Kalevala : the Epic Poem of Finland – Volume 02. Неизвестный автор

        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