Kalevala, The Land Of The Heroes Volume Ii Part 32

Long the little boy she sought for, Sought her son, the little infant, Sought him through the hills and pinewoods, On the heath among the heather, Searched through every tuft of heather, And in every bush she sought him, 370 Roots of juniper updigging, And of trees the branches straightening.

Then she thought to wander further, And she went upon her wanderings, And there came a star to meet her, And before the star she bowed her.

"Star, whom Jumala created, Know you nothing of my infant, Where my little son is hidden, Where is hid my golden apple?" 380

And the star made answer to her: "If I knew I would not tell it.

He it was who me created, Made me, through these days of evil In the cold to shine for ever, And to glimmer through the darkness."

Then she thought to wander further, And she went upon her wanderings, And the moon came next to meet her, And she bowed herself before him. 390 "Moon, whom Jumala created, Know you nothing of my infant, Where my little son is hidden, Where is hid my golden apple?"

And the moon made answer to her: "If I knew I would not tell it.

He it was who me created, Always in these days of evil Through the night to watch all lonely, And to sleep throughout the daytime." 400

Then she thought to wander further, And she went upon her wanderings, And there came the sun to meet her, And she bowed herself before him.

"Sun, whom Jumala created, Know you nothing of my infant, Where my little son is hidden, Where is hid my golden apple?"

And the sun made answer wisely: "Well indeed I know your infant. 410 He it was who me created, In these days of finest weather, Golden rays to shed about me, Silver rays to scatter round me.

"Well indeed I know your infant, Know your son, unhappy mother!

There thy little son is hidden, There is hid thy golden apple, In the swamps to waistband sunken, To his arm-pits in the marshlands." 420

Marjatta the hapless maiden Sought her infant in the marshes, In the swamps her son discovered, And she brought him home in triumph.

Then the son of our Marjatta Grew into a youth most beauteous, But they knew not what to call him, Did not know what name to give him, But his mother called him Floweret, And the strangers called him Sluggard. 430

And they sought a man to cross him, And to sprinkle him with water; And an old man came to cross him, Virokannas to baptize him.

Then these words the old man uttered, And in words like these expressed him: "With the cross I will not sign him, Nor will I baptize the infant, Not till he has been examined, And a judgment pa.s.sed upon him." 440

Who shall dare to come to try him, Test him, and pa.s.s sentence on him?

Vainamoinen, old and steadfast, He the great primeval sorcerer, He alone came forth to try him, And to test him and pa.s.s sentence.

Vainamoinen, old and steadfast, Sentence gave in words that follow: "As the boy from marsh has risen, From the ground, and from a berry, 450 On the ground they now shall lay him, Where the hills are thick with berries, Or shall to the swamps conduct him, On the trees his head to shatter."

Then the half-month old spoke loudly, And the fortnight-old cried loudly: "O thou old and wretched creature, Wretched old man, void of insight, O how stupid is your judgment, How contemptible thy sentence! 460 Thou hast grievous crimes committed, Likewise deeds of greatest folly, Yet to swamps they did not lead thee, Shattered not thy head on tree-trunks, When thyself, in youthful folly, Gave the child of thine own mother, That thou thus mightst 'scape destruction, And release thyself in thiswise.

"And again thou wast not carried, And abandoned in the marshes, 470 When thyself in youthful folly, Caused the young maids to be sunken, In the depths beneath the billows, To the black ooze at the bottom."

Then the old man quickly crossed him, Quick baptized the child with water, As the king of all Carelia, And the lord of all the mighty.

Then was Vainamoinen angry, Greatly shamed and greatly angry, 480 And prepared himself to journey From the lake's extended margin, And began his songs of magic, For the last time sang them loudly, Sang himself a boat of copper, With a copper deck provided.

In the stern himself he seated, Sailing o'er the sparkling billows, Still he sang on his departure, And he sang as he was sailing: 490 "May the time pa.s.s quickly o'er us, One day pa.s.ses, comes another, And again shall I be needed.

Men will look for me, and miss me, To construct another Sampo, And another harp to make me, Make another moon for gleaming, And another sun for shining.

When the sun and moon are absent, In the air no joy remaineth." 500

Then the aged Vainamoinen Went upon his journey singing, Sailing in his boat of copper, In his vessel made of copper, Sailed away to loftier regions, To the land beneath the heavens.

There he rested with his vessel, Rested weary, with his vessel, But his kantele he left us, Left his charming harp in Suomi, 510 For his people's lasting pleasure, Mighty songs for Suomi's children.

Now my mouth must cease from speaking, And my tongue be bound securely, Cease the chanting of my verses, And my lively songs abandon.

Even thus must horses rest them, When a long course is completed, Even iron must be wearied When the gra.s.s is mown in summer, 520 And the water-drops be weary, As they trace the river's windings, And the fire must be extinguished When throughout the night 'tis burning.

Wherefore should our songs not falter; As our sweet songs we are singing, For the lengthy evenings' pleasure, Singing later than the sunset?

Thus I heard the people talking, And again it was repeated: 530 "E'en the waterfall when flowing Yields no endless stream of water, Nor does an accomplished singer, Sing till all his knowledge fail him.

Better 'tis to sit in silence Than to break off in the middle."

Now my song remains completed, 'Tis completed and abandoned.

In a ball I wind my lays up, As a ball I cast them from me, 540 On the storehouse floor I lay them, With a lock of bone secure them, That from thence escape they never, Nor in time may be untwisted, Not unless the lock be opened, And its jaws should be extended, Not unless the teeth be opened, And the tongue again is moving.

What would now avail my singing, If the songs I sang were bad ones, 550 If I sang in every valley, And I sang in every firwood?

For my mother lives no longer, Wakes no more my own old mother, Nor my golden one can hear me, Nought can learn my dear old mother, None would hear me but the fir-trees, Learn, save branches of the pine-trees, Or the tender leaves of birch-trees, Or the charming mountain ash-tree. 560

I was small when died my mother, Weak was I without my mother; On the stones like lark she left me, On the rocks like thrush she left me, Left me like a lark to sing there, Or to sing as sings the throstle, In the wardship of a stranger, At the will of a step-mother, And she drove me forth, unhappy, Forth she drove the unloved infant, 570 To a wind-swept home she drove me, To the north-wind's home she drove me That against the wind defenceless, Winds might sweep away the orphan.

Like a lark away I wandered, Like a hapless bird I wandered Shelterless about the country; Wearily I wandered onward, Till with every wind acquainted, I their roaring comprehended; 580 In the frost I learned to shudder, And I learned to cry with freezing.

Even now do many people, Many people I encounter, Speak to me in angry accents, Rudest speeches hurl against me, Curses on my tongue they shower, And about my voice cry loudly, Likewise they abuse my grumbling And they call my songs too lengthy, 590 And they say I sing too badly, And my song's accented wrongly.

May you not, O friendly people, As a wondrous thing regard it That I sang so much in childhood, And when small, I sang so badly.

I received no store of learning, Never travelled to the learned.

Foreign words were never taught me, Neither songs from distant countries. 600 Others have had all instruction, From my home I journeyed never, Always did I help my mother, And I dwelt for ever near her, In the house received instruction, 'Neath the rafters of my storehouse, By the spindle of my mother, By my brother's heap of shavings, In my very earliest childhood, In a shirt that hung in tatters. 610

But let this be as it may be, I have shown the way to singers, Showed the way, and broke the tree-tops, Cut the branches, shown the pathways.

This way therefore leads the pathway, Here the path lies newly opened, Widely open for the singers, And for greater ballad singers, For the young, who now are growing, For the rising generation. 620

NOTES TO RUNOS XXVI-L

(These are by the translator, when not otherwise stated. K. K. indicates Prof. Kaarle Krohn, and A. M. Madame Aino Malmberg. For proper names, refer to the Glossary at page 281.)

RUNO XXVI

129. Literally, "his teeth."

230. In the _Voluspa_, we read of a Hall of Serpents in Nastrond, one of the Icelandic h.e.l.ls, composed of serpents wattled together, with their heads turned inwards, vomiting floods of venom in which wade murderers, perjurers, and adulterers.

271. Literally, "the toads."

"Seven monarchs' wealth in that castle lies stowed; The foul fiends brood o'er them like raven and toad." (Scott.)

A diabolical creature, half dragon and half frog, is described in a well-known Esthonian story.

427. _Tetrao tetrix_, known as the Black-c.o.c.k and Grey-hen.

555. Virsta, a Russian word naturalized in Finnish.