RUNE XXV
WAINAMOINEN'S WEDDING-SONGS

 
  At the home of Ilmarinen
  Long had they been watching, waiting,
  For the coming of the blacksmith,
  With his bride from Sariola.
  Weary were the eyes of watchers,
  Waiting from the father's portals,
  Looking from the mother's windows;
  Weary were the young knees standing
  At the gates of the magician;
  Weary grew the feet of children,
  Tramping to the walls and watching;
  Worn and torn, the shoes of heroes,
  Running on the shore to meet him.
  Now at last upon a morning
  Of a lovely day in winter,
  Heard they from the woods the rumble
  Of a snow-sledge swiftly bounding.
  Lakko, hostess of Wainola,
  She the lovely Kalew-daughter,
  Spake these words in great excitement:
  "'Tis the sledge of the magician,
  Comes at last the metal-worker
  From the dismal Sariola,
  By his side the Bride of Beauty!
  Welcome, welcome, to this hamlet,
  Welcome to thy mother's hearth-stone,
  To the dwelling of thy father,
  By thine ancestors erected!"
  Straightway came great Ilmarinen
  To his cottage drove the blacksmith,
  To the fireside of his father,
  To his mother's ancient dwelling.
  Hazel-birds were sweetly singing
  On the newly-bended collar;
  Sweetly called the sacred cuckoos
  From the summit of the break-board;
  Merry, jumped the graceful squirrel
  On the oaken shafts and cross-bar.
  Lakko, Kalew's fairest hostess,
  Beauteous daughter of Wainola,
  Spake these words of hearty welcome:
  "For the new moon hopes the village,
  For the sun, the happy maidens,
  For the boat, the swelling water;
  I have not the moon expected,
  For the sun have not been waiting,
  I have waited for my hero,
  Waited for the Bride of Beauty;
  Watched at morning, watched at evening,
  Did not know but some misfortune,
  Some sad fate had overtaken
  Bride and bridegroom on their journey;
  Thought the maiden growing weary,
  Weary of my son's attentions,
  Since he faithfully had promised
  To return to Kalevala,
  Ere his foot-prints had departed
  From the snow-fields of his father.
  Every morn I looked and listened,
  Constantly I thought and wondered
  When his sledge would rumble homeward,
  When it would return triumphant
  To his home, renowned and ancient.
  Had a blind and beggared straw-horse
  Hobbled to these shores awaiting,
  With a sledge of but two pieces,
  Well the steed would have been lauded,
  Had it brought my son beloved,
  Had it brought the Bride of Beauty.
  Thus I waited long, impatient,
  Looking out from morn till even,
  Watching with my head extended,
  With my tresses streaming southward,
  With my eyelids widely opened,
  Waiting for my son's returning
  To this modest home of heroes,
  To this narrow place of resting.
  Finally am I rewarded,
  For the sledge has come triumphant,
  Bringing home my son and hero,
  By his side the Rainbow maiden,
  Red her cheeks, her visage winsome,
  Pride and joy of Sariola.
  "Wizard-bridegroom of Wainola,
  Take thy-courser to the stable,
  Lead him to the well-filled manger,
  To the best of grain and clover;
  Give to us thy friendly greetings,
  Greetings send to all thy people.
  When thy greetings thou hast ended,
  Then relate what has befallen
  To our hero in his absence.
  Hast thou gone without adventure
  To the dark fields of Pohyola,
  Searching for the Maid of Beauty?
  Didst thou scale the hostile ramparts,
  Didst thou take the virgin's mansion,
  Passing o'er her mother's threshold,
  Visiting the halls of Louhi?
  "But I know without the asking,
  See the answer to my question:
  Comest from the North a victor,
  On thy journey well contented;
  Thou hast brought the Northland daughter,
  Thou hast razed the hostile portals,
  Thou hast stormed the forts of Louhi,
  Stormed the mighty walls opposing,
  On thy journey to Pohyola,
  To the village of the father.
  In thy care the bride is sitting,
  In thine arms, the Rainbow-maiden,
  At thy side, the pride of Northland,
  Mated to the highly-gifted.
  Who has told the cruel story,
  Who the worst of news has scattered,
  That thy suit was unsuccessful,
  That in vain thy steed had journeyed?
  Not in vain has been thy wooing,
  Not in vain thy steed has travelled
  To the dismal homes of Lapland;
  He has journeyed heavy laden,
  Shaken mane, and tail, and forelock,
  Dripping foam from lips and nostrils,
  Through the bringing of the maiden,
  With the burden of the husband.
  "Come, thou beauty, from the snow-sledge,
  Come, descend thou 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 beauteous things the maiden,
  With the spindle has accomplished,
  Spun and woven with her fingers
  Dresses of the finest texture
  She in winter has upfolded,
  Bleached them in the days of spring-time,
  Dried them at the hour of noon-day,
  For our couches finest linen,
  For our heads the softest pillows,
  For our comfort woollen blankets,
  For our necks the silken ribbons."
  To the bride speaks gracious Lakko:
  "Goodly wife, thou Maid of Beauty,
  Highly wert thou praised as daughter,
  In thy father's distant country;
  Here thou shalt be praised forever
  By the kindred of thy husband;
  Thou shalt never suffer sorrow,
  Never give thy heart to grieving;
  In the swamps thou wert not nurtured,
  Wert not fed beside the brooklets;
  Thou wert born 'neath stars auspicious,
  Nurtured from the richest garners,
  Thou wert taken to the brewing
  Of the sweetest beer in Northland.
  "Beauteous bride from Sariola,
  Shouldst thou see me bringing hither
  Casks of corn, or wheat, or barley;
  Bringing rye in great abundance,
  They belong to this thy household;
  Good the plowing of thy husband.
  Good his sowing and his reaping.
  "Bride of Beauty from the Northland,
  Thou wilt learn this home to manage,
  Learn to labor with thy kindred;
  Good the home for thee to dwell in,
  Good enough for bride and daughter.
  At thy hand will rest the milk-pail,
  And the churn awaits thine order;
  It is well here for the maiden,
  Happy will the young bride labor,
  Easy are the resting-benches;
  Here the host is like thy father,
  Like thy mother is the hostess,
  All the sons are like thy brothers,
  Like thy sisters are the daughters.
  "Shouldst thou ever have a longing
  For the whiting of the ocean,
  For thy, father's Northland salmon,
  For thy brother's hazel-chickens,
  Ask them only of thy husband,
  Let thy hero-husband bring them.
  There is not in all of Northland,
  Not a creature of the forest,
  Not a bird beneath the ether,
  Not a fish within the waters,
  Not the largest, nor the smallests
  That thy husband cannot capture.
  It is well here for the maiden,
  Here the bride may live in freedom,
  Need not turn the heavy millstone,
  Need not move the iron pestle;
  Here the wheat is ground by water,
  For the rye, the swifter current,
  While the billows wash the vessels
  And the surging waters rinse them.
  Thou hast here a lovely village,
  Finest spot in all of Northland,
  In the lowlands sweet the verdure,
  in the uplands, fields of beauty,
  With the lake-shore near the hamlet,
  Near thy home the running water,
  Where the goslings swim and frolic,
  Water-birds disport in numbers."
  Thereupon the bride and bridegroom
  Were refreshed with richest viands,
  Given food and drink abundant,
  Fed on choicest bits of reindeer,
  On the sweetest loaves of barley,
  On the best of wheaten biscuits,
  On the richest beer of Northland.
  Many things were on the table,
  Many dainties of Wainola,
  In the bowls of scarlet color,
  In the platters deftly painted,
  Many cakes with honey sweetened,
  To each guest was butter given,
  Many bits of trout and whiting,
  Larger salmon carved in slices,
  With the knives of molten silver,
  Rimmed with gold the silver handles,
  Beer of barley ceaseless flowing,
  Honey-drink that was not purchased,
  In the cellar flows profusely,