Kalevala : the Epic Poem of Finland – Volume 02. Неизвестный авторЧитать онлайн книгу.

        And prepared to sail his vessel,

        One hand resting on the rudder.

        Then the sailor spake as follows,

        These the words of Lemminkainen:

        "Blow, ye winds, and drive me onward,

        Blow ye steady, winds of heaven,

        Toward the island in the ocean,

        That my bark may fly in safety

        To my father's place of refuge,

        To the far and nameless island!"

        Soon the winds arose as bidden,

        Rocked the vessel o'er the billows,

        O'er the blue-back of the waters,

        O'er the vast expanse of ocean;

        Blew two months and blew unceasing,

        Blew a third month toward the island,

        Toward his father's Isle of Refuge.

        Sat some maidens on the seaside,

        On the sandy beach of ocean,

        Turned about in all directions,

        Looking out upon the billows;

        One was waiting for her brother,

        And a second for her father,

        And a third one, anxious, waited

        For the coming of her suitor;

        There they spied young Lemminkainen,

        There perceived the hero's vessel

        Sailing o'er the bounding billows;

        It was like a hanging cloudlet,

        Hanging twixt the earth and heaven.

        Thus the island-maidens wondered,

        Thus they spake to one another:

        "What this stranger on the ocean,

        What is this upon the waters?

        Art thou one of our sea-vessels?

        Wert thou builded on this island?

        Sail thou straightway to the harbor,

        To the island-point of landing

        That thy tribe may be discovered."

        Onward did the waves propel it,

        Rocked his vessel o'er the billows,

        Drove it to the magic island,

        Safely landed Lemminkainen

        On the sandy shore and harbor.

        Spake he thus when he had landed,

        These the words that Ahti uttered:

        "Is there room upon this island,

        Is there space within this harbor,

        Where my bark may lie at anchor,

        Where the sun may dry my vessel?"

        This the answer of the virgins,

        Dwellers on the Isle of Refuge:

        "There is room within this harbor,

        On this island, space abundant,

        Where thy bark may lie at anchor,

        Where the sun may dry thy vessel;

        Lying ready are the rollers,

        Cylinders adorned with copper;

        If thou hadst a hundred vessels,

        Shouldst thou come with boats a thousand,

        We would give them room in welcome."

        Thereupon wild Lemminkainen

        Rolled his vessel in the harbor,

        On the cylinders of copper,

        Spake these words when he had ended:

        "Is there room upon this island,

        Or a spot within these forests,

        Where a hero may be hidden

        From the coming din of battle,

        From the play of spears and arrows?

        Thus replied the Island-maidens:

        "There are places on this island,

        On these plains a spot befitting

        Where to hide thyself in safety,

        Hero-son of little valor.

        Here are many, many castles,

        Many courts upon this island;

        Though there come a thousand heroes,

        Though a thousand spearmen follow,

        Thou canst hide thyself in safety."

        Spake the hero, Lemminkainen:

        "Is there room upon this island,

        Where the birch-tree grows abundant,

        Where this son may fell the forest,

        And may cultivate the fallow?"

        Answered thus the Island-maidens:

        "There is not a spot befitting,

        Not a place upon the island,

        Where to rest thy wearied members,

        Not the smallest patch of birch-wood,

        Thou canst bring to cultivation.

        All our fields have been divided,

        All these woods have been apportioned,

        Fields and forests have their owners."

        Lemminkainen asked this question,

        These the words of Kaukomieli:

        "Is there room upon this island,

        Worthy spot in field or forest,

        Where to Sing my songs of magic,

        Chant my gathered store of wisdom,

        Sing mine ancient songs and legends?"

        Answered thus the Island-maidens:

        "There is room upon this island,

        Worthy place in these dominions,

        Thou canst sing thy garnered wisdom,

        Thou canst chant thine ancient legends,

        Legends of the times primeval,

        In the forest, in the castle,

        On the island-plains and pastures."

        Then began the reckless minstrel

        To intone his wizard-sayings;

        Sang he alders to the waysides,

        Sang the oaks upon the mountains,

        On the oak-trees sang be branches,

        On each branch he sang an acorn,

        On the acorns, golden rollers,

        On each roller, sang a cuckoo;

        Then began the cuckoos, calling,

        Gold from every throat came streaming,

        Copper fell from every feather,

        And each wing emitted silver,

        Filled the isle with precious metals.

        Sang