Kalevala, The Land Of The Heroes Volume I Part 37

"Stand thou like a wall before her, Stand before her like a doorpost, 200 Do not let thy mother beat her, Do not let thy father scold her, Do not let the guests abuse her, Do not let the neighbours blame her.

Drive the mob away with whipping, Beat thou other people only, Do thou not oppress thy darling, Nor chastise thy heart's beloved, Whom for three long years thou waitedst, She whom thou alone hast longed for. 210

"Bridegroom, give thy bride instruction, And do thou instruct thy apple, In the bed do thou instruct her, And behind the door advise her, For a whole year thus instruct her, Thus by word of mouth advise her, With thine eyes the next year teach her, And the third year teach by stamping.

"If to this she pays no heeding, Nor concerns herself about it, 220 Choose a reed where reeds are growing, From the heath fetch thou some horse-tail, And with these correct the damsel, In the fourth year thus correct her, With the stalks then whip her lightly, With the rough edge of the sedges, But with whiplash do not strike her, Neither with the rod correct her.

"If to this she pays no heeding, Nor concerns herself about it, 230 Bring a switch from out the thicket, In the dell select a birch-rod, Underneath thy fur cloak hide it, That the neighbours may not know it, Let the damsel only see it; Threaten her, but do not touch her.

"If to this she pays no heeding, Nor concerns herself about it, With the switch correct the damsel, With the birch-rod do thou teach her, 240 But within the room four-cornered, Or within the hut moss-covered.

Do not beat her in the meadow, Do not whip her in the cornfield, Lest the noise should reach the village, And to other homes the quarrel, Neighbours' wives should hear the crying, And the uproar in the forest.

"Always strike her on the shoulders, On her soft cheeks do thou strike her, 250 On her eyes forbear to strike her, On her ears forbear to touch her; Lumps would rise upon her temples, And her eyes with blue be bordered, And the brother-in-law would question, And the father-in-law perceive it, And the village ploughmen see it, And would laugh the village women:

"'Has she been among the spear-thrusts, Has she marched into a battle, 260 Or the mouth of wolf attacked her, Or the forest bear has mauled her, Or was perhaps the wolf her husband, Was the bear perchance her consort?'"

By the stove there lay an old man, By the hearth there sat a beggar; From the stove there spoke the old man, From the hearth there spoke the beggar.

"Never may'st thou, luckless husband, Listen to thy wife's opinion, 270 Tongue of lark, and whim of women, Like myself, a youth unhappy, For both bread and meat I bought her, Bought her b.u.t.ter, ale I bought her, Every sort of fish I bought her, Bought her all sorts of provisions, Home-brewed ale the best I bought her, Likewise wheat from foreign countries.

"But she let it not content her, Nor did it improve her temper, 280 For one day the room she entered, And she grasped my hair, and tore it, And her face was quite distorted, And her eyes were wildly rolling, Always scolding in her fury, To her heart's contentment scolding, Heaping foul abuse upon me, Roaring at me as a sluggard.

"But I knew another method, Knew another way to tame her, 290 So I peeled myself a birch-shoot, When she came, and called me birdie; But when juniper I gathered, Then she stooped, and called me darling; When I lifted rods of willow, On my neck she fell embracing."

Now the hapless girl was sighing, Sighing much, and sobbing sadly; Presently she broke out weeping, And she spoke the words which follow: 300 "Soon most now depart the others, And the time is fast approaching, But my own departure's nearer, Swiftly comes my time for parting.

Mournful is indeed my going, Sad the hour of my departure, From this far-renowned village, And this ever-charming homestead, Where my face was ever joyful, And I grew to perfect stature, 310 All the days that I was growing, While my childhood's years were pa.s.sing.

"Until now I never pondered, Nor believed in all my lifetime, Never thought on my departure, Realized my separation, From the precincts of this castle, From the hill where it is builded.

Now I feel I am departing, And I know that I am going. 320 Empty are the parting goblets, And the ale of parting finished, And the sledges all are waiting, Front to fields, and back to homestead, With one side towards the stables, And the other to the cowhouse.

"Whence comes now my separation, Whence my sadness at departure, How my mother's milk repay her.

Or the goodness of my father, 330 Or my brother's love repay him, Or my sister's fond affection?

"Thanks to thee, my dearest father, For my former life so joyful, For the food of days pa.s.sed over, For the best of all the dainties Thanks to thee, my dearest mother, For my childhood's cradle-rocking, For thy tending of the infant, Whom thou at thy breast hast nurtured. 340

"Also thanks, my dearest brother, Dearest brother, dearest sister, Happiness to all the household, All companions of my childhood, Those with whom I lived and sported, And who grew from childhood with me.

"May thou not, O n.o.ble father, May thou not, O tender mother, Or my other n.o.ble kindred, Or my race, the most ill.u.s.trious, 350 Ever fall into affliction, Or oppressed by grievous trouble, That I thus desert my country, That I wander to a distance.

Shines the sun of the Creator, Beams the moon of the Creator, And the stars of heaven are shining, And the Great Bear is extended Ever in the distant heavens, Evermore in other regions, 360 Not alone at father's homestead, In the home where pa.s.sed my childhood.

"Truly must I now be parted From the home I loved so dearly, From my father's halls be carried, From among my mother's cellars, Leave the swamps and fields behind me, Leave behind me all the meadows, Leave behind the sparkling waters, Leave the sandy sh.o.r.e behind me, 370 Where the village women bathe them, And the shepherd-boys are splashing.

"I must leave the quaking marshes, And the wide-extending lowlands, And the peaceful alder-thickets, And the tramping through the heather, And the strolling past the hedgerows, And the loitering on the pathways, And my dancing through the farmyards, And my standing by the house-walls, 380 And the cleaning of the planking, And the scrubbing of the flooring, Leave the fields where leap the reindeer, And the woods where run the lynxes, And the wastes where flock the wild geese, And the woods where birds are perching.

"Now indeed I am departing, All the rest I leave behind me; In the folds of nights of autumn, On the thin ice of the springtime, 390 On the ice I leave no traces, On the slippery ice no footprints, From my dress no thread upon it, Nor in snow my skirt's impression.

"If I should return in future, And again my home revisit, Mother hears my voice no longer, Nor my father heeds my weeping, Though I'm sobbing in the corner, Or above their heads am speaking, 400 For the young gra.s.s springs already And the juniper is sprouting O'er the sweet face of my mother, And the cheeks of her who bore me.

"If I should return in future To the wide-extended homestead, I shall be no more remembered, Only by two little objects.

At the lowest hedge are hedge-bands, At the furthest field are hedge-stakes, 410 These I fixed when I was little, As a girl with twigs I bound them.

"But my mother's barren heifer, Unto which I carried water, And which as a calf I tended, She will low to greet my coming, From the dunghill of the farmyard, Or the wintry fields around it; She will know me, when returning, As the daughter of the household. 420

"Then my father's splendid stallion, Which I fed when I was little, Which as girl I often foddered, He will neigh to greet my coming, From the dunghill of the farmyard, Or the wintry fields around it; He will know me, when returning, As the daughter of the household.

"Then the dog, my brother's favourite Which as child I fed so often, 430 Which I trained when in my girlhood, He will bark to greet my coming, From the dunghill of the farmyard, Or the wintry fields around it; He will know me, when returning, As the daughter of the household.

"But the others will not know me, To my former home returning, Though my boats are still the old ones, As when here I lived aforetime, 440 By the sh.o.r.es where swim the powans, And the nets are spread as usual.

"Now farewell, thou room beloved, Thou my room, with roof of boarding; Good it were for me returning, That I once again should scrub thee.

"Now farewell, thou hall beloved, Thou my hall, with floor of boarding; Good it were for me returning, That I once again should scrub thee. 450

"Now farewell, thou yard beloved, With my lovely mountain-ashtree; Good it were for me returning, Once again to wander round thee.

"Now farewell to all things round me, Berry-bearing fields and forests, And the flower-bearing roadsides, And the heaths o'ergrown with heather, And the lakes with hundred islands, And the depths where swim the powans, 460 And the fair hills with the fir-trees, And the swampy ground with birch-trees."

Then the smith, e'en Ilmarinen, In the sledge the maiden lifted, With his whip he lashed the coursers, And he spoke the words which follow: "Now farewell to all the lakesh.o.r.es, Sh.o.r.es of lakes, and slopes of meadows, All the pine-trees on the hill-sides, And the tall trees in the firwoods, 470 And behind the house the alders, And the junipers by well-sides, In the plains, all berry-bushes, Berry-bushes, stalks of gra.s.ses, Willow-bushes, stumps of fir-trees, Alder-leaves, and bark of birch-trees!"

Thus at length, smith Ilmarinen Forth from Pohjola departed, With the children farewells singing, And they sang the words which follow: 480

"Hither flew a bird of blackness, Through the wood he speeded swiftly, Well he knew to lure our duckling, And entice from us our berry, And he took from us our apple, Drew the fish from out the water, Lured her with a little money, And enticed her with his silver.

Who will fetch us now the water, Who will take us to the river? 490

"Now remain the buckets standing, And the yoke is idly rattling, And the floor unswept remaineth, And unswept remains the planking, Empty now are all the pitchers, And the jugs two-handled dirty."

But the smith, e'en Ilmarinen, With the young girl hastened homeward, Driving rattling on his journey, From the magic coast of Pohja, 500 By the sh.o.r.e of Sound of Sima.

On he drove across the sandhills, Shingle crashed, and sand was shaking, Swayed the sledge, the pathway rattled, Loudly rang the iron runners, And the frame of birch resounded, And the curving laths were rattling, Shaking was the cherry collar, And the whiplash whistling loudly, And the rings of copper shaking, 510 As the n.o.ble horse sprang forward, As the White-front galloped onward.

Drove the smith one day, a second, Driving likewise on the third day; With one hand the horse he guided, And with one embraced the damsel, One foot on the sledge-side rested, Underneath the rug the other.

Quick they sped, and fast they journeyed, And at length upon the third day 520 Just about the time of sunset, Hove in sight the smith's fair dwelling And they came to Ilma's homestead, And the smoke in streaks ascended, And the smoke rose thickly upward, From the house in wreaths arising, Up amid the clouds ascending.

RUNO XXV.--THE HOME-COMING OF THE BRIDE AND BRIDEGROOM

_Argument_

The bride, the bridegroom and their company are received at the home of Ilmarinen (1-382). The company are hospitably entertained with food and drink: and Vainamoinen sings the praises of the host, the hostess, the inviter, the bridesmaid, and the other wedding-guests (383-672). On the way back Vainamoinen's sledge breaks down, but he repairs it, and drives home (673-738).

Long already 'twas expected, Long expected and awaited, That the new bride soon would enter The abode of Ilmarinen; And the eyes with rheum were dripping Of the old folks at the windows, And the young folks' knees were failing As about the door they waited, And the children's feet were freezing, By the wall as they were standing, 10 Mid-aged folks their shoes were spoiling, As upon the beach they wandered.

And at length upon a morning, Just about the time of sunrise, From the wood they heard a rattling, As the sledge came rushing onward.

Lokka then the kindest hostess, Kaleva's most handsome matron, Uttered then the words which follow: "'Tis my son's sledge now approaching, 20 As from Pohjola he cometh, And he brings the youthful damsel.

Straight he journeys to this country, To the homestead hastens onward, To the house his father gave him, Which his parents had constructed."

Therefore thus did Ilmarinen Hasten forward to the homestead, To the house his father gave him, Which his parents had constructed. 30