The Kalevala quotes

… the fragrant copses, Blown me from the forest branches, Culled among the plumes of pine-trees, Scented from the vines and flowers, Whispered to me as I followed Flocks in land of honeyed meadows, Over hillocks green and golden, After sable-haired Murikki, And the many-colored Kimmo.

Many runes the cold has told me, Many lays the rain has brought me, Other songs the winds have sung me;

Many birds from many forests, Oft have sung me lays in concord; Waves of sea, and ocean billows, Music from the many waters, Music from the whole creation, Oft have been my guide and master.

Wainamoinen, old and trusty, Thought awhile, and well considered, How to kill the mighty oak-tree, First created for his pleasure, How to fell the tree majestic, How to lop its hundred branches.

Sad the lives of man and hero, Sad the homes of ocean-dwellers, If the sun shines not upon them, If the moonlight does not cheer them!

Is there not some mighty hero, Was there never born a giant, That can fell the mighty oak-tree, That can lop its hundred branches? Wainamoinen, deeply thinking, Spake these words soliloquizing:

He will charm thee with his singing Will bewitch thee in his anger, He will drive thee back dishonored, Sink thee in the fatal snow-drift, Turn to ice thy pliant fingers, Turn to ice thy feet and ankles.” These the words of Youkahainen: “

Good the judgement of a father, Better still, a mother’s counsel, Best of all one’s own decision.

I will go and face the minstrel, Challenge him to sing in contest, Challenge him as bard to battle, Sing to him my sweet-toned measures, Chant to him my oldest legends, Chant to him my garnered wisdom, That this best of boasted singers, That this …

Then the ancient Wainimoinen: “

Women’s tales and children’s wisdom Do not please a bearded hero,

Hero, old enough for wedlock; Tell the story of creation, Tell me of the world’s beginning, Tell me of the creatures in it, And philosophize a little.”

Spake the ancient Wainamoinen: “

Thou art surely prince of liars, Lord of all the host of liars;

Never wert thou in existence, Surely wert thou never present, When was plowed the salt-sea’s bosom, When were raked the sea-girt islands, When were dug the salmon-grottoes, When were hollowed out the caverns, When the lakes were all created, When were heaped the mountains round …

Wainamoinen thus made answer: “Take thy corn to other markets, Give thy garners to the needy; I have corn in great abundance, Fields have I in every quarter, Corn in all my fields is growing;

One’s own fields are always richer, One’s own grain is much the sweeter.

”

Sadly weeps the ancient mother From her blue-eyes bitter tear-drops, As in sad and wailing measures, Broken-hearted thus she answers: “Listen, all ye mothers, listen, Learn from me a tale of wisdom:

Never urge unwilling daughters From the dwellings of their fathers, To the bridegrooms that they love not,

Not as I, inhuman mother, Drove away my lovely Aino, Fairest daughter of the Northland.”

Hears the voice of one in trouble, Hears a hero-cry of anguish. Thus the ancient Louhi answers: “

This is not the wail of children, These are not the tears of women, In this way weep bearded heroes;

This the hero-cry of anguish.”

Answers thus old Wainamoinen, Grateful for the invitation: “Never do I court strange tables, Though the food be rare and toothsome;

One’s own country is the dearest, One’s own table is the sweetest, One’s own home, the most attractive.

Grant, kind Ukko, God above me, Thou Creator, full of mercy, Grant that I again may visit My beloved home and country.

This is Louhi’s simple answer: “O thou ancient Wainamoinen, Only true and wise magician, Never will I ask for riches, Never ask for gold nor silver;

Gold is for the children’s flowers, Silver for the stallion’s jewels.

Canst thou forge for me the Sampo, Hammer me the lid in colors, From the tips of white-swan feathers From the milk of greatest virtue, From a single grain of barley, From the finest wool of lambkins?

Worthy smith is Ilmarinen, In this art is first and master; He, the one that forged the heavens. Forged the air a hollow cover;

Nowhere see we hammer-traces, Nowhere find a single tongs-mark.

”

“Thus the song-bird gave me answer, Sang the thrush this information: ‘

Bright and warm are days of summer, Warmer still is maiden-freedom;

Cold is iron in the winter, Thus the lives of married women; Maidens living with their mothers Are like ripe and ruddy berries;

Near the fireplace sat an old man, On the hearthstone sat the gray-beard, Thus he answered Wainamoinen: “

Greater things have been accomplished, Much more wondrous things effected, Through but three words of the master;

Through the telling of the causes, Streams and oceans have been tempered, River cataracts been lessened, Bays been made of promontories, Islands raised from deep sea-bottoms.”

Come and view thine evil doings, And amend this flood of damage, Ere I tell thy gray-haired mother, Ere I tell thine aged father.

Great indeed a mother’s anguish, Great indeed a father’s sorrow, When a son does something evil, When a child runs wild and lawless.

“Crimson streamlet, cease thy flowing From the wounds of Wainamoinen; Blood of ages, stop thy coursing From the veins of the magician;

Then anointed he the minstrel, Touched the wounds of Wainamoinen, Touched them with his magic balsam, With the balm of many virtues; Speaking words of ancient wisdom, These the words the gray-beard uttered: “

Do not walk in thine own virtue, Do not work in thine own power, Walk in strength of thy Creator;

Do not speak in thine own wisdom, Speak with tongue of mighty Ukko. In my mouth, if there be sweetness, It has come from my Creator; If my hands are filled with beauty, All the beauty comes from Ukko.”

Then the artist, Ilmarinen, Spake these words, soliloquizing: “

Only women grow discouraged, Only knaves leave work unfinished,

Not the devils, nor the heroes, Nor the Gods of greater knowledge.”

“Son beloved, praise thy Maker, For the winning of this virgin, Pride and joy of distant Sahri! Kind indeed is thy Creator, Wise the ever-knowing Ukko!

Pure the snow upon the mountains, Purer still thy Bride of Beauty; White the foam upon the ocean, Whiter still her virgin-spirit;

Graceful on the lakes, the white-swan, Still more graceful, thy companion; Beautiful the stars in heaven, Still more beautiful, Kyllikki.

But the doubting Lemminkainen Makes this answer to Kyllikki: “

I discredit dreams of women, Have no faith in vows of maidens!

Faithful mother of my being, Hither bring my mail of copper; Strong desire is stirring in me For the cup of deadly combat, For the mead of martial conquest.” This the pleading mother’s answer: “Lemminkainen, son beloved, Do not go to war I pray thee;

Now the minstrel, Lemminkainen, Changes both his form and stature, Passes through the inner doorways, Enters he the spacious court-hall, And these words the hero utters: “Fine the singing quickly ending, Good the song that quickly ceases;

Better far to keep thy wisdom Than to sing it on the house-tops.

”

Here my visit will be irksome, Here thy guest will be ill-humored, Waiting in thy fields and woodlands, Hunting here the moose of Lempo, Finding not the Hisi-ranger, Shouldst thou give me no enjoyment, Should I find no joy, nor respite.

Long the eve that gives no pleasure, Long the day that brings no guerdon!

“Sable-bearded god of forests, In thy hat and coat of ermine, Robe thy trees in finest fibers, Deck thy groves in richest fabrics, Give the fir-trees shining silver, Deck with gold the slender balsams, Give the spruces copper belting, And the pine-trees silver girdles, Give …

Spake the daughter of Tuoni, Mana’s maiden thus replying: “Thou art sure a stupid fellow, Foresight wanting, judgment lacking, Having neither wit nor wisdom, Coming here without a reason, Coming to Tuoni’s empire; Better far if thou shouldst journey To thy distant home and kindred;

Many they that visit Mana, Few return from Mana’s kingdom.

”

Spake the hostess of Pohyola: “Badly is the test accomplished, Thou has torn the pike in pieces, From his neck the head is severed, Of his body thou hast eaten, Brought to me this worthless relic!” These the words of Ilmarinen: “

When the victory is greatest, Do we suffer greatest losses!

From the river of Tuoni, From the kingdom of Manala, I have brought to thee this trophy, Thus the third task is completed. Tell me is the maiden ready, Wilt thou give the bride affianced?” Spake the hostess of Pohyola:

From the floor the child made answer, Fourteen days the young child numbered: “Easy ’tis to hide a war-horse In the Northland fields and stables;

Hard indeed to hide a maiden, Having lovely form and features!

Build of stone a distant castle In the middle of the ocean, Keep within thy lovely maiden, Train thou there thy winsome daughter, Not long hidden canst thou keep her.

On his head a hat of flint-stone, On his feet were sandstone-sandals, In his hand a golden cleaver, And the blade was copper-handled. Thus at last they found a butcher, Found the magic ox a slayer.

Nothing has been found so mighty That it has not found a master.

As the sea-god saw his booty, Quickly rushed he on his victim, Hurled him to his knees before him, Quickly felled the calf of Suomi, Felled the young ox of Karelen. Bountifully meat was furnished;

Often were her wants neglected, Numberless the times she rocked thee;

Tender, true, and ever faithful, Is the mother to her daughter.

She that can forget her mother, Can neglect the one that nursed her, Should not visit Mana’s castle, In the kingdom of Tuoni; In Manala she would suffer, Suffer frightful retribution, Should her mother be forgotten;

Spake the reckless Lemminkainen. These the words of Kaukomieli: “

Where the wicked are invited, There the good are always welcome,

Herein lies my invitation; I am constantly reminded By this sword of sharpened edges, By this magic blade and scabbard, That Pohyola needs my presence.”

Spake the reckless Lemminkainen, These the words of Kaukomieli: “Death is seen by aged people, Everywhere they see perdition,

Death can never frighten heroes, Heroes do not fear the spectre;

Be that as it may, dear mother, Tell that I may understand thee, Name the first of all destructions, Name the first and last destroyers!” Lemminkainen’s mother answered:

There were left some feathers lying, Feathers of the hazel-chickens, Lying in the hero’s pathway. These the reckless Lemminkainen Gathered for their magic virtues, Put them in his pouch of leather, Did not know what things might happen On his journey to Pohyola;

All things have some little value, In a strait all things are useful.

Then he drove a little distance, Galloped farther on the highway, When his courser neighed in danger, And the fleet-foot ceased his running. Then the stout-heart, Lemminkainen, Handsome hero, Kaukomieli, Rose upon his seat in wonder, Craned his neck and looked about him.

Then the landlord of Pohyola Answered thus the Island-minstrel: “Wherefore hast thou journeyed hither, Who has asked thee for thy presence?” Spake in answer Lemminkainen: “

Happy is the guest invited, Happier when not expected;

Listen, son of Pohyalander, Host of Sariola, listen: Give me beer for ready payment, Give me worthy drink for money!”

Well I know thine evil nature, Know thine origin and power, Whence thou camest, where thou goest, Know thine ancestry of evil. Thou wert born upon the aspen, Wert conceived upon the willows, Near the borders of Pohyola, In the courts of dismal Northland;

Sin-begotten was thy father, And thy mother was Dishonor.

“While in infancy who fed thee While thy mother could not nurse thee? Surely thou wert fed by adders, Nursed by foul and slimy serpents;

Thereupon young Kullerwoinen Called his herd to rest in safety, Sat upon a grassy hillock, Took his basket from his shoulders, Took therefrom the arid oat-loaf, Turned it over in his fingers, Carefully the loaf inspected, Spake these words of ancient wisdom: “

Many loaves are fine to look on, On the outside seem delicious, On the inside, chaff and tan-bark!

”

Straightway wicked Kullerwoinen, Evil wizard and magician, Opens all his treasure-boxes, Shows the maiden gold and silver, Shows her silken wraps of beauty, Silken hose with golden borders, Golden belts with silver buckles, Jewelry that dims the vision, Blunts the conscience of the virgin.

Silver leads one to destruction, Gold entices from uprightness.

Kullerwoinen, wicked wizard, Flatters lovingly the maiden, One hand on the reins of leather, One upon the maiden’s shoulder; Thus they journey through the evening, Pass the night in merry-making.

“Do not go, my son beloved, Go not to the wars, my hero, Struggle not with hostile spearsmen. Whoso goes to war for nothing, Undertakes a fearful combat, Undertakes a fatal issue;

Those that war without a reason Will be slaughtered for their folly,

Easy prey to bows and arrows. Go thou with a goat to battle, Shouldst thou go to fight the roebuck, ’Tis the goat that will be vanquished, And the roebuck will be slaughtered; With a frog thou’lt journey homeward, Victor, with but little honor!”

“Fare thou well, beloved mother, Mother, beautiful and faithful! Wilt thou weep when I have perished, Fallen on the field of glory, Fallen from thy race forever?” Thus the mother speaks in answer: “

Canst not fathom love maternal, Canst not smother her affection;

Bitterly I’ll mourn thy downfall, I would weep if thou shouldst perish, Shouldst thou leave my race forever;

Then the hero of the waters Called together all his people, Spake these words of ancient wisdom: “Every child of Northland, listen, Whether poor, or fortune-favored:

Never bow before an image Born of molten gold and silver;

Never while the sunlight brightens, Never while the moonlight glimmers, Choose a maiden of the metals, Choose a bride from gold created; Cold the lips of golden maiden, Silver breathes the breath of sorrow.”

“Every child of Northland, listen, Whether poor, or fortune-favored: Never bow before an image Born of molten gold and silver; Never while the sunlight brightens, Never while the moonlight glimmers, Choose a maiden of the metals, Choose a bride from gold created;

Cold the lips of golden maiden, Silver breathes the breath of sorrow.

”

“ ’Tis the timid hare,” he answered. Thereupon the stolen maiden Sobbed, and moaned, in deeps of sorrow, Heavy-hearted, spake these measures: “Woe is me, ill-fated virgin! Happier far my life hereafter, If the hare I could but follow To his burrow in the woodlands!

Crook-leg’s fur to me is finer Than the robes of Ilmarinen.

”

Thus the hero of the Northland Speaks to reckless Lemminkainen: “There is aspen on my vessel, Aspen-floats in great abundance, And the boat is heavy-laden. Wherefore dost thou bring the aspen To the vessel of Wainola?” Lemminkainen gave this answer: “

Not through caution sinks a vessel, Nor a hay-stack by its proppings;

Seas abound in hidden dangers, Heavy storms arise and threaten Fell destruction to the sailor That would brave the angry billows.” Spake the good, old Wainamoinen:

And the blacksmith, Ilmarinen, Lifts the wizard from the river, Speaks these words to dripping Ahti:

“Accidents will come to mortals, Accidents will come to heroes, By the hundreds, by the thousands, Even to the gods above us!”

Then the blacksmith, Ilmarinen, Drew his broadsword from his girdle, From its sheath his blade of honor, Tried to slay the pike of Northland With the weapon of his forging; But he broke his sword in pieces, Did not harm the water-monster.

Now was gladness rolled on gladness, And the harmony of pleasure Echoed from the hills and mountains: Added singing to his playing,

Out of joy did joy come welling,

Now resounded marvelous music, All of Northland stopped and listened. Every creature in the forest, All the beasts that haunt the woodlands, On their nimble feet came bounding, Came to listen to his playing, Came to hear his songs of joyance.

Wept the young, and wept the aged, Wept the mothers, wept the daughters, Wept the warriors and heroes At the music of his playing, At the songs of the magician.

Wainamoinen’s tears came flowing, Welling from the master’s eyelids, Pearly tear-drops coursing downward,

Larger than the whortle-berries, Finer than the pearls of ocean, Smoother than the eggs of moor-hens, Brighter than the eyes of swallows.

Brought them to the great magician, Beautifully formed and colored, Glistening in the silver sunshine, Glimmering in the golden moonlight, Many-colored as the rainbow, Fitting ornaments for heroes, Jewels for the maids of beauty.

This the origin of sea-pearls, And the blue-duck’s beauteous plumage.

“Why wilt thou, O famous minstrel, Sing no longer for thy people, Since the Sampo thou hast captured, Captured too the lid in colors?” These the words of Wainamoinen: “

’Tis not well to sing too early!

Time enough for songs of joyance When we see our home-land mansions, When our journeyings have ended!” Spake the reckless Lemminkainen: “At the helm, if I were sitting, I would sing at morn and evening, Though my voice has little sweetness;

Then the ancient Wainamoinen Spake and these the words he uttered: “Weep no more, my goodly comrades, In my bark let no one murmur;

Weeping cannot mend disaster, Tears can never still misfortune, Mourning cannot save from evil.

“Sea, command thy warring forces, Bid thy children cease their fury! Ahto, still thy surging billows! Sink, Wellamo, to thy slumber, That our boat may move in safety.

Thus the ancient bard made answer: “Not a Laplander can banish Wainamoinen and his people; Never can a Turyalander Drive my tribes from Kalevala;

God alone has power to banish, God controls the fate of nations,

Never trusts the arms of evil, Never gives His strength to others. As I trust in my Creator, Call upon benignant Ukko, He will guard my crops from danger, Drive the Frost-fiend from my corn-fields, Drive great Otso to his caverns.

“Wicked Louhi of Pohyola, Thou canst banish evil-doers, In the rocks canst hide the wicked, In thy mountains lock the guilty;

Thou canst never hide the moonlight, Never hide the silver sunshine, In the caverns of thy kingdom.

Freeze the crops of thine own planting, Freeze the barley of thy sowing, Send thine iron-hail from heaven To destroy the Lapland corn-fields, To annihilate thy people, To destroy the hosts of Pohya;

Then the hostess of Pohyola Home departed, weeping, wailing, To the land of cold and darkness; Only took some worthless fragments Of the Sampo to her people; Carried she the lid to Pohya, In the blue-sea left the handle;

Hence the poverty of Northland, And the famines of Pohyola.

Wainamoinen, ancient minstrel, Hastened to the broad-sea’s margin, Stepped upon the shore in joyance; Found there fragments of the Sampo, Fragments of the lid in colors, On the borders of the waters, On the curving sands and seasides;