Kalevala (Kirby 1907)/Runo 7
Runo VII.—Väinämöinen and Louhi
Argument
Vainamoinen swims for several days on the open sea (1-88). The eagle, grateful to him for having spared the birch-tree for him to rest on, when he was felling the trees, takes Väinämöinen on his wings, and carries him to the borders of Pohjola, where the Mistress of Pohjola takes him to her abode, and receives him hospitably (89-274). Väinämöinen desires to return to his own country, and the Mistress of Pohjola permits him to depart, and promises him her daughter in marriage if he will forge the Sampo in Pohjola (275-322). Väinämöinen promises that when he returns home he will send the smith Ilmarinen to forge the Sampo, and the Mistress of Pohjola gives him a horse and a sledge to convey him home (323-368).
Väinämöinen, old and steadfast,
Swam upon the open ocean,
Drifting like a fallen pine-tree,
Like a rotten branch of fir-tree,
During six days of the summer,
And for six nights in succession,
While the sea spread wide before him,
And the sky was clear above him.
Thus he swam for two nights longer,
And for two days long and dreary.10
When the ninth night darkened round him,
And the eighth day had passed over,
Sudden anguish came upon him,
And his pain grew ever greater.
From his toes his nails were dropping,
And the joints from off his fingers.
Then the aged Väinämöinen
Spoke in words like those which follow:
“Woe to me, unhappy creature,
Overburdened with misfortune!20
I have wandered from my country,
And my ancient home abandoned.
’Neath the open sky for ever,
Driven along in sun and moonlight,
Rocked about by winds for ever,
Tossed about by every billow,
On the wide expanse of water,
Out upon the open ocean,
Here I live a cold existence,
And ’tis painful thus to wallow,30
Always tossing on the billows,
On the surface of the waters.
“Now, alas, I know no longer
How to lead this life of sadness
In this everlasting trouble,
In an age when all is fleeting.
Shall I rear in wind a dwelling,
Build a house upon the waters?
“If I rear in wind a dwelling,
Then the wind would not sustain it;40
If I build a house on water,
Then the waves will drift it from me.”
Came a bird from Lapland flying,
From the north-east came an eagle,
Not the largest of the eagles,
Nor was he among the smallest,
With one wing he swept the water,
To the sky was swung the other;
On the sea his tail he rested,
On the cliffs his beak he rattled.50
Slowly back and forwards flying,
Turning all around, and gazing,
Soon he saw old Väinämöinen
On the blue waves of the ocean.
“What has brought you here, O hero,
Wandering through the waves of ocean?”
Väinämöinen, old and steadfast,
Answered in the words which follow:
“This has brought the man to ocean,
Plunged the hero in the sea-waves.60
I would seek the maid of Pohja,
Woo the maiden of Pimentola.
“On my journey swift I hasted,
On the ocean’s watery surface,
Till about the time of daybreak,
Came I, after many mornings,
Where is Luotola’s deep embayment,
Hard by Joukola’s rapid river,
When my horse was shot beneath me,
By an arrow launched against me.70
“Thus I fell into the water,
In the waves I plunged my fingers,
And the wind impels me onward,
And the billows drift me forward.
“Then there came a gale from north-west,
From the east a mighty tempest,
Far away the tempest drove me,
Swimming from the land still further,
Many days have I been floating,
Many days have I been swimming, 80
On this wide expanse of water,
Out upon the open ocean.
And I cannot now conjecture,
Cannot guess, nor e’en imagine,
How I finally shall perish,
And what death shall overtake me
Whether I shall die of hunger,
Or shall sink beneath the waters.”
Said the bird of air, the eagle,
“Let thy heart be free from trouble;90
Climb upon my back, and seat thee,
Standing up upon my wing-tips,
From the sea will I transport thee,
Wheresoever thou may’st fancy.
For the day I well remember,
And recall a happier season,
When fell Kaleva’s green forest,
Cleared was Osmola’s famed island,
But thou didst protect the birch-tree,
And the beauteous tree left’st standing,100
That the birds might rest upon it,
And that I myself might sit there.”
Then the aged Väinämöinen
Raised his head from out the water,
From the sea the man sprang upward,
From the waves the hero mounted,
On the eagle’s wings he sat him,
On the wing-tips of the eagle.
Then the bird of air, the eagle,
Raised the aged Väinämöinen,110
Through the path of wind he bore him,
And along the east-wind’s pathway,
To the utmost bounds of Pohja,
Onwards to the misty Sariola,
There abandoned Väinämöinen,
Soared into the air, and left him.
There stood Väinämöinen weeping,
There stood weeping and lamenting,
On the borders of the ocean,
On a land whose name he knew not,120
With a hundred wounds upon him,
By a thousand winds belaboured,
And his beard was much disordered,
And his hair was all entangled.
Thus he wept for two, and three nights,
For as many days stood weeping,
For the country round he knew not,
And no path could he discover,
Which perchance might lead him homeward,
Back to a familiar country,130
To his own, his native country,
Where he passed his days aforetime.
But the little maid of Pohja,
Fair-haired damsel of the household,
With the sun had made agreement,
And both sun and moon had promised,
They would always rise together,
And they would awake together.
She herself arose before them,
Ere the sun or moon had risen,140
Long before the time of cockcrow,
Or the chirping of a chicken.
From five sheep she shore the fleeces,
Clipped the wool from off six lambkins,
In her loom she wove the fleeces,
And the whole with care she carded,
Long before the dawn of morning,
Long before the sun had risen.
After this she washed the tables,
Swept the wide-extended flooring,150
With the broom of twigs all leafless,
Then with broom of leafy branches.
Then the sweepings she collected
In the dustpan made of copper;
Out of doors she took the rubbish,
To the field beyond the farmyard,
To the field’s extremest limit,
Where the lowest fence has opening.
There she stood upon the sweepings,
And she turned around, and listened.160
From the lake she heard a weeping,
Sounds of woe across the river.
Quickly then she hastened homeward,
And she hurried to the parlour.
As she came, she told her tidings,
In such words as those which follow:
“From the lake I hear a weeping,
Sounds of woe across the river.”
Louhi, Pohjola’s old Mistress,
Old and gap-toothed dame of Pohja,170
Hastened forth into the farmyard,
Hurried to the fence’s opening,
Where she bent her ear to listen,
And she spoke the words which follow:
“This is not like childhood’s weeping,
Nor like women’s lamentation,
But a bearded hero weeping;
Thus weep men whose chins are bearded.”
Three planks high the boat was builded,
Which she pushed into the water,180
And herself began to row it,
And she rowed, and hastened onward
To the spot where Väinämöinen,
Where the hero was lamenting.
There was Väinämöinen weeping,
There Uvanto’s swain lamented,
By the dreary clumps of willow,
By the tangled hedge of cherry.
Moved his mouth, his beard was shaking,
But his lips he did not open.190
Then did Pohjola’s old Mistress,
Speak unto, and thus addressed him:
“O thou aged man unhappy,
Thou art in a foreign country!”
Väinämöinen, old and steadfast,
Lifted up his head and answered
In the very words that follow:
“True it is, and well I know it,
I am in a foreign country,
Absolutely unfamiliar.200
I was better in my country,
Greater in the home I came from.”
Louhi, Pohjola’s old Mistress,
Answered in the words which follow:
“In the first place you must tell me,
If I may make bold to ask you,
From what race you take your lineage,
And from what heroic nation?”
Väinämöinen, old and steadfast,
Answered in the words which follow:210
“Well my name was known aforetime,
And in former days was famous,
Ever cheerful in the evening,
Ever singing in the valleys,
There in Väinölä’s sweet meadows,
And on Kalevala’s broad heathlands;
But my grief is now so heavy
That I know myself no longer.”
Louhi, Pohjola’s old Mistress,
Answered in the words which follow:220
“Rise, O man, from out the marshes,
Hero, seek another pathway.
Tell me now of thy misfortunes,
And relate me thy adventure.”
Thus she made him cease his weeping,
Made the hero cease lamenting,
And into her boat she took him,
Bade him at the stern be seated,
And herself resumed the oars,
And she then began to row him230
Unto Pohjola, o’er water,
And she brought him to her dwelling.
Then she fed the famished stranger,
And she dried his dripping garments,
Then she rubbed his limbs all stiffened,
And she warmed him and shampooed him,
Till she had restored his vigour,
And the hero had recovered.
After this, she spoke and asked him,
In the very words which follow:240
“Why did’st weep, O Väinämöinen,
Why lament, Uvantolainen,
In that miserable region,
On the borders of the lakelet?”
Väinämöinen, old and steadfast,
Answered in the words which follow:
“Cause enough have I for weeping,
Reason, too, for lamentation,
In the sea I long was swimming,
Tossed about upon the billows,250
On the wide expanse of water,
Out upon the open ocean.
“I must weep throughout my lifespan,
And lament throughout my lifetime,
That I swam beyond my country,
Left the country so familiar,
And have come to doors I know not,
And to hedge-gates that I know not,
All the trees around me pain me,
All the pine-twigs seem to pierce me,260
Every birch-tree seems to flog me,
Every alder seems to wound me,
But the wind is friendly to me,
And the sun still shines upon me,
In this unaccustomed country,
And within the doors I know not.”
Louhi, Pohjola’s old Mistress,
Answered in the words which follow:
“Do not weep, O Väinämöinen,
Nor lament, Uvantolainen.270
Here ’tis good for thee to sojourn,
And to pass thy days in comfort.
Salmon you can eat at table,
And beside it pork is standing.”
But the aged Väinämöinen
Answered in the words which follow:
“Foreign food I do not relish,
In the best of strangers’ houses.
In his land a man is better,
In his home a man is greater.280
Grant me, Jumala most gracious,
O compassionate Creator,
Once again to reach my country,
And the land I used to dwell in!
Better is a man’s own country,
Water from beneath the sabot,
Than in unfamiliar countries,
Mead to drink from golden goblets.”
Louhi, Pohjola’s old Mistress,
Answered in the words which follow:290
“What are you prepared to give me,
If I send you to your country,
To the borders of your cornfields,
Or the bath-house of your dwelling?”
Said the aged Väinämöinen,
“Tell me then what I shall give you,
If you send me to my country,
To the borders of my cornfields,
There to hear my cuckoo calling,
And my birds so sweetly singing.300
Will you choose a gold-filled helmet,
Or a hat filled up with silver?”
Louhi, Pohjola’s old Mistress,
Answered in the words which follow:
"O thou wisest Väinämöinen,
Thou the oldest of the sages,
Golden gifts I do not ask for,
And I wish not for thy silver.
Gold is but a toy for children,
Silver bells adorn the horses,310
But if you can forge a Sampo,
Weld its many-coloured cover,
From the tips of swan’s white wing-plumes,
From the milk of barren heifer,
From a single grain of barley,
From a single fleece of ewe’s wool,
Then will I my daughter give you,
Give the maiden as your guerdon,
And will bring you to your country,
There to hear the birds all singing,320
There to hear your cuckoo calling,
On the borders of your cornfields.”
Väinämöinen, old and steadfast,
Answered in the words which follow:
“No, I cannot forge a Sampo,
Nor can weld its pictured cover.
Only bring me to my country,
And I’ll send you Ilmarinen,
Who shall forge a Sampo for you,
Weld its many-coloured cover.330
He perchance may please the maiden,
Win your daughter’s young affections.
“He’s a smith without an equal,
None can wield the hammer like him,
For ’twas he who forged the heaven,
And who wrought the air’s foundations,
Yet we find no trace of hammer,
Nor the trace of tongs discover.”
Louhi, Pohjola’s old Mistress,
Answered in the words which follow:340
“I will only yield my daughter,
And my child I promise only
To the man who welds a Sampo
With its many-coloured cover,
From the tips of swan’s white wing-plumes,
From the milk of barren heifer,
From a single grain of barley,
From a single fleece of ewe’s wool.”
Thereupon the colt she harnessed,
In the front she yoked the bay one,350
And she placed old Väinämöinen
In the sledge behind the stallion.
And she spoke and thus addressed him,
In the very words which follow:
“Do not raise your head up higher,
Turn it not to gaze about you,
That the steed may not be wearied,
Till the evening shall have gathered.
If you dare to raise your head up,
Or to turn to gaze around you,360
Then misfortune will o’ertake you,
And an evil day betide you.”
Then the aged Väinämöinen
Whipped the horse, and urged him onward,
And the white-maned courser hastened
Noisily upon the journey,
Forth from Pohjola’s dark regions,
Sariola for ever misty.