Skilfully they work the bellows, Tend the fire and add the fuel, Three most lovely days of summer, Three short nights of bright midsummer, Till the rocks begin to blossom, In the foot-prints of the workmen, From the magic heat and furnace.

On the first day, Ilmarinen Downward bent and well examined, On the bottom of his furnace, Thus to see what might be forming From the magic fire and metals.

From the fire arose a cross-bow, "With the brightness of the moonbeams, Golden bow with tips of silver; On the shaft was shining copper, And the bow was strong and wondrous, But alas! it was ill-natured, Asking for a hero daily, Two the heads it asked on feast-days.

Ilmarinen, skilful artist, Was not pleased with this creation, Broke the bow in many pieces, Threw them back within the furnace, Kept the workmen at the bellows, Tried to forge the magic Sampo.

On the second day, the blacksmith Downward bent and well examined, On the bottom of the furnace; From the fire, a skiff of metals, Came a boat of purple color, All the ribs were colored golden, And the oars were forged from copper; Thus the skiff was full of beauty, But alas! a thing of evil; Forth it rushes into trouble, Hastens into every quarrel, Hastes without a provocation Into every evil combat.

Ilmarinen, metal artist, Is not pleased with this creation, Breaks the skiff in many fragments, Throws them back within the furnace, Keeps the workmen at the bellows, Thus to forge the magic Sampo.

On the third day, Ilmarinen, First of all the metal-workers, Downward bent and well examined, On the bottom of the furnace; There be saw a heifer rising, Golden were the horns of Kimmo, On her head the Bear of heaven, On her brow a disc of sunshine, Beautiful the cow of magic; But alas! she is ill-tempered, Rushes headlong through the forest, Rushes through the swamps and meadows, Wasting all her milk in running.

Ilmarinen, the magician.

Is not pleased with this creation, Cuts the magic cow in pieces, Throws them in the fiery furnace, Sets the workmen at the bellows, Thus to forge the magic Sampo.

On the fourth day, Ilmarinen Downward bent and well examined, To the bottom of the furnace; There beheld a plow in beauty Rising from the fire of metals, Golden was the point and plowshare, And the beam was forged from copper, And the handles, molten silver, Beautiful the plow and wondrous; But alas! it is ill-mannered, Plows up fields of corn and barley, Furrows through the richest meadows.

Ilmarinen, metal artist, Is not pleased with this creation, Quickly breaks the plow in pieces, Throws them back within the furnace, Lets the winds attend the bellows, Lets the storm-winds fire the metals.

Fiercely vie the winds of heaven, East-wind rushing, West-wind roaring, South-wind crying, North-wind howling, Blow one day and then a second, Blow the third from morn till even, When the fire leaps through the windows, Through the door the sparks fly upward, Clouds of smoke arise to heaven; With the clouds the black smoke mingles, As the storm-winds ply the bellows.

On the third night Ilmarinen, Bending low to view his metals, On the bottom of the furnace, Sees the magic Sampo rising, Sees the lid in many colors.

Quick the artist of Wainola Forges with the tongs and anvil, Knocking with a heavy hammer, Forges skilfully the Sampo; On one side the flour is grinding, On another salt is making, On a third is money forging, And the lid is many-colored.

Well the Sampo grinds when finished, To and fro the lid in rocking, Grinds one measure at the day-break, Grinds a measure fit for eating, Grinds a second for the market, Grinds a third one for the store-house.

Joyfully the dame of Northland, Louhi, hostess of Pohyola, Takes away the magic Sampo, To the hills of Sariola, To the copper-bearing mountains, Puts nine locks upon the wonder, Makes three strong roots creep around it; In the earth they grow nine fathoms, One large root beneath the mountain, One beneath the sandy sea-bed, One beneath the mountain-dwelling.

Modestly pleads Ilmarinen For the maiden's willing answer, These the words of the magician: "Wilt thou come with me, fair maiden, Be my wife and queen forever?

I have forged for thee the Sampo, Forged the lid in many colors."

Northland's fair and lovely daughter Answers thus the metal-worker: "Who will in the coming spring-time, Who will in the second summer, Guide the cuckoo's song and echo?

Who will listen to his calling, Who will sing with him in autumn, Should I go to distant regions, Should this cheery maiden vanish From the fields of Sariola, From Pohyola's fens and forests, Where the cuckoo sings and echoes?

Should I leave my father's dwelling, Should my mother's berry vanish, Should these mountains lose their cherry, Then the cuckoo too would vanish, All the birds would leave the forest, Leave the summit of the mountain, Leave my native fields and woodlands, Never shall I, in my life-time, Say farewell to maiden freedom, Nor to summer cares and labors, Lest the harvest be ungarnered, Lest the berries be ungathered, Lest the song-birds leave the forest, Lest the mermaids leave the waters, Lest I sing with them no longer."

Ilmarinen, the magician, The eternal metal-forger, Cap awry and head dejected, Disappointed, heavy-hearted, Empty-handed, well considers, How to reach his distant country, Reach his much-loved home and kinded, Gain the meadows of Wainola, From the never-pleasant Northland, From the darksome Sariola.

Louhi thus addressed the suitor: "O thou blacksmith, Ilmarinen, Why art thou so heavy-hearted, Why thy visage so dejected?

Hast thou in thy mind to journey From the vales and hills of Pohya, To the meadows of Wainola, To thy home in Kalevala?

This is Ilmarinen's answer: "Thitherward my mind is tending, To my home-land let me journey, With my kindred let me linger, Be at rest in mine own country."

Straightway Louhi, dame of Northland, Gave the hero every comfort, Gave him food and rarest viands, Placed him in a boat of copper, In a copper-banded vessel, Called the winds to his a.s.sistance, Made the North-wind guide him homeward.

Thus the skilful Ilmarinen Travels toward his native country, On the blue back of the waters, Travels one day, then a second, Till the third day evening brings him To Wainola's peaceful meadows, To his home in Kalevala.

Straightway ancient Wainamoinen Thus addresses Ilmarinen: "O my brother, metal-artist, Thou eternal wonder-worker, Didst thou forge the magic Sampo, Forge the lid in many colors?"

Spake the brother, Ilmarinen, These the words the master uttered: "Yea, I forged the magic Sampo, Forged the lid in many colors; To and fro the lid in rocking Grinds one measure at the day-dawn, Grinds a measure fit for eating, Grinds a second for the market, Grinds a third one for the store-house.

Louhi has the wondrous Sampo, I have not the Bride of Beauty."

RUNE XI.

LEMMINKAINEN'S LAMENT.

This the time to sing of Ahti, Son of Lempo, Kaukomieli, Also known as Lemminkainen.

Ahti was the king of islands, Grew amid the island-dwellings, At the site of his dear mother, On the borders of the ocean, On the points of promontories.

Ahti fed upon the salmon, Fed upon the ocean whiting, Thus became a mighty hero, In his veins the blood of ages, Read erect and form commanding, Growth of mind and body perfect But alas! he had his failings, Bad indeed his heart and morals, Roaming in unworthy places, Staying days and nights in sequences At the homes of merry maidens, At the dances of the virgins, With the maids of braided tresses.

Up in Sahri lived a maiden, Lived the fair and winsome Kulli, Lovely as a summer-flower, From a kingly house descended, Grew to perfect form and beauty, Living in her father's cottage, Home of many ancient heroes, Beautiful was she and queenly, Praised throughout the whole of Ehstland; From afar men came to woo her, To the birthplace of the virgin, To the household of her mother.

For his son the Day-star wooes her, But she will not go to Sun-land, Will not shine beside the Day-star, In his haste to bring the summer.

For her son, the bright Moon wooes her, But she will not go to Moon-land, By the bright Moon will not glimmer, Will not run through boundless ether.

For his son the Night-star wooes her, But she will not go to Star-land, Will not twinkle in the starlight, Through the dreary nights in winter.

Lovers come from distant Ehstlaud, Others come from far-off Ingern, But they cannot win the maiden, This the answer that she gives them "Vainly are your praises lavished Vainly is your silver offered, Wealth and praise are no temptation; Never shall I go to Ehstland, Never shall I go a-rowing On the waters of the Ingern, Shall not cross the Sahri-waters, Never eat the fish of Ehstland, Never taste the Ehstland viands.

Ingerland shall never see me, Will not row upon her rivers, Will not step within her borders; Hunger there, and fell starvation, Wood is absent, fuel wanting, Neither water, wheat, nor barley, Even rye is not abundant."

Lemminkainen of the islands, Warlike hero, Kaukomieli, Undertakes to win the maiden, Woo and win the Sahri-flower, Win a bride so highly honored, Win the maid with golden tresses, Win the Sahri maid of beauty; But his mother gives him warning: "Nay," replies his gray-haired mother, "Do not woo, my son beloved, Maiden of a higher station; She will never make thee happy With her lineage of Sahri."

Spake the hero, Lemminkainen, These the words of Kaukomieli: "Should I come from lowly station, Though my tribe is not the highest, I shall woo to please my fancy, Woo the maiden fair and lovely, Choose a wife for worth and beauty."

This the anxious mother's answer: "Lemminkainen, son beloved, Listen to advice maternal: Do not go to distant Sahri, To her tribe of many branches; All the maidens there will taunt thee, All the women will deride thee."

Lemminkainen, little hearing, Answers thus his mother's pleading: "I will still the sneers of women, Silence all the taunts of maidens, I will crush their haughty bosoms, Smite the hands and cheeks of infants; Surely this will check their insults, Fitting ending to derision!"

This the answer of' the mother: "Woe is me, my son beloved!

Woe is me, my life hard-fated!

Shouldst thou taunt the Sahri daughters.

Or insult the maids of virtue, Shouldst thou laugh them to derision, There will rise a great contention, Fierce the battle that will follow.

All the hosts of Sahri-suitors, Armed in thousands will attack thee, And will slay thee for thy folly."

Nothing listing, Lemminkainen, Heeding not his mother's warning, Led his war-horse from the stables, Quickly hitched the fiery charger, Fleetly drove upon his journey, To the distant Sahri-village, There to woo the Sahri-flower, There to win the Bride of Beauty.

All the aged Sahri-women, All the young and lovely maidens Laughed to scorn the coming stranger Driving careless through the alleys, Wildly driving through the court-yard, Now upsetting in the gate-way, Breaking shaft, and hame, and runner.

Then the fearless Lemminkainen, Mouth awry and visage wrinkled, Shook his sable locks and answered: "Never in my recollection Have I heard or seen such treatment, Never have I been derided, Never suffered sneers of women, Never suffered scorn of virgins, Not in my immortal life-time.

Is there any place befitting On the Sahri-plains and pastures, Where to join in songs and dances?

Is there here a hall for pleasure, Where the Sahri-maidens linger, Merry maids with braided tresses?"

Thereupon the Sahri-maidens Answered from their promontory., "Room enough is there in Sahri, Room upon the Sahri-pastures, Room for pleasure-halls and dances; Sing and dance upon our meadows, Be a shepherd on the mountains, Shepherd-boys have room for dancing; Indolent the Sahri-children, But the colts are fat and frisky."

Little caring, Lemminkainen Entered service there as shepherd, In the daytime on the pastures, In the evening, making merry At the games of lively maidens, At the dances with the virgins, With the maids with braided tresses.

Thus it was that Lemminkainen, Thus the shepherd, Kaukomieli, Quickly hushed the women's laughter, Quickly quenched the taunts of maidens, Quickly silenced their derision.

All the dames and Sahri-daughters Soon were feasting Lemminkainen, At his side they danced and lingered.

Only was there one among them, One among the Sahri-virgins, Harbored neither love nor wooers, Favored neither G.o.ds nor heroes, This the lovely maid Kyllikki, This the Sahri's fairest flower.

Lemminkainen, full of pleasure, Handsome hero, Kaukomieli, Rowed a hundred boats in pieces, Pulled a thousand oars to fragments, While he wooed the Maid of Beauty, Tried to win the fair Kyllikki.

Finally the lovely maiden, Fairest daughter of the Northland, Thus addresses Lemminkainen: "Why dost linger here, thou weak one, Why dost murmur on these borders, Why come wooing at my fireside, Wooing me in belt of copper?

Have no time to waste upon thee, Rather give this stone its polish, Rather would I turn the pestle In the heavy sandstone mortar; Rather sit beside my mother In the dwellings of my father.

Never shall I heed thy wooing, Neither wights nor whisks I care for, Sooner have a slender husband Since I have a slender body; Wish to have him fine of figure, Since perchance I am well-shapen; Wish to have him tall and stately, Since my form perchance is queenly; Never waste thy time in wooing Saliri's maid and favored flower."

Time had gone but little distance, Scarcely had a month pa.s.sed over, When upon a merry evening, Where the maidens meet for dancing, In the glen beyond the meadow, On a level patch of verdure, Came too soon the maid Kyllikki, Sahri's pride, the Maid of Beauty; Quickly followed Lemminkainen, With his stallion proudly prancing, Fleetest racer of the Northland, Fleetly drives beyond the meadow, Where the maidens meet for dancing, s.n.a.t.c.hes quick the maid Kyllikki, On the settle seats the maiden, Quickly draws the leathern cover, And adjusts the brichen cross-bar, Whips his courser to a gallop.

With a rush, and roar, and rattle, Speeds he homeward like the storm-wind, Speaks these words to those that listen: "Never, never, anxious maidens, Must ye give the information, That I carried off Kyllikki To my distant home and kindred.

If ye do not heed this order, Ye shall badly fare as maidens; I shall sing to war your suitors, Sing them under spear and broadsword, That for months, and years, and ages, Never ye will see their faces, Never hear their merry voices, Never will they tread these uplands, Never will they join these dances, Never will they drive these highways."

Sad the wailing of Kyllikki, Sad the weeping flower of Sahri!

Listen to her tearful pleading: "Give, O give me back my freedom, Free me from the throes of thralldom, Let this maiden wander homeward, By some foot-path let me wander To my father who is grieving, To my mother who is weeping; Let me go or I will curse thee!

If thou wilt not give me freedom, Wilt not let me wander homeward, Where my loved ones wait my coming, I have seven stalwart brothers, Seven sons of father's brother, Seven sons of mother's sister, Who pursue the tracks of red-deer, Hunt the hare upon the heather; They will follow thee and slay thee, Thus I'll gain my wished-for freedom."

Lemminkainen, little heeding, Would not grant the maiden's wishes, Would not heed her plea for mercy.

Spake again the waiting virgin, Pride and beauty of the Northland: "Joyful was I with my kindred, Joyful born and softly nurtured Merrily I spent my childhood, Happy I, in virgin-freedom, In the dwelling of my father, By the bedside of my mother, With my lineage in Sahri; But alas! all joy has vanished, All my happiness departed, All my maiden beauty waneth Since I met thine evil spirit, Shameless hero of dishonor, Cruel fighter of the islands, Merciless in civil combat."

Spake the hero, Lemminkainen, These the words of Kaukomieli: "Dearest maiden, fair Kyllikki, My sweet strawberry of Pohya, Still thine anguish, cease thy weeping, Be thou free from care and sorrow, Never shall I do thee evil, Never will my hands maltreat thee, Never will mine arms abuse thee, Never will my tongue revile thee, Never will my heart deceive thee.

"Tell me why thou hast this anguish, Why thou hast this bitter sorrow, Why this sighing and lamenting, Tell me why this wail of sadness?

Banish all thy cares and sorrows, Dry thy tears and still thine anguish, I have cattle, food, and shelter, I have home, and friends, and kindred, Kine upon the plains and uplands, In the marshes berries plenty, Strawberries upon the mountains I have kine that need no milking, Handsome kine that need no feeding, Beautiful if not well-tended; Need not tie them up at evening, Need not free them in the morning, Need not hunt them, need not feed them, Need not give them salt nor water.

"Thinkest thou my race is lowly, Dost thou think me born ign.o.ble, Does my lineage agrieve thee?

Was not born in lofty station, From a tribe of n.o.ble heroes, From a worthy race descended; But I have a sword of fervor, And a spear yet filled with courage, Surely these are well descended, These were born from hero-races, Sharpened by the mighty Hisi, By the G.o.ds were forged and burnished; Therefore will I give thee greatness, Greatness of my race and nation, With my broadsword filled with fervor, With my spear still filled with courage."

Anxiously the sighing maiden Thus addresses Lemminkainen: "O thou Ahti, son of Lempo, Wilt thou take this trusting virgin, As thy faithful life-companion, Take me under thy protection, Be to me a faithful husband, Swear to me an oath of honor, That thou wilt not go to battle, When for gold thou hast a longing, When thou wishest gold and silver?"

This is Lemminkainen's answer: I will swear an oath of honor, That I'll never go to battle, When for gold I feel a longing, When I wish for gold and silver.

Swear thou also on thine honor, Thou wilt go not to the village, When desire for dance impels thee, Wilt not visit village-dances."

Thus the two made oath together, Registered their vows in heaven, Vowed before omniscient Ukko, Ne'er to go to war vowed Ahti, Never to the dance, Kyllikki.

Lemminkainen, full of joyance, Snapped his whip above his courser, Whipped his racer to a gallop, And these words the hero uttered: "Fare ye well, ye Sahri-meadows, Roots of firs, and stumps of birch-trees.

That I wandered through in summer, That I travelled o'er in winter, Where ofttimes in rainy seasons, At the evening hour I lingered, When I sought to win the virgin, Sought to win the Maid of Beauty, Fairest of the Sahri-flowers.

Fare ye well, ye Sahri-woodlands, Seas and oceans, lakes and rivers, Vales and mountains, isles and inlets, Once the home of fair Kyllikki!"

Quick the racer galloped homeward, Galloped on along the highway, Toward the meadows of Wainola, To the plains of Kalevala.

As they neared the Ahti-dwellings, Thus Kyllikki spake in sorrow: "Cold and drear is thy cottage, Seeming like a place deserted; Who may own this dismal cabin, Who the one so little honored?"

Spake the hero, Lemminkainen, These the words that Ahti uttered: "Do not grieve about my cottage, Have no care about my chambers; I shall build thee other dwellings, I shall fashion them much better, Beams, and posts, and sills, and rafters, Fashioned from the sacred birch-wood."

Now they reach the home of Ahti, Lemminkainen's home and birthplace, Enter they his mother's cottage; There they meet his aged mother, These the words the mother uses: "Long indeed hast thou been absent, Long in foreign lands hast wandered, Long in Sahri thou hast lingered!"

This is Lemminkainen's answer: "All the host of Sahri-women, All the chaste and lovely maidens, All the maids with braided tresses, Well have paid for their derision, For their scorn and for their laughter, That they basely heaped upon me.

I have brought the best among them In my sledge to this thy cottage; Well I wrapped her in my fur-robes, Kept her warm enwrapped in bear-skin, Brought her to my mother's dwelling, As my faithful life-companion; Thus I paid the scornful maidens, Paid them well for their derision.

"Cherished mother of my being, I have found the long-sought jewel, I have won the Maid of Beauty.