Kalevala, The Land Of The Heroes Volume I Part 32

What about the ale was spoken, Of the ale in five-hooped tankards, When at length it reached the minstrel, Reached the greatest of the singers, He the aged Vainamoinen, First and oldest of the singers, He the minstrel most ill.u.s.trious, He the greatest of the Sages? 260

First of all the ale he lifted, Then he spoke the words which follow: "O thou ale, thou drink delicious, Let the drinkers not be moody!

Urge the people on to singing, Let them shout, with mouth all golden, Till our lords shall wonder at it, And our ladies ponder o'er it, For the songs already falter, And the joyous tongues are silenced. 270 When the ale is ill-concocted, And bad drink is set before us, Then the minstrels fail in singing, And the best of songs they sing not, And our cherished guests are silent, And the cuckoos call no longer.

"Therefore who shall chant unto us, And whose tongue shall sing unto us, At the wedding feast of Pohja, This carouse at Sariola held? 280 Benches will not sing unto us, Save when people sit upon them, Nor will floors hold cheerful converse, Save when people walk upon them, Neither are the windows joyful, If the lords should gaze not from them, Nor resound the table's edges, If men sit not round the tables, Neither do the smoke-holes echo, If men sit not 'neath the smoke-holes." 290

On the floor a child was sitting, On the stove-bench sat a milkbeard, From the floor exclaimed the infant, And the boy spoke from the stove-bench: "I am not in years a father, Undeveloped yet my body, But however small I may be, If the other big ones sing not, And the stouter men will shout not, And the rosier cheeked will sing not, 300 Then I'll sing, although a lean boy, Though a thin boy, I will whistle, I will sing, though weak and meagre, Though my stomach is not rounded, That the evening may be cheerful, And the day may be more honoured."

By the stove there sat an old man, And he spoke the words which follow: "That the children sing befits not, Nor these feeble folk should carol. 310 Children's songs are only falsehoods, And the songs of girls are foolish.

Let the wisest sing among us, Who upon the bench is seated."

Then the aged Vainamoinen, Answered in the words which follow: "Are there any who are youthful, Of the n.o.blest of the people, Who will clasp their hands together, Hook their hands in one another, 320 And begin to speak unto us, Swaying back and forth in singing, That the day may be more joyful, And the evening be more blessed?"

From the stove there spoke the old man, "Never was it heard among us, Never heard or seen among us, Nor so long as time existed, That there lived a better minstrel, One more skilled in all enchantment, 330 Than myself when I was warbling, As a child when I was singing, Singing sweetly by the water, Making all the heath re-echo, Chanting loudly in the firwood, Talking likewise In the forest.

"Then my voice was loud and tuneful, And its tones were most melodious, Like the flowing of a river, Or the murmur of a streamlet, 340 Gliding as o'er snow the snowshoes, Like a yacht across the billows; But 'tis hard for me to tell you How my wisdom has departed, How my voice so strong has failed me, And its sweetness has departed.

Now it flows no more like river, Rising like the tossing billows, But it halts like rake in stubble, Like the hoe among the pine-roots, 350 Like a sledge in sand embedded, Or a boat on rocks when stranded."

Then the aged Vainamoinen In such words as these expressed him: "If no other bard comes forward To accompany my singing, Then alone my songs I'll carol, And will now commence my singing, For to sing was I created, As an orator was fashioned; 360 How, I ask not in the village, Nor I learn my songs from strangers."

Then the aged Vainamoinen Of the song the lifelong pillar, Set him to the pleasant labour, Girt him for the toil of singing, Loud he sang his songs so pleasing, Loud he spoke his words of wisdom.

Sang the aged Vainamoinen, Sang by turns, and spoke his wisdom, 370 Nor did words that suited fall him, Neither were his songs exhausted, Sooner stones in rocks were missing, Or a pond lacked water-lilies.

Therefore thus sang Vainamoinen Through the evening for their pleasure, And the women all were laughing, And the men in high good-humour, While they listened and they wondered At the chants of Vainamoinen, 380 For amazement filled the hearers, Wonder those who heard him singing.

Said the aged Vainamoinen, When at length his song he ended, "This is what I have accomplished As a singer and magician, Little can I thus accomplish, And my efforts lead me nowhere: But, If sang the great Creator, Speaking with his mouth of sweetness, 390 He would sing his songs unto you, As a singer and magician.

"He would sing the sea to honey, And to peas would sing the gravel, And to malt would sing the seasand, And to salt would sing the gravel, Forest broad would sing to cornland, And the wastes would sing to wheatfields, Into cakes would sing the mountains, And to hens' eggs change the mountains. 400

"As a singer and magician, He would speak, and he would order, And would sing unto this homestead, Cowsheds ever filled with cattle, Lanes o'erfilled with beauteous blossoms, And the plains o'erfilled with milch-kine, Full a hundred horned cattle, And with udders full, a thousand.

"As a singer and magician, He would speak and he would order 410 For our host a coat of lynxskin, For our mistress cloth-wrought dresses, For her daughters boots with laces, And her sons with red shirts furnish.

"Grant, O Jumala, thy blessing, Evermore, O great Creator, Unto those we see around us, And again in all their doings, Here, at Pohjola's great banquet, This carouse at Sariola held, 420 That the ale may stream in rivers, And the mead may flow in torrents, Here in Pohjola's great household, In the halls at Sariola built, That by day we may be singing, And may still rejoice at evening Long as our good host is living, In the lifetime of our hostess.

"Jumala, do thou grant thy blessing, O Creator, shed thy blessing, 430 On our host at head of table, On our hostess in her storehouse, On their sons, the nets when casting, On their daughters at their weaving.

May they have no cause for trouble, Nor lament the year that follows, After their protracted banquet, This carousal at the mansion!"

RUNO XXII.--THE TORMENTING OF THE BRIDE

_Argument_

The bride is prepared for her journey and is reminded of her past life and of the altered life that now lies before her (1-124). She becomes very sorrowful (125-184). They bring her to weeping (185-382). She weeps (383-448). They comfort her (449-522).

When the drinking-bout was ended, And the feast at length was over, At the festival at Pohja, Bridal feast held at Pimentola, Then said Pohjola's old Mistress, To the bridegroom, Ilmarinen, "Wherefore sit'st thou, highly-born one, Waitest thou, O pride of country?

Sit'st thou here to please the father, Or for love of mother waitest, 10 Or our dwelling to illumine, Or the wedding guests to honour?

"Not for father's pleasure wait'st thou, Nor for love thou bear'st the mother, Nor the dwelling to illumine, Nor the wedding guests to honour; Here thou sit'st for maiden's pleasure, For a young girl's love delaying, For the fair one whom thou long'st for, Fair one with unbraided tresses. 20

"Bridegroom, dearest of my brothers, Wait a week, and yet another; For thy loved one is not ready, And her toilet is not finished.

Only half her hair is plaited, And a half is still unplaited.

"Bridegroom, dearest of my brothers, Wait a week, and yet another, For thy loved one is not ready, And her toilet is not finished; 30 One sleeve only is adjusted, And unfitted still the other.

"Bridegroom, dearest of my brothers, Wait a week, and yet another, For thy loved one is not ready, And her toilet is not finished.

For one foot is shod already, But unshod remains the other.

"Bridegroom, dearest of my brothers, Wait a week, and yet another, 40 For thy loved one is not ready, And her toilet is not finished.

For one hand is gloved already, And ungloved is still the other.

"Bridegroom, dearest of my brothers, Thou hast waited long unwearied; For thy love at length is ready, And thy duck has made her toilet.

"Go thou forth. O plighted maiden, Follow thou, O dove new-purchased! 50 Near to thee is now thy union, Nearer still is thy departure, He who leads thee forth is with thee, At the door is thy conductor, And his horse the bit is champing, And his sledge awaits the maiden.

"Thou wast fond of bridegroom's money Reaching forth thy hands most greedy Glad to take the chain he offered, And to fit the rings upon thee. 60 Now the longed-for sledge is ready, Eager mount the sledge so gaudy, Travel quickly to the village, Quickly speeding on thy journey.

"Hast thou never, youthful maiden, On both sides surveyed the question, Looked beyond the present moment, When the bargain was concluded?

All thy life must thou be weeping, And for many years lamenting, 70 How thou left'st thy father's household, And thy native land abandoned, From beside thy tender mother, From the home of she who bore thee.

"O the happy life thou leddest, In this household of thy father!

Like a wayside flower thou grewest, Or upon the heath a strawberry, Waking up to feast on b.u.t.ter, Milk, when from thy bed arising, 80 Wheaten-bread, from couch upstanding, From thy straw, the fresh-made b.u.t.ter, Or, if thou could eat no b.u.t.ter, Strips of pork thou then could'st cut thee.

"Never yet wast thou in trouble, Never hadst thou cause to worry, To the fir-trees tossed thou trouble, Worry to the stumps abandoned, Care to pine-trees in the marshlands, And upon the heaths the birch-trees. 90 Like a leaflet thou wast fluttering, As a b.u.t.terfly wast fluttering, Berry-like in native soil, Or on open ground a raspberry.

"But thy home thou now art leaving, To another home thou goest, To another mother's orders, To the household of a stranger.

Different there from here thou'lt find it In another house 'tis different; 100 Other tunes the horns are blowing, Other doors thou hearest jarring, Other gates thou hearest creaking, Other voices at the fishlines.

"There the doors thou hardly findest, Strange unto thee are the gateways, Not like household daughter art thou, May not dare to blow the fire, Nor the stove canst rightly heaten, So that thou canst please the master. 110

"Didst thou think, O youthful maiden, Didst thou think, or didst imagine, Only for a night to wander, In the morn again returning?

'Tis not for one night thou goest, Not for one night, not for two nights, For a longer time thou goest.

Thou for months and days hast vanished, Lifelong from thy father's dwelling, For the lifetime of thy mother, 120 And the yard will then be longer, And the threshold lifted higher, If again thou ever earnest, To thy former home returning."

Now the hapless girl was sighing, Piteously she sighed and panted, And her heart was filled with trouble, In her eyes the tears were standing, And at length she spoke as follows: "Thus I thought, and thus imagined, 130 And throughout my life imagined, Said throughout my years of childhood, Thou art not as maid a lady In the wardship of thy parents, In the meadows of thy father, In thy aged mother's dwelling.

Thou wilt only be a lady When thy husband's home thou seekest, Resting one foot on the threshold, In his sledge the other placing, 140 Then thy head thou liftest higher, And thy ears thou liftest higher.

"This throughout my life I wished for, All my youthful days I hoped for, And throughout the year I wished it, Like the coming of the summer.

Now my hope has found fulfilment; Near the time of my departure; One foot resting on the threshold, In my husband's sledge the other, 150 But I do not yet know rightly, If my mind has not been altered.

Not with joyful thoughts I wander Nor do I depart with pleasure From the golden home beloved, Where I pa.s.sed my life in childhood, Where I pa.s.sed my days of girlhood, Where my father lived before me.

Sadly I depart in sorrow, Forth I go, most sadly longing, 160 As into the night of autumn, As on slippery ice in springtime, When on ice no track remaineth, On its smoothness rests no footprint.

"What may be the thoughts of others, And of other brides the feelings?

Do not other brides encounter, Bear within their hearts the trouble, Such as I, unhappy, carry?