Kalevala, The Land of the Heroes, Volume Two. Anonymous
of Pohjola, and to avenge this, the Mistress of Pohjola raises an army against him (283-420).
Now that I have brought my Kauko,
Carried Ahto Saarelainen,
Often past Death's jaw expanded,
Past the very tongue of Kalma,
To the banquet held at Pohja,
And to the concealed carousal,
Now must I relate in detail,
And my tongue relate in fulness,
How the lively Lemminkainen,
He the handsome Kaukomieli, 10
To the homestead came of Pohja,
Halls of Sariola the misty,
Uninvited to the banquet,
To the drinking-bout unbidden.
Thus the lively Lemminkainen,
Ruddy youth, and arrant scoundrel,
In the room at once came forward,
Walking to the very middle;
'Neath him swayed the floor of linden,
And the room of firwood rattled. 20
Spoke the lively Lemminkainen,
And he said the words which follow:
"Greetings to ye on my coming,
Greetings also to the greeter!
Hearken, Pohjola's great Master,
Have you here within this dwelling,
Barley for the horse's fodder,
Beer to offer to the hero?"
There sat Pohjola's great Master,
At the end of the long table, 30
And from thence he made his answer,
In the very words which follow:
"Perhaps there is within this dwelling,
Standing room for your fine courser,
Nor would I indeed forbid you
In the room a quiet corner,
Or to stand within the doorway,
In the doorway, 'neath the rafters,
In the space between two kettles,
There where three large hoes are standing." 40
Then the lively Lemminkainen
Tore his black beard in his anger,
('Twas the colour of a kettle),
And he spoke the words which follow:
"Lempo might perchance be willing,
Thus to stand within the doorway,
Where he might with soot be dirtied,
While the soot falls all around him!
But at no time did my father,
Never did my aged father 50
Ever stand in such a station,
In the doorway, 'neath the rafters!
There was always room sufficient
For his horse within the stable,
And a clean room for the hero,
And a place to put his gloves in,
Pegs whereon to hang his mittens,
Walls where swords may rest in order.
Why should I not also find it,
As my father always found it?" 60
After this he strode on further,
To the end of the long table,
At the bench-end then he sat him,
At the end of bench of firwood,
And the bench it cracked beneath him,
And the bench of firwood tottered.
Said the lively Lemminkainen,
"Seems to me that I'm unwelcome,
As no ale is offered to me,
To the guest who just has entered." 70
Ilpotar, the noble Mistress,
Answered in the words which follow:
"O thou boy, O Lemminkainen,
Not as guest thou com'st among us,
But upon my head to trample,
And to make it bow before you,
For our ale is still in barley.
Still in malt the drink delicious,
And the wheatbread still unbaken,
And unboiled the meat remaineth. 80
Yesternight you should have entered,
Or perchance have come to-morrow."
Then the lively Lemminkainen,
Twisted mouth and turned his head round,
Tore his black beard in his anger,
And he spoke the words which follow:
"Eaten is the feast already,
Finished feast, and drunk the bride-ale,
And the ale has been divided,
To the men the mead been given, 90
And the cans away been carried,
And the pint-pots laid in storage.
"Pohjola's illustrious Mistress,
Long-toothed Mistress of Pimentola,
Thou hast held the wedding badly,
And in doggish fashion held it,
Baked the bread in loaves enormous,
Thou hast brewed the beer of barley,
Six times sent thy invitations,
Nine times hast thou sent a summons, 100
Thou hast asked the poor, the spectres,
Asked the scum, and asked the wastrels,
Asked the leanest of the loafers,
Labourers with one garment only;
All folks else thou hast invited,
Me rejected uninvited.
"Wherefore should I thus be treated,
When I sent myself the barley?
Others brought it by the spoonful,
Others poured it out by dishfuls, 110
But I poured it out in bushels,
By the half-ton out I poured it,
Of my own, the best of barley,
Corn which I had sown aforetime.
"'Tis not now that Lemminkainen,
Is a guest of great distinction,
For no ale is offered to me,
Nor the pot set on the fire.
In the pot is nothing cooking,
Not a pound of pork you give me, 120
Neither food nor drink you give me,
Now my weary journey's ended."
Ilpotar, the noble Mistress,
Uttered then the words which follow:
"O my little waiting-maiden,
O my ever-ready servant,
Put into the pot some dinner,
Bring some ale to give the stranger."
Then the girl,