Northward drove the wind the fragments,
Where the little maid of Pohja,
Stood on beach, and washed her head-dress,
And she washed her clothes and rinsed them,
On the shingle by the ocean,
On a tongue of land projecting.

On the waves she saw the fragments,
Put them in her birchbark wallet,
In her wallet took them homeward;
In the well-closed yard she stored them,
For the arrows of the sorcerer,
For the chase to furnish weapons.

When the oak at last had fallen,
And the evil tree was levelled,
Once again the sun shone brightly,
And the pleasant moonlight glimmered,
And the clouds extended widely,
And the rainbow spanned the heavens, 
O’er the cloud-encompassed headland,
And the island’s misty summit.

Then the wastes were clothed with verdure,
And the woods grew up and flourished;
Leaves on trees and grass in meadows.
In the trees the birds were singing,
Loudly sang the cheery throstle;
In the tree-tops called the cuckoo.

Then the earth brought forth her berries;
Shone the fields with golden blossoms;
Herbs of every species flourished;
Plants and trees of all descriptions;
But the barley would not flourish,
Nor the precious seed would ripen.

Then the aged Väinämöinen,
Walked around, and deeply pondered,
By the blue waves’ sandy margin,
On the mighty ocean’s border,
And six grains of corn he found there,
Seven fine seeds of corn he found there,
On the borders of the ocean,
On the yielding sandy margin.
In a marten’s skin he placed them,
From the leg of summer squirrel.

Then he went to sow the fallows;
On the ground the seeds to scatter,
Near to Kaleva’s own fountain,
And upon the field of Osmo.

From a tree there chirped the titmouse:
“Osmo’s barley will not flourish,
Nor will Kaleva’s oats prosper,
While untilled remains the country,
And uncleared remains the forest,
Nor the fire has burned it over.”

Väinämöinen, old and steadfast,
Ground his axe-blade edge to sharpness
And began to fell the forest,
Toiling hard to clear the country.
All the lovely trees he levelled,
Sparing but a single birch-tree, 
That the birds might rest upon it,
And from thence might call the cuckoo.

In the sky there soared an eagle,
Of the birds of air the greatest,
And he came and gazed around him.
“Wherefore is the work unfinished,
And the birch-tree still unfallen?
Wherefore spare the beauteous birch-tree?”

Said the aged Väinämöinen,
“Therefore is the birch left standing,
That the birds may perch upon it;
All the birds of air may rest there.”

Said the bird of air, the eagle,
“Very wisely hast thou acted,
Thus to leave the birch-tree standing
And the lovely tree unfallen,
That the birds may perch upon it,
And that I myself may rest there.”

Then the bird of air struck fire,
And the flames rose up in brightness,
While the north wind fanned the forest,
And the north-east wind blew fiercely.
All the trees were burned to ashes,
Till the sparks were quite extinguished.

Then the aged Väinämöinen,
Took the six seeds from his satchel,
And he took the seven small kernels,
From the marten’s skin he took them,
From the leg of summer squirrel,
From the leg of summer ermine.

Then he went to sow the country,
And to scatter seeds around him,
And he spoke the words which follow;
“Now I stoop the seeds to scatter,
As from the Creator’s fingers,
From the hand of Him Almighty,
That the country may be fertile,
And the corn may grow and flourish.

“Patroness of lowland country,
Old one of the plains; Earth-Mother, 
Let the tender blade spring upward,
Let the earth support and cherish.
Might of earth will never fail us,
Never while the earth existeth,
When the Givers are propitious.
And Creation’s daughters aid us.

“Rise, O earth; from out thy slumber,
Field of the Creator, rouse thee,
Make the blade arise and flourish.
Let the stalks grow up and lengthen,
That the ears may grow by thousands,
Yet a hundredfold increasing,
By my ploughing and my sowing,
In return for all my labour.

“Ukko, thou of Gods the highest.
Father, thou in heaven abiding,
Thou to whom the clouds are subject.
Of the scattered clouds the ruler,
All thy clouds do thou assemble,
In the light make clear thy counsel,
Send thou forth a cloud from eastwards
In the north-west let one gather,
Send thou others from the westward,
Let them drive along from southward.
Send the light rain forth from heaven,
Let the clouds distil with honey,
That the corn may sprout up strongly,
And the stalks may wave and rustle.”

Ukko, then, of Gods the highest,
Father of the highest heaven,
Heard, and all the clouds assembled.
In the light made clear his counsel,
And he sent a cloud from eastward.
In the north-west let one gather,
Others, too, he sent from westward,
Let them drive along from southward,
Linked them edge to edge together,
And he closed the rifts between them.
Then he sent the rain from heaven,
And the clouds distilled sweet honey, 
That the corn might sprout up stronger,
And the stalks might wave and rustle.
Thus the sprouting germ was nourished,
And the rustling stalks grew upward,
From the soft earth of the cornfield.
Through the toil of Väinämöinen.

After this, two days passed over,
After two nights, after three nights,
When the week was full completed,
Väinämöinen, old and steadfast,
Wandered forth to see the progress;
How his ploughing and his sowing
And his labours had resulted.
There he found the barley growing,
And the ears were all six-cornered,
And the stalks were all three-knotted.

Then the aged Väinämöinen
Wandered on and gazed around him,
And the cuckoo, bird of springtime,
Came and saw the birch-tree growing.
“Wherefore is the birch left standing,
And unfelled the slender birch-tree?”

Said the aged Väinämöinen,
“Therefore is the birch left standing,
And unfelled the slender birch-tree,
As a perch for thee, O Cuckoo;
Whence the cuckoo’s cry may echo.
From thy sand-hued throat cry sweetly,
With thy silver voice call loudly,
With thy tin-like voice cry clearly,
Call at morning, call at evening,
And at noontide call thou likewise,
To rejoice my plains surrounding,
That my woods may grow more cheerful,
That my coast may grow more wealthy,
And my region grow more fruitful.”

Runo III.
Väinämöinen and Joukahainen

Argument

Väinämöinen increases in wisdom and composes songs (1-20). Joukahainen sets out to contend with him in wisdom; but as he cannot overcome him, he challenges him to a duel, whereupon Väinämöinen grows angry, and sinks him in a swamp by his magic songs (21-330). Joukahainen, in great distress, finally offers his sister Aino in marriage to Väinämöinen, who accepts the offer and releases him (331-476). Joukahainen returns home discomfited, and relates his misfortunes to his mother (477-524). The mother rejoices at the prospect of such an alliance, but the daughter laments and weeps (525-580).

Väinämöinen, old and steadfast
Passed the days of his existence
Where lie Väinölä’s sweet meadows,
Kalevala’s extended heathlands:
There he sang his songs of sweetness
Sang his songs and proved his wisdom.

Day by day he sang unwearied,
Night by night discoursed unceasing,
Sang the songs of by-gone ages,
Hidden words of ancient wisdom,
Songs which all the children sing not.
All beyond men’s comprehension,
In these ages of misfortune,
When the race is near Its ending.

Far away the news was carried,
Far abroad was spread the tidings
Of the songs of Väinämöinen,
Of the wisdom of the hero;
In the south was spread the rumour;
Reached to Pohjola the tidings.

Here dwelt youthful Joukahainen,
He, the meagre youth of Lapland;
And, when visiting the village,
Wondrous tales he heard related, 
How there dwelt another minstrel,
And that better songs were carolled.
Far in Väinölä’s sweet meadows,
Kalevala’s extended heathlands;
Better songs than he could compass;
Better than his father taught him.

This he heard with great displeasure,
And his heart was filled with envy
That the songs of Väinämöinen
Better than his own were reckoned.
Then he went to seek his mother;
Sought her out, the aged woman,
And declared that he would journey,
And was eager to betake him,
Unto Väinölä’s far dwellings,
That he might contend with Väinö.

But his father straight forbade him.
Both his father and his mother,
Thence to Väinölä to journey,
That he might contend with Väinö.
“He will surely sing against you,
Sing against you, and will ban you,
Sink your mouth and head in snow-drifts,
And your hands in bitter tempest:
Till your hands and feet are stiffened,
And incapable of motion.”

Said the youthful Joukahainen,
“Good the counsel of my father,
And my mother’s counsel better;
Best of all my own opinion.
I will set myself against him,
And defy him to a contest,
I myself my songs will sing him,
I myself will speak my mantras;
Sing until the best of minstrels
Shall become the worst of singers.
Shoes of stone will I provide him,
Wooden trousers on his haunches;
On his breast a stony burden,
And a rock upon his shoulders; 
Stony gloves his hands shall cover.
And his head a stony helmet.”

Then he went his way unheeding,
Went his way, and fetched his gelding,
From whose mouth the fire was flashing,
’Neath whose legs the sparks were flying.
Then the fiery steed he harnessed,
To the golden sledge he yoked him,
In the sledge himself he mounted,
And upon the seat he sat him,
O’er the horse his whip he brandished,
With the beaded whip he smote him,
From the place the horse sprang quickly,
And he darted lightly forwards.

On he drove with thundering clatter,
As he drove a day, a second,
Driving also on the third day,
And at length upon the third day,
Came to Väinölä’s sweet meadows,
Kalevala’s extended heathlands.

Väinämöinen, old and steadfast,
He, the oldest of magicians,
As it chanced was driving onward,
Peacefully his course pursuing
On through Väinölä’s sweet meadows,
Kalevala’s extended heathlands.

Came the youthful Joukahainen
Driving on the road against him,
And the shafts were wedged together,
And the reins were all entangled,
And the collar jammed with collar,
And the runners dashed together.

Thus their progress was arrested,
Thus they halted and reflected;
Sweat dropped down upon the runners;
From the shafts the steam was rising.

Asked the aged Väinämöinen,
“Who are you, and what your lineage,
You who drive so reckless onward,
Utterly without reflection? 
Broken are the horses’ collars,
And the wooden runners likewise;
You have smashed my sledge to pieces.
Broke the sledge in which I travelled.”

Then the youthful Joukahainen
Answered in the words which follow:
“I am youthful Joukahainen;
But yourself should also tell me,
What your race, and what your nation,
And from what vile stock you issue.”

Väinämöinen, old and steadfast,
Told his name without concealment,
And began to speak as follows:
“Youth, if you are Joukahainen,
You should move aside a little.
For remember, you are younger.”

But the youthful Joukahainen
Answered in the words which follow:
“Here of youthfulness we reck not;
Nought doth youth or age concern us,
He who highest stands in knowledge,
He whose wisdom is the greatest,
Let him keep the path before him,
And the other yield the passage.
If you are old Väinämöinen,
And the oldest of the minstrels,
Let us give ourselves to singing,
Let us now repeat our sayings,
That the one may teach the other.
And the one surpass the other,”

Väinämöinen, old and steadfast,
Answered in the words which follow:
“What can I myself accomplish
As a wise man or a singer?
I have passed my life in quiet,
Here among these very moorlands,
On the borders of my home-field
I have heard the cuckoo calling.
But apart from this at present,
I will ask you to inform me 
What may be your greatest wisdom;
And the utmost of your knowledge?”

Said the youthful Joukahainen,
“Many things I know in fulness,
And I know with perfect clearness,
And my insight shows me plainly,
In the roof we find the smoke-hole,
And the fire is near the hearthstone.

“Joyful life the seal is leading,
In the waves there sports the sea-dog,
And he feeds upon the salmon,
And the powans round about him.

“Smooth the water loved by powans,
Smooth the surface, too, for salmon;
And in frost the pike is spawning,
Slimy fish in wintry weather.
Sluggish is the perch, the humpback,
In the depths it swims in autumn,
But it spawns in drought of summer,
Swimming slowly to the margin.

“If this does not yet suffice you,
I am wise in other matters,
And of weighty things can tell you.
In the north they plough with reindeer,
In the south the mare is useful,
And the elk In furthest Lapland.

“Trees I know on Pisa mountain,
Firs upon the rocks of Horna,
Tall the trees on Pisa mountain,
And the firs on rocks of Horna.

“Three great waterfalls I know of,
And as many lakes extensive,
And as many lofty mountains,
Underneath the vault of heaven.
Halläpyörä is in Hame,
Karjala has Kaatrakoski,
But they do not match the Vuoksi,
There where Imatra is rushing.”

Said the aged Väinämöinen,
“Childish tales, and woman’s wisdom, 
But for bearded men unsuited,
And for married men unfitted.
Tell me words of deepest wisdom.
Tell me now of things eternal.”

Then the youthful Joukahainen
Answered in the words which follow:
“Well I know whence comes the titmouse,
That the titmouse is a birdie,
And a snake the hissing viper,
And the ruffe a fish in water.
And I know that hard is iron,
And that mud when black is bitter.
Painful, too, is boiling water,
And the heat of fire is hurtful,
Water is the oldest medicine,
Cataract’s foam a magic potion;
The Creator’s self a sorcerer,
Jumala the Great Magician.

“From the rock springs forth the water,
And the fire from heaven descendeth,
And from ore we get the iron,
And in hills we find the copper.

“Marshy country is the oldest,
And the first of trees the willow.
Pine-roots were the oldest houses,
And the earliest pots were stone ones.”

Väinämöinen, old and steadfast,
Answered in the words which follow:
“Is there more that you can tell me,
Or is this the end of nonsense?”

Said the youthful Joukahainen,
“Many little things I wot of,
And the time I well remember
When ’twas I who ploughed the ocean,
Hollowed out the depths of ocean,
And I dug the caves for fishes,
And I sunk the deep abysses,
When the lakes I first created,
And I heaped the hills together.
And the rocky mountains fashioned.

“Then I stood with six great heroes!
I myself the seventh among them.
When the earth was first created,
And the air above expanded;
For the sky I fixed the pillars.
And I reared the arch of heaven,
To the moon assigned his journey,
Helped the sun upon his pathway,
To the Bear his place appointed,
And the stars in heaven I scattered,”

Said the aged Väinämöinen,
“Ay, indeed, a shameless liar!
You at least were never present
When the ocean first was furrowed,
And the ocean depths were hollowed.
And the caves were dug for fishes,
And the deep abysses sunken,
And the lakes were first created,
When the hills were heaped together,
And the rocky mountains fashioned.

“No one ever yet had seen you,
None had seen you, none had heard you.
When the earth was first created,
And the air above expanded,
When the posts of heaven were planted,
And the arch of heaven exalted,
When the moon was shown his pathway,
And the sun was taught to journey,
When the Bear was fixed in heaven,
And the stars in heaven were scattered.”

But the youthful Joukahainen
Answered in the words which follow:
“If I fail in understanding,
I will seek it at the sword-point.
O thou aged Väinämöinen,
O thou very broad-mouthed minstrel,
Let us measure swords together,
Let the blade decide between us.”

Said the aged Väinämöinen,
“I have little cause to fret me 
Either for your sword or wisdom,
For your sword-point or your judgment.
But, apart from this at present,
I will draw no sword upon you,
So contemptible a fellow,
And so pitiful a weakling.”

Then the youthful Joukahainen
Shook his head, his mouth drawn crooked,
And he tossed his locks of blackness.
And he spake the words which follow:

“He who shuns the sword’s decision,
Nor betakes him to his sword-blade,
To a swine I soon will sing him,
To a snouted swine transform him.
Heroes I have thus o’erpowered,
Hither will I drive and thither.
And will pitch them on the dunghill,
Grunting in the cowshed corner.”

Angry then was Väinämöinen,
Filled with wrath and indignation,
And himself commenced his singing,
And to speak his words of wisdom.
But he sang no childish ditties,
Children’s songs and women’s jesting,
But a song for bearded heroes,
Such as all the children sing not,
Nor a half the boys can master,
Nor a third can lovers compass,
In the days of dark misfortune,
When our life is near its ending.

Sang the aged Väinämöinen;
Lakes swelled up, and earth was shaken,
And the coppery mountains trembled.
And the mighty rocks resounded.
And the mountains clove asunder;
On the shore the stones were shivered.
Then he sang of Joukahainen,
Changed his runners into saplings,
And to willows changed the collar,
And the reins he turned to alder, 
And he sang the sledge all gilded,
To the lake among the rushes,
And the whip, with beads embellished,
To a reed upon the water,
And the horse, with front white-spotted
To a stone beside the torrent.

Then he sang his sword, gold-hilted,
To a lightning-flash in heaven,
And his ornamented crossbow,
To a rainbow o’er the water,
And he sang his feathered arrows,
Into hawks that soar above him;
And his dog, with upturned muzzle,
Stands a stone in earth embedded.

From his head, his cap, by singing,
Next became a cloud above him,
From his hands, his gloves, by singing,
Next were changed to water-lilies,
And the blue coat he was wearing,
Floats a fleecy cloud in heaven,
And the handsome belt that girt him,
In the sky as stars he scattered.

As he sang, sank Joukahainen
Waist-deep in the swamp beneath him,
Hip-deep in the marshy meadow,
To his arm-pits in a quicksand.
Then indeed young Joukahainen
Knew at last, and comprehended;
And he knew his course was finished,
And his journey now was ended.
For in singing he was beaten,
By the aged Väinämöinen.

He would raise his foot to struggle
But he could no longer lift it;
Then he tried to lift the other,
But as shod with stone he felt it.

Then the youthful Joukahainen
Felt the greatest pain and anguish,
And he fell in grievous trouble,
And he spoke the words which follow: 
“O thou wisest Väinämöinen,
O thou oldest of magicians,
Speak thy words of magic backwards,
And reverse thy songs of magic.
Loose me from this place of terror,
And release me from my torment.
I will pay the highest ransom,
And the fixed reward will give thee.”

Said the aged Väinämöinen,
“What do you propose to give me,
If I turn my words of magic,
And reverse my songs of magic,
Loose you from this place of terror,
And release you from your torment?”

Said the youthful Joukahainen,
“I’ve two crossbows I could give you,
Ay, a pair of splendid crossbows,
One shoots forth with passing quickness,
Surely hits the mark the other.
If it please you, choose between them.”

Said the aged Väinämöinen,
“No, your bows I do not covet,
For the wretched bows I care not;
I myself have plenty of them.
All the walls are decked with crossbows,
All the pegs are hung with crossbows;
In the woods they wander hunting,
Nor a hero needs to span them.”

Then the youthful Joukahainen
In the swamp he sang yet deeper.
Said the youthful Joukahainen,
“I have yet two boats to offer;
Splendid boats, as I can witness,
One is light, and fit for racing,
Heavy loads will bear the other;
If it please you, choose between them.”

Said the aged Väinämöinen,
“No, your boats I do not covet,
And I will not choose between them,
I myself have plenty of them. 
All the staves are full already,
Every creek is crowded with them,
Boats to face the gale adapted,
Boats against the wind that travel.”

Then the youthful Joukahainen,
in the swamp he sang yet deeper.

Said the youthful Joukahainen,
“I have still two noble stallions;
Ay, a pair of handsome horses;
One of these of matchless swiftness,
And the other best in harness.
If it please you, choose between them.”

Said the aged Väinämöinen,
“No, I do not want your horses;
Do not need your steeds, white-footed.
I myself have plenty of them.
Every stall has now its tenant,
Every stable’s filled with horses,
With their backs like water shining;
Lakes of fat upon their haunches.”

Then the youthful Joukahainen,
In the swamp he sang yet deeper.

Said the youthful Joukahainen,
“O thou aged Väinämöinen,
Speak thy words of magic backwards,
And reverse thy songs of magic.
I will give a golden helmet,
And a hat filled up with silver,
Which my father won in warfare,
Which he won in battle-struggle.”

Said the aged Väinämöinen,
“No, I do not want your silver,
And for gold, I only scorn it.
I myself have both in plenty.
Every storeroom crammed with treasure.
Every chest is overflowing.
Gold as ancient as the moonlight,
Silver with the sun coeval.”

Then the youthful Joukahainen
In the swamp he sang yet deeper.

Said the youthful Joukahainen,
“O thou aged Väinämöinen,
Loose me from this place of terror,
And release me from my torment.
All my stacks at home I’ll give thee,
And my fields I likewise promise,
All to save my life I offer,
If you will accept my ransom.”

Said the aged Väinämöinen,
“No, your barns I do not covet,
And your fields are ’neath my notice,
I myself have plenty of them.
Fields are mine in all directions,
Stocks are reared on every fallow,
And my own fields please me better,
And my stacks of corn are finest.”

Then the youthful Joukahainen
In the swamp he sang yet deeper.

Then the youthful Joukahainen,
Felt at length the greatest anguish,
Chin-deep in the swamp while sinking,
In the mud his beard was draggled,
In the moss his mouth was sunken,
And his teeth among the tree-roots.

Said the youthful Joukahainen,
“O thou wisest Väinämöinen,
O thou oldest of magicians,
Sing once more thy songs of magic,
Grant the life of one so wretched,
And release me from my prison.
In the stream my feet are sunken,
With the sand my eyes are smarting.

“Speak thy words of magic backwards,
Break the spell that overwhelms me!
You shall have my sister Aino,
I will give my mother’s daughter.
She shall dust your chamber for you,
Sweep the flooring with her besom,
Keep the milk-pots all in order;
And shall wash your garments for you. 
Golden fabrics she shall weave you,
And shall bake you cakes of honey.”

Then the aged Väinämöinen,
Heard his words, and grew full joyful,
Since to tend his age was promised
Joukahainen’s lovely sister.

On the stone of joy he sat him,
On the stone of song he rested,
Sang an hour, and sang a second,
And again he sang a third time:
Thus reversed his words of magic,
And dissolved the spell completely.

Then the youthful Joukahainen
From the mud his chin uplifted,
And his beard he disentangled,
From the rock his steed led forward,
Drew his sledge from out the bushes,
From the reeds his whip unloosing.

Then upon his sledge he mounted,
And upon the seat he sat him,
And with gloomy thoughts he hastened,
With a heart all sad and doleful,
Homeward to his dearest mother,
Unto her, the aged woman.

On he drove with noise and tumult,
Home he drove in consternation,
And he broke the sledge to pieces,
At the door the shafts were broken.

Then the noise alarmed his mother,
And his father came and asked him,
“Recklessly the sledge was broken;
Did you break the shafts on purpose?
Wherefore do you drive so rashly,
And arrive at home so madly?”

Then the youthful Joukahainen
Could not keep his tears from flowing;
Sad he bowed his head in sorrow,
And his cap awry he shifted,
And his lips were dry and stiffened,
O’er his mouth his nose was drooping.

Then his mother came and asked him
Wherefore was he sunk in sorrow.
“O my son, why weep so sadly?
O my darling, why so troubled,
With thy lips so dry and stiffened,
O’er thy mouth thy nose thus drooping?”

Said the youthful Joukahainen,
“O my mother, who hast borne me,
There is cause for what has happened,
For the sorcerer has o’ercome me.
Cause enough have I for weeping,
And the sorcerer’s brought me sorrow.
I myself must weep for ever,
And must pass my life in mourning,
For my very sister Aino,
She, my dearest mother’s daughter,
I have pledged to Väinämöinen,
As the consort of the minstrel,
To support his feeble footsteps,
And to wait upon him always.”

Joyous clapped her hands his mother,
Both her hands she rubbed together,
And she spoke the words which follow:
“Do not weep, my son, my dearest,
For thy tears are quite uncalled for.
Little cause have we to sorrow,
For the hope I long have cherished.
All my lifetime I have wished it,
And have hoped this high-born hero
Might akin to us be reckoned,
And the minstrel Väinämöinen
Might become my daughter’s husband.”

But when Joukahainen’s sister
Heard, she wept in deepest sorrow,
Wept one day, and wept a second,
At the threshold ever weeping,
Wept in overwhelming sorrow,
In the sadness of her spirit.

Then her mother said consoling,
“Wherefore weep, my little Aino? 
You have gained a valiant bridegroom,
And the home of one most noble,
Where you’ll look from out the window,
Sitting on the bench and talking.”

But her daughter heard and answered,
“O my mother who hast borne me,
Therefore have I cause for weeping,
Weeping for the beauteous tresses,
Now my youthful head adorning,
And my hair so soft and glossy,
Which must now be wholly hidden,
While I still am young and blooming.

“Then must I through lifetime sorrow
For the splendour of the sunlight,
And the moonbeam’s charming lustre
And the glory of the heavens,
Which I leave, while still so youthful,
And as child must quite abandon,
I must leave my brother’s work-room,
Just beyond my father’s window.”

Said the mother to the daughter,
To the girl the crone made answer,
“Cast away this foolish sorrow,
Cease your weeping, all uncalled for,
Little cause have you for sorrow,
Little cause for lamentation.
God’s bright sun is ever shining
On the world in other regions,
Shines on other doors and windows
Than your father’s or your brother’s;
Berries grow on every mountain,
Strawberries on the plains are growing,
You can pluck them in your sorrow
Wheresoe’er your steps may lead you;
Not alone on father’s acres,
Or upon your brother’s clearings.”

Runo IV.
The Fate of Aino

Argument

Väinämöinen meets Aino in the wood and addresses her (1-20). Aino hurries home weeping, and informs her mother (21-116). Her mother forbids her to weep, and tells her to rejoice, and to adorn herself handsomely (117-188). Aino continues to weep, and declares that she will never take a very old man as her husband (189-254). She wanders sorrowfully into the wild woods, and reaches the banks of a strange unknown lake, where she goes to bathe, and is lost in the water (255-370). The animals commission the hare to carry the tidings of Aino’s death to her home (371-434). Her mother weeps for her night and day (435-518).

Then the little maiden Aino,
Youthful Joukahainen’s sister,
Went for besoms to the greenwood,
Sought for bath-whisks in the bushes;
One she gathered for her father,
And a second for her mother,
And she gathered yet another,
For her young and ruddy brother.

As she turned her footsteps homeward,
Pushing through the alder-bushes,
Came the aged Väinämöinen,
And he saw her in the thicket,
Finely clad among the herbage,
And he spoke the words which follow.
“Maiden, do not wear for others,
But for me alone, O maiden,
Round thy neck a beaded necklace,
And a cross upon thy bosom.
Plait for me thy beauteous tresses,
Bind thy hair with silken ribands.”

But the young maid gave him answer,
“Not for thee, and not for others,
Rests the cross upon my bosom,
And my hair is bound with ribands. 
Nought I care for sea-borne raiment;
Wheaten bread I do not value.
I will walk in home-spun garments,
And with crusts will still my hunger,
In my dearest father’s dwelling,
And beside my much-loved mother.”

From her breast she took the crosslet,
Drew the rings from off her fingers,
From her neck the beaded necklace,
From her head the scarlet ribands.
Down upon the ground she threw them,
Scattered them among the bushes;
Then she hastened, ever weeping,
Loud lamenting, to the homestead.

At the window sat her father,
While he carved a hatchet-handle.
“Wherefore weepest thou, my daughter,
Young, and yet so full of sadness?”

“Cause enough have I for weeping,
Cause for weeping and lamenting.
Therefore weep I, dearest father,
Weep, and feel so full of sorrow.
From my breast I lost the crosslet,
From my belt I dropped the buckle,
From my breast my silver crosslet,
From my waist the copper girdle.”

At the gate, her brother sitting,
For the sledge was shaping runners.
“Wherefore weepest thou, my sister,
Young, and yet so full of sorrow?”

“Cause enough have I for weeping,
Cause for weeping and lamenting.
Therefore do I weep, poor brother,
Weep, and feel so full of sorrow.
Rings I lost from off my fingers,
From my neck my beaded necklace,
And my finger-rings were golden,
And my necklace-beads were silver.”

At the window sat her sister,
As she wove a golden girdle 
“Wherefore weepest thou, poor sister,
Young, and yet so full of sorrow?”

“Cause enough have I for weeping,
Cause for weeping and lamenting.
Therefore do I weep, poor sister,
Weep and feel so full of sorrow.
From my brow the gold has fallen,
From my hair I lost the silver,
Tore the blue bands from my temples,
From my head the scarlet braiding.”

On the threshold of the storehouse,
Skimming milk, she found her mother.
“Wherefore weepest thou, my daughter,
Young, and yet so full of sorrow?”

“O my mother, who hast borne me,
O my mother, who hast nursed me,
Cause enough have I for anguish,
Cause enough for bitter sorrow.
Therefore do I weep, poor mother,
Therefore grieve I, O my mother,
To the wood I went for besoms,
Gathered bath-whisks from the bushes;
One I gathered for my father,
One I gathered for my mother,
And I gathered yet another,
For my young and ruddy brother.
As I turned my footsteps homeward,
And across the heath was tripping,
From the dell there called Osmoinen,
From the field cried Kalevainen,

“Do not wear, fair maid, for others,
But for me alone, poor maiden,
Round thy neck a beaded necklace,
And a cross upon thy bosom.
Plait for me thy beauteous tresses,
Braid thy hair with silken ribands.”

“From my breast I took the crosslet,
From my neck the beaded necklace,
Tore the blue bands from my temples,
From my head the scarlet ribands, 
Then upon the ground I threw them,
Scattered them among the bushes,
And I answered him in this wise:
‘Not for thee, and not for others,
Rests my cross upon my bosom,
And my hair is bound with ribands.
Nought I care for sea-borne raiment,
Wheaten bread I do not value.
I will walk in home-spun garments,
And with crusts will still my hunger,
In my dearest father’s dwelling,
And beside my much-loved mother.’”