Kalevala, The Land Of The Heroes Volume I Part 10

"Now, alas, I know no longer How to lead this life of sadness In this everlasting trouble, In an age when all is fleeting.

Shall I rear in wind a dwelling, Build a house upon the waters?

"If I rear in wind a dwelling, Then the wind would not sustain it; 40 If I build a house on water, Then the waves will drift it from me."

Came a bird from Lapland flying, From the north-east came an eagle, Not the largest of the eagles, Nor was he among the smallest, With one wing he swept the water, To the sky was swung the other; On the sea his tail he rested, On the cliffs his beak he rattled. 50

Slowly back and forwards flying, Turning all around, and gazing, Soon he saw old Vainamoinen On the blue waves of the ocean.

"What has brought you here, O hero, Wandering through the waves of ocean?"

Vainamoinen, old and steadfast, Answered in the words which follow: "This has brought the man to ocean, Plunged the hero in the sea-waves. 60 I would seek the maid of Pohja, Woo the maiden of Pimentola.

"On my journey swift I hasted, On the ocean's watery surface, Till about the time of daybreak, Came I, after many mornings, Where is Luotola's deep embayment, Hard by Joukola's rapid river, When my horse was shot beneath me, By an arrow launched against me. 70

"Thus I fell into the water, In the waves I plunged my fingers, And the wind impels me onward, And the billows drift me forward.

"Then there came a gale from north-west, From the east a mighty tempest, Far away the tempest drove me, Swimming from the land still further, Many days have I been floating, Many days have I been swimming, 80 On this wide expanse of water, Out upon the open ocean.

And I cannot now conjecture, Cannot guess, nor e'en imagine, How I finally shall perish, And what death shall overtake me Whether I shall die of hunger, Or shall sink beneath the waters."

Said the bird of air, the eagle, "Let thy heart be free from trouble; 90 Climb upon my back, and seat thee, Standing up upon my wing-tips, From the sea will I transport thee, Wheresoever thou may'st fancy.

For the day I well remember, And recall a happier season, When fell Kaleva's green forest, Cleared was Osmola's famed island, But thou didst protect the birch-tree, And the beauteous tree left'st standing, 100 That the birds might rest upon it, And that I myself might sit there."

Then the aged Vainamoinen Raised his head from out the water, From the sea the man sprang upward, From the waves the hero mounted.

On the eagle's wings he sat him, On the wing-tips of the eagle.

Then the bird of air, the eagle, Raised the aged Vainamoinen, 110 Through the path of wind he bore him, And along the east-wind's pathway, To the utmost bounds of Pohja, Onwards to the misty Sariola, There abandoned Vainamoinen, Soared into the air, and left him.

There stood Vainamoinen weeping, There stood weeping and lamenting, On the borders of the ocean, On a land whose name he knew not, 120 With a hundred wounds upon him, By a thousand winds belaboured, And his beard was much disordered, And his hair was all entangled.

Thus he wept for two, and three nights, For as many days stood weeping, For the country round he knew not, And no path could he discover, Which perchance might lead him homeward, Back to a familiar country, 130 To his own, his native country, Where he pa.s.sed his days aforetime.

But the little maid of Pohja, Fair-haired damsel of the household, With the sun had made agreement, And both sun and moon had promised, They would always rise together, And they would awake together.

She herself arose before them, Ere the sun or moon had risen, 140 Long before the time of c.o.c.kcrow, Or the chirping of a chicken.

From five sheep she sh.o.r.e the fleeces, Clipped the wool from off six lambkins, In her loom she wove the fleeces, And the whole with care she carded, Long before the dawn of morning, Long before the sun had risen.

After this she washed the tables, Swept the wide-extended flooring, 150 With the broom of twigs all leafless, Then with broom of leafy branches.

Then the sweepings she collected In the dustpan made of copper; Out of doors she took the rubbish, To the field beyond the farmyard, To the field's extremest limit, Where the lowest fence has opening.

There she stood upon the sweepings, And she turned around, and listened. 160 From the lake she heard a weeping, Sounds of woe across the river.

Quickly then she hastened homeward, And she hurried to the parlour.

As she came, she told her tidings, In such words as those which follow: "From the lake I hear a weeping, Sounds of woe across the river."

Louhi, Pohjola's old Mistress, Old and gap-toothed dame of Pohja, 170 Hastened forth into the farmyard, Hurried to the fence's opening, Where she bent her ear to listen, And she spoke the words which follow: "This is not like childhood's weeping Nor like women's lamentation, But a bearded hero weeping; Thus weep men whose chins are bearded."

Three planks high, the boat was builded, Which she pushed into the water, 180 And herself began to row it, And she rowed, and hastened onward To the spot where Vainamoinen, Where the hero was lamenting.

There was Vainamoinen weeping, There Uvanto's swain lamented, By the dreary clumps of willow, By the tangled hedge of cherry.

Moved his mouth, his beard was shaking, But his lips he did not open. 190

Then did Pohjola's old Mistress, Speak unto, and thus addressed him: "O thou aged man unhappy, Thou art in a foreign country!"

Vainamoinen, old and steadfast, Lifted up his head and answered In the very words that follow: "True it is, and well I know it, I am in a foreign country, Absolutely unfamiliar. 200 I was better in my country, Greater in the home I came from."

Louhi, Pohjola's old Mistress, Answered in the words which follow: "In the first place you must tell me, If I may make bold to ask you, From what race you take your lineage, And from what heroic nation?"

Vainamoinen, old and steadfast, Answered in the words which follow: 210 "Well my name was known aforetime, And in former days was famous, Ever cheerful in the evening, Ever singing in the valleys, There in Vainola's sweet meadows, And on Kalevala's broad heathlands; But my grief is now so heavy That I know myself no longer."

Louhi, Pohjola's old Mistress, Answered in the words which follow: 220 "Rise, O man, from out the marshes, Hero, seek another pathway.

Tell me now of thy misfortunes, And relate me thy adventure."

Thus she made him cease his weeping, Made the hero cease lamenting; And into her boat she took him, Bade him at the stern be seated, And herself resumed the oars, And she then began to row him 230 Unto Pohjola, o'er water, And she brought him to her dwelling.

Then she fed the famished stranger, And she dried his dripping garments, Then she rubbed his limbs all stiffened, And she warmed him and shampooed him, Till she had restored his vigour, And the hero had recovered.

After this, she spoke and asked him, In the very words which follow: 240 "Why did'st weep, O Vainamoinen, Why lament, Uvantolainen, In that miserable region, On the borders of the lakelet?"

Vainamoinen, old and steadfast, Answered in the words which follow: "Cause enough have I for weeping, Reason, too, for lamentation, In the sea I long was swimming, Tossed about upon the billows, 250 On the wide expanse of water, Out upon the open ocean.

"I must weep throughout my lifespan, And lament throughout my lifetime, That I swam beyond my country, Left the country so familiar, And have come to doors I know not, And to hedge-gates that I know not, All the trees around me pain me, All the pine-twigs seem to pierce me, 260 Every birch-tree seems to flog me, Every alder seems to wound me, But the wind is friendly to me, And the sun still s.h.i.+nes upon me, In this unaccustomed country, And within the doors I know not."

Louhi, Pohjola's old Mistress, Answered in the words which follow: "Do not weep, O Vainamoinen, Nor lament, Uvantolainen. 270 Here 'tis good for thee to sojourn, And to pa.s.s thy days in comfort.

Salmon you can eat at table, And beside it pork is standing."

But the aged Vainamoinen Answered in the words which follow: "Foreign food I do not relish, In the best of strangers' houses.

In his land a man is better, In his home a man is greater. 280 Grant me, Jumala most gracious, O compa.s.sionate Creator, Once again to reach my country, And the land I used to dwell in!

Better is a man's own country, Water from beneath the sabot, Than in unfamiliar countries, Mead to drink from golden goblets."

Louhi, Pohjola's old Mistress, Answered in the words which follow: 290 "What are you prepared to give me, If I send you to your country, To the borders of your cornfields, Or the bath-house of your dwelling?"

Said the aged Vainamoinen, "Tell me then what I shall give you, If you send me to my country, To the borders of my cornfields, There to hear my cuckoo calling, And my birds so sweetly singing. 300 Will you choose a gold-filled helmet.

Or a hat filled up with silver?"

Louhi, Pohjola's old Mistress, Answered in the words which follow: "O thou wisest Vainamoinen, Thou the oldest of the sages, Golden gifts I do not ask for, And I wish not for thy silver.

Gold is but a toy for children, Silver bells adorn the horses, 310 But if you can forge a Sampo, Weld its many-coloured cover, From the tips of swan's white wing-plumes, From the milk of barren heifer, From a single grain of barley, From a single fleece of ewe's wool, Then will I my daughter give you, Give the maiden as your guerdon, And will bring you to your country, There to hear the birds all singing, 320 There to hear your cuckoo calling, On the borders of your cornfields."

Vainamoinen, old and steadfast, Answered in the words which follow: "No, I cannot forge a Sampo, Nor can weld its pictured cover.

Only bring me to my country, And I'll send you Ilmarinen, Who shall forge a Sampo for you, Weld its many-coloured cover. 330 He perchance may please the maiden, Win your daughter's young affections.

"He's a smith without an equal, None can wield the hammer like him, For 'twas he who forged the heaven, And who wrought the air's foundations, Yet we find no trace of hammer, Nor the trace of tongs discover."

Louhi, Pohjola's old Mistress, Answered in the words which follow: 340 "I will only yield my daughter, And my child I promise only To the man who welds a Sampo With its many-coloured cover, From the tips of swan's white wing-plumes, From the milk of barren heifer, From a single grain of barley, From a single fleece of ewe's wool."

Thereupon the colt she harnessed, In the front she yoked the bay one, 350 And she placed old Vainamoinen In the sledge behind the stallion.

And she spoke and thus addressed him, In the very words which follow: "Do not raise your head up higher, Turn it not to gaze about you, That the steed may not be wearied, Till the evening shall have gathered.

If you dare to raise your head up, Or to turn to gaze around you, 360 Then misfortune will o'ertake you, And an evil day betide you."

Then the aged Vainamoinen Whipped the horse, and urged him onward, And the white-maned courser hastened Noisily upon the journey, Forth from Pohjola's dark regions, Sariola for ever misty.