Kalevala : the Epic Poem of Finland – Volume 02

RUNE XL

BIRTH OF THE HARP

  Wainamoinen, ancient minstrel,  Onward steered his goodly vessel,  From the isle of Lemminkainen,  From the borders of the village;  Steered his war-ship through the waters,  Sang it o'er the ocean-billows,  Joyful steered it to Pohyola.  On the banks were maidens standing,  And the daughters spake these measures:  "List the music on the waters!  What this wonderful rejoicing,  What this singing on the billows?  Far more beautiful this singing,  This rejoicing on the waters,  Than our ears have heard in Northland."  Wainamoinen, the magician,  Steered his wonder-vessel onward,  Steered one day along the sea-shore,  Steered the next through shallow waters,  Steered the third day through the rivers.  Then the reckless Lemminkainen  Suddenly some words remembered,  He had heard along the fire-stream  Near the cataract and whirlpool,  And these words the hero uttered:  "Cease, O cataract, thy roaring,  Cease, O waterfall, thy foaming!  Maidens of the foam and current,  Sitting on the rocks in water,  On the stone-blocks in the river,  Take the foam and white-capped billows  In your arms and still their anger,  That our ships may pass in safety!  Aged dame beneath the eddy,  Thou that livest in the sea-foam,  Swimming, rise above the waters,  Lift thy head above the whirlpool,  Gather well the foam and billows  In thine arms and still their fury,  That our ship may pass in safety!  Ye, O rocks beneath the current,  Underneath the angry waters,  Lower well your heads of danger,  Sink below our magic vessel,  That our ship may pass in safety!  "Should this prayer prove inefficient,  Kimmo, hero son of Kammo,  Bore an outlet with thine auger,  Cut a channel for this vessel  Through the rocks beneath the waters,  That our ship may pass in safety!  Should all this prove unavailing,  Hostess of the running water,  Change to moss these rocky ledges,  Change this vessel to an air-bag,  That between these rocks and billows  It may float, and pass in safety!  "Virgin of the sacred whirlpool,  Thou whose home is in the river,  Spin from flax of strongest fiber,  Spin a thread of crimson color,  Draw it gently through the water,  That the thread our ship may follow,  And our vessel pass in safety!  Goddess of the helm, thou daughter  Of the ocean-winds and sea-foam,  Take thy helm endowed with mercy,  Guide our vessel through these dangers,  Hasten through these floods enchanted,  Passing by the house of envy,  By the gates of the enchanters,  That our ship may pass in safety!  "Should this prayer prove inefficient,  Ukko, Ruler of creation,  Guide our vessel with thy fire-sword,  Guide it with thy blade of lightning,  Through the dangers of these rapids,  Through the cataract and whirlpool,  That our ship may pass in safety!"  Thereupon old Wainamoinen  Steered his boat through winds and waters,  Through the rocky chinks and channels,  Through the surges wildly tossing;  And the vessel passed in safety  Through the dangers of the current,  Through the sacred stream and whirlpool.  As it gains the open waters,  Gains at length the broad-lake's bosom,  Suddenly its motion ceases,  On some object firmly anchored.  Thereupon young Ilmarinen,  With the aid of Lemminkainen,  Plunges in the lake the rudder,  Struggles with the aid of magic;  But he cannot move the vessel,  Cannot free it from its moorings.  Wainamoinen, old and truthful,  Thus addresses his companion:  "O thou hero, Lemminkainen,  Stoop and look beneath this war-ship,  See on what this boat is anchored,  See on what our craft is banging,  In this broad expanse of water,  In the broad-lake's deepest soundings,  If upon some rock or tree-snag,  Or upon some other hindrance."  Thereupon wild Lemminkainen  Looked beneath the magic vessel,  Peering through the crystal waters,  Spake and these the words be uttered:  "Does not rest upon a sand-bar,  Nor upon a rock, nor tree-snag,  But upon the back and shoulders  Of the mighty pike of Northland,  On the fin-bones of the monster."  Wainamoinen, old and trusty,  Spake these words to Lemminkainen:  "Many things we find in water,  Rocks, and trees, and fish, and sea-duck;  Are we on the pike's broad shoulders,  On the fin-bones of the monster,  Pierce the waters with thy broadsword,  Cut the monster into pieces."  Thereupon wild Lemminkainen,  Reckless wizard, filled with courage,  Pulls his broadsword from his girdle,  From its sheath, the bone-divider,  Strikes with might of magic hero,  Headlong falls into the water;  And the blacksmith, Ilmarinen,  Lifts the wizard from the river,  Speaks these words to dripping Ahti:  "Accidents will come to mortals,  Accidents will come to heroes,  By the hundreds, by the thousands,  Even to the gods above us!"  Then the blacksmith, Ilmarinen,  Drew his broadsword from his girdle,  From its sheath his blade of honor,  Tried to slay the pike of Northland  With the weapon of his forging;  But he broke his sword in pieces,  Did not harm the water-monster.  Wainamoinen, old and trusty,  Thus addresses his companions  "Poor apologies for heroes!  When occasion calls for victors,  When we need some great magician,  Need a hero filled with valor,  Then the arm that comes is feeble,  And the mind insane or witless,  Strength and reason gone to others!"  Straightway ancient Wainamoinen,  Miracle of strength and wisdom,  Draws his fire-sword from his girdle,  Wields the mighty blade of magic,  Strikes the waters as the lightning,  Strikes the pike beneath the vessel,  And impales, the mighty monster;  Raises him above the surface,  In the air the pike he circles,  Cuts the monster into pieces;  To the water falls the pike-tail,  To the ship the head and body;  Easily the ship moves onward.  Wainamoinen, old and faithful,  To the shore directs his vessel,  On the strand the boat he anchors,  Looks in every nook and corner  For the fragments of the monster;  Gathers well the parts together,  Speaks these words to those about him:  "Let the oldest of the heroes  Slice for me the pike of Northland,  Slice the fish to fitting morsels."  Answered all the men and heroes,  And the maidens spake, assenting:  "Worthier the catcher's fingers,  Wainamoinen's hands are sacred!"  Thereupon the wise magician  Drew a fish-knife from his girdle,  Sliced the pike to fitting morsels,  Spake again to those about him:  "Let the youngest of the maidens  Cook for me the pike of Northland,  Set for me a goodly dinner!"  All the maidens quick responded,  All the virgins vied in cooking;  Neither could outdo the other,  Thus the pike was rendered toothsome.  Feasted all the old magicians,  Feasted all the younger heroes,  Feasted all the men and maidens;  On the rocks were left the fish-bones,  Only relics of their feasting.  Wainamoinen, ancient minstrel,  Looked upon the pile of fragments,  On the fish-bones looked and pondered,  Spake these words in meditation:  "Wondrous things might be constructed  From the relies of this monster,  Were they in the blacksmith's furnace,  In the hands of the magician,  In the hands of Ilmarinen."  Spake the blacksmith of Wainola:  "Nothing fine can be constructed  From the bones and teeth of fishes  By the skillful forger-artist,  By the hands of the magician."  These the words of Wainamoinen:  "Something wondrous might be builded  From these jaws, and teeth, and fish-bones;  Might a magic harp be fashioned,  Could an artist be discovered  That could shape them to my wishes."  But he found no fish-bone artist  That could shape the harp of joyance  From the relies of their feasting,  From the jaw-bones of the monster,  To the will of the magician.  Thereupon wise Wainamoinen  Set himself at work designing;  Quick became a fish-bone artist,  Made a harp of wondrous beauty,  Lasting joy and pride of Suomi.  Whence the harp's enchanting arches?  From the jaw-bones of the monster.  Whence the necessary harp-pins?  From the pike-teeth firmly fastened.  Whence the sweetly singing harp-strings?  From the tail of Lempo's stallion.  Thus was born the harp of magic  From the mighty pike of Northland,  From the relies from the feasting  Of the heroes of Wainola.  All the young men came to view it,  All the aged with their children,  Mothers with their beauteous daughters,  Maidens with their golden tresses;  All the people on the islands  Came to view the harp of joyance,  Pride and beauty of the Northland.  Wainamoinen, ancient minstrel,  Let the aged try the harp-strings,  Gave it to the young magicians,  To the dames and to their daughters,  To the maidens, silver-tinselled,  To the singers of Wainola.  When the young men touched the harp-strings,  Then arose the notes of discord;  When the aged played upon it,  Dissonance their only music.  Spake the wizard, Lemminkainen:  "O ye witless, worthless children,  O ye senseless, useless maidens,  O ye wisdom-lacking heroes,  Cannot play this harp of magic,  Cannot touch the notes of concord!  Give to me this thing or beauty,  Hither bring the harp of fish-bones,  Let me try my skillful fingers."  Lemminkainen touched the harp-strings,  Carefully the strings adjusted,  Turned the harp in all directions,  Fingered all the strings in sequence,  Played the instrument of wonder,  But it did not speak in concord,  Did not sing the notes of joyance.  Spake the ancient Wainamoinen:  "There is none among these maidens,  None among these youthful heroes,  None among the old magicians  That can play the harp of magic,  Touch the notes of joy and pleasure.  Let us take the harp to Pohya,  There to find a skillful player  That can touch the strings in concord."  Then they sailed to Sariola,  To Pohyola took the wonder,  There to find the harp a master.  All the heroes of Pohyola,  All the boys and all the maidens,  Ancient dames, and bearded minstrels,  Vainly touched the harp of beauty.  Louhi, hostess of the Northland,  Took the harp-strings in her fingers;  All the youth of Sariola,  Youth of every tribe and station,  Vainly touched the harp of fish-bone;  Could not find the notes of joyance,  Dissonance their only pleasure;  Shrieked the harp-strings like the whirlwinds,  All the tones wore harsh and frightful.  In a corner slept a blind man,  Lay a gray-beard on the oven,  Rousing from his couch of slumber,  Murmured thus within his corner:  "Cease at once this wretched playing,  Make an end of all this discord;  It benumbs mine ears for hearing,  Racks my brain, despoils my senses,  Robs me of the sweets of sleeping.  If the harp of Suomi's people  True delight cannot engender,  Cannot bring the notes of pleasure,  Cannot sing to sleep the aged,  Cast the thing upon the waters,  Sink it in the deeps of ocean,  Take it back to Kalevala,  To the home of him that made it,  To the bands of its creator."  Thereupon the harp made answer,  To the blind man sang these measures:  "Shall not fall upon the waters,  Shall not sink within the ocean;  I will play for my creator,  Sing in melody and concord  In the fingers of my master."  Carefully the harp was carried  To the artist that had made it  To the hands of its creator,  To the feet of Wainamoinen.

RUNE XLI

WAINAMOINEN'S HARP-SONGS

  Wainamoinen, ancient minstrel,  The eternal wisdom-singer,  Laves his hands to snowy whiteness,  Sits upon the rock of joyance,  On the stone of song be settles,  On the mount of silver clearness,  On the summit, golden colored;  Takes the harp by him created,  In his hands the harp of fish-bone,  With his knee the arch supporting,  Takes the harp-strings in his fingers,  Speaks these words to those assembled:  "Hither come, ye Northland people,  Come and listen to my playing,  To the harp's entrancing measures,  To my songs of joy and gladness."  Then the singer of Wainola  Took the harp of his creation,  Quick adjusting, sweetly tuning,  Deftly plied his skillful fingers  To the strings that he had fashioned.  Now was gladness rolled on gladness,  And the harmony of pleasure  Echoed from the hills and mountains:  Added singing to his playing,  Out of joy did joy come welling,  Now resounded marvelous music,  All of Northland stopped and listened.  Every creature in the forest,  All the beasts that haunt the woodlands,  On their nimble feet came bounding,  Came to listen to his playing,  Came to hear his songs of joyance.  Leaped the squirrels from the branches,  Merrily from birch to aspen;  Climbed the ermines on the fences,  O'er the plains the elk-deer bounded,  And the lynxes purred with pleasure;  Wolves awoke in far-off swamp-lands,  Bounded o'er the marsh and heather,  And the bear his den deserted,  Left his lair within the pine-wood,  Settled by a fence to listen,  Leaned against the listening gate-posts,  But the gate-posts yield beneath him;  Now he climbs the fir-tree branches  That he may enjoy and wonder,  Climbs and listens to the music  Of the harp of Wainamoinen.  Tapiola's wisest senior,  Metsola's most noble landlord,  And of Tapio, the people,  Young and aged, men and maidens,  Flew like red-deer up the mountains  There to listen to the playing,  To the harp, of Wainamoinen.  Tapiola's wisest mistress,  Hostess of the glen and forest,  Robed herself in blue and scarlet,  Bound her limbs with silken ribbons,  Sat upon the woodland summit,  On the branches of a birch-tree,  There to listen to the playing,  To the high-born hero's harping,  To the songs of Wainamoinen.  All the birds that fly in mid-air  Fell like snow-flakes from the heavens,  Flew to hear the minstrel's playing,  Hear the harp of Wainamoinen.  Eagles in their lofty eyrie  Heard the songs of the enchanter;  Swift they left their unfledged young ones,  Flew and perched around the minstrel.  From the heights the hawks descended,  From the clouds down swooped the falcon,  Ducks arose from inland waters,  Swans came gliding from the marshes;  Tiny finches, green and golden,  Flew in flocks that darkened sunlight,  Came in myriads to listen;  Perched upon the head and shoulders  Of the charming Wainamoinen,  Sweetly singing to the playing  Of the ancient bard and minstrel.  And the daughters of the welkin,  Nature's well-beloved daughters,  Listened all in rapt attention;  Some were seated on the rainbow,  Some upon the crimson cloudlets,  Some upon the dome of heaven.  In their hands the Moon's fair daughters  Held their weaving-combs of silver;  In their hands the Sun's sweet maidens  Grasped the handles of their distaffs,  Weaving with their golden shuttles,  Spinning from their silver spindles,  On the red rims of the cloudlets,  On the bow of many colors.  As they hear the minstrel playing,  Hear the harp of Wainamoinen,  Quick they drop their combs of silver,  Drop the spindles from their fingers,  And the golden threads are broken,  Broken are the threads of silver.  All the fish in Suomi-waters  Heard the songs of the magician,  Came on flying fins to listen  To the harp of Wainamoinen.  Came the trout with graceful motions,  Water-dogs with awkward movements,  From the water-cliffs the salmon,  From the sea-caves came the whiting,  From the deeper caves the bill-fish;  Came the pike from beds of sea-fern,  Little fish with eyes of scarlet,  Leaning on the reeds and rushes,  With their heads above the surface;  Came to bear the harp of joyance,  Hear the songs of the enchanter.  Ahto, king of all the waters,  Ancient king with beard of sea-grass,  Raised his head above the billows,  In a boat of water-lilies,  Glided to the coast in silence,  Listened to the wondrous singing,  To the harp of Wainamoinen.  These the words the sea-king uttered:  "Never have I heard such playing,  Never heard such strains of music,  Never since the sea was fashioned,  As the songs of this enchanter,  This sweet singer, Wainamoinen."  Satko's daughters from the blue-deep,  Sisters of the wave-washed ledges,  On the colored strands were sitting,  Smoothing out their sea-green tresses  With the combs of molten silver,  With their silver-handled brushes,  Brushes forged with golden bristles.  When they hear the magic playing,  Hear the harp of Wainamoinen,  Fall their brushes on the billows,  Fall their combs with silver handles  To the bottom of the waters,  Unadorned their heads remaining,  And uncombed their sea-green tresses.  Came the hostess of the waters,  Ancient hostess robed in flowers,  Rising from her deep sea-castle,  Swimming to the shore in wonder,  Listened to the minstrel's playing,  To the harp of Wainamoinen.  As the magic tones re-echoed,  As the singer's song out-circled,  Sank the hostess into slumber,  On the rocks of many colors,  On her watery couch of joyance,  Deep the sleep that settled o'er her.  Wainamoinen, ancient minstrel,  Played one day and then a second,  Played the third from morn till even.  There was neither man nor hero,  Neither ancient dame, nor maiden,  Not in Metsola a daughter,  Whom he did not touch to weeping;  Wept the young, and wept the aged,  Wept the mothers, wept the daughters  Wept the warriors and heroes  At the music of his playing,  At the songs of the magician.  Wainamoinen's tears came flowing,  Welling from the master's eyelids,  Pearly tear-drops coursing downward,  Larger than the whortle-berries,  Finer than the pearls of ocean,  Smoother than the eggs of moor-hens,  Brighter than the eyes of swallows.  From his eves the tear-drops started,  Flowed adown his furrowed visage,  Falling from his beard in streamlets,  Trickled on his heaving bosom,  Streaming o'er his golden girdle,  Coursing to his garment's border,  Then beneath his shoes of ermine,  Flowing on, and flowing ever,  Part to earth for her possession,  Part to water for her portion.  As the tear-drops fall and mingle,  Form they streamlets from the eyelids  Of the minstrel, Wainamoinen,  To the blue-mere's sandy margin,  To the deeps of crystal waters,  Lost among the reeds and rushes.  Spake at last the ancient minstrel:  "Is there one in all this concourse,  One in all this vast assembly  That can gather up my tear-drops  From the deep, pellucid waters?"  Thus the younger heroes answered,  Answered thus the bearded seniors:  "There is none in all this concourse,  None in all this vast assembly,  That can gather up thy tear-drops  From the deep, pellucid waters."  Spake again wise Wainamoinen:  "He that gathers up my tear-drops  From the deeps of crystal waters  Shall receive a beauteous plumage."  Came a raven, flying, croaking,  And the minstrel thus addressed him:  "Bring, O raven, bring my tear-drops  From the crystal lake's abysses;  I will give thee beauteous plumage,  Recompense for golden service."  But the raven failed his master.  Came a duck upon the waters,  And the hero thus addressed him:  "Bring O water-bird, my tear-drops;  Often thou dost dive the deep-sea,  Sink thy bill upon the bottom  Of the waters thou dost travel;  Dive again my tears to gather,  I will give thee beauteous plumage,  Recompense for golden service."  Thereupon the duck departed,  Hither, thither, swam, and circled,  Dived beneath the foam and billow,  Gathered Wainamoinen's tear-drops  From the blue-sea's pebbly bottom,  From the deep, pellucid waters;  Brought them to the great magician,  Beautifully formed and colored,  Glistening in the silver sunshine,  Glimmering in the golden moonlight,  Many-colored as the rainbow,  Fitting ornaments for heroes,  Jewels for the maids of beauty.  This the origin of sea-pearls,  And the blue-duck's beauteous plumage.

RUNE XLII

CAPTURE OF THE SAMPO

  Wainamoinen, old and truthful,  With the blacksmith, Ilmarinen,  With the reckless son of Lempo,  Handsome hero, Kaukomieli,  On the sea's smooth plain departed,  On the far-extending waters,  To the village, cold and dreary,  To the never-pleasant Northland,  Where the heroes fall and perish.  Ilmarinen led the rowers  On one side the magic war-ship,  And the reckless Lemminkainen  Led the rowers on the other.  Wainamoinen, old and trusty,  Laid his hand upon the rudder,  Steered his vessel o'er the waters,  Through the foam and angry billows  To Pohyola's place of landing,  To the cylinders of copper,  Where the war-ships lie at anchor.  When they had arrived at Pohya,  When their journey they had ended,  On the land they rolled their vessel,  On the copper-banded rollers,  Straightway journeyed to the village,  Hastened to the halls and hamlets  Of the dismal Sariola.  Louhi, hostess of the Northland,  Thus addressed the stranger-heroes:  Magic heroes of Wainola,  What the tidings ye are bringing  To the people of my village?"  Wainamoinen, ancient minstrel.  Gave this answer to the hostess:  "All the hosts of Kalevala  Are inquiring for the Sampo,  Asking for the lid in colors;  Hither have these heroes journeyed  To divide the priceless treasure.  Thus the hostess spake in answer:  "No one would divide a partridge,  Nor a squirrel, with three heroes;  Wonderful the magic Sampo,  Plenty does it bring to Northland;  And the colored lid re-echoes  From the copper-bearing mountains,  From the stone-berg of Pohyola,  To the joy of its possessors."  Wainamoinen, ancient minstrel,  Thus addressed the ancient Louhi:  "If thou wilt not share the Sampo,  Give to us an equal portion,  We will take it to Wainola,  With its lid of many colors,  Take by force the hope of Pohya."  Thereupon the Northland hostess  Angry grew and sighed for vengeance;  Called her people into council,  Called the hosts of Sariola,  Heroes with their trusted broadswords,  To destroy old Wainamoinen  With his people of the Northland.  Wainamoinen, wise and ancient,  Hastened to his harp of fish-bone,  And began his magic playing;  All of Pohya stopped and listened,  Every warrior was silenced  By the notes of the magician;  Peaceful-minded grew the soldiers,  All the maidens danced with pleasure,  While the heroes fell to weeping,  And the young men looked in wonder.  Wainamoinen plays unceasing,  Plays the maidens into slumber,  Plays to sleep the young and aged,  All of Northland sleeps and listens.  Wise and wondrous Wainamoinen,  The eternal bard and singer,  Searches in his pouch of leather,  Draws therefrom his slumber-arrows,  Locks the eyelids of the sleepers,  Of the heroes of Pohyola,  Sings and charms to deeper slumber  All the warriors of the Northland.  Then the heroes of Wainola  Hasten to obtain the Sampo,  To procure the lid in colors  From the copper-bearing mountains.  From behind nine locks of copper,  In the stone-berg of Pohyola.  Wainamoinen, ancient minstrel,  Then began his wondrous singing,  Sang in gentle tones of magic,  At the entrance to the mountain,  At the border of the stronghold;  Trembled all the rocky portals,  And the iron-banded pillars  Fell and crumbled at his singing.  Ilmarinen, magic blacksmith,  Well anointed all the hinges,  All the bars and locks anointed,  And the bolts flew back by magic,  All the gates unlocked in silence,  Opened for the great magician.  Spake the minstrel Wainamoinen:  "O thou daring Lemminkainen,  Friend of mine in times of trouble,  Enter thou within the mountain,  Bring away the wondrous Sampo,  Bring away the lid in colors!"  Quick the reckless Lemminkainen,  Handsome hero, Kaukomieli,  Ever ready for a venture,  Hastens to the mountain-caverns,  There to find the famous Sampo,  There to get the lid in colors;  Strides along with conscious footsteps,  Thus himself he vainly praises:  "Great am I and full of glory,  Wonder-hero, son of Ukko,  I will bring away the Sampo,  Turn about the lid in colors,  Turn it on its magic hinges!"  Lemminkainen finds the wonder,  Finds the Sampo in the mountain,  Labors long with strength heroic,  Tugs with might and main to turn it;  Motionless remains the treasure,  Deeper sinks the lid in colors,  For the roots have grown about it,  Grown nine fathoms deep in sand-earth.  Lived a mighty ox in Northland,  Powerful in bone and sinew,  Beautiful in form and color,  Horns the length of seven fathoms,  Mouth and eyes of wondrous beauty.  Lemminkainen, reckless hero,  Harnesses the ox in pasture,  Takes the master-plow of Pohya,  Plows the roots about the Sampo,  Plows around the lid in colors,  And the sacred Sampo loosens,  Falls the colored lid in silence.  Straightway ancient Wainamoinen  Brings the blacksmith, Ilmarinen,  Brings the daring Lemminkainen,  Lastly brings the magic Sampo,  From the stone-berg of Pohyola,  From the copper-bearing mountain,  Hides it in his waiting vessel,  In the war-ship of Wainola.  Wainamoinen called his people,  Called his crew of men and maidens,  Called together all his heroes,  Rolled his vessel to the water,  Into billowy deeps and dangers.  Spake the blacksmith, Ilmarinen:  "Whither shall we take the Sampo,  Whither take the lid in colors,  From the stone-berg of Pohyola,  From this evil spot of Northland?"  Wainamoinen, wise and faithful,  Gave this answer to the question:  "Thither shall we take the Sampo,  Thither take the lid in colors,  To the fog-point on the waters,  To the island forest-covered;  There the treasure may be hidden,  May remain in peace for ages,  Free from trouble, free from danger,  Where the sword will not molest it."  Then the minstrel, Wainamoinen,  Joyful, left the Pohya borders,  Homeward sailed, and happy-hearted,  Spake these measures on departing:  "Turn, O man-of-war, from Pohya,  Turn thy back upon the strangers,  Turn thou to my distant country!  Rock, O winds, my magic vessel,  Homeward drive my ship, O billows,  Lend the rowers your assistance,  Give the oarsmen easy labor,  On this vast expanse of waters!  Give me of thine oars, O Ahto,  Lend thine aid, O King of sea-waves,  Guide as with thy helm in safety,  Lay thy hand upon the rudder,  And direct our war-ship homeward;  Let the hooks of metal rattle  O'er the surging of the billows,  On the white-capped waves' commotion."  Then the master, Wainamoinen,  Guided home his willing vessel;  And the blacksmith, Ilmarinen,  With the lively Lemminkainen,  Led the mighty host of rowers,  And the war-ship glided homeward  O'er the sea's unruffled surface,  O'er the mighty waste of waters.  Spake the reckless Lemminkainen:  "Once before I rode these billows,  There were viands for the heroes,  There was singing for the maidens;  But to-day I hear no singing,  Hear no songs upon the vessel,  Hear no music on the waters."  Wainamoinen, wise and ancient,  Answered thus wild Lemminkainen:  "Let none sing upon the blue-sea,  On the waters, no rejoicing;  Singing would prolong our journey,  Songs disturb the host of rowers;  Soon will die the silver sunlight,  Darkness soon will overtake us,  On this evil waste of waters,  On this blue-sea, smooth and level."  These the words of Lemminkainen:  "Time will fly on equal pinions  Whether we have songs or silence;  Soon will disappear the daylight,  And the night as quickly follow,  Whether we be sad or joyous."  Wainamoinen, the magician,  O'er the blue backs of the billows,  Steered one day, and then a second,  Steered the third from morn till even,  When the wizard, Lemminkainen,  Once again addressed the master:  "Why wilt thou, O famous minstrel,  Sing no longer for thy people,  Since the Sampo thou hast captured,  Captured too the lid in colors?"  These the words of Wainamoinen:  "'Tis not well to sing too early!  Time enough for songs of joyance  When we see our home-land mansions,  When our journeyings have ended!"  Spake the reckless Lemminkainen:  "At the helm, if I were sitting,  I would sing at morn and evening,  Though my voice has little sweetness;  Since thy songs are not forthcoming  Listen to my wondrous singing!"  Thereupon wild Lemminkainen,  Handsome hero, Kaukomieli,  Raised his voice above the waters,  O'er the sea his song resounded;  But his measures were discordant,  And his notes were harsh and frightful.  Sang the wizard, Lemminkainen,  Screeched the reckless Kaukomieli,  Till the mighty war-ship trembled;  Far and wide was heard his singing,  Heard his songs upon the waters,  Heard within the seventh village,  Heard beyond the seven oceans.  Sat a crane within the rushes,  On a hillock clothed in verdure,  And the crane his toes was counting;  Suddenly he heard the singing  Of the wizard, Lemminkainen;  And the bird was justly frightened  At the songs of the magician.  Then with horrid voice, and screeching,  Flew the crane across the broad-sea  To the lakes of Sariola,  O'er Pohyola's hills and hamlets,  Screeching, screaming, over Northland,  Till the people of the darkness  Were awakened from their slumbers.  Louhi hastens to her hurdles,  Hastens to her droves of cattle,  Hastens also to her garners,  Counts her herds, inspects her store-house;  Undisturbed she finds her treasures.  Quick she journeys to the entrance  To the copper-bearing mountain,  Speaks these words as she approaches:  "Woe is me, my life hard-fated,  Woe to Louhi, broken-hearted!  Here the tracks of the destroyers,  All my locks and bolts are broken  By the hands of cruel strangers!  Broken are my iron hinges,  Open stand the mountain-portals  Leading to the Northland-treasure.  Has Pohyola lost her Sampo?"  Then she hastened to the chambers  Where the Sampo had been grinding;  But she found the chambers empty,  Lid and Sampo gone to others,  From the stone-berg of Pohyola,  From behind nine locks of copper,  In the copper-bearing mountain.  Louhi, hostess of the Northland,  Angry grew and cried for vengeance;  As she found her fame departing,  Found her-strength fast disappearing,  Thus addressed the sea-fog virgin:  "Daughter of the morning-vapors,  Sift thy fogs from distant cloud-land,  Sift the thick air from the heavens,  Sift thy vapors from the ether,  On the blue-back of the broad-sea,  On the far extending waters,  That the ancient Wainamoinen,  Friend of ocean-wave and billow,  May not baffle his pursuers!  "Should this prayer prove unavailing,  Iku-Turso, son of Old-age,  Raise thy head above the billows,  And destroy Wainola's heroes,  Sink them to thy deep sea-castles,  There devour them at thy pleasure;  Bring thou back the golden Sampo  To the people of Pohyola!  "Should these words be ineffective,  Ukko, mightiest of rulers,  Golden king beyond the welkin,  Sitting on a throne of silver,  Fill thy skies with heavy storm-clouds,  Call thy fleetest winds about thee,  Send them o'er the seven broad-seas,  There to find the fleeing vessel,  That the ancient Wainamoinen  May not baffle his pursuers!"  Quick the virgin of the vapors  Breathed a fog upon the waters,  Made it settle on the war-ship  Of the heroes of the Northland,  Held the minstrel, Wainamoinen,  Anchored in the fog and darkness;  Bound him one day, then a second,  Then a third till dawn of morning,  In the middle of the blue-sea,  Whence he could not flee in safety  From the wrath of his pursuers.  When the third night had departed,  Resting in the sea, and helpless,  Wainamoinen spake as follows,  "Not a man of strength and courage,  Not the weakest of the heroes,  Who upon the sea will suffer,  Sink and perish in the vapors,  Perish in the fog and darkness!"  With his sword he smote the billows,  From his magic blade flowed honey;  Quick the vapor breaks, and rises,  Leaves the waters clear for rowing;  Far extend the sky and waters,  Large the ring of the horizon,  And the troubled sea enlarges.  Time had journeyed little distance,  Scarce a moment had passed over,  When they heard a mighty roaring,  Heard a roaring and a rushing  Near the border of the vessel,  Where the foam was shooting skyward  O'er the boat of Wainamoinen.  Straightway youthful Ilmarinen  Sank in gravest apprehension,  From his cheeks the blood departed;  Pulled his cap down o'er his forehead,  Shook and trembled with emotion.  Wainamoinen, ancient minstrel,  Casts his eyes upon the waters  Near the broad rim of his war-ship;  There perceives an ocean-wonder  With his head above the sea-foam.  Wainamoinen, brave and mighty,  Seizes quick the water-monster,  Lifts him by his ears and questions:  "Iku-Turso, son of Old-age,  Why art rising from the blue-sea?  Wherefore dost thou leave thy castle,  Show thyself to mighty heroes,  To the heroes of Wainola?"  Iku-Turso, son of Old-age,  Ocean monster, manifested  Neither pleasure, nor displeasure,  Was not in the least affrighted,  Did not give the hero answer.  Whereupon the ancient minstrel,  Asked the second time the monster,  Urgently inquired a third time:  "Iku-Turso, son of Old-age,  Why art rising from the waters,  Wherefore dost thou leave the blue-sea?  Iku-Turso gave this answer:  For this cause I left my castle  Underneath the rolling billows:  Came I here with the intention  To destroy the Kalew-heroes,  And return the magic Sampo  To the people of Pohyola.  If thou wilt restore my freedom,  Spare my life, from pain and sorrow,  I will quick retrace my journey,  Nevermore to show my visage  To the people of Wainola,  Never while the moonlight glimmers  On the hills of Kalevala!"  Then the singer, Wainamoinen,  Freed the monster, Iku-Turso,  Sent him to his deep sea-castles,  Spake these words to him departing:  "Iku-Turso, son of Old-age,  Nevermore arise from ocean,  Nevermore let Northland-heroes  See thy face above the waters I  Nevermore has Iku-Turso  Risen to the ocean-level;  Never since have Northland sailors  Seen the head of this sea-monster.  Wainamoinen, old and truthful,  Onward rowed his goodly vessel,  Journeyed but a little distance,  Scarce a moment had passed over,  When the King of all creators,  Mighty Ukko of the heavens,  Made the winds blow full of power,  Made the storms arise in fury,  Made them rage upon the waters.  From the west the winds came roaring,  From the north-east came in anger,  Winds came howling from the south-west,  Came the winds from all directions,  In their fury, rolling, roaring,  Tearing branches from the lindens,  Hurling needles from the pine-trees,  Blowing flowers from the heather,  Grasses blowing from the meadow,  Tearing up the very bottom  Of the deep and boundless blue-sea.  Roared the winds and lashed the waters  Till the waves were white with fury;  Tossed the war-ship high in ether,  Tossed away the harp of fish-bone,  Magic harp of Wainamoinen,  To the joy of King Wellamo,  To the pleasure of his people,  To the happiness of Ahto,  Ahto, rising from his caverns,  On the floods beheld his people  Carry off the harp of magic  To their home below the billows.  Wainamoinen, ancient minstrel,  Heavy-hearted, spake these measures:  "I have lost what I created,  I have lost the harp of joyance;  Now my strength has gone to others,  All my pleasure too departed,  All my hope and comfort vanished!  Nevermore the harp of fish-bone  Will enchant the hosts of Suomi!"  Then the blacksmith, Ilmarinen,  Sorrow-laden, spake as follows:  "Woe is me, my life hard-fated!  Would that I had never journeyed  On these waters filled with dangers,  On the rolling waste before me,  In this war-ship false and feeble.  Winds and storms have I encountered,  Wretched days of toil and trouble,  I have witnessed in the Northland;  Never have I met such dangers  On the land, nor on the ocean,  Never in my hero life-time!"  Then the ancient Wainamoinen  Spake and these the words he uttered:  "Weep no more, my goodly comrades,  In my bark let no one murmur;  Weeping cannot mend disaster,  Tears can never still misfortune,  Mourning cannot save from evil.  "Sea, command thy warring forces,  Bid thy children cease their fury!  Ahto, still thy surging billows!  Sink, Wellamo, to thy slumber,  That our boat may move in safety.  Rise, ye storm-winds, to your kingdoms,  Lift your heads above the waters,  To the regions of your kindred,  To your people and dominions;  Cut the trees within the forest,  Bend the lindens of the valley,  Let our vessel sail in safety!"  Then the reckless Lemminkainen,  Handsome wizard, Kaukomieli,  Spake these words in supplication:  "Come, O eagle, Turyalander,  Bring three feathers from thy pinions,  Three, O raven, three, O eagle,  To protect this bark from evil!"  All the heroes of Wainola  Call their forces to the rescue,  And repair the sinking vessel.  By the aid of master-magic,  Wainamoinen saved his war-ship,  Saved his people from destruction,  Well repaired his ship to battle  With the roughest seas of Northland;  Steers his mighty boat in safety  Through the perils of the whirlpool,  Through the watery deeps and dangers.