Stockingless in days of autumn,
On the blue-back of the mountain,
Through the swamps and fertile lowlands.
“If thou canst not journey thither,
Canst not find the Lapland-highway,
Hasten on a little distance,
In the bear-path leading northward.
To the grove of Tuonela,
To the honey-plains of Kalma,
Swamps there are in which to wander,
Heaths in which to roam at pleasure,
There are Kiryos, there are Karyos,
And of beasts a countless number,
With their fetters strong as iron,
Fattening within the forest.
Be ye gracious, groves and mountains,
Full of grace, ye darksome thickets,
Peace and, plenty to my cattle,
Through the pleasant days of summer,
The Creator’s warmest season.
“Knippana, O King of forests,
Thou the gray-beard of the woodlands,
Watch thy dogs in fen and fallow,
Lay a sponge within one nostril,
And an acorn in the other,
That they may not scent my cattle;
Tie their eyes with silken fillets,
That they may not see my herdlings,
May not see my cattle grazing.
“Should all this seem inefficient,
Drive away thy barking children,
Let them run to other forests,
Let them hunt in other marshes,
From these verdant strips of meadow,
From these far outstretching borders,
Hide thy dogs within thy caverns,
Firmly tie thy yelping children,
Tie them with thy golden fetters,
With thy chains adorned with silver,
That they may not do me damage,’
May not do a deed of mischief.
Should all this prove inefficient,
Thou, O Ukko, King of heaven.
Wise director, full of mercy,
Hear the golden words I utter,
Hear a voice that breathes affection,
From the alder make a muzzle,
For each dog, within the kennel;
Should the alder prove too feeble,
Cast a band of purest copper;
Should the copper prove a failure,
Forge a band of ductile iron;
Should the iron snap asunder,
In each nose a small-ring fasten,
Made of molten gold and silver,
Chain thy dogs in forest-caverns,
That my herd may not be injured.
Then the wife of Ilmarinen,
Life-companion of the blacksmith,
Opened all her yards and stables,
Led her herd across the meadow,
Placed them in the herdman’s keeping,
In the care of Kullerwoinen.
KULLERVO AND THE CHEAT-CAKE.
Thereupon the lad, Kullervo,
Laid his luncheon in his basket,
Drove the herd to mountain-pastures,
O’er the hills and through the marshes,
To their grazings in the woodlands,
Speaking as he careless wandered:
“Of the youth am I the poorest,
Hapless lad and full of trouble,
Evil luck to me befallen!
I alas! must idly wander
O’er the hills and through the valleys,
As a watch-dog for the cattle!”
Then she sat upon the greensward,