Kalevala, The Land Of The Heroes Volume I Part 6

But the young maid gave him answer, "Not for thee, and not for others, Rests the cross upon my bosom, And my hair is bound with ribands.

Nought I care for sea-borne raiment; Wheaten bread I do not value.

I will walk in home-spun garments, And with crusts will still my hunger, In my dearest father's dwelling, And beside my much-loved mother." 30

From her breast she took the crosslet, Drew the rings from off her fingers, From her neck the beaded necklace, From her head the scarlet ribands.

Down upon the ground she threw them, Scattered them among the bushes; Then she hastened, ever weeping, Loud lamenting, to the homestead.

At the window sat her father, While he carved a hatchet-handle. 40 "Wherefore weepest thou, my daughter, Young, and yet so full of sadness?"

"Cause enough have I for weeping, Cause for weeping and lamenting.

Therefore weep I, dearest father, Weep, and feel so full of sorrow.

From my breast I lost the crosslet, From my belt I dropped the buckle, From my breast my silver crosslet, From my waist the copper girdle." 50

At the gate, her brother sitting, For the sledge was shaping runners.

"Wherefore weepest thou, my sister, Young, and yet so full of sorrow?"

"Cause enough have I for weeping, Cause for weeping and lamenting.

Therefore do I weep, poor brother, Weep, and feel so full of sorrow.

Rings I lost from off my fingers, From my neck my beaded necklace, 60 And my finger-rings were golden, And my necklace-beads were silver."

At the window sat her sister, As she wove a golden girdle "Wherefore weepest thou, poor sister, Young, and yet so full of sorrow?"

"Cause enough have I for weeping, Cause for weeping and lamenting.

Therefore do I weep, poor sister, Weep and feel so full of sorrow. 70 From my brow the gold has fallen, From my hair I lost the silver, Tore the blue bands from my temples, From my head the scarlet braiding."

On the threshold of the storehouse, Skimming milk, she found her mother.

"Wherefore weepest thou, my daughter, Young, and yet so full of sorrow?"

"O my mother, who hast borne me, O my mother, who hast nursed me, 80 Cause enough have I for anguish, Cause enough for bitter sorrow.

Therefore do I weep, poor mother, Therefore grieve I, O my mother, To the wood I went for besoms, Gathered bath-whisks from the bushes; One I gathered for my father, One I gathered for my mother, And I gathered yet another, For my young and ruddy brother. 90 As I turned my footsteps homeward, And across the heath was tripping, From the dell there called Osmoinen, From the field cried Kalevainen,

"Do not wear, fair maid, for others, But for me alone, poor maiden, Round thy neck a beaded necklace, And a cross upon thy bosom.

Plait for me thy beauteous tresses, Braid thy hair with silken ribands." 100

"From my breast I took the crosslet, From my neck the beaded necklace, Tore the blue bands from my temples, From my head the scarlet ribands, Then upon the ground I threw them, Scattered them among the bushes, And I answered him in this wise: 'Not for thee, and not for others, Rests my cross upon my bosom, And my hair is bound with ribands. 110 Nought I care for sea-borne raiment, Wheaten bread I do not value.

I will walk in home-spun garments, And with crusts will still my hunger, In my dearest father's dwelling, And beside my much-loved mother.'"

And her mother answered thus wise, Said the old crone to the maiden, "Do not weep, my dearest daughter, Do not grieve (and thou so youthful); 120 Eat a whole year long fresh b.u.t.ter, That your form may grow more rounded, Eat thou pork the second season, That your form may grow more charming, And the third year eat thou cream-cakes, That you may become more lovely.

Seek the storehouse on the mountain, There the finest chamber open.

There are coffers piled on coffers, Chests in heaps on chests are loaded, 130 Open then the finest coffer, Raise the painted lid with clangour, There you'll find six golden girdles, Seven blue robes of finest texture, Woven by the Moon's own daughter, By the Sun's own daughter fas.h.i.+oned.

"In the days when I was youthful, In my youthful days of girlhood, In the wood I sought for berries, Gathered raspberries on the mountain, 140 Heard the moonlight's daughter weaving, And the sunlight's daughter spinning, There beside the wooded island, On the borders of the greenwood.

"Thereupon I softly neared them, And beside them took my station, And began to ask them gently, In the words that I repeat you: 'Give you of your gold, O Kuutar, And your silver give, Paivatar, 150 To the maiden poorly dowered, To the child who now implores you!'

"Then her gold did Kuutar give me.

And her silver gave Paivatar.

With the gold I decked my temples, And adorned my head with silver, Homeward like a flower I hastened, Joyful, to my father's dwelling.

"These I wore one day, a second.

Then upon the third day after 160 Took the gold from off my temples.

From my head removed the silver, Took them to the mountain storehouse; In the chest with care I laid them, There until this day I left them, And since then I have not seen them.

"On thy brows bind silken ribands On thy temples gold adornments, Round thy neck a beaded necklace, On thy breast a golden crosslet. 170 Put thou on a s.h.i.+ft of linen, Of the finest flax that's woven, Lay thou on a robe of woollen, Bind it with a silken girdle, Then the finest silken stockings, And of shoes the very finest, Then In plaits thy hair arranging, Bind it up with silken ribands, Slip the gold rings on thy fingers, Deck thy wrists with golden bracelets. 180 After this return thou homewards From thy visit to the storehouse, As the joy of all thy kindred, And of all thy race the fairest, Like a floweret by the wayside, Like a raspberry on the mountain; Far more lovely than aforetime, Fairer than in former seasons."

Thus the mother urged her counsel, Thus she spoke unto her daughter, 190 But the daughter did not heed her, Heeded not her mother's counsel.

From the house she wandered weeping, From the homestead went in sorrow, And she said the words which follow, And expressed herself in this wise: 'What may be the joyous feelings, And the thoughts of one rejoicing?

Such may be the joyous feelings, And the thoughts of one rejoicing; 200 Like the dancing of the water On the waves when gently swelling.

What do mournful thoughts resemble?

What the long-tailed duck may ponder?

Such may mournful thoughts resemble, Thus the long-tailed duck may ponder, As 'neath frozen snow embedded, Water deep in well imprisoned.

"Often now my life is clouded.

Often is my childhood troubled, 210 And my thoughts like withered herbage.

As I wander through the bushes, Wandering on through gra.s.sy meadows, Pus.h.i.+ng through the tangled thickets, And my thoughts are pitch for blackness And my heart than soot not brighter.

"Better fortune had befel me, And it would have been more happy.

Had I not been born and nurtured, And had never grown in stature, 220 Till I saw these days of sorrow, And this joyless time o'ertook me, Had I died in six nights only, Or upon the eighth had perished.

Much I should not then have needed, But a shroud a span-long only, And of earth a tiny corner.

Little then had wept my mother, Fewer tears had shed my father, And my brother not a tearlet." 230

Thus she wept a day, a second.

And again her mother asked her, "Wherefore dost thou weep, poor maiden.

Wherefore thus lament and sorrow?"

"Therefore weep I, hapless maiden, Therefore do I weep for ever, That yourself have pledged me, hapless.

And your daughter you have promised Thus to be an old man's comfort, As a solace to the old man, 240 To support his feeble footsteps, And to wait upon him always.

Better were it had you sent me Deeply down beneath the billows, There to be the powan's sister, And companion of the fishes.

In the lake 'tis surely better There beneath the waves to sojourn, There to be the powan's sister.

And companion of the fishes, 250 Than to be an old man's comfort.

To support his aged footsteps, So that I can mend his stockings, And may be a staff to prop him."

Then she sought the mountain storehouse, And the inner room she entered; And the finest chest she opened, Raised the painted lid with clangour, And she found six golden girdles, Seven blue robes of finest textures, 260 And she robed her in the finest, And completed her adornment.

Set the gold upon her temples, On her hair the s.h.i.+ning silver, On her brow the sky-blue ribands, On her head the bands of scarlet.

Then she wandered from the storehouses, And across the fields she wandered, Past the marshes, and the heathlands, Through the shady, gloomy forests. 270 Thus she sang, as on she hastened, Thus she spoke, as on she wandered: "All my heart is filled with trouble; On my head a stone is loaded.

But my trouble would not vex me, And the weight would less oppress me, If I perished, hapless maiden, Ending thus my life of sorrow, In the burden of my trouble, In the sadness of my sorrow. 280

"Now my time perchance approaches, From this weary world to hasten, Time to seek the world of Mana, Time to Tuonela to hasten, For my father will not mourn me, Nor my mother will lament me, Nor my sister's cheeks be moistened, Nor my brother's eyes be tearful, If I sank beneath the waters, Sinking where the fish are sporting, 290 To the depths beneath the billows, Down amid the oozy blackness."

On she went, one day, a second, And at length, upon the third day, Came she to a lake's broad margin, To the bank, o'ergrown with rushes.

And she reached it in the night-time, And she halted in the darkness.

In the evening wept the maiden, Through the darksome night lamented, 300 On the rocks that fringed the margin, Where a bay spread wide before her.

At the earliest dawn of morning, As she gazed from off a headland, Just beyond she saw three maidens, Bathing there amid the waters, Aino made the fourth among then, And the fifth a slender sapling.

Then her s.h.i.+ft she cast on willows, And her dress upon the aspens, 310 On the open ground her stockings, Threw her shoes upon the boulders, On the sand her beads she scattered, And her rings upon the s.h.i.+ngle.

In the waves a rock was standing, Brightly hued and golden s.h.i.+ning; And she swam and sought to reach it, As a refuge in her trouble.