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But my virtues all have left me

       In these mournful days of evil,

       Vanished with my youth and vigor,

       Insight gone, and sense departed,

       All my prudence gone to others!

       Aino, whom I love and cherish,

       All these years have sought to honor,

       Aino, now Wellamo's maiden,

       Promised friend of mine when needed,

       Promised bride of mine forever,

       Once I had within my power,

       Caught her in Wellamo's grottoes,

       Led her to my boat of copper,

       With my fish-line made of silver;

       But alas! I could not keep her,

       Did not know that I had caught her

       Till too late to woo and win her;

       Let her slip between my fingers

       To the home of water-maidens,

       To the kingdom of Wellamo."

       Wainamoinen then departed,

       Empty-handed, heavy-hearted,

       Straightway hastened to his country,

       To his home in Kalevala,

       Spake these words upon his journey:

       "What has happened to the cuckoo,

       Once the cuckoo bringing gladness,

       In the morning, in the evening,

       Often bringing joy at noontide?

       What has stilled the cuckoo's singing,

       What has changed the cuckoo's calling?

       Sorrow must have stilled his singing,

       And compassion changed his calling,

       As I hear him sing no longer,

       For my pleasure in the morning,

       For my happiness at evening.

       Never shall I learn the secret,

       How to live and how to prosper,

       How upon the earth to rest me,

       How upon the seas to wander!

       Only were my ancient mother

       Living on the face of Northland,

       Surely she would well advise me,

       What my thought and what my action,

       That this cup of grief might pass me,

       That this sorrow might escape me,

       And this darkened cloud pass over."

       In the deep awoke his mother,

       From her tomb she spake as follows:

       "Only sleeping was thy mother,

       Now awakes to give thee answer,

       What thy thought and what thine action,

       That this cup of grief may pass thee,

       That this sorrow may escape thee,

       And this darkened cloud pass over.

       Hie thee straightway to the Northland,

       Visit thou the Suomi daughters;

       Thou wilt find them wise and lovely,

       Far more beautiful than Aino,

       Far more worthy of a husband,

       Not such silly chatter-boxes,

       As the fickle Lapland maidens.

       Take for thee a life-companion,

       From the honest homes of Suomi,

       One of Northland's honest daughters;

       She will charm thee with her sweetness,

       Make thee happy through her goodness,

       Form perfection, manners easy,

       Every step and movement graceful,

       Full of wit and good behavior,

       Honor to thy home and kindred."

RUNE VI.

       Table of Contents

WAINAMOINEN'S HAPLESS JOURNEY.

       Table of Contents

      Wainamoinen, old and truthful,

       Now arranges for a journey

       To the village of the Northland,

       To the land of cruel winters,

       To the land of little sunshine,

       To the land of worthy women;

       Takes his light-foot, royal racer,

       Then adjusts the golden bridle,

       Lays upon his back the saddle,

       Silver-buckled, copper-stirruped,

       Seats himself upon his courser,

       And begins his journey northward;

       Plunges onward, onward, onward,

       Galloping along the highway,

       In his saddle, gaily fashioned,

       On his dappled steed of magic,

       Plunging through Wainola's meadows,

       O'er the plains of Kalevala.

       Fast and far he galloped onward,

       Galloped far beyond Wainola,

       Bounded o'er the waste of waters,

       Till he reached the blue-sea's margin,

       Wetting not the hoofs in running.

       But the evil Youkahainen

       Nursed a grudge within his bosom,

       In his heart the worm of envy,

       Envy of this Wainamoinen,

       Of this wonderful enchanter.

       He prepares a cruel cross-bow,

       Made of steel and other metals,

       Paints the bow in many colors,

       Molds the top-piece out or copper,

       Trims his bow with snowy silver,

       Gold he uses too in trimming,

       Then he hunts for strongest sinews,

       Finds them in the stag of Hisi,

       Interweaves the flax of Lempo.

       Ready is the cruel cross-bow,

       String, and shaft, and ends are finished,

       Beautiful the bow and mighty,

       Surely cost it not a trifle;

       On the back a painted courser,

       On each end a colt of beauty,

       Near the curve a maiden sleeping

       Near the notch a hare is bounding,

       Wonderful the bow thus fashioned;

       Cuts some arrows for his quiver,

       Covers them with finest feathers,

       From the oak the shafts be fashions,

       Makes the tips of keenest metal.

       As the rods and points are finished,

       Then he feathers well his arrows

       From the plumage of the swallow,

      

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