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

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


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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,

        Beer for all, the tongues to quicken,

        Mead and beer the minds to freshen.

        Who is there to lead the singing,

        Lead the songs of Kalevala?

        Wainamoinen, old and truthful,

        The eternal, wise enchanter,

        Quick begins his incantations,

        Straightway sings the songs that follow.

        "Golden brethren, dearest kindred,

        Ye, my loved ones, wise and worthy

        Ye companions, highly-gifted,

        Listen to my simple sayings:

        Rarely stand the geese together,

        Sisters do not mate each other,

        Not together stand the brothers,

        Nor the children of one mother,

        In the countries of the Northland.

        "Shall we now begin the singing,

        Sing the songs of old tradition?

        Singers can but sing their wisdom,

        And the cuckoo call the spring-time,

        And the goddess of the heavens

        Only dyes the earth in beauty;

        So the goddesses of weaving

        Can but weave from dawn till twilight,

        Ever sing the youth of Lapland

        In their straw-shoes full of gladness,

        When the coarse-meat of the roebuck,

        Or of blue-moose they have eaten.

        Wherefore should I not be singing,

        And the children not be chanting

        Of


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