Kalevala : the Epic Poem of Finland – Volume 02. Неизвестный автор

from the cross-bench,

        Do not linger for assistance,

        Do not tarry to be carried;

        If too young the one that lifts thee,

        If too proud the one in waiting,

        Rise thou, graceful, like a young bird,

        Hither glide along the pathway,

        On the tan-bark scarlet- colored,

        That the herds of kine have evened,

        That the gentle lambs have trodden,

        Smoothened by the tails of horses.

        Haste thou here with gentle footsteps,

        Through the pathway smooth and tidy,

        On the tiles of even surface,

        On thy second father's court-yard,

        To thy second mother's dwelling,

        To thy brother's place of resting,

        To thy sister's silent chambers.

        Place thy foot within these portals,

        Step across this waiting threshold,

        Enter thou these halls of joyance,

        Underneath these painted rafters,

        Underneath this roof of ages.

        During all the winter evenings,

        Through the summer gone forever,

        Sang the tiling made of ivory,

        Wishing thou wouldst walk upon it;

        Often sang the golden ceiling,

        Hoping thou wouldst walk beneath it,

        And the windows often whistled,

        Asking thee to sit beside them;

        Even on this merry morning,

        Even on the recent evening,

        Sat the aged at their windows,

        On the sea-shore ran the children,

        Near the walls the maidens waited,

        Ran the boys upon the highway,

        There to watch the young bride's coming,

        Coming with her hero-husband.

        "Hail, ye courtiers of Wainola,

        With the heroes of the fathers,

        Hail to thee, Wainola's hamlet,

        Hail, ye halls with heroes peopled,

        Hail, ye rooms with all your inmates,

        Hail to thee, sweet golden moonlight,

        Hail to thee, benignant Ukko,

        Hail companions of the bridegroom!

        Never has there been in Northland

        Such a wedding-train of honor,

        Never such a bride of beauty.

        "Bridegroom, thou beloved hero,

        Now untie the scarlet ribbons,

        And remove the silken muffler,

        Let us see the honey-maiden,

        See the Daughter of the Rainbow.

        Seven years hast thou been wooing,

        Hast thou brought the maid affianced,

        Wainamoinen's Wedding-Songs.

        Hast thou sought a sweeter cuckoo,

        Sought one fairer than the moonlight,

        Sought a mermaid from the ocean?

        But I know without the asking,

        See the answer to my question:

        Thou hast brought the sweet-voiced cuckoo,

        Thou hast found the swan of beauty

        Plucked the sweetest flower of Northland,

        Culled the fairest of the jewels,

        Gathered Pohya's sweetest berry!"

        Sat a babe upon the matting,

        And the young child spake as follows:

        "Brother, what is this thou bringest,

        Aspen-log or trunk of willow,

        Slender as the mountain-linden?

        Bridegroom, well dost thou remember,

        Thou hast hoped it all thy life-time,

        Hoped to bring the Maid of Beauty,

        Thou a thousand times hast said it,

        Better far than any other,

        Not one like the croaking raven,

        Nor the magpie from the border,

        Nor the scarecrow from the corn-fields,

        Nor the vulture from the desert.

        What has this one done of credit,

        In the summer that has ended?

        Where the gloves that she has knitted,

        Where the mittens she has woven?

        Thou hast brought her empty-handed,

        Not a gift she brings thy father;

        In thy chests the nice are nesting,

        Long-tails feeding on thy vestments,

        And thy bride, cannot repair them."

        Lakko hostess of Wainola,

        She the faithful Kalew-daughter,

        Hears the young child's speech in wonder,

        Speaks these words of disapproval:

        Silly prattler, cease thy talking,

        Thou Last spoken in dishonor;

        Let all others be astonished,

        Reap thy malice on thy kindred,

        must not harm the Bride of Beauty,

        Rainbow-daughter of the Northland.

        False indeed is this thy Prattle,

        All thy words are full or evil,

        Fallen from thy tongue of mischief

        From the lips of one unworthy.

        Excellent the hero's young bride,

        Best of all in Sariola,

        Like the strawberry in summer,

        Like the daisy from the meadow,

        Like the cuckoo from the forest,

        Like the bluebird from the aspen,

        Like the redbreast from the heather,

        Like the martin from the linden;

        Never couldst thou find in Ehstland

        Such a virgin as this daughter,

        Such a graceful beauteous maiden,

        With such dignity of Carriage,

        With such arms of pearly whiteness,

        With a neck so fair and lovely.

        Neither is she empty-handed,

        She has brought us furs abundant,

        Brought us many silken garments,

        Richest weavings of Pohyola.

        Many