In my hair his hands he twisted, Grasping it in all his fury, In the wind my hair he scattered, To the winds of spring abandoned.

"What advice should now be followed, Where had I to look for counsel? 730 Shoes of steel I put upon me, Bands of copper put upon me, As I stood beyond the house-wall.

In the street for long I listened, Till the wretch should calm his fury, And his pa.s.sion had subsided, But his anger never slumbered, Neither for a time abated.

"At the last the cold o'ercame me, In my hiding-place so dismal, 740 Where I stood beyond the house-wall, And without the door I waited, And I pondered and reflected: 'This I cannot bear for ever, Nor can bear their hatred longer, Longer can I not endure it, In this dreadful house of Lempo, In this lair of evil demons.'

"From the handsome house I turned me, And my pleasant home abandoned, 750 And commenced my weary wanderings, Through the swamps and through the lowlands, Past the open sheets of water, Past the cornfields of my brother.

There the dry pines all were rustling, And the crowns of fir-trees singing, All the crows were croaking loudly, And the magpies all were chattering,

"'Here for thee no home remaineth, In the house thy birth which witnessed.' 760

"But I let it not distress me, As I neared my brother's homestead, But the gates themselves addressed me, And the cornfields all lamented:

"'Wherefore hast thou thus come homeward, What sad news to hear, O wretched?

Long ago has died thy father, Perished has thy sweetest mother, All estranged is now thy brother, And his wife is like a Russian.' 770

"But I let it not distress me, And at once the house I entered, At the door I grasped the handle, Cold within my hand I felt it.

"After, when the room I entered, In the doorway I was standing, And the mistress stood there proudly, But she did not come to meet me, Nor to me her hand she offered.

I myself was proud as she was, 780 And I would not go to meet her, And my hand I would not offer.

On the stove my hand I rested.

Cold I felt the very hearthstones, To the burning coals I reached it; In the stove the coals were frozen.

"On the bench there lay my brother, Lazy on the bench extended, On his shoulders soot by fathoms, And by spans upon his body, 790 On his head glowed coals a yard high, And of hard-caked soot a quartful.

"Asked my brother of the stranger, Of the guest he thus inquired: 'Stranger, why hast crossed the water?'

"And on this I gave him answer: 'Dost thou then not know thy sister, Once the daughter of thy mother?

We are children of one mother, Of one bird are we the nestlings: 800 By one goose have we been nurtured, In one grouse's nest been fostered.'

"Then my brother broke out weeping, From his eyes the tears were falling.

"To his wife then said my brother, And he whispered to his darling, 'Bring some food to give my sister!'

But with mocking eyes she brought me Cabbage-stalks from out the kitchen, Whence the whelp the fat had eaten, 810 And the dog had licked the salt from, And the black dog had his meal of.

"To his wife then said my brother, And he whispered to his darling, 'Fetch some ale to give the stranger!'

But with mocking eyes she carried Water only for the stranger, But, instead of drinking water, Water she had washed her face in, And her sister washed her hands in. 820

"From my brother's house I wandered, Left the house that I was born in, Hurried forth, O me unhappy, Wandered on, O me unhappy, Wretched on the sh.o.r.es to wander, Toiling on, for ever wretched, Always to the doors of strangers, Always to the gates of strangers, On the beach, with poorest children, Sufferers of the village poorhouse. 830

"There were many of the people, Many were there who abused me, And with evil words attacked me, And with sharpest words repulsed me.

Few there are among the people Who have spoken to me kindly, And with kindly words received me, And before the stove who led me, When I came from out the rainstorm, Or from out the cold came shrinking, 840 With my dress with rime all covered, While the snow my fur cloak covered.

"In my youthful days I never, I could never have believed it, Though a hundred told me of it, And a thousand tongues repeated Such distress should fall upon me, Such distress should overwhelm me, As upon my head has fallen, Laid upon my hands such burdens." 850

RUNO XXIV.--THE DEPARTURE OF THE BRIDE AND BRIDEGROOM

_Argument_

The bridegroom is instructed how he should behave towards his bride, and is cautioned not to treat her badly (1-264). An old beggar relates how he once brought his wife to reason (265-296). The bride remembers with tears that she is now quitting her dear birthplace for the rest of her life, and says farewell to all (297-462). Ilmarinen lifts his bride into the sledge and reaches his home on the evening of the third day (463-528).

Now the girl had well been lectured, And the bride had been instructed; Let me now address my brother, Let me lecture now the bridegroom.

"Bridegroom, dearest of my brothers, Thou the best of all my brothers, Dearest of my mother's children, Gentlest of my father's children, Listen now to what I tell thee, What I speak and what I tell thee, 10 Of thy linnet who awaits thee, And the dove that thou hast captured.

"Bridegroom, bless thy happy fortune, For the fair one granted to thee, When thou praisest, praise thou loudly, Loudly praise the good that's granted, Loudly praise thou thy Creator, For the gracious gift He granted, And her father praise thou also, Even more her mother praise thou, 20 They who reared their lovely daughter To the charming bride beside thee.

"Stainless sits the maid beside thee, Maiden bright to thee united, Pledged to thee in all her beauty, Fair one under thy protection, Charming girl upon thy bosom, At thy side so sweetly blushing, Girl with strength to help in threshing, Or to help thee in the hayfield, 30 Skilful, too, to do the washing, Quick to bleach the clothes to whiteness, Skilful, too, the thread in spinning, Rapid, too, the cloth when weaving.

"And I hear her loom resounding, As upon the hill the cuckoo, And I see her shuttle darting, As the ermine through a thicket, And the reel she twists as quickly As the squirrel's mouth a fir-cone. 40 Never sound has slept the village, Nor the country people slumbered, For her loom's incessant clatter, And the whizzing of the shuttle.

"O thou loved and youthful bridegroom, Handsomest of all the people, Forge thou now a scythe of sharpness, Fix the best of handles on it, Carve it, sitting in the doorway, Hammer it upon a tree-stump. 50 When there comes the time of sunshine, Take thy young wife to the meadow, Look thou where the gra.s.s is rustling, And the harder gra.s.s is crackling, And the reeds are gently murmuring, And the sorrel gently rustling, Also note where stand the hillocks, And the shoots from stumps arising.

"When another day is dawning, Let her have a weaver's shuttle, 60 And a batten that shall suit it, And a loom of best construction, And a treadle of the finest.

Make the weaver's chair all ready, For the damsel fix the treadle, Lay her hand upon the batten.

Soon the shuttle shall be singing, And the treadle shall be thumping, Till the rattling fills the village, And the noise is heard beyond it: 70 And the crones will all perceive it, And the village women question, 'Who is this we hear a-weaving?'

And you thus must make them answer: ''Tis my own, my darling, weaving, 'Tis my loved one makes the clatter, Shall she loosen now the fabric, And the shuttle cease from throwing?'

"'Let her not the fabric loosen, Nor the shuttle cease from throwing. 80 Thus may weave the Moon's fair daughters, Thus may spin the Sun's fair daughters, Even thus the Great Bear's daughters.

Of the lovely stars the daughters.'

"O thou loved and youthful bridegroom, Handsomest of all the people, Set thou forth upon thy journey, Hasten to commence thy journey, Bear away thy youthful maiden, Bear away thy dove so lovely. 90 From thy finch depart thou never, Nor desert thy darling linnet; In the ditches do not drive her, Nor against the hedge-stakes drive her, Nor upset her on the tree-stumps, Nor in stony places cast her.

In her father's house she never, In her dearest mother's homestead, In the ditches has been driven, Nor against the hedge-stakes driven, 100 Nor upset upon the tree-stumps, Nor upset in stony places.

"O thou loved and youthful bridegroom, Handsomest of all the people, Never may'st thou send the damsel, Never may'st thou push the fair one In the corner there to loiter, Or to rummage in the corner.

In her father's house she never, Never in her mother's household, 110 Went to loiter in the corner, Or to rummage in the corner.

Always sat she at the window, In the room she sat, and rocked her, As her father's joy at evening, And her mother's love at morning.

"Never may'st thou, luckless husband, Never may'st thou lead thy dovekin, Where with arum-roots the mortar, Stands, the rind to pound from off them, 120 Or her bread from straw prepare her, Neither from the shoots of fir-trees.

In her father's house she never, In her tender mother's household, Needed thus to use the mortar, Pounding thus the rind from marsh-roots, Nor from straw her bread prepare her, Neither from the shoots of fir-tree.

"May'st thou always lead this dovekin To a slope with corn abundant, 130 Or to help her from the rye-bins, From the barley-bins to gather, Whence large loaves of bread to bake her, And the best of ale to brew her, Loaves of wheaten-bread to bake her, Kneaded dough for cakes prepare her.

"Bridegroom, dearest of my brothers, Never may'st thou make this dovekin, Nor may'st cause our tender gosling, Down to sit, and weep in sadness. 140 If there comes an hour of evil, And the damsel should be dreary Yoke thou in the sledge the chestnut, Or the white horse do thou harness, Drive her to her father's dwelling, To her mother's home familiar.

"Never may'st thou treat this dovekin, Never may this darling linnet, Ever be like slave-girl treated, Neither like a hired servant, 150 Neither be forbid the cellar, Nor the storehouse closed against her Never in her father's dwelling, In her tender mother's household, Was she treated like a slave-girl, Neither like a hired servant, Neither was forbid the cellar, Nor the storehouse closed against her.

Always did she cut the wheatbread, And the hens' eggs also looked to, 160 And she looked to all the milk-tubs, Looked within the ale-casks likewise, In the morn the storehouse opened, Locked it also in the evening.

"O thou loved and youthful bridegroom, Handsomest of all the people, If thou treatest well the damsel, Thou wilt meet a good reception When thou seek'st her father's dwelling, Visiting her much loved mother. 170 Thou thyself wilt well be feasted, Food and drink be set before thee, And thy horse will be unharnessed, And be led into the stable, Drink and fodder set before him, And a bowl of oats provided.

"Never surely, may our damsel, May our well-beloved linnet, Be in hissing tones upbraided, That from no high race she springeth; 180 For in very truth our damsel Comes of great and famous lineage.

If of beans you sow a measure One bean each, it yields her kinsfolk; If of flax you sow a measure, But a thread it yields to each one.

"Never may'st thou, luckless husband, Badly treat this beauteous damsel, Nor chastise her with the slave-whip, Weeping 'neath the thongs of leather, 190 'Neath the five-lashed whip lamenting, Out beyond the barn lamenting.

Never was the maid aforetime, Never in her father's dwelling, With the slave-whip e'er corrected, Weeping 'neath the thongs of leather, 'Neath the five-lashed whip lamenting, Out beyond the barn lamenting.