The Kalevala Elias Lönnrot (read more books .TXT) 📖

“Didst thou think, my fairest maiden,
Thou couldst wed and on the morrow
Couldst return, if thou shouldst wish it,
To thy father’s court and dwelling?
Not for one, nor two, nor three days,
Wilt thou leave thy mother’s chambers,
Leave thy sisters and thy brothers,
Leave thy father’s hills and lowlands.
Long the time the wife must wander,
Many months and years must wander,
Work, and struggle, all her life long,
Even though the mother liveth.
Great, indeed, must be the changes
When thou comest back to Pohya,
Changed, thy friends and nearest kindred,
Changed, thy father’s ancient dwellings,
Changed, the valleys and the mountains,
Other birds will sing thy praises!”

When the mother thus had spoken,
Then the daughter spake, departing:
“In my early days of childhood
Often I intoned these measures:
‘Art a virgin, yet no virgin,
Guided by an aged mother,
In a brother’s fields and forests,
In the mansion of a father!
Only wilt become a virgin,
Only when thou hast a suitor,
Only when thou wedst a hero,
One foot on the father’s threshold,
And the other for the snow-sledge
That will speed thee and thy husband
To his native vales and highlands!’

“I have wished thus many summers,
Sang it often in my childhood,
Hoped for this as for the flowers,
Welcome as the birds of spring-time.
Thus fulfilled are all my wishes,
Very near is my departure,
One foot on my father’s threshold,
And the other for the journey
With my husband to his people;
Cannot understand the reason
That has changed my former feelings,
Cannot leave thee now with gladness,
Cannot go with great rejoicing
From my dear, old home and kindred,
Where as maiden I have lingered,
From the courts where I was nurtured,
From my father’s hand and guidance,
From my faithful mother’s counsel.
Now I go, a maid of sorrow,
Heavy-hearted to the bridegroom,
Like the bride of Night in winter,
Like the ice upon the rivers.

“Such is not the mind of others,
Other brides of Northland heroes;
Others do not leave unhappy,
Have no tears, nor cares, nor sorrows,
I alas! must weep and murmur,
Carry to my grave great sadness,
Heart as dark as Death’s black river.

“Such the feelings of the happy,
Such the minds of merry maidens:
Like the early dawn of spring-time,
Like the rising Sun in summer;
No such radiance awaits me,
With my young heart filled with terror;
Happiness is not my portion,
Like the flat-shore of the ocean,
Like the dark rift of the storm-cloud,
Like the cheerless nights of winter!
Dreary is the day in autumn,
Dreary too the autumn evening,
Still more dreary is my future!”

An industrious old maiden,
Ever guarding home and kindred,
Spake these words of doubtful comfort:
“Dost thou, beauteous bride, remember,
Canst thou not recall my counsels?
These the words that I have taught thee:
‘Look not joyfully for suitors,
Never heed the tongues of wooers,
Look not in the eyes of charmers,
At their feet let fall thy vision.
He that hath a mouth for sweetness,
He that hath an eye for beauty,
Offers little that will comfort;
Lempo sits upon his forehead,
In his mouth dwells dire Tuoni.’

“Thus, fair bride, did I advise thee,
Thus advised my sister’s daughter:
Should there come the best of suitors,
Noblest wooers, proudest lovers,
Give to all these wisdom-sayings,
Let thine answer be as follows:
‘Never will I think it wisdom,
Never will it be my pleasure,
To become a second daughter,
Linger with my husband’s mother;
Never shall I leave my father,
Never wander forth to bondage,
At the bidding of a bridegroom:
Never shall I be a servant,
Wife and slave to any hero,
Never will I be submissive
To the orders of a husband.’

“Fairest bride, thou didst not heed me,
Gav’st no thought to my advices,
Didst not listen to my counsel;
Wittingly thy feet have wandered
Into boiling tar and water,
Hastened to thy suitor’s snow-sledge,
To the bear-dens of thy husband,
On his sledge to be ill-treated,
Carried to his native country,
To the bondage of his people,
There, a subject to his mother.
Thou hast left thy mother’s dwelling,
To the schooling of the master;
Hard indeed the master’s teachings,
Little else than constant torture;
Ready for thee are his bridles,
Ready for thy hands the shackles,
Were not forged for any other;
Soon, indeed, thou’lt feel the hardness,
Feel the weight of thy misfortune,
Feel thy second father’s censure,
And his wife’s inhuman treatment,
Hear the cold words of thy brother,
Quail before thy haughty sister.

“Listen, bride, to what I tell thee:
In thy home thou wert a jewel,
Wert thy father’s pride and pleasure,
‘Moonlight,’ did thy father call thee,
And thy mother called thee ‘Sunshine,’
‘Sea-foam’ did thy brother call thee,
And thy sister called thee ‘Flower.’
When thou leavest home and kindred
Goest to a second mother,
Often she will give thee censure,
Never treat thee as her daughter,
Rarely will she give thee counsel,
Never will she sound thy praises.
‘Brushwood,’ will the father call thee,
‘Sledge of Rags,’ thy husband’s mother,
‘Flight of Stairs,’ thy stranger brother,
‘Scarecrow,’ will the sister call thee,
Sister of thy blacksmith-husband;
Then wilt think of my good counsels,
Then wilt wish in tears and murmurs,
That as steam thou hadst ascended,
That as smoke thy soul had risen,
That as sparks thy life had vanished.
As a bird thou canst not wander
From thy nest to circle homeward,
Canst not fall and die like leaflets,
As the sparks thou canst not perish,
Like the smoke thou canst not vanish.

“Youthful bride, and darling sister,
Thou hast bartered all thy friendships,
Hast exchanged thy loving father,
Thou hast left thy faithful mother
For the mother of thy husband;
Hast exchanged thy loving brother,
Hast renounced thy gentle sister,
For the kindred of thy suitor;
Hast exchanged thy snow-white covers
For the rocky couch of sorrow;
Hast exchanged these crystal waters
For the waters of Wainola;
Hast renounced these sandy sea-shores
For the muddy banks of Kalew;
Northland glens thou hast forsaken
For thy husband’s barren meadows;
Thou hast left thy berry-mountains
For the stubble-fields and deserts.

“Thou, O maiden, hast been thinking
Thou wouldst happy be in wedlock;
Neither work, nor care, nor sorrow,
From this night would be thy portion,
With thy husband for protection.
Not to sleep art thou conducted,
Not to happiness, nor joyance,
Wakefullness, thy night-companion,
And thy day-attendant, trouble;
Often thou wilt drink of sorrow,
Often long for vanished pleasures.

“When at home thou hadst no head-gear,
Thou hadst also little sadness;
When thy couch was not of linen,
No unhappiness came nigh thee;
Head-gear brings but pain and sorrow,
Linen breeds bad dispositions,
Linen brings but deeps of anguish,
And the flax untimely mourning.

“Happy in her home, the maiden,
Happy at her