Kalevala : the Epic Poem of Finland — Complete. Anonymous

Hear the sacred cuckoo calling?

       Shall I give thee golden treasures,

       Fill thy cups with finest silver?"

       This is Louhi's simple answer:

       "O thou ancient Wainamoinen,

       Only true and wise magician,

       Never will I ask for riches,

       Never ask for gold nor silver;

       Gold is for the children's flowers,

       Silver for the stallion's jewels.

       Canst thou forge for me the Sampo,

       Hammer me the lid in colors,

       From the tips of white-swan feathers

       From the milk of greatest virtue,

       From a single grain of barley,

       From the finest wool of lambkins?

       "I will give thee too my daughter,

       Will reward thee through the maiden,

       Take thee to thy much-loved home-land,

       To the borders of Wainola,

       There to hear the cuckoo singing,

       Hear the sacred cuckoo calling."

       Wainamoinen, much regretting,

       Gave this answer to her question:

       "Cannot forge for thee the Sampo,

       Cannot make the lid in colors.

       Take me to my distant country,

       I will send thee Ilmarinen,

       He will forge for thee the Sampo,

       Hammer thee the lid in colors,

       He may win thy lovely maiden;

       Worthy smith is Ilmarinen,

       In this art is first and master;

       He, the one that forged the heavens.

       Forged the air a hollow cover;

       Nowhere see we hammer-traces,

       Nowhere find a single tongs-mark."

       Thus replied the hostess, Louhi:

       "Him alone I'll give my daughter,

       Promise him my child in marriage,

       Who for me will forge the Sampo,

       Hammer me the lid in colors,

       From the tips of white-swan feathers,

       From the milk of greatest virtue,

       From a single grain of barley,

       From the finest wool of lambkins."

       Thereupon the hostess Louhi,

       Harnessed quick a dappled courser,

       Hitched him to her sledge of birch-wood,

       Placed within it Wainamoinen,

       Placed the hero on the cross-bench,

       Made him ready for his journey;

       Then addressed the ancient minstrel,

       These the words that Louhi uttered:

       "Do not raise thine eyes to heaven,

       Look not upward on thy journey,

       While thy steed is fresh and frisky,

       While the day-star lights thy pathway,

       Ere the evening star has risen;

       If thine eyes be lifted upward,

       While the day-star lights thy pathway,

       Dire misfortune will befall thee,

       Some sad fate will overtake thee."

       Then the ancient Wainamoinen

       Fleetly drove upon his journey,

       Merrily he hastened homeward,

       Hastened homeward, happy-hearted

       From the ever-darksome Northland

       From the dismal Sariola.

RUNE VIII.

       Table of Contents

MAIDEN OF THE RAINBOW.

       Table of Contents

      Pohyola's fair and winsome daughter,

       Glory of the land and water,

       Sat upon the bow of heaven,

       On its highest arch resplendent,

       In a gown of richest fabric,

       In a gold and silver air-gown,

       Weaving webs of golden texture,

       Interlacing threads of silver;

       Weaving with a golden shuttle,

       With a weaving-comb of silver;

       Merrily flies the golden shuttle,

       From the maiden's nimble fingers,

       Briskly swings the lathe in weaving,

       Swiftly flies the comb of silver,

       From the sky-born maiden's fingers,

       Weaving webs of wondrous beauty.

       Came the ancient Wainamoinen,

       Driving down the highway homeward,

       From the ever sunless Northland,

       From the dismal Sariola;

       Few the furlongs he had driven,

       Driven but a little distance,

       When he heard the sky-loom buzzing,

       As the maiden plied the shuttle.

       Quick the thoughtless Wainamoinen

       Lifts his eyes aloft in wonder,

       Looks upon the vault of heaven,

       There beholds the bow of beauty,

       On the bow the maiden sitting,

       Beauteous Maiden of the Rainbow,

       Glory of the earth and ocean,

       Weaving there a golden fabric,

       Working with the rustling silver.

       Wainamoinen, ancient minstrel,

       Quickly checks his fleet-foot racer,

       Looks upon the charming maiden,

       Then addresses her as follows:

       "Come, fair maiden, to my snow-sledge,

       By my side I wish thee seated."

       Thus the Maid of Beauty answers:

       "Tell me what thou wishest of me,

       Should I join thee in the snow-sledge."

       Speaks the ancient Wainamoinen,

       Answers thus the Maid of Beauty:

       "This the reason for thy coming:

       Thou shalt bake me honey-biscuit,

       Shalt prepare me barley-water,

       Thou shalt fill my foaming beer-cups,

       Thou shalt sing beside my table,

       Shalt rejoice within my portals,

       Walk a queen within my dwelling,

       In the Wainola halls and chambers,

       In the courts of Kalevala."

       Thus the Maid of Beauty answered

       From