And to what again I tell thee.
Thou must brew the ale of barley,
From the malt the sweet drink fashion,
From a single grain of barley,
And by burning half a tree-trunk.
When the malt begins to sweeten,
Take thou up the malt and taste it. 400
With the rake disturb it never,
Do not use a stick to turn it,
Always use your hands to stir it,
And your open hands to turn it.
Go thou often to the malthouse,
Do not let the sprout be injured,
Let the cat not sit upon it,
Or the tomcat sleep upon it.
Of the wolves have thou no terror,
Fear thou not the forest monsters, 410
When thou goest to the bath-house,
Or at midnight forth must wander.
"When a stranger pays a visit,
Be not angry with the stranger,
For a well-appointed household,
Always has for guests provision:
Scraps of meat that are not needed,
Cakes of bread the very nicest.
"Ask the guest to sit and rest him,
With the guest converse in friendship, 420
With thy talk amuse the stranger,
Till the dinner shall be ready.
"When the house the stranger's leaving,
And he's taking his departure,
Do not thou go with the stranger
Any further than the housedoor,
Lest the husband should be angry,
And thy darling should be gloomy.
"If you e'er feel inclination
To the village forth to wander, 430
Ask permission ere thou goest,
There to gossip with the strangers.
In the time that you are absent,
Speak thy words with heedful caution,
Do not grumble at your household,
Nor thy mother-in-law abuse thou.
"If the village girls should ask you,
Any of the village women,
'Does your mother-in-law give butter,
As at home your mother gave you?' 440
Never do thou make the answer,
'No, she does not give me butter;'
Tell thou always that she gives it,
Gives it to you by the spoonful,
Though 'twas only once in summer,
And another time in winter.
"List again to what I tell thee,
And again impress upon thee.
When at length this house thou leavest,
And thou comest to the other, 450
Do thou not forget thy mother,
Or despise thy dearest mother,
For it was thy mother reared thee,
And her beauteous breasts that nursed thee,
From her own delightful body,
From her form of perfect whiteness.
Many nights has she lain sleepless,
Many meals has she forgotten,
While she rocked thee in thy cradle,
Watching fondly o'er her infant. 460
"She who should forget her mother,
Or despise her dearest mother,
Ne'er to Manala should travel,
Nor to Tuonela go cheerful.
There in Manala is anguish,
Hard in Tuonela the reckoning,
If she has forgot her mother,
Or despised her dearest mother.
Tuoni's daughters come reproaching,
Mana's maidens all come mocking: 470
'Why hast thou forgot thy mother,
Or despised thy dearest mother?
Great the sufferings of thy mother,
Great her sufferings when she bore thee,
Lying groaning in the bathroom,
On a couch of straw extended,
When she gave thee thy existence,
Giving birth to thee, the vile one!'"
On the ground there sat an old crone,
Sat an old dame 'neath her mantle, 480
Wanderer o'er the village threshold,
Wanderer through the country's footpaths,
And she spoke the words which follow,
And in words like these expressed her:
"To his mate the cock was singing,
Sang the hen's child to his fair one,
And in March the crow was croaking,
And in days of spring was chattering;
Rather let my singing fail me,
Let me rather check my singing, 490
Chattering in a house all golden,
Always near to one who loves me;
But no love nor house is left me,
And all love departed from me.
"Hear, O sister, what I tell thee,
When thy husband's house thou seekest,
Follow not thy husband's notions,
As was done by me unhappy.
Larks have tongues, and husbands notions;
But a lover's heart is greater. 500
"I was as a flower that flourished,
As a wild rose in the thicket,
And I grew as grows a sapling,
Grew into a slender maiden.
I was beauteous as a berry,
Rustling in its golden beauty;
In my father's yard a duckling,
On my mother's floor a gosling,
Water-bird unto my brother,
And a goldfinch to my sister. 510
Flowerlike walked I on the pathway,
As upon the plain the raspberry,
Skipping on the sandy lakeshore,
Dancing on the flower-clad hillocks,
Singing loud in every valley,
Carolling on every hill-top,
Sporting in the leafy forests,
In the charming woods rejoicing.
"As the trap the fox-mouth seizes,
And the tongue entraps the ermine, 520
Towards a man inclines a maiden,
And the ways of other households.
So created is the maiden,
That the daughter's inclination
Leads her married, as step-daughter,
As the slave of husband's mother.
As a berry grows in marshland,
And in other waters, cherry.
Like a cranberry sought I sorrow,
Like a strawberry exhortation. 530
Every tree appeared to bite me,
Every alder seemed to tear me,
Every birch appeared to scold me,
Every aspen to devour me.
"As my husband's bride they brought me,
To my mother-in-law they led me.
Here there were, as they had told me,
Waiting for the wedded maiden,
Six large rooms of pine constructed,
And of bedrooms twice as many. 540
Barns along the forest-borders,
By the roadside flowery gardens,
By the ditches fields of barley,
And along the heaths were oatfields,
Chests of corn threshed out already,
Other chests awaiting threshing,
Hundred coins received already,
And a hundred more expected.
"Foolishly had I gone thither,
Recklessly my hand had given, 550
For six props the house supported,
Seven small poles the house supported,
And the woods were filled with harshness,
And with lovelessness the forests,
By the roadsides dreary deserts,
In the woodlands thoughts of evil,
Chests containing spoilt provisions,
Other chests beside them spoiling;
And a hundred words reproachful,
And a hundred more to look for. 560
"But I let it not distress me,
Hoping there to live in quiet,
Wishing there to dwell in honour,
And a peaceful life to live there;
But when first the room I entered,
Over chips of wood I stumbled.
On the door I knocked my forehead,
And my head against the doorposts.
At the door were eyes of strangers:
Darksome eyes were at the entrance, 570
Squinting eyes in midst of chamber,
In the background eyes most evil.
From the mouths the fire was flashing,
From beneath the tongues shot firebrands,
From the old man's mouth malicious,
From beneath his tongue unfriendly.
"But I let it not distress me,
In the house I dwelt unheeding,
Hoping still to live in favour,
And I bore myself with meekness, 580
And with legs of hare went skipping,
With the step of ermine hurried,
Very late to rest retired,
Very early rose to suffering.
But, unhappy, won no honour,
Mildness brought me only sorrow,
Had I tossed away the torrents,
Or the rocks in twain had cloven.
"Vainly did I grind coarse flour,
And with pain I crushed its hardness, 590
That my mother-in-law should eat it,
And her ravenous throat devour it,
At the table-end while sitting,
From a dish with golden borders.
But I ate, unhappy daughter,
Flour scraped up, to handmill cleaving,
With my ladle from the hearthstone,
With my spoon from off the pestle.
"Oft I brought, O me unhappy,
I, the son's wife, to his dwelling, 600
Mosses from the swampy places,
And as bread for me I baked it.
Water from the well I carried,
And I drank it up in mouthfuls.
Fish I ate, O me unhappy,
Smelts I ate, O me unhappy,
As above the net I leaned me,
In the boat as I was swaying,
For no fish received I ever
From my mother-in-law neglectful, 610
Neither in a day of plenty,
Nor a day of double plenty.
"Fodder gathered I in summer,
Winter worked I with the pitchfork,
Even as a labourer toiling,
Even as a hired servant,
And my mother-in-law for ever,
Evermore for me selected,
Worst of all the flails for threshing,
Heaviest mallet from the bathroom, 620
From the beach the heaviest mallet,
In the stall the largest pitchfork.
Never did they think me weary,
Nor my weakness e'er considered,
Though my work had wearied heroes,
Or the strength of foals exhausted.
"Thus did I, a girl unhappy,
Work at proper time for working,
And my shoulders stooped with weakness;
And at other times they ordered 630
That the fire should now be kindled,
With my hands that I should stir it.
"To their hearts' desire they scolded,
With their tongues they heaped reproaches
On my spotless reputation,
On my character, though stainless.
Evil words they heaped upon me,
And abuse they showered upon me,
Like the sparks from furious fire,
Or a very hail of iron. 640
"Until then despaired I never,
And had spent my life as erstwhile
There to aid the harsh old woman,
To her fiery tongue submitting:
But 'twas this that brought me evil,
This that caused me greatest anguish,
When to wolf was changed my husband,
To a growling bear converted,
Turned his side to me when eating,
Turned his back asleep or working. 650
"I myself broke out in weeping,
And I pondered in the storehouse,
And my former life remembering,
And my life in former seasons,
In the homestead of my father,
In my sweetest mother's dwelling.
"Then in words I spoke my feelings,
And I spoke the words which follow:
'Well indeed my dearest mother
Understood to rear her apple, 660
And the tender shoot to cherish,
But she knew not where to plant it,
For the tender shoot is planted
In a very evil station,
In a very bad position,
'Mid the hard roots of a birch-tree,
There to weep while life remaineth,
And to spend the months lamenting.
"'Surely, surely, I am worthy
Of a home than this much better, 670
Worthy of a larger homestead,
And a floor more wide-extended,
Worthy of a better partner,
And a husband far more handsome.
With a birchbark shoe I'm fitted,
With a slipshod shoe of birchbark,
Like a very crow's his body,
With a beak like any raven,
And his mouth like wolf's is greedy,
And his form a bear resembles. 680
"'Such a one I might have found me,
If I'd wandered to the mountains,
Picked from off the road a pine-stump,
From the wood a stump of alder,
For his face the turf resembles,
And his beard the moss from tree-trunks,
Head of clay, and mouth all stony,
And his eyes like coals of fire,
Knobs of birch his ears resemble,
And his legs are forking willows.' 690
"While my song I thus was singing,
Sighing in my grievous trouble,
He, my husband, chanced to hear it,
At the wall as he was standing.
When I heard him then approaching,
At the storehouse gate when standing,
I was conscious of his coming,
For I recognized his footstep.
And his hair in wind was tossing,
And his hair was all disordered, 700
And his gums with rage were grinning,
And his eyes with fury staring,
In his hand a stick of cherry,
'Neath his arm a club he carried,
And he hurried to attack me,
And upon the head he struck me.
"When the evening came thereafter,
And there came the time for sleeping,
At his side a rod he carried,
Took from nail a whip of leather, 710
Not designed to flay another,
But alas, for me, unhappy.
"Then when I myself retired,
To my resting-place at evening,
By my husband's side I stretched me,
By my side my husband rested,
When he seized me by the elbows,
With his wicked hands he grasped me,
And with willow rods he beat me,
And the haft of bone of walrus. 720
"From his cold side then I raised me,
And I left the bed of coldness,
But behind me ran my husband,
From the door came wildly rushing.
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 passion 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 shores 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 grass is rustling,
And the harder grass 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.
"Stand thou like a wall before her,
Stand before her like a doorpost, 200
Do not let thy mother beat her,
Do not let thy father scold her,
Do not let the guests abuse her,
Do not let the neighbours blame her.
Drive the mob away with whipping,
Beat thou other people only,
Do thou not oppress thy darling,
Nor chastise thy heart's beloved,
Whom for three long years thou waitedst,
She whom thou alone hast longed for. 210
"Bridegroom, give thy bride instruction,
And do thou instruct thy apple,
In the bed do thou instruct her,
And behind the door advise her,
For a whole year thus instruct her,
Thus by word of mouth advise her,
With thine eyes the next year teach her,
And the third year teach by stamping.
"If to this she pays no heeding,
Nor concerns herself about it, 220
Choose a reed where reeds are growing,
From the heath fetch thou some horse-tail,
And with these correct the damsel,
In the fourth year thus correct her,
With the stalks then whip her lightly,
With the rough edge of the sedges,
But with whiplash do not strike her,
Neither with the rod correct her.
"If to this she pays no heeding,
Nor concerns herself about it, 230
Bring a switch from out the thicket,
In the dell select a birch-rod,
Underneath thy fur cloak hide it,
That the neighbours may not know it,
Let the damsel only see it;
Threaten her, but do not touch her.