roamed the forest, Ran the glenways like the adder, Searched one day and then a second, Searched the third from morn till even, Till she reached the mountain-summit, There she called and called her daughter, Till the distant mountains answered, Called to her who had departed: I Where art thou, my lovely maiden, Come my daughter to thy mother!'

"Thus I called, and sought thy sister, This the answer of the mountains, Thus the hills and valleys echoed: 'Call no more, thou weeping mother, Weep no more for the departed; Nevermore in all thy lifetime, Never in the course of ages, Will she join again her kindred, At her brother's landing-places, In her father's humble dwelling.'"

RUNE x.x.xV.

KULLERVO'S EVIL DEEDS.

Kullerwionen, youthful wizard, In his blue and scarlet stockings, Henceforth lingered with his parents; But he could not change his nature, Could not gain a higher wisdom, Could not win a better judgment; As a child he was ill-nurtured, Early rocked in stupid cradles, By a nurse of many follies, By a minister of evil.

To his work went Kullerwoinen, Strove to make his labors worthy; First, Kullervo went a-fishing, Set his fishing-nets in ocean; With his hands upon the row-locks, Kullerwoinen spake as follows: "Shall I pull with all my forces, Pull with strength of youthful heroes, Or with weakness of the aged?"

From the stern arose a gray-beard, And he answered thus Kullervo: "Pull with all thy youthful vigor; Shouldst thou row with magic power, Thou couldst not destroy this vessel, Couldst not row this boat to fragments."

Thereupon the youth, Kullervo, Rowed with all his youthful vigor, With the mighty force of magic, Rowed the bindings from the vessel, Ribs of juniper he shattered, Rowed the aspen-oars to pieces.

When the aged sire, Kalervo, Saw the work of Kullerwoinen, He addressed his son as follows: "Dost not understand the rowing; Thou hast burst the bands asunder, Bands of juniper and willow, Rowed my aspen-boat to pieces; To the fish-nets drive the salmon, This, perchance, will suit thee better."

Thereupon the son, Kullervo, Hastened to his work as bidden, Drove the salmon to the fish-nets, Spake in innocence as follows: "Shall I with my youthful vigor Scare the salmon to the fish-nets, Or with little magic vigor Shall I drive them to their capture?

Spake the master of the fish-nets: "That would be but work of women, Shouldst thou use but little power In the frighting of the salmon!"

Kullerwoinen does as bidden, Scares the salmon with the forces Of his mighty arms and shoulders, With the strength of youth and magic, Stirs the water thick with black-earth, Beats the scare-net into pieces, Into pulp he beats the salmon.

When the aged sire, Kalervo, Saw the work of Kullerwoinen, To his son these words he uttered: "Dost not understand this labor, For this work thou art not suited, Canst not scare the perch and salmon To the fish-nets of thy father; Thou hast ruined all my fish-nets, Torn my scare-net into tatters, Beaten into pulp the whiting, Torn my net-props into fragments, Beaten into bits my wedges.

Leave the fishing to another; See if thou canst pay the tribute, Pay my yearly contribution; See if thou canst better travel, On the way show better judgment!"

Thereupon the son, Kullervo, Hapless youth in purple vestments, In his magic shoes of deer-skin, In his locks of golden color, Sallied forth to pay the taxes, Pay the tribute for his people.

When the youth had paid the tribute, Paid the yearly contribution, He returned to join the snow-sledge, Took his place upon the cross-bench, Snapped his whip above the courser, And began his journey homeward; Rattled on along the highway, Measured as he galloped onward Wainamoinen's hills and valleys, And his fields in cultivation.

Came a golden maid to meet him, On her snow-shoes came a virgin, O'er the hills of Wainamoinen, O'er his cultivated lowlands.

Quick the wizard-son, Kullervo, Checked the motion of his racer, Thus addressed the charming maiden "Come, sweet maiden, to my snow-sledge, In my fur-robes rest and linger!"

As she ran, the maiden answered: "Let the Death-maid sit beside thee, Rest and linger in thy fur-robes!"

Thereupon the youth, Kullervo, Snapped his whip above the courser; Fleet as wind he gallops homeward, Dashes down along the highway; With the roar of falling waters, Gallops onward, onward, onward, O'er the broad-back of the ocean, O'er the icy plains of Lapland.

Comes a winsome maid to meet him, Golden-haired, and wearing snow-shoes, On the far outstretching ice-plains; Quick the wizard checks his racer, Charmingly accosts the maiden, Chanting carefully these measures: "Come, thou beauty, to my snow-sledge, Hither come, and rest, and linger!

Tauntingly the maiden answered: "Take Tuoni to thy snow-sledge, At thy side let Ma.n.a.lainen Sit with thee, and rest, and linger!"

Quick the wizard, Kullerwoinen, Struck his fiery, prancing racer, With the birch-whip of his father.

Like the lightning flew the fleet-foot, Galloped on the highway homeward; O'er the hills the snow-sledge bounded, And the coming mountains trembled.

Kullerwoinen, wild magician, Measures, on his journey homeward, Northland's far-extending borders, And the fertile plains of Pohya.

Comes a beauteous maid to meet him, With a tin-pin on her bosom, On the heather of Pohyola, O'er the Pohya-hills and moorlands.

Quick the wizard son, Kullervo, Holds the bridle of his courser, Charmingly intones these measures: "Come, fair maiden, to my snow-sledge, In these fur-robes rest, and linger; Eat with me the golden apples, Eat the hazel-nut in joyance, Drink with me the beer delicious, Eat the dainties that I give thee."

This the answer of the maiden With the tin-pin on her bosom: "I have scorn to give thy snow-sledge, Scorn for thee, thou wicked wizard; Cold is it beneath thy fur-robes, And thy sledge is chill and cheerless.

Thereupon the youth, Kullervo, Wicked wizard of the Northland, Drew the maiden to his snow-sledge, Drew her to a seat beside him, Quickly in his furs enwrapped her; And the tin-adorned made answer, These the accents of the maiden: "Loose me from thy magic power, Let me leave at once thy presence, Lest I speak in wicked accents, Lest I say the prayer of evil; Free me now as I command thee, Or I'll tear thy sledge to pieces, Throw these fur-robes to the north-winds."

Straightway wicked Kullerwoinen, Evil wizard and magician, Opens all his treasure-boxes, Shows the maiden gold and silver, Shows her silken wraps of beauty, Silken hose with golden borders, Golden belts with silver buckles, Jewelry that dims the vision, Blunts the conscience of the virgin.

Silver leads one to destruction, Gold entices from uprightness.

Kullerwoinen, wicked wizard, Flatters lovingly the maiden, One hand on the reins of leather, One upon the maiden's shoulder; Thus they journey through the evening, Pa.s.s the night in merry-making.

When the day-star led the morning, When the second day was dawning, Then the maid addressed Kullervo, Questioned thus the wicked wizard: "Of what tribe art thou descended, Of what race thy hero-father?

Tell thy lineage and kindred.'

This, Kullervo's truthful answer: "Am not from a mighty nation, Not the greatest, nor the smallest, But my lineage is worthy: Am Kalervo's son of folly, Am a child of contradictions, Hapless son of cold misfortune.

Tell me of thy race of heroes, Tell thine origin and kindred."

This the answer of the maiden: "Came not from a race primeval, Not the largest, nor the smallest, But my lineage is worthy; Am Kalervo's wretched daughter, Am his long-lost child of error, Am a maid of contradictions, Hapless daughter of misfortune.

"When a child I lived in plenty In the dwellings of my mother; To the woods I went for berries, Went for raspberries to uplands, Gathered strawberries on mountains, Gathered one day then a second; But, alas! upon the third day, Could not find the pathway homeward, Forestward the highways led me, All the footpaths, to the woodlands.

Long I sat in bitter weeping, Wept one day and then a second, Wept the third from morn till even.

Then I climbed a. lofty mountain, There I called in wailing accents, And the woodlands gave this answer, Thus the distant hills re-echoed: 'Call no longer, foolish virgin, All thy calls and tears are useless; There is none to give thee answer, Far away, thy home and people.'

"On the third and on the fourth days, On the fifth, and sixth, and seventh, Constantly I sought to perish; But in vain were all my efforts, Could not die upon the mountains.

If this wretched maid had perished, In the summer of the third year, She had fed earth's vegetation, She had blossomed as a flower, Knowing neither pain nor sorrow."

Scarcely had the maiden spoken, When she bounded from the snow-sledge, Rushed upon the rolling river, To the cataract's commotion, To the fiery stream and whirlpool.

Thus Kullervo's lovely sister Hastened to her own destruction, To her death by fire and water, Found her peace in Tuonela, In the sacred stream of Mana.

Then the wicked Kullerwoinen Fell to weeping, sorely troubled, Wailed, and wept, and heavy-hearted, Spake these words in bitter sorrow: "Woe is me, my life hard-fated!

I have slain my virgin-sister, Shamed the daughter of my mother; Woe to thee, my ancient father!

Woe to thee, my gray-haired mother!

Wherefore was I born and nurtured, Why this hapless child's existence?

Better fate to Kullerwoinen, Had he never seen the daylight, Or, if born, had never thriven In these mournful days of evil!

Death has failed to do his duty, Sickness sinned in pa.s.sing by me, Should have slain me in the cradle, When the seventh day had ended!"

Thereupon he slips the collar Of his prancing royal racer, Mounts the silver-headed fleet-foot, Gallops like the lightning homeward; Gallops only for a moment, When he halts his foaming courser At the cabin of his father.

In the court-yard stood the mother, Thus the wicked son addressed her: "Faithful mother, fond and tender, Hadst thou slain me when an infant, Smoked my life out in the chamber, In a winding-sheet hadst thrown me To the cataract and whirlpool, In the fire hadst set my cradle, After seven nights had ended, Worthy would have been thy service.

Had the village-maidens asked thee: 'Where is now the little cradle, Wherefore is the bath-room empty?'

This had been a worthy answer: 'I have burned the wizard's cradle, Cast the infant to the fire-dogs; In the bath-room corn is sprouting, From the barley malt is brewing.'"

Thereupon the aged mother Asks her wizard-son these questions: "What has happened to my hero, What new fate has overcome thee?

Comest thou as from Tuoni, From the castles of Ma.n.a.la?"

This, Kullervo's frank confession: "Infamous the tale I bring thee, My confession is dishonor: On the way I met a maiden, Met thy long-lost, wayward daughter, Did not recognize my sister, Fatal was the sin committed!

When the taxes had been settled, When the tribute had been gathered, Came a matchless maid to meet me, Whom I witless led to sorrow, This my mother's long-lost daughter.