Kalevala, The Land Of The Heroes Volume I Part 30

"Then she gave her son directions, And instructed thus the squirrel: 'O thou squirrel, gold of woodlands, Flower of woodlands, charm of country, Speed then forth where I shall bid thee, Where I bid thee and direct thee, Forth to Metsola's bright regions, And to Tapiola's great wisdom.

There a little tree upclimbing, Heedful to the leafy summit, 220 That the eagle may not seize thee, Nor the bird of air may grasp thee.

From the pine-tree bring me pine-cones, From the fir bring shoots of fir-tree, Bring them to the hands of maiden, For the beer of Osmo's daughter.'

"Knew the squirrel now his pathway, Trailed his bushy tail behind him, And his journey soon accomplished, Quickly through the open s.p.a.ces, 230 Past one wood, and then a second, And a third he crossed obliquely, Into Metsola's bright regions, And to Tapiola's great wisdom.

"There he saw three lofty pine-trees, There he saw four slender fir-trees, Climbed a pine-tree in the valley, On the heath he climbed a fir-tree, And the eagle did not seize him, Nor the bird of air did grasp him. 240

"From the pine he broke the pine-cones, From the fir the leafy ta.s.sels, In his claws he hid the pine-cones, And within his paws he rolled them, To the maiden's hands he brought them, To the n.o.ble damsel's fingers.

"In the beer the maiden laid them, In the ale she placed them likewise, But the ale was not fermented, Nor the fresh drink yet was working. 250

"Osmotar, the ale-preparer, She, the maid who beer concocted, Pondered yet again the matter.

'What must now be added to it, That the ale shall be fermented, And the beer be brought to foaming?'

"Kalevatar, beauteous maiden, She, the maid with slender fingers, Which she ever moves so deftly, She whose feet are shod so lightly, 260 Felt about the seams of staving, Groping all about the bottom, Trying one, and then the other, In the midst of both the kettles, Found a chip upon the bottom, Took the chip from off the bottom.

"Then she turned it and reflected, 'What might perhaps be fashioned from it, In the hands of lovely maiden, In the n.o.ble damsel's fingers, 270 Brought into the hands of maiden, To the n.o.ble damsel's fingers?'

"In her hands the maiden took it In the n.o.ble damsel's fingers, And she clapped her hands together, Both her hands she rubbed together, Rubbed them on her thighs together, And she made a gold-breast marten.

"Thus the marten she instructed, Thus the orphan child directed: 280 'O my marten, O my birdling, O my fair one, beauteous-hided!

Thither go, where I shall bid thee, Where I bid thee, and direct thee, To the Bear's own rocky cavern, Where the forest bears are prowling, Where the bears are always fighting, Where they lurk in all their fierceness.

With thy hands sc.r.a.pe foam together, In thy paws the foam then carry, 290 To the maiden's hands convey it, And to Osmo's daughter's shoulders.'

"Understood the way the marten, Forth the golden-breasted hastened, And his journey soon accomplished, Quickly through the open s.p.a.ces, Past one wood, and then a second, And a third he crossed obliquely, To the Bear's own rocky cavern, To the caverns bear-frequented, 300 Where the bears are always fighting, Where they lurk In all their fierceness, In the rocks as hard as iron, And among the steel-hard mountains.

"From the bears' mouths foam was dropping, From their furious jaws exuding; In his hands the foam he gathered, With his paws the foam collected, To the maiden's hands he brought it, To the n.o.ble damsel's fingers. 310

"In the ale the maiden poured it, In the beer she poured it likewise, But the ale was not fermented, Nor the drink of men foamed over.

"Osmotar, the ale-preparer, She the maid who beer concocted, Pondered yet again the matter, 'What must now be added to it, That the ale shall be fermented, And the beer be brought to foaming?' 320

"Kalevatar, beauteous maiden, She the maid with slender fingers, Which she ever moves so deftly, She whose feet are shod so lightly Felt about the seams of staving, Groping all about the bottom, Trying one and then the other, Then the s.p.a.ce between the kettles, And a mustard-pod she saw there; From the ground the pod she lifted. 330

"Then she turned It, and surveyed it, 'What might perhaps be fashioned from it, In the hands of lovely maiden, In the n.o.ble damsel's fingers, Brought into the hands of maiden, To the n.o.ble damsel's fingers?'

"In her hands the maiden took it, In the n.o.ble damsel's fingers, And she clapped her hands together, Both her hands she rubbed together, 340 Rubbed them on her thighs together, And a bee she thus created.

"And the bee she thus instructed, And the bee she thus directed: 'O thou bee, thou bird so nimble, King of all the flowery meadows, Thither fly, where I shall bid thee, Where I bid thee and direct thee, To an isle on ocean's surface, Where the reefs arise from ocean. 350 There a maiden lies in slumber, With her belt of copper loosened; By her side springs sweetest herbage, On her lap rest honey gra.s.ses, On thy wings bring sweetest honey, Bring thou honey on thy clothing, From the fairest of the herbage, From the bloom of golden flowerets, To the maiden's hands convey it, And to Osmo's daughter's shoulders.' 360

"Then the bee, that bird so nimble, Flew away, and hastened onward, And his journey soon accomplished, Speeding o'er the open s.p.a.ces, First across the sea, along it, Then in an oblique direction, To an isle on ocean's surface, Where the reefs arise from ocean.

There he saw the maiden sleeping, With a tin brooch on her bosom, 370 Resting in an unmowed meadow, All among the fields of honey; By her side grew golden gra.s.ses, At her belt sprang silver gra.s.ses.

"Then he soaked his wings with honey, Plunged his plumes in liquid honey, From the brightest of the herbage, From the tips of golden flowerets; To the maiden's hands he brought it, To the n.o.ble damsel's fingers. 380

"In the ale the maiden cast it, In the beer she poured it likewise, And the beer at length fermented, And the fresh drink now foamed upward, From within the new-made barrels, From within the tubs of birchwood, Foaming upward to the handles, Rushing over all the edges; To the ground it wished to trickle, And upon the floor ran downward. 390

"But a little time pa.s.sed over, Very little time pa.s.sed over, When the heroes flocked to drink it, Chief among them Lemminkainen.

Drunk was Ahti, drunk was Kauko, Drunken was the ruddy rascal, With the ale of Osmo's daughter, And the beer of Kalevatar.

"Osmotar, the ale-preparer, She, the maid who beer concocted, 400 Uttered then the words which follow: 'Woe is me, my day is wretched, For I brewed the ale so badly And the beer so ill concocted, That from out the tubs 'tis flowing, And upon the floor is gushing.'

"From a tree there sang a bullfinch.

From the roof-tree sang a throstle, 'No, the ale is not so worthless; 'Tis the best of ale for drinking; 410 If into the casks you pour it, And should store it in the cellar, Store it in the casks of oakwood, And within the hoops of copper.'

"Thus was ale at first created, Beer of Kaleva concocted, Therefore is it praised so highly, Therefore held in greatest honour, For the ale is of the finest, Best of drinks for prudent people; 420 Women soon it brings to laughter, Men it warms into good humour, And it makes the prudent merry, But it brings the fools to raving."

Then did Pohjola's old Mistress, When she heard how ale was fashioned, Water pour in tubs the largest, Half she filled the new-made barrels, Adding barley as 'twas needed, Shoots of hop enough she added, 430 And the ale began she brewing, And the beer began its working, In the new tubs that contained it, And within the tubs of birch wood.

'Twas for months the stones were glowing, And for summers water boiling, Trees were burning on the islands, Water from the wells was carried.

Bare of trees they left the islands, And the lakes were greatly shrunken, 440 For the ale was in the barrels, And the beer was stored securely For the mighty feast of Pohja, For carousing at the mansion.

From the island smoke was rising, On the headland fire was glowing; Thick the clouds of smoke were rising, In the air there rose the vapour.

For the fire was burning fiercely, And the fire was brightly glowing, 450 Half it filled the land of Pohja, Over all Carelia spreading.

All the people gazed upon it, Gazed, and then they asked each other, "Wherefore is the smoke arising, In the air the vapour rising?

'Tis too small for smoke of battle, 'Tis too large for herdsman's bonfire."

Then rose Lemminkainen's mother, At the earliest dawn of morning, 460 And she went to fetch some water.

Clouds of smoke she saw arising, Up from Pohjola's dominions, And she spoke the words which follow: "Perhaps it is the smoke of combat, Perhaps it is the fire of battle."

Ahti, dweller on the island, He the handsome Kaukomieli, Wandered round and gazed about him, And he pondered and reflected, 470 "I must go and look upon it, From a nearer spot examine, Whence the smoke is thus ascending Filling all the air with vapour, If it be the smoke of combat, If it be the fire of battle."

Kauko went to gaze about him, And to learn whence smoke was rising, But it was not fire of battle, Neither was it fire of combat, 480 But 'twas fire where ale was brewing, Likewise where the beer was brewing, Near where Sound of Sariola spreads, Out upon the jutting headland.

Then did Kauko gaze around him, And one eye he rolled obliquely, And he squinted with the other, And his mouth he pursed up slowly, And at last he spoke, while gazing, And across the sound he shouted, 490 "O my dearest foster-mother, Pohjola's most gracious Mistress!

Brew thou ale of extra goodness, Brew thou beer the best of any, For carousing at the mansion, Specially for Lemminkainen, At my wedding, now preparing, With thy young and lovely daughter."

Now the ale was quite fermented, And the drink of men was ripened, 500 And the red ale stored they safely, And the good beer stored securely.

Underneath the ground they stored it, Stored it in the rocky cellars, In the casks of oak constructed, And behind the taps of copper.

Then did Pohjola's old Mistress All the food provide for feasting, And the kettles all were singing, And the stewpans all were hissing, 510 And large loaves of bread were baking, And she stirred great pots of porridge, Thus to feed the crowds of people, At the banquet at the mansion, At the mighty feast of Pohja, The carouse at Sariola dim.

Now the bread they baked was ready, And were stirred the pots of porridges, And a little time pa.s.sed over, Very little time pa.s.sed over, 520 When the ale worked in the barrels, And the beer foamed in the cellars, "Now must some one come to drink me, Now must some one come to taste me, That my fame may be reported, And that they may sing my praises."

Then they went to seek a minstrel, Went to seek a famous singer, One whose voice was of the strongest, One who knew the finest legends. 530 First to sing they tried a salmon, If the voice of trout was strongest; Singing is not work for salmon, And the pike recites no legends.

Crooked are the jaws of salmon, And the teeth of pike spread widely.

Yet again they sought a singer, Went to seek a famous singer, One whose voice was of the strongest, One who knew the finest legends, 540 And they took a child for singer, Thought a boy might sing the strongest.

Singing is not work for children.

Nor are splutterers fit for shouting.

Crooked are the tongues of children, And the roots thereof are crooked.

Then the red ale grew indignant, And the fresh drink fell to cursing, Pent within the oaken barrels, And behind the taps of copper. 550 "If you do not find a minstrel, Do not find a famous singer, One whose voice is of the strongest, One who knows the finest legends, Then the hoops I'll burst asunder, And among the dust will trickle."

Then did Pohjola's old Mistress Send the guests their invitations, Sent her messengers to journey, And she spoke the words which follow: 560 "O my maid, of all the smallest, O my waiting-maid obedient, Call the people all together, To the great carouse invite them, Call the poor, and call the needy, Call the blind, and call the wretched, Call the lame, and call the cripples; In the boat row thou the blind men; Bring the lame ones here on horseback, And in sledges bring the cripples. 570

"Ask thou all the folk of Pohja, And of Kaleva the people: Ask the aged Vainamoinen, Greatest he of all the minstrels, Only ask not Lemminkainen, Ask not Ahti Saarelainen."