Magic Songs of the West Finns, Vol. 2, by John Abercromby, , at sacred-texts.com
Outrageous wasp! who bade thee do this evil deed, incited thee to a sneaking act, what fool made such a dolt of thee, what madman made thee so insane, that thou with thy sting (F. pike) shouldst pierce that human being's skin?
Don't shoot, O wasp, don't sting, thou 'stinging bird'; thou art no bird at all unless thou use thy sting! Into a wood-pile stick thy sting, into a juniper thy spur, or hurl thine arrows at a stone, cause them to rattle against a rock, confine the feathers of thy wings, into a hook twist up thy snout, or shoot thyself, give one of thy mates a prod, to Pass the time shoot stones or stumps of trees and each of
them six times. I have a sandy skin, an iron-coloured hide.
O wasp, the stinging bird, O gadfly, bubbling o’er with wrath, O hornet, thou complaisant man, don't shoot thine arrows forth into that human skin, that body of a mother's son. Surely I know thine origin, together with thy bringing up; thou wast conceived by Synnytär, brought up by Kasvatar. Blind was thy father, blind thy mother, thou art blind thyself. In the snow thy father died, in the snow thy mother died, in the snow thyself wilt die.
Don't rise high now, no higher than the knee. Into a sheath force down thy nose, into a rotten stump thy head; bite a tree, bite earth, sting little stones; into a copse thy malice cast, thy spur among the down-cut trees, under a fallen tree thy smarts, on a sandy heath thy bitterness, to the wilderness thy cruel harm, thy other poisons into mud; make thine arrows ineffectual, thy crossbows that they can't be strung. Thy place is in the wilderness, thy lovely dwelling on a swamp, thy birch-bark room, thy pine-bark hut is there. There it is nice for thee to live, a tent is ready in which to sleep, ’tis nice to shoot to pass the time, ’tis nice to give thy mates a prod; thou wilt not hear a passer-by, of man wilt not know anything.
I sew a fiery coat of fur with fiery selvages in a fiery room. In it I dress myself and then proceed to hunt the sudden stroke, to combat the elfshot disease. I hunt the
stroke to fields run wild, I blow the elfshots to the clouds. If he has shot one arrow forth, two arrows I shall shoot; if he has shot two arrows forth, three arrows I shall shoot; if with three arrows he has shot, again I shoot with several, a hundred arrows I discharge, a thousand I launch forth. My bolts are swift and stronger are my tools of steel.
An eagle rose from Korvio, a 'steely jaws' from a muddy strand, a 'scaly back' from a gravelly place to sit upon a flat stone's edge, to fray a boulder's edge. I snatched away the eagle's claws with which I meet the fiend, drive elfshot-sicknesses away, with which I scratch paralysis and claw attacks of sickness, too.
Attacks of sickness are threefold: the one approaches by the swamp, another by the winter road, the third along the water springs; it is the mildest of attacks that strode along the ground; it is the intermediate sort that came by water here; it is the worst of all attacks that has arrived along the swamp. The very worst of all attacks I now shall force into the cleft of five big hills, the interval between two rocks, the others into fields run wild, to places soft and water drenched.
A 'stinking dog' that biteth bone, a hound that teareth at the jaw threw his peas, pressed down his beans 1 into
a very old man's jaw, into his aching teeth. The aged one drooped, the old man died, from the unusual disease, from the gnawing of the 'dog,' from being torn by Lempo's hound.'
The short old woman, Tuoni's girl, into his jawbone drove a nail, that had been forged three times, with her tongue she salved the pains, the toothache sufferings, and uttered certain words of hers:
'May the salt sound forth propitiously for the good soothsayer (lukija) near thee, may the old man from sleep arise, may he be free to stand upright.'
From his sleep the old man rose, he was free to stand upright as in his former life, as in his previous way.
O 'stinking cur dog,' 'Tuoni's hound,' thou kitchen-cook,' thou 'fire-place screen,' that liest beneath the devil's tongs, his son, the offspring of the evil one, with eyes askew, with crooked jaw, thou spark of hellish fire, hast thou sent here thy 'beans,' hast thou cast here thy 'peas,' hast sent them secretly to eat and publicly to whine, to eat, to gnaw, to fret, to bite, to distend the jaws, to hack the teeth, the charming jaws, the cherished teeth?
I have a pair of tiny tongs, of pincers ever adequate, with which I draw out 'Tuoni's grub,' and slay the 'worm of Manala'; I take the eater from tree, from bone, extract it from a human skin.
But if thou pay no heed thereto, do not this very moment cease from gnawing, tearing, and from grubbing in, O Hiisi's dog, I'll bend my willow bow, prepare my
shaft of alderwood, with which I'll shoot down Tuoni's grub, fell the bone-biter with a bang, shoot the Hitto through the sleeve, the evil being through the beard, crush the gnawing worm inside, the destroyer of the jaw.
If that should insufficient prove, I still remember other means. There are stones on the hill of Kimmola, upon the steadfast mountain slope, with which I'll grind thee into dust, shall in a mortar pound thy lips, shall with a pestle thresh thy head, split thine abominable teeth.
If after that thou pay no heed, I have a little sleigh of logs, of birch, of hard-wood logs, of solid rowan logs, of evil alder-buckthorn logs, and of reliable tarred logs, with which I'll set thy house on fire, and kindle, wretch, thy bed of straw.
If after that thou pay no heed, dost not give way the very least, I shall discover some new dodge, some five or six that are cleverer. I'll carry thee among the coals, ’neath Ilmarinen's forge. Thy coat will burn, thy skin will peel between the pincers of the smith, in the agonising fire.
And if that still is not enough, I send thee off into the fire of Hiitola, into the evil power's flames, into the iron frying-pan, into the evil baking-pan. There will thy feathers melt away, thy downy feathers give off fumes. Thou’lt roast, O worm of Manala, wilt frizzle well, O Tuoni's grub, in the glow of Hiisi's coals, in the evil baking-pan.
O mare that wast reared in Karjala, with iron hoofs, with copper 'claws,' push Hiisi down upon his side, make Hiisi sideways fall, kick Hiisi down upon his knees with thine iron hoofs, thy copper 'claws,' (to make him cease) from injuring a Christian man, destroying one that has been made,
I know not now the very least, whence thou, O wretch, hast flung thyself, O disease of children, hast arrived, whence thou hast come, O whooping-cough. If thou from Hiisi's bin, from Hiisi's coals art come, may thou to Hiisi's bin, ’mong Hiisi's coals, return. If from the fire thou art come, then, Fury, into fire return; among thine ashes plague thyself, in thy hot ashes hide thyself, conceal thyself among the sparks, away from a child that is innocent. This one to Mana will not go, this mother's son—to Tuonela.
Kindly Kalma, lovely Kalma, Kalma of the fair complexion! surely do I know thy lineage, with thy birth I am acquainted. So if thou wert generated from the stock of Eve and Adam, go into a graveyard, Kalma, to the huts of the departed, from the skin of a human being, from a much tormented body.
If thou art the work of others, sent by some one, some one's 'arrow,' sooth, pray try and reach the cottage, the surroundings, of thy sender,—dressed in gory clothes and tatters.
A maiden liveth in the air, on the edge of a little cloud, with a skein of sinews on her lap, and under her arm a roll of skin. They fell to the earth through the wind, that dwells on the mountain top, that roars in the wooded wilderness, that flutters through the leavy groves. From them (new) sinews are obtained, from them are taken bits
of skin, from them the potent salves, the effectual magic remedies (katse), to place on wounds from tooth of wolf, from cruel clawing of a bear.
Stone! Kimmo Kammo's son, 'egg of the earth,' a 'ploughed field's clod,' the offspring of deep rapids, and by a rapid torrent shaped, called by half-witted ones a stone, entitled by them 'egg of earth,' why hast thou raised thy beak, hast sought to turn thy snout against a human being's skin, the body of a woman's [kapo] son?
Just call to mind thine ancient state, reflect upon thine origin. Thou wast not great when thou from out the earth didst rise, or from the sky didst roll, didst fall from a cloud's periphery, didst roll like a wheaten cake or like a piece of barley dough from the foot of the glorious God, from the tip of Jesus’ sole, when thou wast coming to the earth, when thou wast falling from the clouds.
If thou hast risen from out the earth, then mayst thou crawl along the earth, like a sweet dumpling go away, roll off like wheaten groats. If thou wast rained upon the earth, hast fallen from the clouds, then to the sky ascend, flee upwards to the clouds, and do not raise thy beak, and do not turn thy snout against a wretched human skin, the body of a woman's [kapo] son.
The blind old man of Väinölä, the sightless man of Ulappala, was walking on his way, was on his journey
stepping out. He knocked his foot against a block, his elbow point against a stone, to his incessant suffering. There he lay sick for half a year, lay a whole summer on his back; the floor is rotting underneath, the roof is mouldering above,—the bed of linen tow, the pillows stuffed with straw.
Thou wicked heathen, woe to thee, thou wretch below the petticoats, thou filthiness between the thighs, with sloppy mouth, with shameful jaw, thou village horror, women's shame, thou disgrace of an honest man, if thou hast noxious water cast, hast yellow-coloured water spewed, to cause a suppurating sore upon this human being's skin, then, wicked heathen, get thee hence, thou fearful villain, disappear, desist from seizing on the loins, from twisting up the testicles; poke, gimlet, thy malignant sores, thine own offscourings down thy throat, that in thy gullet they may seethe, under thy navel they may squeal. Thee I conjure away, flee to thy country, evil one, to a malicious woman's rug, to the linen of an angry one.
Woe to thee, scorn of girls, thou glowing heat below the skirts, thou tattered fellow, Syphilis, thou draggled thing in skirts of shame, thou progeny of Syöjätär, and lulled to sleep by Mammotar. Thou wast not great in days gone by, thou wast not very passionate, when under the heart of Syöjätär, under the liver of Mammotar. Great hast thou
now indeed become, into a passion hast thou flown, since, Lempo, thou hast ta’en in hand, hast, wicked heathen, set thyself to gnaw a man that has been born, to injure one that has been made?
Into this place whence camest thou, into this room whence forced thyself, whence, scoundrel, hast thou broken loose, why, wretch, hast thou become a wretch? From German linen hast thou come, from homespun breeches dragged thyself, from the folds of a harlot's coat, from the blanket selvage of a whore, into this human being's skin, the body of a mother's son?
Thou hound of Hiisi, now desist, keep quiet, cur of Manala, a human skin ought not to be by thee, the filthy one, profaned. Whither I order, get thee hence; into cloth trousers turn aside, into the drawers of shopkeepers, into the folds of a harlot's gown, into a strumpet's blanket seams, into a wicked woman's clothes. From there hast thou, the rascal, come, been flung, thou villain of the place, to cause a suppurating sore, with swelling bubos to wreak harm.
If there thou find no place at all, go, filthy one, to Metsola, to the wolf's immense resorts, to the stone-heap dwellings of a bear, to eat the flesh of wolf, to crunch the bones of bear, the shoulder of a bluish elk or a full-grown reindeer's legs. A horse with crooked neck is there, tear with thy teeth its thighs, its shank bones smash, and wring its neck.
If that should insufficient prove, I know in sooth another place. Thee I conjure to eternal hell. A horse has died in hell, inside the hill a colt slipped up, so a foot is there for thee to bite, a hoof for thee to gnaw, without thy gnawing human skin, the body of a mother's son.
If I a poor lad can't rightly guess how the trouble came, the tumor rose, on the narrow muscles of the neck, on the place where the throat is rubbed, if I should want for 'words,' them I shall go and fetch from the distant limits of the north, from Lapland's widely-stretching woods. An old wife lives in Pohjola who can inform how a tumor should be squeezed, an evil swelling should be pressed with an eagle's powerful claws, with the talons of the bird of air, with which I shall the tumors claw, shall also press the swellings down.
But if it take no heed of that, a bear has massive paws. Dig in, O bear, with thy great claws, keep clawing with thy paws, press down these lumps, these bearish knobs.
If still it does not care for that, I shall lift out three stones from the river of Tuonela, from the sacred river banks, with which I shall compress the bumps, shall press the tumors to the ground. Then if it does not care for that, nor pay the slightest heed thereto, may a stone as high as a church, a flag as thick as a tower, begin to squeeze the lumps, to compress the knobs.
If insufficient that should be, I take my axe for lopping boughs, and with it I'll reduce the knobs, with it I'll excavate the ends, and likewise shall uproot the roots, between the muscles and near the bone, to prevent its crumpling up the bone and causing stiffening of the joints.
Become, thou 'Hiisi's toadstool,' light, thou 'boss of Lempo,' now desist, cease, evil one, from swelling up, thou
abscess, cease from being cross. Whene’er I twist, do thou shrink up, whene’er I press, do thou sink down, sink, evil one, don't swell, get lower, do not rise. May a rotten stump grow large, a dry stump get puffed out, may a sand ridge burst, may fat earth split, not a poor human being's skin, the body of a mother's son. Now, 'quim of Hiisi,' wear away, vanish, thou scoundrel, do not grow, with the moon's waning wear away, in course of a week disappear. The moon in waning is obscure, the sun when sinking is obscure, the sun the while it sets, may thou be more obscure than it.
Black worm, that hast the look of earth, thou Tuoni-coloured grub, ball, living under withered grass, scoundrel, among the roots of grass, that goest through knolls, that wrigglest through the roots of trees, who raised thee from the withered grass, awoke thee at the grasses’ root to crawl upon the ground, to creep upon a path? Who raised thy snout, who ordered and incited thee to hold thy head erect, the column of thy neck quite stiff, against the ordinance of God? Thee the Creator cursed, on thy belly on the ground to crawl, on the earth to creep and to gnaw a stone.
Was it thy father ordered thee, or did thy parent thee compel to this atrocious deed, to an iniquity so great in that thou, hideous one, hast struck with thy tongue and with thy gums, or didst thou act on thine own account, according to thine own caprice?
Thou devil, bite thy sons, thy proper progeny, not a human being's skin, the body of a woman's [kapo] son.
'Black worm,' that livest underground, 'grey worm,' beneath the fallen trees, that livest under the earth's moss, 'dear dew-worm of the leavy grove,' thou 'braid of hair of Hiisi's girl,' thou 'beard-hair of the Evil One,' thou 'fence-stake of an Aholainen [v. Ahkolainen],' a 'Rumalainen's [v. Ruomalainen's] sledge cross-tree,' thou 'whip of Piru,' 'Hiisi's scourge,' thou 'fastening of the Evil Spirit's coat,' that fliest through alder groves, that bustlest through the willow groves, that drivest through fences, and that burrowest through a stump, who raised thee, Mammo, from the earth, who awoke thee in the grass, to come and rustle in a house, to hang about on a heap of dust, to strike with thy little tongue, to taste with thy grovelling mouth? Who ordered this iniquity, incited thee to this sneaking act? Was it thy father, mother, or the eldest of thy brothers, or the youngest of thy sisters, or some other mighty relative, when thou didst come with a look of fire, or with an iron-coloured look and bittest a human being's skin, the body of a woman's [kapo] son? Didst thou think to have bitten a tree, to have injured a willow's root, when thou bittest a human skin, the body of a woman's son?
'Black worm!' thou hissing snake, thou wrathful, coiled up snake, 'thou ghost (haamu) that lookest like a haltia,' thou 'apparition beside the barn,' thou 'rope beneath a heap of stone,' thou 'bundle at a tree-stump's root,' that passest through the turf, that crawlest on the ground, that from a tree branch droppest down and throwest thyself upon the grass, didst thou eat thy food, didst thou nibble to thy heart's content, when thou bittest the wretched animal,
didst pinch the wretched beast, didst nip the teats of the cow, didst taste below the paunch? What excited thee to wrath, deluded thee into acts of shame, who raised thee from a heap of chaff, awoke thee on a plot of grass, to glide from underneath a nook, to crawl upon the ground, to hiss with thine ugly head, to cut with thy swarthy mouth? Who untied thy tongue, who ordered the crooked one, when thou didst become extremely wroth, exceeding furious, didst nip the cow's teats, and pinch the wretched beast?
From out the ground a black worm rose, from the Water-Mothers came a 'snail,' to bite and sting that human skin. Thou hairlike snake, thou villain's son, why hast thou done the spiteful deed? Come now to recognise thy work and make thy poison innocuous. Remove thy venom speedily, take home thy gall, or I shall loudly shout to my father, to Jesus, and to my mother Mary, to behold these deeds.
That made thy poison innocuous, took home thy gall, into a deep place hurled thy sting, removed thy bite's effect, it pinched thy 'pincers,' and compressed thy 'scraping knife.'
In appearance snakes are various; blue, red, and yellow ones there are, or looking like a speckled stone, but not the evilly-disposed, not those of Kammo's hue. Full well I know thine origin, thy parentage, thou cunning one; from the earth the larger one proceeds, the larger one, the smaller one; thou too wast born of earth, thy father is earth, thy mother earth, the earth is thy great ancestor, and thou art mould, and I am mould, on the selfsame earth we live.
Such was thine origin. Allow me now to see thy hue, to take stock of thine outward shape. Thy colour will be told at once, whatever colour it may be, blue, red, or yellow, blonde, or an iron scraper's hue, the colour of a bluish finch, or the hue of all the air, the bluish colour of the sky, a colour of every kind, the hue of every animal (kave), the hue of Hiisi certainly, a Piru's execrable hue, the accursed hue of the Evil One.
Good gout, thou lovely gout, Mary's sweet gout, depart, turn back elsewhere.
Ukko struck fire on a surface of tin, into some alder chips, into which I blew the gout from a sufferer's skin.
From the clouds fell a bowie-knife, from the sky rolled down a knife, forged by the sky most cleverly, with silver blade, with a haft of gold. It fell on my knees, into my right hand, in my hand the haft remained, the blade in the Creator's hand. With it I cut excrescences away and uproot the roots.
Pray do not be the least concerned, the treatment will not last a month, I shall not fumble for a year, one moment will the treatment last and all is over in a trice.
I do not touch with heavy hand, I shall not prune to cause thee pain, with river horse-tail I shall touch, will stroke it with a water-sedge, will push it with a rush's edge, I term it—'blown away by wind,' 'removal by a chilly blast' or 'snatching by a raging storm.'
Where I make incision with the knife or rasp with the
iron blade, upon that spot may honey fall, on it may virgin honey stream, into the wound a honeyed salve, honey where iron has made a gash.
And if the iron acts amiss, if Lempo cause the knife to slip, the flesh of Lempo shall be sliced, the Evil One be cut in twain, with a blade that himself has made, with iron hammered by himself, on his own mother's knee, when in. his parent's care.
From Turja comes an aged man, from Pimentola a little [v. tall] man; slowly he trails himself along, trudging with heavy gait. In his breast is a roll of veins, in his hand a ladle filled with blood, under his arm is a lump of flesh, in his fist a longish piece of bone. Into a wizard (loitsia) he made himself, into a man of healing arts, tied firmly flesh to bone, tied firmly bone to flesh, united veins with veins and in the veins caused blood to flow.
The Virgin Mary, mother dear, pure mother, beautiful of shape, wandered along the sky's boundary, along the air's edge was hurrying with a skein of veins upon her back, under her arm a can of blood, in her hand a longish piece of bone, on her shoulders a lump of flesh. Where a vein had suffered injury, she spliced on it another vein, where blood had leaked she poured in blood, where a bone was loose she made it fast, where flesh was removed she added flesh, put the patches in their place, gave a blessing to the spot.
Go, hiccough, to a clump of limes; I'll come to strip the bast; go, hiccough, to a clump of birch; I'll come to strip the bark. (This has to be repeated till the hiccough ceases.)
Jesus was going to church, Mary proceeding to mass, in the morning very early, on the morning of a Sunday, on a mouse-coloured horse, on a pike-coloured one, on one of a black salmon's hue, on one as smooth as a sik. He rode o’er swamp, he rode o’er land, rode over clearings run to waste, to Kalevala's heath, to the unploughed edge of Osmo's field; and then he rode along the side of a clanging sandy path to a long bridge's head.
A trouble arose, an accident at the blue bridge ensued, at the red foot-bridge's head. A wood-grouse started up, the earth did quake, the heart of Jesus throbbed. 1 The horse's foot was sprained, the colt's leg broke in the clanging sand, in the swelling mould, at the turn of Ahti's fence, at the very gate of the rogue. Jesus dismounted to the ground, threw
himself from the horse's back, to inspect the sprain, to repair the harm. He sat himself upon a stone, sank down upon his knee to adjust the veins, to set the limb. Into his hand he snatched the foot, into his palm he took it up, puts bone to bone and joint to joint, a ruddy thread for blood and a blue thread for veins. Everything did he put right and gave his blessing to the place.
An old man rides to church on a saddle of ash [v. bone], on an elk-like horse with the fatness of a seal. He over a blue bridge rode, across the Kedron brook, along a stony path he rode towards a lofty hill. The horse's foot slipped up, the mare's leg broke in the hole between two rocks, the cavity between three stones. From its back the old man fell, from the croup of the white-starred horse. Then Vuolervoinen, bastard son, prepared himself to help to bind the veins, to reset the limb. Where a bone was snapt apart, a bone was snapt and veins were cut, he joined the bone, tied up the veins, inserted a ruddy thread, adjusted a dark-blue thread.
Where are veins knotted up and threads prepared with magic words? There veins are knotted up and threads prepared with magic words—near a blue bridge, at the end of a red foot-bridge. Who knotted up the veins, prepared with magic words the threads? The beauteous woman Suonetar, the lovely spinner of the veins, on a splendid spinning-wheel, on a copper spindle-shank, on the top of a golden stool, at the end of an iron bench, she knotted up the veins and the threads prepared with magic words.
Saint Anni, gracious maid, the beauteous maiden of the veins, span a ruddy thread, with buzzing sound, a thread of blue, with busy hands a thread of black, on a copper spindle with silver whorl, on an iron spinning-wheel. She bound it on the foot, on a poor living creature's skin, on the body of a wretched beast, or on a human being's skin; if a joint was sprained, the socket of a joint had cracked, had shifted from its place, had been from its position knocked.
I have a sack below, a sack below, a sack above, a steelyard underneath my stern, on which I set the nightmares down, I gather together 'Hiisi's dead.'
If no assistance come therefrom, then Rahko in his iron boots, who makes a stony hill revolve, will put the nightmares underneath a ridge-pole or beneath a spar, ’neath an iron roof; ’neath a tongueless bell.
Sharp Frost, the son of Blast (Puhuri), ice-crusty, wintry boy, now hast thou hurt a human skin, hast sorely injured a mother's son, destroyed a woman's progeny, for sapless has the man become, the stalwart man insensible.
Sharp Frost, the son of Puhuri, come now to recognise thy work, to remedy thine evil deeds; if thou hast bitten, heal the bite, if thou hast touched, undo the harm, or else thy mother I shall tell, to thy father I shall make it known. Enormous trouble a mother has, when treading in her sons’
footsteps, effacing traces he has left, anointing sores that he has made.
Sharp Cold, the son of Näräppä, hard-frozen, wintry boy, where shall I exorcise thee now? Thee do I exorcise forthwith to distant limits of the North, to the flat, open land of Lapps. There is it nice for Cold to live, for Chilly Weather to abide. There thou wilt level trampled ground, wilt slay a reindeer out at grass, wilt eat flesh lying close at hand, wilt gnaw the bone that's near to thee.
Since thou dost pay no heed thereto, I exorcise thee forth into the belly of Pakkanen (sharp cold), the fervid paunch of the frosty blast. As there thou mayst not find a place, depart to where I order thee, flee to the clouds above, thou wintry weather, to the sky, cease injuring a christened man, destroying one that is baptized.
The devil (Piru) forges bolts, the son of Äijö jagged spikes in the smithy of Hiitola, on Lapland's bird-snare plains. I happened to go there myself, a previous day, quite recently, while Piru was making bolts, was sharpening jagged spikes. I ordered tiny tongs, a pair of useful tweezers to be made, with which I draw a sorcerer's bolts and the weapons of an 'archer,' out from a wretched human skin, the body of a woman's son.
Woe on thine 'arrows,' sorcerer! on thy 'knives of iron,' witch! tall Piru! on thy 'shafts'; Lempo! on thy 'leaf-headed spears.' Archer! remove thine evil things, thy
shooting instruments, O Piru, snatch thine arrows out, O Keitolainen, thy 'spear,' from a wretched human skin, the body of a mother's son. Shoot thine arrows forth into an evil willow's cracks, into swamps without a knoll, into the subsoil of the fields, into hills of steel or iron rocks; shoot the vipers, too, in the cleft of an iron hill; or mount up to the sky, flee to the air above, to meddle with the clouds, to pierce the stars.
How now do I lift out the shaft of the sorcerer, lift Keito's spear, snatch forth the sharply-pointed iron, extract the evil lance's head from a wretched human skin, the body of a woman's (kapo) son? Whether it be a human skin or the hide of an animal, the arrow may be drawn, be plucked away, by virtue of the word of God, by the spirit of the Lord's decree.
If I am not the man, if Ukko's son is not the man, to extract this arrow or attend to this blunt-headed bolt, may the black-sided Vento ox, that is tough of flank, of body is extremely strong, of sinew very stout, now here appear to tug the arrows out, whisk out the spears, extract the spikes. Ere now, a long time ago, it extracted arrow-heads, took out sharp spikes, plucked iron darts, from a poor human skin, the body of a mother's son.
If that is not enough, there is an ox (v. stag) in Hiitola, at Satan's, one with a hundred horns, with a mouth a hundred fathoms wide, like triple rapids is its throat; O here may it now appear! The hump-backed ox would slowly lug, would draw the arrows out, from rattling in the heart, from creaking underneath the skin, and free the heart from pain, the belly from its suffering.
If that is not enough, there is a wolf in Manala, a bear on Kalma's sandy heath, a boundless braggadocio. O may it here appear to draw the bolts of the sorcerer! If that is not enough, there is a lad in Pohjola, a tall man in Pimentola; O may he here appear to wrench this arrow forth, twist out this iron barb! If that is not enough, no heed at all is paid thereto, tall men there are in Pirula, terrific heroes in Hiisi's home, in the devils’ nesting-place, in front of Hiisi's den, to pluck all arrows out, to disengage all spears.
How at such time is one to speak, and how should one interrogate, when the 'cheek' of a birch has touched a man, the 'cheek' of a spruce has given a kick, when the trunk of a tree does wrong, or a bough inflicts a wound? Thus at such time is one to speak, and thus should one interrogate: Pure God-created tree!—stump! caused by the Lord to grow—thou wast not great when thou from a knoll didst rise, from the earth emerge like a strawberry, like an arctic bramble in the woods, wast growing up while rocked by wind, while lulled to sleep by a chilly air, like a leaf wast fluttering in the grove, like a spray wast swaying in the wilds. Why hast thou done a spiteful deed, why perpetrated a ghastly act and violated a human skin, the body of a woman's (kapo) son? Bear now thy malice to a copse, to the wilderness thy grievous hurts, to a sandy heath thy bitterness, or I shall manage otherwise: by the roots I'll dig thee up, lay low thy crown in a marshy dell.
Many a tree does an injury, many a branch inflicts a wound. When a willow does an injury it is mentioned to a birch, the birch-tree is astounded and makes good the injury. When a fir commits an injury, they tell it to a hardwood tree; astonished is the hardwood tree and soothes the injury. When a hardwood tree does an injury, they tell it to a softwood tree; astonished is the softwood tree and foments the injury. When a stem commits an injury, it is mentioned to a branch; astounded is the branch and repairs the injury. When a branch commits an injury, it is mentioned to the stem; astonied is the stem and removes the injury. Much honey does a stem possess, much virgin honey have the boughs for the injuries they have done, for the troubles they have caused. One day, a little while ago, honey rained down upon their tops, from their tops upon their boughs, from their boughs upon their roots. The roots caused tender herbs to grow, both tender herbs and little stalks, with honey, virgin honey, filled, from which an ointment is prepared for bruises caused by a wicked tree, for troubles it has brought about.
A Cancer ran as Cancers do, came floundering along a road, where Ukko at the roadside stood, and Ukko of the Cancer asked:
'Whither, O Cancer, goest thou? whither, O toad, dost thou proceed?'
'To the village yonder do I go, to plague the bones of
villagers, to cause the flesh to putrefy, to cause the limbs to fret away.'
Ukko to the Cancer said: 'Thither thou must not go to violate a christened man, to ruin one that is baptized. Betake thee to the fire of hell, to the evil power's flame, and violate unchristened ones, play havoc with the un-baptized.'
Jesus was walking along a road with little Peter, with his talkative companion; towards them a Cancer came. Jesus began to speak, and of the Cancer sternly asked:
'Whither, reptile, goest thou? whither, maggot, crawlest thou?'
Quoth the Cancer in reply: 'I to yonder village go, to bewitch young people's bones, cause the flesh to putrefy, gnaw the joints and pain the nails.'
To the Cancer Jesus sternly said: 'To the village Cancer must not go, to smash the bones of villagers and pinch the flesh. Get thee beneath yon boulder-stone, squeeze in below that thick flat stone, shriek there, thou criminal, yell there, accursed one, where moon ne’er shines nor sun illuminates.'
Woe on thee, miserable Iron! bewitchèd Steel, why hast thou maimed thy brother 1 dear, touched with thy mouth thy relative? Why hast thou meddled with the flesh, and also caused the blood to flow? Didst think to have bitten
a tree, to have tried a birch, to have hacked an aspen tree, to have pinched a half-grown pine, to have bitten a branch of fir, to have eaten the heart of a stone? Thou didst not bite a tree, not try a birch at all, not hack an aspen tree, not pinch a half-grown pine, not bite a branch of fir, not eat the heart of a stone, when thou didst injure a human skin, didst cut a living creature's hide, then madest assault upon the veins and came in contact with the flesh, letting the blood escape in streams, causing the ruddy blood to leak from a wretched human skin, from a body racked with pain.
Woe on thee, Slag of Iron! thou Slag of Iron, wretched Rust! What? hast thou now become so great, hast grown so exceeding grand, as to gash a member of thy race, as thy proper nature to offend?
Thou wast not great in former days, not great nor small, when thou as milk didst lie, as fresh milk didst repose in a young maiden's teats, wast growing in a maiden's breast, on a long bank of cloud, under the level sky.
Thou wast not great in former days, not great nor small, when thou as miry clay didst rest, or as transparent water stand upon the greatest reach of swamp, on a wild mountain top; a wolf trod on thee with his foot, a bear with his little paw.
Thou wast not great in former days, not great nor small, when thou wast washed from a morass, wast dug with trouble from the mud, wast taken from the clay, wast carried in a network bag, wast brought to the smithy of a smith, into Ilmarinen's forge-fire. Thou wast not great in former days, not great nor small, when in the furnace thou
didst toss, like summer butter flop about, like wheaten dough expand in the raging place of fire, in the forge of Ilmari the smith. Thou wast not great in former days, not great nor small, when thou wentest through the fire into Ilmarinen's forge-fire, and at the enormous bellows-mouth didst like a golden cuckoo call, sworest thy solemn oath, that thou thy brother wouldst not cut, not violate thy kith and kin, not touch thy kinsfolk with thy mouth. Well, wretch, thou brok'st thine oath, didst eat thine honour like a dog, when thou didst cut thy brother dear, didst chip thy mother's child.
Thou Slag of Iron, worthless Dross! soft and bewitchèd Steel! hast for vexation's sake grown great, grown cruel out of wickedness. Surely I know thine origin, with all thy bringing up. Thine origin is from the swamp [v. mist], from water do thy people come. Thou grewest, Slag of Iron, in a low locality, in chilly water didst lie stretched, lie powerless in a water-pool, didst crackle under Bruin's claws, spurt under shepherds’ feet, ’neath the paws of a wolf on the swamp, the dirty balls of a fox's foot. I also came that way, to the place where iron was born; I dug thee from beneath the sward, I scraped thee free of rust, scoured off the horse's stale, to a smith's smithy bore thee off, for the smith to hammer with his sledge, with a hammer to keep battering. Then didst thou swear, Slag of Iron, while being made sharp instruments, to thine elder brother thou didst swear thy solemn oath, in presence of the well-known God, on the shoe of Kaleva, that thou against thy nature wouldst not sin, wouldst to thy brother do no harm.
Woe on thee, miserable Iron, thou wretched Iron, worthless Dross! who bade thee do a spiteful deed, set thee to do an evil act, egged thee to do a shabby thing,—thy father or thy mother, or the eldest of thy brothers, or the youngest of thy sisters, or some other mighty relative, one of thy splendid family? If thou be iron by witchcraft sent, attack the man that sent thee here, passing the innocent aside, leaving alone the guiltless ones.
Pert iron (Rauta rekki) with a golden shield! 1 make a lasting covenant with me, swear brotherhood, especially for all our life, for all our time, our generation, and our days. Our families are mouth to mouth, our seed is intermixed, earth art thou and earth am I, black mould we are each one of us, we live upon the selfsame earth, there do we meet and come into each other's company. If the desire occur to thee, if thou should have a mind to eat, don't violate a christened man, but violate the unbaptized, clutch in thine arms the criminal, leaving the innocent aside.
O Rickets, thou corroding boy, the son of Ruitukainen's son, that rendest the lower cuticle, that cuttest the stomach's sack, seizest the navel cord, layest hold upon the groin, glidest slowly along the veins, that drillest into the nails a hole, wearest down the temples of the head and gnawest the bone. Who brought thee to the house, conducted thee to
the moss-stopped room, to the pillows of my little one, under the rug of my innocent, the sheets of my weenie bairn, the blankets of my tender babe, to touch the skin upon its head, to penetrate the vertebræ, to twist the navel and to squeeze the trunk?
As thou, O filthy Rickets, art a mouthless, eyeless progeny, how couldst thou eat without a mouth, or munch without the power of sight? how suck a teat without a tongue, bite off a piece without a tooth?
Is a man to be eaten causelessly, to be put to death without disease, without God's mercy and without the true Creator's leave?
The Creator formerly freed moons, the Creator formerly freed suns, with a curse he sent Satan off to hills of steel, to rocks of iron; men with their swords did he release, men with their instruments of war, the horses with their saddles on, the colts in full caparison, and the priests with their parishioners from mighty battle-fields, from the slaughter-ground of men. May he effect deliverance, may he effect the toilsome task, remove this harm by magic wrought, dispel this spell-cast injury!
Kuume of old enclosed the moon, enclosed the moon, concealed the sun; Kapo [v. Kave] released from its cell (F. ring) the moon, from the inside of an iron 'barn,' from the rock released the sun, from the mountain of steel.
So I too now release this man from the spell-brought
harm of villagers, from utterances of the moustached, enchantments of the long-haired ones, charms spoken by the women-kind, from curses of the filthy sluts, I with the Maker's leave release, through the mercy of the Lord alone. Just as the son of the sun escaped, when freed by Päivätär, so may this person too escape when freed by me.
Alas! thou Plague, O thou red Cock, to these parts do not come, for I know thine origin, the place of thy nativity. Thou wast brought forth on battle-fields, on the slaughter-grounds of men. There [v. wind] is thy father, there [v. wind] thy dam, there [v. wind] is thy great progenitor. Abide in the outlying isles, move in and out among the reefs, on the brink of Rutja's sea, on the immeasurable beach. If there thou findest not a place, go whither I command, to the tremendous Vuoksi Falls, into the awful mid-stream broil. If there thou findest not a place, I exorcise thee forth to Manala's eternal huts, nine fathoms under ground.
A share is given to the moon, another portion to the sun, to the Great Bear its share as well, but nothing at all to Thrush.
Surely I know thy family, together with thy lovely name. Thy name is 'Particle of Chaff,' 'Barn Sweepings,'
[paragraph continues] 'Blossom of the Knoll,' 'Field's ordinary Chaff,' 'Bawler on Frames for drying Hay,' 'Gift of the Wind,' 'Donation of the Stream,' 'Result of burning down-felled Trees'; hither ’twas well for thee to come, but better for thee to return; like a gwiniad thou camest in, like a sea-muik darted in. Now go away, withdraw elsewhere, who art smoother than a gwiniad, than a muik-fish more slippery, for here it is bad for thee to stay. Before thee lie the gloomy woods, the gloomy woods, the murky night, behind thee lies the heaving sea, the heaving sea, the lucid sky. Turn round to the heaving sea, with thy back to the gloomy woods; like a gwiniad rush away, dart like a muik of the sea, into the heaving sea depart, to be rocked by a summer wind. Thy relatives are there, thy splendid family, thy sisters, thy five brothers and six daughters of thy godfather, thine uncle's children, seven in all, are on the clear and open sea, on the wide-stretching main.
O thou Bent-grass of prickles full, thou knobby blossom of a knoll, of barley the external husk, the external droppings too of oats, refuse behind a heap of stones, thou cobweb hanging on a wall, thy name is 'Particle of Chaff,' the ordinary chaff, from the earth by Mantu made to grow, by Pellermoinen made to sprout. Thou wast pretty flitting through the shed, and lovely moving through the house; wast smoother than a gwiniad, more beautiful than water's fish, till thou struckest an evil path and entered a gloomy wood. 1 Thither ’twas well for thee
to go, here it is bad for thee to stay. Better thou dost if thou return from following a path unknown, for there destruction will ensue, a cruel end will quickly come: to Mana thou wilt rotting go, nodding to Tuonela. A peg thou wast when coming here, a golden muik when going away. Now turn, when thou art bid, from the gloomy wood into the gentle sea. Perpetual night is there, bright sunshine here. So wheel about, turn back again, and in going take thy pain; like a gwiniad dart, like a fish of the water dart, like a sea-muik dive. In exchange for pleasant fat take a fancy to the gentle sea, to lap the heaving sea, and to quit the gloomy wood, lest thou should suppurate as pus, as matter to the ground should flow.
Blemish of Hiisi! woe on thee, thou evil pagan, woe on thee, blemish by men or women caused! thou blemish caused by cats or dogs, thou blemish caused by cocks or hens, blemish by wind or water caused! blemish from bathrooms or from smoke! why, wretch, hast thou set up thyself, ta’en thy position in my eyes, to compress the temples of the head, to jerk the orbs of sight, and under the temples to swell? If thou art a blemish caused by men, go away to the men, to the slumbering-places of the men. If thou art a stain by women caused, flee to the women's petticoats, to their clattering over-socks. 1 If thou art a stain by water caused, enter the water, paltry wretch, like a ball of red yarn tumble in. If thou art a blemish caused by wind, enter the whirlwind of a storm, the driving
sleigh of a chilly wind. If thou art a blemish caused by smoke, into the air mount up, reach the clouds like smoke. If thou art stain by a bathroom caused, enter the moss in the bathroom chinks or the furnace built of stone.
Ho! Rickets, why hast thou begun to cause the eyes to drip, to compress the temples of the head? Thee I conjure away from the poor human being's eyes.
Let the eyes of a mountain run, the temples of a mountain swell, let roofs with water run, let eaves begin to drip, but bright let these eyes become, as the stars in the sky, as the moon in the south, as a ray of the sun, and brighter too than that.
O Lizard, Hiisi's eye, the son of Kihonen Kähönen, O Ikitetty, Aijö's son, surely I know thine origin. Thou out of copper hast been cast, from copper ore hast been produced, thou 'writhing snake,' thou bow-shaped worm,' 'hairpin of the maid of Panula,' 'the offspring of a bristly beard,' 'the hatching of a greyish beard'! Come to observe thy work, to repair thine evil deeds. Like brandy drink thy angriness, like ale the evil thou hast done, down through the bony jaw, the blue eye and the painful teeth in thy thin skull, to thy cold rib bone, to thy only navel cord.
Nukuhutar, a youthful girl, made preparation on the beach for washing her little shirts, for the bleaching of her clothes. A huge and hungry wolf coming along gave her
a bite. To Mana did the maiden go, the lass, indeed, to Tuonela, in consequence of the wolf's great bite, of the damage wrought by 'windy tail,' to be by Tuoni's daughter asked, to be addressed by Mana's child: 'To Mana did a wolf bring thee, a "windy tail" to Tuonela?'
To Mana the lassie did not go, nor a mother's child to Tuonela. Tapio's daughter, honey-mouthed, the tiny little forest lass, boils honey day by day on the top of the hill of Metsola; by night she sprinkles it on an alder-tree's good leaves, on the traces left by the wolf's great bite; with it she healed the little girl, and restored her former comeliness.
How at such time is one to speak, when women are concerned, when pains of travail are at hand, constraint is laid upon a girl, when the belly is getting hard, the womb's contents get troublesome? Now is there in this generation, among the youth of nowadays, one to remove this obstacle, to perform this troublesome affair, to split this hindrance in the way, to stretch apart the thighs,—one that could be of use to help in this laborious work, could bring to the earth a 'traveller,' into a world a human child?
The Virgin Mary, mother dear, the holy little serving-maid, was on her way, was travelling; she found an apple on the path, an arctic bramble on the ground; she brought the berry to her lips, into her belly the berry supt. The Virgin Mary, mother dear, the holy little serving-maid, in consequence became with child, already by the tenth
month a son is kicking in her lap, tumbling about below a 'tent.'
Ukko the lord on high, the old man in the sky, freed the lass from her sore constraint, the woman from internal throes, helped to the earth the 'traveller,' 'wee fingers' to the outer air, to behold these lands, to feel a pleasure in the world.
O Itch, O Scab, thou evil heathen, get thee gone from this human skin, from the body of a mother's son, when I give thee a thorough pommelling, point out to thee four roads to the deep gloomy woods, to the awful wilderness recess, whence never any man at all, no human being in his life doth to these parts again return. Don't mind if thou shouldst meet in the wilderness an angry bear; go into Bruin's house, the chamber of the forest bear, tickle his sides and scrape his groin. From there pray don't come here for an eternity of time, while the moon sheds its golden light.
I observe all warts, warts caused by the earth or by the soil, warts caused by fire or caused by wind, I see all warts produced by air.
If thou, O wart, hast come from earth, to the earth I exorcise thee back; if thou, annoyance, art from fire, depart, annoyance, to the fire. Speed to thy home, thou toad, flee to thy country, evil one, force thyself in beneath the stones, into the evil spirits’ flags, if from barn-sweepings thou hast come, or from the edges of a field, or from the heat of steam, from the furnace's hot stones, from the bathhouse smoke or from sweltering heat hast hurled thyself.
Thus at such time is one to speak, to investigate in truth, when Fire commits an evil deed, Flame causes damage foolishly, against the character of God, the compassion of the Blest.
Thou Fire whom God has made, thou Flame by the Creator formed, without a cause hast gone too deep, without a reason gone too far; better thou dost if thou return away from a wretched human skin. Blow like the wind, like water roll, like air's warm vapour float away from a naked skin, from a body racked with pain. Mount to the sky, O Fire, flee to the clouds, O Flame, as any one to his mother goes, to his great parent flies—to thy former state, to the centre of the 'golden ring,' so that thou shalt not burn my boy nor destroy my progeny.
With what shall I extinguish Fire, reduce the flame, make Fire innocuous, the flame of no avail, that it shall not burn his cheek, not spread itself upon his sides, not hurt him on the flank, not cause his sides to shriek? With this I shall extinguish Fire, reduce the flame: From a swamp I raise up Sumutar, the portly woman from the mud, to survey the deeds of Fire, to repair its injuries.
If that is not enough, then my three eagles I shall take,—for I three eagles own, one is an eagle with iron claws, the second eagle has copper claws, the third is a silver-taloned bird—to eat the pain produced by Fire, to lap the 'broth' of Fire. If it pay no heed to that, I'll bring my homestead dog—for I a black dog own, a hound of iron hue; by him I'll have the eater eaten, I'll have the biter bitten.
An ox grew up in Kainuhu, a bull in Finland grew in size, it flapped its tail in Tavastland, at the Kemi river shook its head. From the sea a wee man rose, a full-grown fellow from the wave, he struck the ox and made it reel, bent down its side against the ground. Ointments are obtained from it, charmed remedies are chosen out, with which the burning pains are drenched, fire's violence is overcome, fire's burns are quite removed and its injuries are healed.
Porotyttö [v. Sinisirkku], the Pohja girl, the wife of Tapio, Hiiletär, gropes in the cinders on her knees, with her fore-arm in the sparks, with her hands in the ardent fire, with her arm in the blaze. In the cinders she burnt her knee, her elbow in the sparks. A horse was running from Pohjola, on its croup was a pool of slush; some slush she took, she took some ice from the mouth of the Pohjola horse. With the slush she chilled, with the ice she iced the places that were burnt, that were injured out and out. Holding a golden cup in hand, and with a copper twig she sprinkled water on the scabs, on the places that were burnt, and rendered fire innocuous, deprived the fire of heat.
In the east a cloud springs up, far off a rainbow shows itself, a holy maid is on the cloud, a woman (kapo) on the rainbow's rim; under her arm is a golden box, in her hand a golden wing, with which she wiped away the pain from places that are burnt, and salved the injuries of fire, spots that for long were running sores,
A tiny little cloud appears, from behind begins to loom. In the cloud is a water-drop, in the drop is a little pond, beside the pond a maiden stands. In her arms is a lump of slush, on her breast is a load of ice with which she extinguished fire, kept icing what was burnt, kept pressing down the nose of Fire.
Poor wretched Fire inflicted harm, the Fire committed ravages, it damaged a human being's skin, it injured a mother's son. Sapless the man became, the stalwart man insensible.
They hired a yellow wren, an insignificant yellow wren. 'Just go for the old crone, in gloomy Pohjola,' But the old woman never came. They hired a bee. It fetched the crone from Pohjola. So the ancient crone with bended back, puffing and blowing, comes along, tramping away through the melting snow, her skirts all slushy, her knees all ice. In her breast is a lump of slush, under her arm is a piece of ice, in her hand is an icy cup, in the cup three feathers lie. She asks concerning the damage done, inquires concerning fire's exploits, whether the skin is badly burnt, whether ’tis crusted hard with scab. The place that was badly burnt did she anoint with salves, and what was crusted hard with scab with a wing she lightly stroked, with melted butter she softened it.
A maiden comes from Turjaland, from Lapland starts a girl, in a red-sterned sailing boat, in a skiff with a ruddy sail; on the bows of the boat hang icicles, the sail is
covered with icicles, in the bows is a kettle of slush, in the kettle a ladle of ice. While she is dealing out the ice I keep imploring her:
'Pray give me, happy one, give me some slush and give me ice. Thou hast abundant cold, I a tormenting heat.'
An old man comes from Turjaland, a tall man from Pimentola, with the stature of a forest fir, the greatness of a swamp-grown pine, the hair of whom to his shoulders falls, his beard to a level with the knees, the legs of his breeks are a fathom wide, two fathoms at the hips. He has great knowledge in his mouth, prodigious wisdom in his breast, he knows the art of bewitching Fire, and how to address a fiery brand, that inflammation won't last long, nor cause for long a burning pain. Up to the sky he lifted Fire, into the clouds forced Fire to flee.
Red Fire rushed forth and burnt a lassie's breasts.
From the sea a wee man rose, a hero from the wave emerged, the height of an upright thumb, three fingers high; on the back of his neck is an icy hat, and gloves of ice upon his hands; he knew the art of bewitching fire. He sits in a cottage neuk and recites 'the ravages of Fire.' Thus he healed the lassie's breasts, made them more comely than before, better than in former days.
A fiery river flows, a sparky river throws off sparks in murky Pohjola, in strong Sarentola. A dry-throated man of Pohjola, a drinker, living behind the stream, drank up
the fiery stream, sipped up the lake of sparks. May he now make appearance here, where Fire has acted stupidly, to eat the injuries of Fire, lap up the broth of Fire.
Fire has already done amiss, unlucky Fire caused injury by means of limpid water mixed with salt and mixed with groats. Fire burnt his friend, Water—his oath-bound friend,—in an iron-bottomed pan, in a kettle made of brass. Pray, Water, be upon thy guard, do not proceed to injury or stoop to causing wounds. I know thine origin; in a mountain thou wast bred, in a rock wast reared.
Pray, Copper, do not slip, pray don't be dangerous; surely I know thine origin. From a hill thou art obtained, thou art a casting of Vattala. At whose command, thy father's or thy mother's, didst thou perpetrate these brutal acts? May thine injuries dry up, the traces left by copper fade, as wine dries upon a stone, as water on rock evaporates.
Here an injury has taken place and blood has flowed abundantly, has reached the summit of a hill, has over a mountain flowed. A fox might enter through the holes, a 'bushy-tail' sneak in. So why is nothing done, why is the blood not staunched, the foaming flood from the veins not checked with fiery sods of turf, with the grassy knolls of a hill, with powerful instruments of iron?
The son of Lempo received a cut, the evil boy was severed through, on his mother's knee, when under his parent's charge. They knotted up his veins and united them, that blood to the ground no longer flowed, that the gore no longer dripped.
Father Lempo received a cut, into the water they flung his head; mother Lempo received a cut, into the fire they whisked her head; boy Lempo received a cut, into a swamp they stamped his head; all the Lempos received a cut from their own knives, sharp knives they had made themselves, from an instrument they made on the top of a juniper stump, on the end of a rolling block. Their veins were knotted up, so why not this vein too, why is the blood not stopped, the deadly cataract not plugged?
How ought one to recite a charm, and in what manner sing, when iron makes a gash, a sharp edge gives a sudden cut, when a sword shall slash a man, a blue-edged weapon mutilates and blood is caused to flow, the ruddy blood to leak? 'Milk' never on the ground should fall, on a grassy meadow guiltless blood; ’tis better blood should be inside, more beautiful when ’neath the skin, when purling in the veins and gliding in the bones, than flowing to the ground, falling on refuse drop by drop.
Pure ruddy Blood! cease trickling down, cease dribbling, darling, to the ground; the forest first was on the ground. No stream thou art that thou shouldst flow, no lake thou art that thou shouldst sink, no pool in a swamp that thou shouldst shine, no worn-out boat that thou shouldst leak.
[paragraph continues] Thy place is in the heart, thy cellar lies below the lungs thy chamber, lovely one, is there, thou beautiful, thou precious one, that art worth the price of a man, art worth in price a stalwart man.
Cease dropping, red-, cease spilling, berry-coloured Blood, cease, Milk,' from flowing to the ground, cease, drop of blood, from trickling down. Like a wall stand still, O Blood, remain like a fence, O foaming Gore, like a yellow iris in the sea, like a sedge amid the moss, stand like a stake in a morass, a bar of iron in a rock, a stone in a raging cataract, a flag on a ploughed field's edge. Thy duty is to stop, while I am causing thee to stop; but if thy mind should be disposed to move thyself more speedily, then in the flesh pray move about, keep gliding also in the bones; more proper ’tis for thee within, than streaming downwards to the ground.
What should be fetched and what brought here, as a plug for the fearful hole, for the gash that was made by iron, the incision made by blue-mouthed steel, the slashes caused by a slender blade, when blood is flowing in a stream, is roaring like a cataract?
Stoups of silver did they fetch, golden cans were brought; they held no quantity at all, they didn't hold the smallest drop. They brought from the water birch-bark pails, from the waves pails made of alder-staves; already they hold a little drop, a very little they contain. Whence now can one obtain a bar, may one fetch a real plug, to check the streaming of the blood, the spilling of the 'golden-hued'?
[paragraph continues] If by other means it will not change, with gravel make it change its course, cast sand in front of it, let it be mixed with sand.
If that is not enough, O dangling spider, come and spin thy web in front, to dam the passage of the blood. May it grow into a skin, may it harden into stone, as a stopper to the flood, as a bar to the rushing blood.
If that is not enough, should it pay no heed at all, may the word of God become a bar, may trust in the Maker be a plug. If blood should flow in rapid drops, if a drop should hastily spirt forth, may the Creator hold it fast, may God seize hold of it, before it tastes the earth, before its sprinkling on the dust; let some of kindly Jesus’ flesh, a bit from the side of the Lord, be a plug for the fearful hole, a darn for the evil gap.
When countries were upheaved, the hard dry land was lifted up from ’neath the sea, from ’neath the wave, from under all the fish, our great Creator then made an incision in his flesh, caused his blood to stream away from under his own left foot. Then the great Creator spake, thus the glorious God expressed himself:
'Let tar to the ground in drops distil, may fir-fat drip with hissing sound, rather than guiltless blood. Blood has its place within the heart, warm flesh through which to course, warm bones through which to glide.'
Water's master, water's mistress, water's golden king, the water's mighty lord, why art thou angry causelessly,
without a reason art enraged? why hast thou sent thy sons, thy hireling men, a hundred belted men with swords, a thousand carrying guns, to bite, to gnaw, to eat, to crunch, to knot the heart, to twist the lungs, along the liver creep, to smash the bones of legs, and trample on the knees? There's no place here for them, although they should want a place.
Arise, thou iron-crested cock! jump quickly up, spur-footed bird, to claw these toads, to rub these Hiisis down, that they'll be heard of never more, while this world lasts.
Why, Cough, hast thou arrived? why, Glanders, made attack? If thou, O Cough, art brought by wind, whisked here by a humid wind, presented by a chilly wind, along the path of the wind depart, along the track of the chilly wind. Go rustling in among the firs, go wallowing in among the pines.
If from old women thou art come, avaunt, thou Cough, to the home of a crone, from the home of a crone to an old man's home, there they have want of thee, await thy coming back. Let the old women cough, the crooked-jawed ones have a try, let old men bewail themselves, mustachioed men set up a din and cough till their necks are bent, till their backs run down with sweat.
O Colic, gasping, groaning boy, thou griping and block-headed boy, why dost thou, toad, keep swelling up, why, Water's scum, dost thou annoy, why hast thou, evil one,
begun, why, Lempo, hast thou lent thyself to violate a Christian man, destroy a man that has been made? Why hast thou not thy journey gone, past the blue bridge, 1 the red foot-bridge, intending to reach the polar star; not entered a lynx's skin, the mouth of a howling wolf, the arms of a forest-bear, the powerful bones of a bear?
How shall I squeeze the gripes, remove this Colic boy, so that the sick man get repose, the afflicted man his senses keep, the weakly man may draw his breath, the luckless man may heave a sigh? With this I squeeze the gripes, remove this Colic boy. The teeth of a bear I'll go and fetch, with them I'll bite the evil boy, from a bear I'll take the paws, from the blood-drinker crooked claws, with which I'll squeeze the gripes, I'll crush the head of Colic's son, the evil insect strike, and shall enrage the midge.
If that is not enough to tranquillise the Colic quite, may a fiery ram approach, may one with twisted horns arrive to butt the Colic's gripes, to make his 'prickles' sob. Now, Colic, don't be clamorous, nor puff and proudly swell thyself; from the belly, toad, depart; thou worm, from the belly flee; go home, thou toad, flee to thy country, evil one; there a bitch has littered twins, dog-puppies both of them; eat their hearts' core, in their livers crawl.
If thou shouldst pay no heed thereto, thee do I exorcise, under a full-grown goose's wing, inside the feather of a swan, inside the rib-bone of a sik, the liver of a burbot fish.
If thou shouldst pay no heed thereto, I still remember another place. Go as a comrade to the moon, to pay a visit to the sun, whence thou wilt never be removed, nor ever more be fetched away.
109:1 Peas and beans probably refer to the black spots in decayed teeth. Under the word Meslins, Mr. Palmer, in Folk Etymology, gives a number of instances in which words for skin diseases are derived from some grain, including peas and beans, in various Indo-European languages.
122:1 The Finns believe, that formerly the wood-grouse, pyy (Tetrastes bonasia), was an enormous bird,—the size of a draught-ox according to some—so large that:—
The Saviour then cursed the pyy and ordered it to grow smaller and smaller every year. So the pyy becomes continually smaller till finally it will become so small as to pass through a ring and then the end of the world will come. (Told me by Lektor Suomalainen. Also given by K. Krohn, Eläinsatuja, p. 280.)
129:1 Because mankind and iron were equally the product of the spirit of Nature (Luonnotar), and because they are both of earth, according to 40 d.
132:1 Ganander quotes this and the next two lines in his Mythology (1789) to prove the existence of Rauta Rekki, or Rehki, as a god of iron. Lönnrot explains rekki by 'pert, wanton, brisk, glaring'; but is doubtful about rehki, 'the haltia of iron' (?).
135:1 'A gloomy wood' seems to mean 'the eye,' the eyelashes being compared to trees; or the accident of a splinter entering the eye may have happened while working in the forest.
136:1 Worn for walking through the snow.
149:1 Or floor. Perhaps it means the rainbow.