Book III, Section II of Elias Lönnrot's Kanteletar (1840), translated from the Finnish

The Kanteletar — "Daughter of the Kantele" — is Lönnrot's 1840 companion volume to the Kalevala. Where the Kalevala is epic and narrative, the Kanteletar is lyric and personal: five hundred songs spanning laments, love lyrics, ritual invocations, and folk ballads, compiled from Finnish Literary Society fieldwork manuscripts. Book III gathers the Kanteletar's oldest and darkest material — songs of ancient belief, historical memory, and legend.

The twenty-five historical songs translated here form Section II of Book III. They are Finland's folk memory of real events refracted through the ballad tradition: the murder of Bishop Henry, the crusade-era founding myth of Finnish Christianity; the burning of Elina at Laukko, the most famous murder ballad in the Finnish language; the siege of Viipuri Castle by Tsar Ivan; the wars of Pontus de la Gardie and Charles XII; Kullervo's departure for war, later expanded by Lönnrot into the Kalevala's tragic hero. Alongside the wars are songs of forced marriage, bride-theft, incest discovered too late, and the mother who unknowingly eats her daughter's flesh — the deep grammar of European ballad tradition, preserved in Kalevala-metre.

No complete English translation of the Kanteletar exists in the public domain. Keith Bosley's 1992 Oxford World's Classics selection is in copyright. These translations are independently derived from the 1840 Finnish text (Project Gutenberg #7078). The register is ballad-plain: short lines, stark diction, the original's repetitions preserved.

Song 7 — The Murder of Bishop Henry (Piispa Heinrikin surma)

The founding legend of Finnish Christianity. Bishop Henry of Uppsala and King Erik set out to baptize the Finnish lands; the peasant Lalli murders the bishop after his wife Kerttu lies about their visit. Lalli's punishment — his flesh tears away with the bishop's stolen mitre and ring — and the ox-drawn miracle that founds a church. One of the oldest and most famous songs in the Finnish ballad tradition.

Two children grew long ago,
one grew in Kaalimaa,
the other rose in Sweden.
He who grew in Kaalimaa,
he was Henry of Häme;
he who rose in Sweden,
he was King Erik.

Said Henry of Häme
to Erik his brother:
"Let us go to baptize the lands,
in unbaptized lands,
in places without priests!"

Said King Erik
to Henry his brother:
"The lakes are not yet frozen,
the winding river still flows open."

Said Henry of Häme
to Erik his brother:
"I can circle around Lake Kiulo,
around the winding river."

He harnessed the colts,
put bridles on the summer horses,
set the sledges in their place,
put the children in a row,
the big ones on the runners,
the little ones at the back.
Then at once he set out driving,
drove along the road, he travelled,
two spring days,
two nights in a row.

Said King Erik
to Henry his brother:
"Now hunger comes upon us here,
nothing to eat, nothing to drink,
nothing to have for a meal."

"There is Lalli behind the bay,
a good house at the cape's end,
there we eat, there we drink,
there we take our meal."

Then when they arrived there
Kerttu, the worthless wife,
twisted her wicked mouth,
stirred her worthless tongue.

Then Henry of Häme
took hay for the horse,
threw coins in return,
took bread from the oven,
threw coins in return,
took ale from the cellar,
rolled money in return.
There they ate, there they drank,
there they had their meal;
then they set out driving.

Lalli came home —
that wicked wife of Lalli
twisted her wicked mouth,
stirred her worthless tongue:
"Here people have been,
they have eaten here, they have drunk,
they have taken meal here,
carried away hay for the horse,
thrown sand to the pig,
eaten the bread from the oven,
thrown sand to the pig,
drunk the ale from the cellar,
given sand to the pig."

The herdsman spoke from the post:
"She is lying to you,
do not believe her!"

Lalli, that wicked man,
a man of evil kin,
Lalli took his snowshoes,
the devil his long spear,
chased after the Lords.

Said the faithful servant,
spoke the poor attendant:
"Already I hear a rumble behind us,
shall I drive this horse faster?"

Said Henry of Häme:
"If you hear a rumble behind us,
do not drive this horse —
urge the nag to gallop."

"But if we are overtaken,
or even killed?"

"Go behind a rock,
listen from behind the rock,
if I am overtaken,
or even killed;
gather my bones from the snow,
lay them in an ox-drawn sledge,
let the ox draw them to Finland.
Where the ox grows weary,
there let a church be built,
a chapel be raised,
for the priest to preach his sermons,
for all the people to hear."

The wretch returned home;
the herdsman spoke from the post:
"Where did Lalli get his cap,
the evil man his fine hat,
the scoundrel, the bishop's mitre?"

Then the man in his sorrow
grasped the cap from his head —
the hairs tore away with it;
he pulled the ring from his finger —
the flesh slid off with it.

So this wicked man,
the poor bishop's slayer,
received his punishment from on high,
his payment from the world's ruler.

Song 8 — The Death of Elina (Elinan surma)

The most famous murder ballad in the Finnish language. Elina is married to Klaus Kurki of Laukko; the serving-maid Kirsti, jealous of her position, schemes to make Klaus believe Elina has been unfaithful with the farmhand Uolevi. Klaus burns Elina alive with her child. Jesus reveals the truth: Elina is in heaven, Klaus and Kirsti in hell. Klaus drives into the sea. Based on events at Laukko Manor, Vesilahti, in the fifteenth or sixteenth century.

Elina, a young maiden,
went to the storehouse on the hill,
a copper basket on her arm,
a copper key in the basket.
There comes Klaus Kurki.
"How do you know Klaus Kurki?"
"I know him by his fiery bearing,
by the noble stride of his foot."
"Are there no other proud ones,
but Klaus Kurki of Laukko?" —

Klaus came into the yard,
with a hundred horsemen,
a hundred saddled steeds,
men with golden swords,
horses with silver headstalls.

Five brothers of Elina
all sat at the table's head,
all rose to their feet,
went out to meet Klaus.

"Have you a maiden to sell,
a girl kept in store for me?"

"Maidens are not sold on the hill,
nor bartered in the yard;
horses are sold on the hill,
bony nags in the yard.
We have rooms enough:
a room for the suitor to come to,
a room to come, another to go.
A stable for the horse,
a shelter for harnessing the colt,
a nail to hang the saddle."

Klaus came into the chamber,
opened the door with his sword,
shut it with the scabbard.
"Have you a maiden to sell,
a girl kept in store for me?" —

Elina's mother
bowed before Klaus Kurki:
"We have no maiden to sell,
no girl to give away.
Our girls are small,
all still growing."

"There is little Elina,
give me little Elina!"

"Oh mother dear,
do not give me to Klaus!"

"Little Elina is not able
to set the servants to work,
to feed your household,
to tend your farmyard cattle."

"Elina does not need to;
there is the maid Kirsti. —
I will give the maid Kirsti
to set the servants to work,
to feed the household,
to tend the farmyard cattle."

"You may have your maid Kirsti,
the former mistress of Laukko,
but she would burn me in fire,
put me to a cruel death."

"Kirsti has never before
burned anyone in fire,
put anyone to a cruel death,
neither before nor since."

Who after all is the fool —
who but the poor girl?
If not a fool, then dim;
she took the pledge, she gave her hand;
her hand is in Klaus's hand,
she went to Klaus's manor.

Kirsti looked through the window,
fluttered at the pane.
"Oh, if only there were
someone to spoil this match!
Before I give up the keys,
before I walk at another's command."

She went to speak with Klaus:
"Oh, dear Klaus!
You know very little —
Uolevi has lain with the mistress."

"Oh my maid Kirsti!
If you prove the truth
of what you have put into words,
I will bathe you in blood still;
I will burn Elina in fire —
five woollen skirts
I will give you to wear,
before Elina the lady;
I will give the keys to your hand
before Elina the lady."

"Oh, dear Klaus!
Drive to the meadow at Aumaste,
to the edge of Pikkuniittui.
Say you are going far,
that you will be away many weeks,
at the court in Ostrobothnia.
Then I will prove the truth
of what I put into words."

Klaus made ready to leave. —
"Oh my little Elina!
Cut butter into the box,
pack provisions in the sack,
a piece of pork,
a bundle of eggs,
for my long journey,
to the courts in Ostrobothnia."

"Oh my dear Klaus!
Do not stay long there:
these are my last weeks,
still more my last days;
walk in half a boot,
give others the other half,
speak with half your words,
give others the other half;
drink but half the mead,
give others the other half —
so you will sooner escape
the witches of the North."

Elina, the little wife,
packed provisions in the sack,
cut butter into the box,
a piece of pork,
a bundle of eggs.
Klaus set out driving,

drove to the meadow at Aumaste —
to the edge of Pikkuniittui.

Kirsti goes to the washing,
to wash the little garments,
the shifts of the lady Elina.
A pounding was heard from the stream;
the lady went to look:
"Oh my maid Kirsti!
What are you pounding at the stream,
banging by the dam?"

"I am beating the blankets of a loose woman,
a wicked wife's clothes."

"Do not, Kirsti my maid!
Beat them so hard."

Kirsti thought up yet another trick,
beat harder still.

"Do not beat, Kirsti!
My shifts so cruelly.
They were not made here,
but by my mother at home."

"Good girls go astray sometimes,
but wicked ones not even half as much —
it is nothing to me,
though a poor servant
be called names;
the great mistresses themselves
are with Uolevi,
in Longbeard's embrace."

Elina, with tears in her eyes,
came from the shore to the chamber.
Kirsti hurried after her:
"Oh my dear lady!
Let us bring the farmhands from work,
let the oxen rest;
let us hold a small feast,
a fine celebration —
as was done before,
when the master was travelling."

"Oh Kirsti my maid!
Do as you wish,
as you did before me;
tap all the other barrels,
but leave one untapped,
the one set aside for me."

Kirsti thought up yet another trick,
tapped that barrel first.

"Oh Kirsti my maid!
I said one thing, you did another."

"Oh my dear lady!
Where shall I make your bed,
shall I make it in the new room,
above the uppermost gate?"

"Do not make it in the new room,
above the uppermost gate;
make my bed in Klaus's room,
as you have done before!"

"There are muskets that thunder,
there are swords that flash,
there are irons that tear,
sharp-edged weapons."

"Muskets are the death of soldiers,
swords are in men's hands;
in the room they are familiar,
in the chamber they are beautiful.
Make my bed there,
lay double woollen blankets,
lay double pillows,
double linen sheets."

Kirsti thought up yet another trick:
she laid five woollen blankets,
she laid five pillows,
five linen sheets.

Elina went to bed.
"Oh Kirsti my maid,
you did not do as I said!
You laid five woollen blankets,
you laid five pillows,
five linen sheets."

Kirsti left the chamber,
went to Uolevi's room:
"Uolevi, head farmhand,
come to Klaus's chamber!
You are needed there,
you were called in haste." —
"What would I do there?"

He went there in good faith;
Kirsti hurried after him,
locked nine locks,
bolted the tenth from behind;
then ran to the meadow at Aumaste,
to the edge of Pikkuniittui:
"Oh dear Klaus!
Now I have proved the truth
of what I put into words;
Uolevi is there now,
with the lady in the chamber."

Klaus rushed home at once,
downcast, heavy-hearted;
he took fire to a torch,
lit fire to birch bark,
put the fire beneath the corner,
poured flame beneath.

Elina, the young lady,
reached her finger through the window,
the wedding ring on her finger:
"Oh dear Klaus,
do not lose your ring,
lest you lose the one who bears it!"

Klaus Kurki, wretched man,
drew his sword from its sheath,
flashed the gleaming blade,
cut the finger clean off.

Elina, the young lady,
held her child through the window,
through the weeping pane:
"Oh dear golden Klaus!
Do not burn your little son,
lest you burn the one who bore him."

"Burn with your son,
burn with your children!
He is not my son,
he is Uolevi's son."

Elina, the young lady,
prayed to the Lord Jesus:
"Oh dear Lord Jesus,
give me, gracious Lord Jesus,
one more look at my mother!
Let every place burn,
but let this place give water,
until I see my mother's eyes!
Oh Uoti my brother,
run, hasten to Suomela,
bid her come here,
speak better than the truth!"

Uoti set out at once,
running, hurrying,
he ran straight across the lake,
came there to Suomela:
"Oh dear mother!
The lady has called for you."

She rose quickly from bed,
put on her clothes —
"Woe, woe to me, wretched woman,
how I struggle with my skirts,
the skirt always back and forth,
how will it be with my daughter!"

"Well enough, dear mother,
well before, better now!"

"Woe, woe to me, wretched woman,
how I struggle with my stockings,
the stocking always back and forth,
how will it be with my daughter!"

"Well enough, dear mother,
well before, better now!"

"Woe, woe to me, wretched woman,
how I struggle with my shoes,
the shoe always back and forth,
how will it be with my daughter!"

"Well enough, dear mother,
well before, better now!"

"Woe, woe to me, wretched woman,
how I struggle with my linens,
the linen always back and forth,
how will it be with my daughter!"

"Well enough, dear mother,
well before, better now!"

They came near Suomela —
"Woe, woe to me, wretched woman,
smoke is visible from Laukko,
smoke from Klaus's manor,
what is being done there,
with such thick smoke!"

"They are gilding roosters there,
painting hens' chicks,
slaughtering sheep,
singeing pig's heads,
for the christening of a small child,
for a little boy's feast."

She came to Klaus's manor,
fell to her knees,
before her own son-in-law:
"Oh my dear Klaus,
take the boy from the fire,
the precious wife from the blaze!"

"I will burn her with her son,
the whole lot with her children."

"Do not burn, dear Klaus,
let her go to other lands,
to hide her life,
to be ashamed of her deeds!"

Kirsti came in haste:
"Do not listen, dear Klaus!
Put foul flour
into the tar barrel;
throw them into the fire,
so it burns better."

"Oh my little Elina!
Oh my poor child!
You could have lived in peace,
in peace with that woman."

"Oh mother dear!
There is no fault at all,
no blame however small,
not blood enough to fill a needle's eye —
I did all I could,
and a little more besides —
let this place burn now,
since at the last,
before my cruel death,
I got to see my mother's eyes."

She would have bid farewell still,
spoken a few more words
to her weeping mother.
The poor girl sank down,
flew into the flames,
fell into the open fire.

That was the passing of the young lady,
young Elina the wife,
who was fair of face,
fair in every way —
long will you be mourned,
wept for through all time;
weeping will not leave Laukko,
lamentation not Vesilahti!

That was the end of the young wife,
and of her small boy;
hardly half a month had passed,
or two weeks' time,
the stable full of horses,
the barn full of cattle,
all died with straw in their mouths,
fell upon their oats.

Klaus Kurki, wretched man,
a man wretched and terrible,
sat on the granary steps,
both sat and wept.

Jesus walked by:
"Why do you weep, Klaus Kurki?"

"There is reason enough to weep,
troubles enough to lament:
I burned my own wife,
set fire to my own arms' fullness,
burned my small son,
destroyed my newborn."

"I know the lady Elina —"
"Where is the lady Elina?"

"There is the lady Elina,
there in the house of heaven,
in the upper chamber,
at the foot of God,
before six candles,
a golden book in her hand,
her little boy in her lap,
Uolevi before the door.
I know Klaus Kurki too —"
"Where is Klaus Kurki?"

"There is Klaus Kurki,
in the lowest hell,
his spurs barely visible,
his feet glowing from below. —

I know Kirsti too.
There she is,
in the lowest hell,
beneath the lowest gate,
her braids barely visible,
her golden ribbons gleaming."

Klaus set out driving,
put his pipes in his sack,
played as he went through the marsh,
rang out across the heath,
resounded at the lake's end;
he drove straight into the open sea,
beneath the deepest waves. —

That was the passing of the young man,
and of the married man;
Kirsti like a cur behind him.

Song 9 — Inkeri's Suitors (Inkerin sulhot)

Inkeri waits faithfully for her betrothed Lalmanti, who bade her wait ten years. The lesser knight Erik brings false letters claiming Lalmanti is dead. Inkeri is married by force. When her brother rides to meet Lalmanti's returning ship, the news arrives too late: the wedding has lasted a week, the gifts a week, and the third week she has been killed.

Inkeri, beautiful maiden,
waited long to be wed;
Lalmanti, the great knight,
gave his hand to the cradle,
betrothed her with great rings,
redeemed her with large rings.
"Wait for me five years,
five years, six years,
seven springs as well,
and eight summers too,
nine autumns besides,
a winter for the tenth;
when you hear that I have died,
that I have surely perished,
then take a better man,
not one worse than me,
nor one better than me;
take one like yourself."

Erik, the lesser knight,
carried false letters,
false letters in haste:
"Lalmanti has been defeated in the marshes,
pressed down in battle."

Inkeri, beautiful maiden,
was led by force to the wedding chamber,
by force the rings were given,
by force but not to the altar,
not by men, not by swords,
not by proud warriors,
not by chosen women,
not by fair maidens.

Inkeri, beautiful maiden,
sat in the cove of the cape,
both sat and wept,
looked east, looked west,
looked across to the north,
saw a shape upon the sea:
"If you are a flock of birds,
then fly away;
if you are a school of fish,
then sink into the water;
if you are my Lalmanti,
bring your boat to shore."

"How will I know my Lalmanti?
I know him by the sail's coming,
by its coming, by its going,
by one side of the sail:
one side of the sail is new,
the other is blue silk,
silk that Inkeri wove,
long yearned for by the maiden."

"My young brother,
take the stallion from the oats,
the faithful one from the straw,
the easy-gaited one from the malt,
ride out to meet Lalmanti!"

"Greetings, young fur-trader,
how does Inkeri fare?"

"Well enough does Inkeri fare:
one week the wedding feast has lasted,
another week the gifts have flowed,
the third week she has been killed."

Song 10 — The Destruction of Viipuri Castle (Wiipurin linnan hävitys)

Tsar Ivan — "our famous golden brooch," the ironic epithet of folk memory — sails against the Finnish fortress of Viipuri (Vyborg). The defenders answer his demands for ale and meat with brimstone, foul flour, and horse-carcasses. Ivan bombards the fortress; Matti Laurinpoika, the lord of Viipuri, offers gold and silver for his life but is refused. He escapes by boat; Ivan enters the ruins.

Iivana, great master,
our famous golden brooch,
combs his war-stallion,
straightens the tangled mane,
speaks with these words,
utters with this saying:
"Would you not weep, my mother,
would you not grieve, poor wife!
If I should go somewhere,
to the brave Swede's domains,
to the great battlefields,
to the slaughter-grounds of men."

The mother tried to stop him,
the poor wife tried to warn:
"Do not go to those lands,
to the brave Swede's domains,
to the great battlefields,
to the slaughter-grounds of men!"

Iivana, great master,
our famous golden brooch,
still intended to go,
promised to depart.

He shod one foot on the stove-bench,
the other on the floor-beam,
strode about the yard,
buckled up at the gates.

He massed ships nearby,
prepared war-vessels.
So many ships were there,
like great flocks of ducks.

He armed a thousand men,
saddled a hundred warriors,
loaded men into his ships,
marshalled war-heroes,
as the merganser her chicks,
as the teal lines up her young.

He set up the mast-trees,
readied the sail-poles,
raised sails upon the masts,
hung cloth upon the yard-arms.
So many sails upon the masts,
so many cloths upon the yards,
like spruces on a hillock,
or pines upon a hill.
Then he launched forth,
sailed one day on inland waters,
a second day on marshy waters,
the third on open sea.

On the third day,
he cast his eye to the northwest,
saw the great fortress of Finland,
caught sight of green Viipuri.

He cut through the waters,
drove through the waves,
came beneath the Finnish fortress,
beneath green Viipuri.

He sent word into the fortress,
pushed a paper through with force:
"Is there ale in the fortress,
mead in the fortress hall,
without the brewing of ale,
without the steeping of malt,
for the arriving guest,
for the visiting traveller?"

Said Matti, son of Lauri,
spoke the lord of Viipuri:
"There is ale in the fortress,
mead in the fortress hall,
without the brewing of ale,
without the steeping of malt:
a barrel of brimstone,
a bucket of foul flour,
leaden-cast blocks of tin,
a handful of eggs,
for the arriving guest,
for the visiting traveller."

Iivana, great master,
our famous golden brooch,
twisted his mouth, turned his head,
twisted his dark whiskers,
sent a letter in haste,
a paper by force:
"Is there meat in the fortress,
is there butter in the store,
without the slaughter of an ox,
without the felling of a great bull,
for Iivana's supper,
as tribute for the Russian?"

Said Matti, son of Lauri,
spoke the lord of Viipuri:
"There is meat in the fortress,
there is butter in the store,
without the slaughter of an ox,
without the felling of a great bull:
a black gelding collapsed long ago,
a white horse fell,
there is the carcass on the cairn,
the bone-heap behind the shed,
a morsel for a great man's mouth,
a breakfast for a slayer."

Iivana, great master,
our famous golden brooch,
then grew angry, then grew wrathful,
greatly angered and enraged,
set the muskets to thundering,
the cannons to roaring,
the open barrels to bellowing,
the fine bows to singing,
beneath green Viipuri,
beneath the great Finnish fortress.

He fired once, he fired again,
fired once, too low,
fired twice, too high,
fired the third time true;
the fortress towers shook,
the eaves crashed,
the pillars cracked,
the fortress stones shifted,
the towers tumbled to the ground.

He fired once more, twice more,
the eaves fell with a crash,
the roof-bark flew in sheets,
the fortress walls in splinters.

Then Matti, son of Lauri,
wise lord of Viipuri,
set the keys of Viipuri
upon a golden platter:
"Russian, my brother,
Karelian, my dear one!
Spare yet my feeble life,
do not crush me in slaughter;
you shot my father, you shot my mother,
you shot my five brothers;
take gold by the cupful,
silver by the half-measure,
as ransom for my head,
as redemption for my life."

Said Iivana the master,
our famous golden brooch:
"Already the Swedish gold has rusted,
the Saxon silver has tarnished,
I care nothing for your silver,
scoundrel, keep your gold,
for you long harried me,
beat the wits from my head!"

Then Matti, son of Lauri,
wise lord of Viipuri,
made his own escape,
rushed to his ship,
stepped into his vessel,
set out to sail the sea,
to skim the blue waters,
on the strength of a wretched oar,
by the hook of a crooked prow.

Iivana himself, the master,
our famous golden brooch,
fox-skin boots on his feet,
that do not crack in the frost,
do not ring in bitter weather,
drew near to the fortress:
the stones remained as a church,
the market-squares as fortress towers,
the pillars as the priest's house,
the priest himself without a shirt,
the fair Swede without a coat.

Song 11 — Pontus's War (Puntuksen sota)

The wars of Pontus de la Gardie, Swedish commander who captured Russian territory in the late sixteenth century. The enemy threatens to scourge Sweden; Pontus sails from Viipuri and bombards the fortress until the defenders come weeping and offer ale and mead.

The enemy, the raider,
threatened his whole life
to scourge the land of Sweden,
to kill everyone,
kings with their peoples,
priests with their parishes,
horsemen with their horses,
districts with their families.

Noble lord Jaakko Pontus,
lord of Viipuri himself,
massed ships nearby,
like a hen her eggs,
spread sails above,
like spruces on a hillock;
the wind bore him to Turku,
the north wind to Aunus,
the sail struck Puola,
drove hard beneath Riga.

Noble lord Jaakko Pontus
sent word into the fortress,
papers pushed by force:
"Has ale been brewed,
mead for our men?"

"Ale has been brewed,
mead for good men:
horse-piss in the stable,
cow-dung on the barn floor."

Noble lord Jaakko Pontus
began to cast lead,
to hurl tin balls. —
The enemy, the raider,
came weeping at once,
spoke with great sorrow:
"Noble lord Jaakko Pontus!
Come in peacefully,
enter the city in grace,
there is ale for you to drink,
and mead for you to eat,
honey is not lacking from the sea,
ale not from the city of Riga."

Song 12 — Karl's War (Kaarlon sota)

Charles XII of Sweden attacks St. Petersburg and the Russian coast. The Russians bake stone-bread and iron-loaves for the arriving guest. Karl's fleet is destroyed; his throat dries, the sea turns to blood, and he swears never to return. A Finnish folk memory of the Great Northern War.

Karl went to the city,
the blood-handed one to claim tribute,
the Swedish slayer to breakfast,
pillage upon St. Petersburg;
set out boasting upon the waters,
threatening upon foreign shores,
to break through by force,
to seize dominion.

Russia's mighty force,
the king's famous men,
the world's chosen warriors,
the constant Cossacks,
are awaited every morning and evening,
once at midday too,
are watched for, are searched for,
upon the smooth sea's surface,
upon the open expanse.
Karl is visible far off,
blue-hoofed from further still,
between two rocky islets,
beyond the harbour island.

Russia's mighty force,
our high command,
the officers still higher,
they baked a stone-bread,
cooked a cliff-cake,
built an iron loaf
for the arriving guest,
for the visiting traveller.

A little time passed,
a small while went by;
Karl is not far off now,
the king not distant:
"Russian, my brother,
give me meat to eat,
bring me ale to drink!"

Russia's mighty force,
the king's famous men,
they do not give without firing,
nor feed without hurling;
by firing they give,
by hurling they feed —
they set the bows singing,
the bowstrings resounding,
the stone-loaves flying,
the iron bars tearing
at Karl's galleon,
along Red-beard's ship.

Already the rigging tumbles,
the mast-trees topple,
the stay-ropes snap,
the masts splash into the sea,
the sails fall,
scatter into tatters;
carried off by the wind,
swept away by the gale.

Karl, the famous king,
now felt ruin coming,
the day of disaster upon him;
already the sweat drips hot,
already he tears at his breast-straps,
fumbles at his collar buttons,
as the fiery arrows come,
as the steel arrows tell.

Karl's throat dries,
his face turns yellow,
his beard foams with froth:
"Russian, dear brother!
Give me water to drink,
sell me water for tribute,
water for the Russian's due."

The Russian speaks thus,
the hard-hearted one answers:
"There is water beneath your ship,
beneath the deck of your vessel,
to drink with your dried-up throat,
to slake your hunger,
water in plenty for tribute,
for fair Karl."

Karl answers directly,
the evil man replies:
"The sea is full of blood,
the shores are full of Swedish corpses!"

Already Karl is in chains,
blue-hoofed in the snare:
"Russian, dear brother!
Spare yet my feeble life;
I will never come again,
never again seek tribute."

Flight comes to Karl,
departure for the brave Swede,
as the fiery arrows come,
as the stone-loaves fly,
as the iron bars tear;
he set out for land,
for the brave land of Sweden,
swore a solemn oath:
"Sooner let my tongue fall out,
my eye shift from my head,
than I come here again!"

Song 13 — The Maiden of Turku (Turusen neiti)

Annikki sits on Turku's hill watching the sea. The stranger Kesti persuades her aboard despite her mother's warnings. He feeds her through the winter, then abandons her on a rock in spring. She calls on Ukko the sky-god to raise a storm and drown the villain. The sea becomes his pillow, the foam his blanket.

Annikki, the maiden of Turku,
sat upon Turku's hill,
cast her eyes to sea,
turned her head toward the sun,

saw a ship sailing:
"That ship is Kesti's ship."

Already Kesti drew near,
speaking from his boat:
"Come away, maiden child!"

"I will not come to you,
not to you, nor to others,
against my mother's warning,
against my elder's caution. —
My mother told me so,
my elder warned me:
'Do not, young maiden,
do not, growing girl,
fall for a farmhand's tricks,
for the trades of Cossack men,
for a stranger-lad's paths,
for the wiles of idle men! —
Once the stranger will betray,
the farmhand cast off his tryst,
the Cossack boy his bargain,
the idle man his schemes.'"

Kesti managed to say,
Kesti spoke from the boat:
"Come away, do not worry,
come under my protection,
step upon my arm,
as wife to a rich man,
as hen to a merchant!"

Annikki, the maiden of Turku,
then went to Kesti's side;
Kesti could feed her through the winter,
both feed and give to drink,
much brewed ale,
much prepared food.

Kesti longed for summer,
Kesti's ship longed for it,
Kesti's ship, Kesti's children,
Kesti's former wife;
all others longed for summer —
one pine alone feared
its bark would be stripped,
the birch-broom feared
its branches would be taken.

Kesti waited for summer. —
When he knew summer was coming,
he carried his goods to the shore,
brought his wealth to the boat;
he sat himself inside,
set himself to rowing,
left the wretched one on the shore,
the fair one on the water-stone,
her beloved one lamenting,
her dear one gazing.

The wretched one cried from the shore,
the fair one from the water-stone,
wept with a loud voice,
prayed to Ukko:

"My Ukko, my only one!
Raise a cloud from the northwest,
raise a great storm's force,
lift up a savage wave
to drown the villain,
to sink the madman."

That Ukko, the sky-lord,
raised a cloud from the northwest,
raised a great storm's force,
lifted up a savage wave
to drown the villain,
to sink the madman.

"Drown, drown, wretch Kesti,
wretch Kesti, widower Kesti!
Do you still have Anni's pillows,
do you still have Anni's headrests,
do you still have Kirsti's embroidered blankets?
The sea's swell is your pillow,
the sea's foam your blanket,
the waves your headrest."

Song 14 — The Death of Anterus (Anterun surma)

The upper master Anterus prowls by night to Kaisa's window. She has sent her beloved fishing; Anterus forces his way in. Kaisa stabs him through the chest. When accused of killing her husband, she replies: he was not hers, and if they call it a crime, Finland is broad enough to hide a fugitive.

Kaisa made her bed
behind bone-locks.
Anterus, the upper master,
son of the highest man,
was a walker of roads,
a measurer of journeys;
he stopped beneath the wall,
spoke through the window:
"Let your beloved in for a pipe,
your dear one into the chamber!"

Kaisa was able to say:
"You are not my own man,
you are a haunter of loose women,
a prowler of false wives. —
I sent my beloved fishing,
my trusted one after salmon,
my dearest after perch;
in summer he brings great pike,
in winter red foxes,
in autumn squirrel-pelts."

Anterus, the upper master,
son of the highest man,
opened the window himself,
forced his way inside.

Kaisa sprang from bed,
snatched the sword from the wall,
drew the fierce blade from its sheath,
thrust it into the man's chest,
through the warm flesh,
through the left armpit.

Antti said to his Anni:
"Go, Anni, look —
whether a bear is bellowing in my herd,
a forest beast among my cows."

Anni, timid even by day,
at night still more timid,
wrapped herself in furs,
bundled herself in blankets.

He went to look himself. —
Kaisa stood beneath the wall,
stood beneath the window,
a bloody knife in her hand,
the fierce blade without its sheath,
a blood-stained cloth on her head.

"Woe to you, wretched woman,
you have killed your own husband!"

Kaisa was able to say:
"He was not my own husband,
he was a haunter of loose women,
a prowler of false wives.
If they call this a crime,
if they hold it a fault,
I will take a bolt of linen
and another of broadcloth,
with which I will bribe the judges,
with which I will buy the jurors,
to speak in my defence,
to testify beside me;
but if they still call it a crime,
still hold it a fault,
there is enough of Finland's great land,
enough of the Lappish borderland,
to hide a great wrongdoer,
for a criminal to flee."

Song 15 — Riio's Son (Riion poika)

The tragic love ballad. Fair Katri outworks the sun itself. Riio's dashing son betroths her by force; she hangs herself in the storehouse. Bear, wolf, and fox are sent with the news but each vanishes into the herds. The hare carries the message true. Riio's son sharpens his father's sword, asks if it will eat innocent flesh, and falls upon it in the field. His dying words: "Let no future suitors desire another man's daughter against her will."

Katri, fair maiden young,
the gentlest of all the girls,
passing fair even without jewels,
the best even without riches,
different from others without a cap,
of other blood without tribute —
she goes late to the mill,
at sunrise to the brook.

She made a pact with the moon,
with the moon, with the sun,
to rise at the same time;
Katri was always first:
she sheared five fleeces,
made six skeins of tow,
wove them all into cloth,
fashioned them into garments,
before the sun rose,
before the dawn broke.

She washed the great round tables,
swept the wide floors,
took her sweepings outside,
stood upon her sweepings:
a rumble was heard from the village,
dust from another farm,
from wealthy Riikola,
from stout Pajarila;
a kettle's ringing was heard,
a pan's clatter,
from the marsh a great jingle of harness,
from the ice-hole a creak of shafts.

Katri ran to see:
there is Riio's dashing son,
and Pajar's stout son,
harnessing his horse,
adorning his gear,
setting out to court.

Said Riio's dashing son,
and Pajar's stout son:
"Do not live for others, fair Katri,
but for me, fair Katri;
braid your hair,
bind your tresses with silk!"

He thrust the pledge-gifts into her purse,
the tallow-silver into her pocket.

Katri, weeping, went home,
wailing to the yard;
her mother asked:
"Why do you weep, little girl,
why do you grieve, my young one? —
Go to the storehouse on the hill,
put on a linen shift,
a fine linen kerchief,
draw on a woollen skirt,
over the linen shift!"

Katri, fair maiden young,
went to the storehouse on the hill,
found a rope hanging,
a thread-end dangling;
there she wove her death,
there she met her end.

Who will carry the word,
who will bear the message,
to wealthy Riikola,
to stout Pajarila?

The bear will carry the word,
will bear the message;
the bear could not carry the word —
he vanished into the cattle herd.

Who will carry the word,
who will bear the message,
to wealthy Riikola,
to stout Pajarila?

The wolf will carry the word,
will bear the message;
the wolf could not carry the word —
he vanished into the flock.

Who will carry the word,
who will bear the message,
to wealthy Riikola,
to stout Pajarila?

The fox will carry the word,
will bear the message;
the fox could not carry the word —
he vanished into the goose-flock.

Who will carry the word,
who will bear the message,
to wealthy Riikola,
to stout Pajarila?

The hare will carry the word,
will bear the message;
the hare answered truly:
"A word does not vanish into a man."

The hare set out running,
long-ears piping,
crooked-legs twisting,
cross-mouth confessing;
the hare ran, his head trembled,
his back spun, the field moved,
he went to dashing Riio's place,
and stout Pajar's place,
ran to the sauna's threshold —
the sauna full of maidens;
ran to the barn's threshold,
crouched upon the threshold.

In the barn is Riio's son,
that stout son of Pajar;
said Riio's dashing son,
and Pajar's stout son:
"Put the hare on the fire,
the squint-eye to boil!"

The hare was able to say,
the hare answered truly:
"Let a devil go
to boil in kettles;
I came to carry a word,
to bear a message."

Said Riio's dashing son,
and Pajar's stout son:
"What word is to be carried,
what message to be borne?"

The hare was able to say,
the hare to answer truly:
"This is the word to be carried,
this the message to be borne:
already Katri has fallen,
the tin-breasted one has withered,
the silver brooch has collapsed,
the copper belt has dropped."

That dashing son of Riio,
and stout son of Pajar,
seized his father's sword,
sharpened it one day, sharpened it another,
on the evening of the third day.

He asked, he spoke:
"Will you eat innocent flesh,
will you drink guiltless blood?"

The sword understood the man's tongue,
grasped the hero's speech:
"I eat when I am fed,
I drink when I am given drink."

That dashing son of Riio,
and stout son of Pajar,
went to the edge of his field,
thrust the hilt into the ground,
turned the point to heaven,
turned himself upon the blade,
like a dry spruce-branch,
like a trimmed juniper top.

There he wove his death,
there he met his end;
said one word as he went:
"Let no future suitors
desire another man's daughter
against her will for a wife!"

Song 16 — Hannus Pannus (Hannus Pannus)

A compact ballad of uxoricide. The handsome Hannus Pannus courts the youngest daughter of Virta. She tells him to kill his first wife. He does. When he returns to court her, she refuses: "You killed the wife already wed — you would kill me too, and go to buy a third."

Hannus Pannus, a handsome man,
set out from Koski to court
the youngest daughter of Virta,
the best child of Pajar.

He said when he arrived,
when he came to Pajar's house:
"The best for me, not the worst,
the tallest for me, not the shortest."

Said the youngest daughter of Virta,
the best child of Pajar:
"Not the best, not the worst,
not the tallest, not the shortest.
You have a wife already wed,
a former wife at home. —
Kill the wife already wed,
break the former wife!"

Hannus Pannus, a handsome man,
believed the enticements,
the wicked woman's urgings,
leapt onto the log-sledge,
mounted the timber-sled.
He went straight home,
killed the wife already wed,
broke the former wife.

He went to Koski to court
the youngest daughter of Virta,
the best child of Pajar.
He said when he arrived:
"The best for me, not the worst,
the tallest for me, not the shortest."

Said the youngest daughter of Virta,
the best child of Pajar:
"Not the best, not the worst,
not the tallest, not the shortest.
You killed the wife already wed,
broke the former wife;
you would kill me too,
destroy one of good family,
go to buy another,
court a third."

Song 17 — Marketta and Anterus (Marketta ja Anterus)

Marketta spins and sings that no maiden like her should touch what has not borne fruit. Anterus seduces her; she hides her pregnancy in the sauna. When the baby is found, no one will claim it, and it is condemned to fire. Jesus gives the infant a tongue, and it speaks: "Bring Anterus's fiery coat and Marketta's shirt of tinder for my protection — I shall not burn in fire, nor sink into water."

Marketta, comely maiden,
spun when she had time,
sang as she spun:
"No maiden who looks like me
should ride the horse of that one
who has been to the stallion,
unless the foals shall pull,
unless the yearlings draw."

Marketta, comely maiden,
spun when she had time,
sang as she spun:
"No maiden who looks like me
should touch the teats of that cow
which has been to the bull,
unless the heifers yield,
unless the calves come flowing."

Marketta, comely maiden,
spun when she had time,
sang as she spun:
"No maiden who looks like me
should shear that ewe
which has been to the ram,
unless the flock shall grow,
unless it bears a lamb."

Anterus, the upper master,
son of the highest man,
was a walker of roads,
a measurer of journeys;
long he played the kantele,
sounded his father's song,
in his bare shirt-sleeves,
in only his linen.

Marketta, comely maiden,
made her bed there,
upon the ninth loft,
at the eighth rafter-beam.

Anterus, the upper master,
son of the highest man,
took a horn of ale,
oiled the doors with it,
swung the doors wide,
wetted the hinges with beer —
went up to the upper room,
to the eighth rafter-beam;
there he lay with Marketta,
beneath the misty curtain,
beneath the copper-figured blanket,
beneath the embroidered coverlet,
upon the ninth loft,
at the eighth rafter-beam.

Marketta, comely maiden,
began to live in the sauna,
began to loosen her belt,
to loosen her skirts.

Alina, the good wife,
wondered about this:
"What is wrong with our Marketta,
what ails poor Kurketta,
always living in the sauna,
always in the sauna's pen?"

A child was able to say,
a small child to speak:
"This is what ails our Marketta,
this is what ails poor Kurketta:
she ate too much spawning fish,
too much ruff-broth."

Alina, the good wife,
always early in the morning,
went listening along the lane,
standing by the wall,
found a child crying,
a baby wailing.

She took the child to her bosom,
wrapped it in a swaddling-cloth,
went to the young men's room,
to the lads' quarters:
"Which of you lads
has done these doings?
Whoever takes the child as his own,
he shall have ale to drink."

One swore, another swore;
he swore the hardest
who knew he had done it,
who knew he had seen the trouble.

She went to the maidens' room,
to the brides' quarters:
"Which of you maidens
has done these doings?
Whoever takes the child as her own,
she shall have ale to drink."

One swore, another swore;
she swore the hardest
who knew she had done it,
who knew she had borne the pain.

The child was condemned to fire,
the child to be taken to the marsh,
to be struck on the head with a poker,
to be dashed against a pine-branch.

Jesus gave tongue, Mary gave mind
to the small child,
to the newborn, the only one —
the only child spoke:
"Let Anterus's fiery coat,
Marketta's shirt of tinder,
be brought for my protection,
be put upon me,
that I shall not burn in fire,
nor sink into water."

Song 18 — Kiikka's Children (Kiikan lapset)

A morning song turns to horror. A girl rouses a sleeping boy with images of the day's work; they discover they are brother and sister, both children of Kiikka's Yrjö. The boy cries out his intent to hide — in the bear's maw, in the belly of whales, in the feathers of a swimming duck — where his father hid after committing murder.

The weather is calm, the air lovely,
the moon shone from Kutumäki,
the sun from Pätsi Mountain's peak.
Now is the time for the young to rise,
when the old are already awake,
the middle-aged sitting up.

"Rise, sooty boy!
From the wretched bed,
from the poor pillows,
from the sooty hearth-fire —
the village ploughing yet unploughed,
the village furrows yet unturned.

Rise from your sleeping,
come out of your dreaming;
the loon draws your nets,
the seagull eats your catch,
the salmon spawn in the rapids,
the whitefish beneath Kiikka's bridge."

"How do you know the Kiikka rapids,
the Kiikka rapids, the Kiikka bridge?"

"Well I know the Kiikka rapids,
the Kiikka rapids, the Kiikka bridge;
there I was born, there I grew,
there I sang as a child,
there at the end of Kiikka's bridge —
I am the daughter of Kiikka's Yrjö."

"There too was I born,
both born and grew,
there at the end of Kiikka's bridge —
I am the son of Kiikka's Yrjö.
Woe, poor boy that I am,
woe, wretched boy!
I have lain with my sister,
the only child of my mother,
beneath the misty curtain,
beneath the copper-figured blanket.
Where now shall I hide my sins? —
There I shall hide my sins,
where my father hid before,
after he committed his deed:
in the screaming bear's maw,
in the belly of whales,
in the feathers of a swimming duck."

Song 19 — The Children of Tuiretuinen (Tuiretuisen lapset)

The ballad of unwitting incest. The foolish son of Tuiretuinen, driving through Pohjola and over the open sea, three times tries to lure a maiden into his sledge. Twice she curses him; the third time, won by golden stockings and silver belts, she enters. After lying together, they ask each other's family. Both are children of Tuiretuinen. The son drives into the sea.

The foolish son of Tuiretuinen,
the dull child of Keiretyinen,
set out to pay his taxes,
to settle his land-dues.

He settled himself into his sledge,
steadied himself in his sleigh,
drove rattling along,
measuring out his journey,
on those heaths of Pohjola,
in the dark wilds of Lapland.

A maiden came toward him,
golden-haired, skiing,
on those heaths of Pohjola,
in the wide wilds of Lapland.

The foolish son of Tuiretuinen,
the dull child of Keiretyinen,
halted his horse there,
tried to win her:
"Come into my sledge, fair one,
a good gift by my side!"

The maiden spoke from her skis,
called from her runners:
"Death to you in your sledge,
Manala into your sleigh."

The foolish son of Tuiretuinen,
the dull child of Keiretyinen,
struck the stallion with the switch,
cracked the beaded whip;
the stallion ran, the journey sped,
the road turned, the sledge rattled.
He drove rattling along,
measuring out his journey,
on the smooth sea's surface,
on the open expanse.

A maiden came toward him,
a tin-breasted one quarrelling,
on the smooth sea's surface,
on the open expanse.

The foolish son of Tuiretuinen,
the dull child of Keiretyinen,
halted on his journey,
tried to win her:
"Come, maiden, into my sledge,
pride of the land, on my journeys!"

The maiden answered back,
the tin-breasted one argued:
"Tuoni to you in your sledge,
Death upon your journeys."

The foolish son of Tuiretuinen,
the dull child of Keiretyinen,
struck the stallion with the switch,
cracked the beaded whip;
the stallion ran, the journey sped,
the sledge turned, the road shortened.
He drove rattling along,
measuring out his journey,
on those heaths of Väinö,
on those long-ploughed clearings.

A maiden came toward him,
one in iron-shod shoes, swaying,
on those heaths of Väinö,
on those long-ploughed clearings.

The foolish son of Tuiretuinen,
the dull child of Keiretyinen,
halted his horse,
tried to win her:
"Come, maiden, into my sledge,
dear one, beneath my blanket!"

The maiden answered back,
the iron-shod one replied:
"Cold it is beneath the blanket,
dreary to live in a sledge."

The foolish son of Tuiretuinen,
the dull child of Keiretyinen,
opened his finest chest,
snapped open the figured lid,
lifted out, displayed,
examined, turned over
golden-mouthed stockings,
silver-headed belts.

Then the maiden came into the sledge,
settled into the sleigh,
lowered herself beside him,
slipped beneath the blanket.

The foolish son of Tuiretuinen,
the dull child of Keiretyinen,
then lay there awhile
with the young maiden,
one hand on the stallion's reins,
the other on the maiden's breast.

There he sported with the maiden,
frolicked with the tin-breasted one,
on those heaths of Väinö,
on those long-ploughed clearings.

Then the maiden spoke,
both spoke and asked:
"Are you of a great family,
of a father's great lineage?"

The foolish son of Tuiretuinen,
the dull child of Keiretyinen,
himself spoke these words:
"I am not of a great family,
not great, not small,
just of middling kind,
a poor son of Tuiretuinen,
a lowly child of Keiretyinen;
but what is your family?
Tell me your family,
if you are of a great family,
of a father's great lineage."

The maiden spoke these words:
"I am not of a great family,
not great, not small —
just of middling kind,
a poor daughter of Tuiretuinen,
a lowly child of Keiretyinen."

The foolish son of Tuiretuinen,
the dull child of Keiretyinen,
rose up from the sledge:
"Woe, my wretched days,
that I held my sister,
that I ruined my mother's child,
on those heaths of Väinö,
on those long-ploughed clearings!"

With his knife he cut the traces,
with iron he hacked the harness,
leapt upon the good horse's back,
mounted the charger's flanks;
drove straight into the blue sea,
toward the heavy surf,
beneath the deepest waves,
over the darkest depths.

Song 20 — Maidens of Viena (Vienan neiet)

A mythological fragment: four maidens find a leaf of love and plant it. A great oak grows to the sky; from a cloud-drop comes a pond, from the pond a red boat with young suitors who braid a rope to bind the sea and carry off the maidens of Viena. The maidens answer: squirrels are sold in bundles, foxes traded in flocks, but maidens are given one by one — and not always even one.

Once there were four maidens,
five brides of Viena,
eight sea-ducks,
at the tip of Viena's cape,
mowing the blue meadow,
cutting the dewy grass.
They found a leaf of love,
a leaf of love, a chip of oak;
they brought it to the growing land,
to the rising hill.
From it grew a fair oak,
a green sapling rose:
its branches reached to the sky,
its crown filled the heavens,
it stopped the clouds from running,
the wisps from scattering.
One long cloud slipped through,
a long cloud, a narrow cloud,
in the cloud a water-drop,
in the drop a small pond,
in the pond a red boat,
in the boat young suitors,
young suitors, unmarried,
still unversed in wine;
they braided a red rope,
a rope of iron they twisted,
to bind the sea's side,
to fix the bay of Kanna,
to keep the sea calm,
the bay of Kanna beautiful,
to carry off the maidens of Viena,
to trade the home-ducks,
from these wretched shores,
from the poor lands of the North.

"Do not, men of the sea,
do not carry off our maidens!
Viena's maidens are fair,
the beauties of Kanna's bay;
they are not sold in bundles,
nor traded in flocks;
squirrels are sold in bundles,
foxes are traded in flocks;
maidens are given one by one,
and not always even one."

Song 21 — The Maiden of Kalevala (Kalevalan neiti)

A maiden herding cattle on the moor meets a stranger who has passed through her home in Kalevala. He describes the rowan-grove, the golden spring, the wedding preparations — she has been sold. Gift by gift, she names the bride-price too small: a stallion for the father, a milch-cow for the mother, a red boat for the brother, a ewe for the sister, a spoon for the grandfather, a copper bowl for the grandmother. She refuses to come. The suitor curses each gift in return.

I went barefoot to herd,
wretch, to drive the cows,
poor one, to watch the cattle;
I drove the cows through the marsh,
the sheep across the burnt hillside,
the goats over the mountain-tops,
I, wretched, from stone to stone,
barefoot, from boulder to boulder,
woeful, from twig to twig,
my dark stocking unwet,
my shoe-heel undampened.

A man joined my herd,
a broad-headed one among my cows;
he sat at the base of a tree,
I perched higher up,
I, slender, on the weaker branch,
I, small, on the smaller,
a little better than the dead,
a little fairer than the perished.

I asked, I spoke:
"From where do you wander?
Did you pass through my home,
did you walk in Kalevala?"

"I passed through your home,
I walked in Kalevala."

"Did the cuckoos sing in Kaleva,
in Kalevala's spruce-woods?"

"The cuckoos sang in Kaleva,
in Kalevala's spruce-woods."

"Did the dogs bark in Kaleva,
on Kalevala's heathlands?"

"The dogs barked in Kaleva,
on Kalevala's heathlands."

"Did the maidens of Kaleva look out,
in Kalevala's windows?"

"The maidens of Kaleva looked out,
in Kalevala's windows."

"How then did you know my home,
what mark was at my home?"

"By this I knew your home,
this mark at your home:
a rowan-grove before the house,
a bird-cherry wood behind,
a birch-grove on the cottage hill,
a juniper-hedge on the well-path,
a spruce-grove at the lane's mouth,
a pine-grove at the field's end,
an oak in the middle of the yard,
a spring beneath the oak's root,
a golden lid as cover,
a golden ladle on the lid."

"What was being done at my home,
worked at in my house?"

"They pounded, they ground,
they baked, they cooked,
they split firewood,
they carried water still,
maidens were being married off,
girls' heads being traded."

"Have I too been sold,
have I, wretched one, been traded?"

"You too have been sold,
you, wretched one, have been traded."

"To whom was I sold,
to whom was this poor one traded?"

"To me you were sold,
to me, poor one, you were traded."

"How much did you give for me,
how much did you pay for the good one,
when you got the ale-bearer,
when you chose the cup-carrier?"

"I gave for you
to your father an eternal stallion,
one sure of step,
one quick to go."

"Little you gave for the good one,
a pittance for the fair one —
what did you give my mother?"

"To your mother a milch-cow,
one fat without feeding,
fine without watering."

"Little you gave for the good one,
a pittance for the fair one —
what did you give my brother?"

"To your brother a red boat
that goes to war by itself,
that trades by itself."

"Little you gave for the good one,
a pittance for the fair one —
what did you give my sister?"

"To your sister a blue-grey ewe
that brings wool every week,
that bore a lamb every month."

"Little you gave for the good one,
a pittance for the fair one —
what did you give my grandfather?"

"To your grandfather a new spoon
whose food never runs out when eating,
whose drink never lessens when drinking."

"Little you gave for the good one,
a pittance for the fair one —
what did you give my grandmother?"

"To your grandmother a copper bowl
that goes about without fire,
that moves about without flame."

"Little you gave for the good one,
a pittance for the fair one.
I will not go to you,
I neither go nor wish to."

"Since I gave too little for the good one,
a pittance for the fair one:
your father's eternal stallion —
let it fall on the war-road,
let it collapse on the trade-road,
in the best trading-time."

"Since I gave too little for the good one,
a pittance for the fair one:
your mother's milch-cow —
let it fall with its calves,
let it fail at the pail,
in the best milking-time."

"Since I gave too little for the good one,
a pittance for the fair one:
your brother's red boat —
let it rush against a rock,
let it run through and split,
in the best rowing-time."

"Since I gave too little for the good one,
a pittance for the fair one:
your sister's blue-grey ewe —
let it tangle in its wool,
let it fall in its fleece,
in the best shearing-time."

"Since I gave too little for the good one,
a pittance for the fair one:
your grandfather's new spoon —
let the handle break off,
let the bowl snap apart,
in the best eating-time."

"Since I gave too little for the good one,
a pittance for the fair one:
your grandmother's copper bowl —
let it shatter against a stone,
let the bottom burst out,
in the best drinking-time."

Song 22 — The Maiden's Robber (Neien rosvo)

Kullervo, Kaleva's son — the tragic hero later expanded in the Kalevala — seizes the fairest maiden from the dancing-ground and carries her into the wilderness. Her mother searches, finds her, and calls on Ukko the sky-god to shoot Kullervo with a fiery arrow through the shoulders. Ukko does.

There were the maidens at play,
the fair ones in their dance,
on the clearings of Väinölä,
on the heathlands of Kalevala.

Kullervo, Kaleva's son,
blue-stockinged child of Äijö,
with fine yellow hair,
with fair iron-shod shoes,
made ready to set out,
on his father's fine stallion,
to those maidens' play,
to the fair ones' dance.

He leapt upon the stallion's back,
mounted the charger's flanks,
drove one day, drove another,
now drives the third;
on the third day,
he came to the maidens' play,
the braided-haired ones' dance,
on those clearings of Väinölä,
on the heathlands of Kalevala.

The fairest of the young girls,
the most beautiful of the braided-haired,
he seized into his arms;
himself he spoke these words:
"Do not ever,
do not tell anyone about me!
So that no mother might hear,
no mother come searching,
if I should linger a year,
or stay for two,
there on Tuomavaara's peak,
growing in the juniper-grove."

He drove on rattling,
with the weeping maiden,
drove from the clearings of Väinölä,
from the heathlands of Kalevala.

So the mother sought her daughter,
the old one wailed for her child,
searched at the dancing-grounds,
at those carouse-fields:
"Have you not seen my daughter,
heard of my golden child?"

Then said a small boy,
spoke the herdsman and muttered:
"There was a man here,
Kullervo, Kaleva's son,
blue-stockinged child of Äijö,
blue-stockinged, fine-hemmed,
with fine yellow hair,
with fair iron-shod shoes;
he seized the maiden into his arms,
set her on the charger's flanks;
then set out driving,
with the weeping maiden.
He spoke a word, he said:
'Do not ever,
do not tell anyone about me!
So that no mother might hear,
no mother come searching,
if I should linger a year,
or stay for two,
there on Tuomavaara's peak,
far off in the juniper-grove.'"

Then the mother spoke these words,
the mother raised her voice:
"Woe, my wretched days,
unhappy my living;
there has gone my offspring,
there has vanished the one I bore!"

She went forward herself,
stepped forth softly
to that peak of Tuomavaara,
to the juniper-covered heath,
cooing in the spruce-wood,
calling in the juniper-grove:
"Come here, my daughter,
come away, poor daughter!
From the foolish man's fires,
from the worthless one's flames,
to the shelter of your own mother,
to the protection of your own elder."

The daughter answered from there,
the child spoke and said:
"I cannot escape, mother,
unless you come to free me.
I was at the dancing-grounds,
at those carouse-fields;
then came a man,
blue-stockinged child of Äijö;
he put me on the stallion's back,
lifted me on the charger's flanks,
drove on rattling,
wandered through the wilds,
nights and days he held me,
through the turning days he kept me,
fed me on berries,
darkened me with bilberries,
chilled me in the cold,
frosted me in the frost.
Come, my own mother,
hasten, beautiful bearer,
come to take your child,
to ransom your daughter,
from these wicked places,
from these hard mountain-lands!"

Then the mother spoke these words,
she herself cried fervently:
"I shall come for my child,
to ransom my daughter;
I shall bring Ukko's fiery arrows,
I shall carry the copper bolts.
Oh Ukko, the sky-god!
Oh, father in heaven,
make ready your great bow,
choose your best arc,
set a copper bolt
upon that fiery bow;
then loose the fiery arrow,
shoot the copper bolt,
through his armpits,
through his shoulder-flesh,
that evil son of Kaleva;
let my child go home,
set her on the road unharmed,
untouched, let her go home!"

That Ukko, the sky-god,
the father in heaven himself,
made ready the great bow,
brought forth his best arc,
set a copper bolt
upon that fiery bow,
shot the fiery arrow,
loosed the copper bolt,
through the shoulder-flesh,
through the Kaleva-son's armpits.

Song 23 — Water-Carrier Anni (Veenkantaja Anni)

Anni goes looking for water; all the springs are dry. From the third hill she sees a ship and is seized aboard. She calls for ransom to father, mother, brother, sister — each is too busy with golden fish spawning. Only the brother's wife gives her ewe, but it is not enough. Anni breaks the boat apart and escapes. When she brings water home, every family member calls her names — except the brother's wife, who says: "For this I have waited all my life." Anni goes to the storehouse to die. Each relative begs her to rise; she refuses — "You were a snake, a bear, a wolf." Only when the brother's wife asks does she rise.

Anni, girl, only maiden,
went for water from the spring,
a small pail in her hand,
a small ladle at her side.

There is no water in the spring. —
The golden rim has dried,
the copper side has dropped,
the tin bottom has leaked,
a leaf has fallen over it.

Anni, girl, only maiden,
then stepped further on,
to a second spring as well;
there is no water in the second either —
she went straight to a third;
not in the third spring either.

Anni, girl, only maiden,
still presses further on,
steps toward the lower bay,
goes over one hill, then another,
now passes a third.

Then on the third hill
she cast her eyes to the east,
turned her head toward the sun,
saw a ship sailing,
a hundred-planked vessel gliding.

A man at the ship's stern,
another man at the prow,
a suitor at the gunwale:
"Come, girl, into my ship,
copper-belted one, into my boat!"

"I will not come, I do not wish to;
my mother did not send me,
my elder did not ready me,
this child for your ship,
this daughter for your boat!"

The man rose from the stern,
another man from the prow,
the suitor from the gunwale;
they seized the maiden into the ship,
the copper-belted one into the boat.

Then the maiden lamented,
the copper-belted one wailed,
before the silk-bearded one's mouth,
in the golden-bearded one's arms.

She saw her father on the waters,
her father's ship on the waves:
"Come, father, to ransom me,
to take your own child!"

"I cannot, poor girl!
The golden salmon is spawning,
in the golden pools."
Her father did not come.

The maiden lamented,
the copper-belted one wailed,
before the silk-bearded one's mouth,
in the golden-bearded one's arms.

She saw her mother on the waters,
her mother's ship on the waves:
"Come, mother, to ransom me,
to take your own child!"

"I cannot, poor girl!
The golden whitefish is spawning,
in the golden pools."
Her mother did not come.

The maiden lamented,
the copper-belted one wailed,
before the silk-bearded one's mouth,
in the golden-bearded one's arms.

She saw her brother on the waters,
her brother's ship on the waves:
"Come, brother, to ransom me,
to take your own sister!"

"I cannot, poor sister!
The golden pike is spawning,
in the golden pools."
Her brother did not come.

The maiden lamented,
the copper-belted one wailed,
before the silk-bearded one's mouth,
in the golden-bearded one's arms.

She saw her sister on the waters,
her sister's ship on the waves:
"Come, sister, to ransom me,
to take your own sister!"

"I cannot, poor sister!
The golden bream is spawning,
in the golden pools."
Her sister did not come.

The maiden lamented,
the copper-belted one wailed,
before the silk-bearded one's mouth,
in the golden-bearded one's arms.

She saw her brother's wife on the waters,
her brother's wife's ship on the waves:
"Come, sister-in-law, to ransom me,
to take your poor bride-companion!"

"I do not know, poor sister-in-law,
I, poor son's wife,
with what I should ransom you,
for I have so little means!"

"You have a blue-grey ewe,
which you brought when you came,
from your own father's home:
with that you can ransom me."

She gave her blue-grey ewe.
The ewe was worth nothing —
one ewe does not release a girl,
a maiden not from one ewe.

The maiden lamented,
the copper-belted one wailed,
before the silk-bearded one's mouth,
in the golden-bearded one's arms:
"If you will not release me for ransom,
nor release me for nothing,
I will bore through your new ship,
split your aspen boat,
kick through your wooden sides,
break the juniper ribs."

"If you bore through the new ship,
split the aspen boat,
kick through the wooden sides,
break the juniper ribs —
the ship will be patched with boards,
sewn with sinews,
joined with steel,
ribbed with juniper."

She bored through the new ship,
split the aspen boat,
kicked through the wooden sides,
broke the juniper ribs.

By that the maiden freed herself,
by that she saved herself,
from the stranger's boat,
from the Karelian's vessel.

She brought water to her father:
"Take water, father dear!"

Her father answered,
her father with his axe-handle:
"Away with you, further off!
You were not looking for water,
you were looking for a suitor,
eyeing red ribbons,
gazing at iron-shod shoes."

She brought water to her mother:
"Take water, mother dear!"

Her mother answered,
her mother with her churn-dasher:
"Away with you, further off!
You were not looking for water,
you were looking for a suitor,
eyeing red ribbons,
gazing at iron-shod shoes."

She brought water to her brother:
"Take water, dear brother!"

Her brother answered,
her brother with his spear-shaft:
"Away with you, further off!
You were not looking for water,
you were looking for a suitor,
eyeing red ribbons,
gazing at iron-shod shoes."

She brought water to her sister:
"Take water, dear sister!"

Her sister answered,
her sister with her book-tablet:
"Away with you, further off!
You were not looking for water,
you were looking for a suitor,
eyeing red ribbons,
gazing at iron-shod shoes."

She brought water to her brother's wife:
"Take water, sister-in-law dear!"

The brother's wife spoke these words:
"Great thanks, thank God!
For this I have waited all my life,
to drink water from a bride-companion."

Anni, girl, only maiden,
went to the storehouse on the hill,
lay down there to die,
gave herself to perish.

Her father came to raise her:
"Rise up, Anni girl,
Anni girl, only maiden,
rise from dying young,
from fading fair,
from perishing beautiful!"

Anni was able to say:
"I will not rise, dear father!
I will not rise, I do not wish to;
you were a snake in your speaking,
a bear in your shouting,
a wolf when your mouth opened."

Her mother came to raise her:
"Rise up, Anni girl,
Anni girl, only maiden,
rise from dying young,
from fading fair,
from perishing beautiful!"

Anni was able to say:
"I will not rise, dear mother!
I will not rise, I do not wish to;
you were a snake in your speaking,
a bear in your shouting,
a wolf when your mouth opened."

Her brother came to raise her:
"Rise up, Anni sister,
Anni sister, only maiden,
rise from dying young,
from fading fair,
from perishing beautiful!"

Anni was able to say:
"I will not rise, dear brother!
I will not rise, I do not wish to;
you were a snake in your speaking,
a bear in your shouting,
a wolf when your mouth opened."

Her sister came to raise her:
"Rise up, Anni sister,
Anni sister, only maiden,
rise from dying young,
from fading fair,
from perishing beautiful!"

Anni was able to say:
"I will not rise, dear sister!
I will not rise, I do not wish to;
you were a snake in your speaking,
a bear in your shouting,
a wolf when your mouth opened."

Her brother's wife came to raise her:
"Rise up, poor bride-companion,
poor bride-companion, young maiden,
rise from dying young,
from fading fair,
from perishing beautiful!"

"Now I shall rise, sister-in-law!
You were not a snake in your speaking,
nor a bear in your shouting,
nor a wolf when your mouth opened."

Song 24 — The Son of Kojonen (Kojosen poika)

A boy herding sheep plays his pipes; a smith hears the music, drops his hammer, gold foams into the world and becomes an island with a maiden. Deacons, priests, and knights fail to win her. The cunning son of Kojonen courts her with three dogs. He seizes her, threatens her with his sword, and dismembers her. Her flesh is brought to his mother as gifts. A slave speaks from the doorway: "You ate the breasts of your daughter."

I went as a boy to herd,
as a child to drive the sheep;
I put my pipes in my pouch,
I played as I went through the marsh,
rang out across the heath;
the smith in his forge heard it
in the midst of smelting gold,
of melting silver;
the hammer fell from his hand,
the gold foamed over the kettle;
where the gold dropped,
there an island was blessed,
on the island a fine meadow,
on the meadow a fine maiden,
who would not yield to suitors,
who did not fancy good men.
Deacons came, priests came,
rich knights came,
slender lords of the court came.

Then came the son of Kojonen —
that cunning son of Kojonen,
he shaved runners for a year,
built sledges for a second,
to set out courting
that beautiful island-maiden;
he went courting with gold,
wooing with silver,
three dogs behind him:
one Luikki, another Laikki,
the third the dog Puritsa.
He seized the maiden into his sledge,
whipped the horse with the switch,
lashed it with the leather-strap.
"Farewell, island meadows,
spruce-roots, resinous stumps!
I shall never again,
never again reach the island's ground."

The poor maiden sighed,
sighed and gasped:
"Better in the wolf's mouth,
in the screaming bear's maw,
than in this Kojonen's sledge."

"What are you weeping for, wretch,
what are you groaning for?"

"I weep for my former joy,
that my life was wasted for nothing."

"Do not worry,
you will reach the heathland!
Then I shall ask my sword:
will you eat fresh flesh,
will you drink warm blood?"

They reached the heathland —
he set her head as a tussock,
ground her hair to hay,
broke her shins to kindling,
twisted her fingers to withes,
her forearms to fence-posts,
stored her flesh in a box,
put her breasts in a pan,
brought them as gifts for his mother.

His mother ate, giving praise:
"I have never eaten these before,
a new son-in-law's gifts,
my daughter's sendings."

The servant spoke from the doorway,
from the doorway, from the bench-end:
"Woe! If you knew a little,
if you understood a trifle,
you would never eat those,
a new son-in-law's gifts,
your daughter's sendings."

"Tell me, tell me, poor servant!" —
"I will not tell, poor mistress!"

"Tell me, tell me, poor servant!
I will give you the best of my herd,
the finest cow from my barn." —
"I will not tell, poor mistress!"

"Tell me, tell me, poor servant!
I will give you the finest stallion
of my seven geldings." —
"I will not tell, poor mistress!"

"Tell me, tell me, poor servant!
I will feed you a year without work,
a second year without clothing,
one year on butter,
another on cream-cakes,
a third on pork."

"Then I will tell, poor mistress!
You ate the breasts of your daughter,
whom you long raised,
whom you held at your side for weeks."

Song 25 — Jouko's Wife (Joukosen nainen)

A maiden sings of idle life with Joukonen. Jouko, listening behind the wall, courts her and wins Kommi's daughter through impossible tasks: shooting a star from the sky, walking on needle-points and axe-edges, swimming a closed pond for a golden-scaled pike. Having won the bride, the raven Kojonen carries her through the wilderness. At each set of animal tracks — dog, wolf, bear — the maiden says the animal's fur is fairer than Koji's locks. At Koji's home he dismembers her and feeds her flesh to her own mother. A servant speaks the truth.

A maiden sat at the bridge's end,
sang on the bridge-planks:
"Idly I was born, idly I grew,
idly I lived my days;
should I go to Joukonen?
Idly Joukonen would keep me,
without work, without belts, without mittens,
idly Jouko would feed me,
water me with river-water,
moisten me with horsetail,
bed me on sedge,
lay me on hay,
in the shelter of a great stone,
in the hollow of a cliff."

Jouko happened to be listening,
standing behind the wall;
where he heard, there he courted,
where he courted, there he pledged,
where he pledged, there he took.

He knocked at Kommi's window,
courted Kommi's daughter,
Kommi's youngest daughter:
"Give me your daughter, Kommi,
a young maiden as my wife,
a growing one for my comfort."

"I will give my daughter
to the son of Koji as wife,
when you shoot a star from the sky,
a spark from between the clouds,
with one arrow's lifting,
from one foot's stance,
with one attempt."

He shot the star from the sky,
the spark from between the clouds.

He knocked at Kommi's window,
courted Kommi's daughter:
"Give me your daughter, Kommi,
a young maiden as my wife,
a growing one for my comfort."

"I will give my daughter
to the son of Koji as wife,
when you walk on needle-points,
tread on iron axe-blades,
one day on needle-points,
another on axe-edges."

He forged iron shoes,
walked on needle-points,
trod on iron axe-blades.

He knocked at Kommi's window,
courted Kommi's daughter,
Kommi's youngest daughter:
"Give me your daughter, Kommi,
a young maiden as my wife,
a growing one for my comfort."

"I will give my daughter
to the son of Koji as wife,
when you swim across the closed pond,
get from it a great pike,
a great pike with golden scales,
or two smaller ones,
bring them to Kommi's hand,
as gifts for the mother-in-law."

Then he swam across the closed pond,
got from it a great pike,
a great pike with golden scales.

He knocked at Kommi's window,
courted Kommi's daughter,
Kommi's youngest daughter:
"Give me your daughter, Kommi!
Already I have done a thousand tasks,
completed another thousand;
already I have swum across the closed ponds,
got from them the great pike,
great pike with golden scales,
walked on needle-points,
trod on iron axe-blades,
shot the star from the sky,
the spark from between the clouds."

Kommi gave his daughter,
his daughter, his youngest,
to the son of Koji as wife.

That raven, son of Kojonen,
seized the maiden into his sledge,
thrust a kiss into the sleigh,
beneath five woollen blankets;
struck the stallion with the switch,
cracked the beaded whip,
drove on rattling.
He drove through marsh, drove through land,
drove through the clearings of Väinölä,
through the heathlands of Kalevala.

Much he instructed the maiden,
much he taught the orphan:
"When you come to Koji's home,
to Koji's high hill,
weave woollen skirts
from a single fleece;
brew barley-beer
from a single barley grain."

Then they came upon dog-tracks.
The maiden rose from the sledge,
looked out from beneath the blanket.
"What has run across here?"
A dog has run across here.

The maiden spoke these words:
"Woe, poor wretch that I am!
Better for me, poor one,
on the tracks of the running dog,
in the home of the floppy-eared one,
than in this Kojonen's sledge,
beneath the striped-face's blanket;
the dog's fur is fairer
than Koji's son's locks."

That raven, son of Kojonen,
twisted his mouth, turned his head,
twisted his dark whiskers,
struck the stallion with the switch,
cracked the beaded whip;
drove on rattling
on the smooth sea's surface,
on the open expanse;
then they came upon wolf-tracks.

The maiden rose from the sledge,
looked out from beneath the blanket.
"What has run across here?"
A wolf has run across here.

The maiden spoke these words:
"Woe, poor wretch that I am!
Better for me, poor one,
on the tracks of the skulking wolf,
in the steps of the low-snouted one,
than in the raven Kojonen's sledge,
beneath the striped-face's blanket;
the wolf's fur is fairer
than Koji's son's locks."

That raven, son of Kojonen,
twisted his mouth, turned his head,
twisted his dark whiskers,
struck the stallion with the switch,
cracked the beaded whip;
drove on rattling
on those heaths of Pohjola,
in the dark wilds of Lapland;
then they came upon bear-tracks.

The maiden rose from the sledge,
looked out from beneath the blanket.
"What has run across here?"
A bear has run across here.

The maiden spoke these words:
"Woe, poor wretch that I am!
Better for me, poor one,
on the tracks of the shambling bear,
on the hard roads of the forest lord,
than in the raven Kojonen's sledge,
beneath the striped-face's blanket;
the bear's fur is fairer
than Koji's son's locks."

That raven, son of Kojonen,
twisted his mouth, turned his head,
twisted his dark whiskers;
himself he spoke these words:
"A little further yet;
wait! You will reach Koji's home,
Koji's high hill;
you will slice meat without a knife,
you will taste blood without a ladle."

When they came to Koji's home,
to Koji's high hill,
he took the sword from the rafter,
got the sabre from the nail,
asked the mind of his sword,
asked the sabre for words:
"Will you eat worthless flesh,
will you drink idle blood?"

The sword thought to eat,
the sabre said it would drink.

Then he struck with his sword,
slashed with his blade,
cut the maiden into four pieces,
into five fragments;
he set her head as a tussock,
her eyes as marsh-cranberries,
her hair as dry stubble,
he cut her ears for the crow to eat,
built her flesh for the birds,
he baked her breasts into loaves,
her nipples into fish-pies,
as gifts for the mother-in-law,
as treats for Kommi's old wife.

He went to his mother-in-law.
The mother-in-law at the gatepost
asked for news:
"What news do you bring?"

The servant spoke from the rafter,
the herdsman from the pillar-top:
"Do not ask for news;
strange were my dreams."

The son-in-law gave his treats.
The mother ate and gave praise:
"I have eaten something now,
eaten butter, eaten cream,
eaten pregnant cow,
eaten fattened pig,
but nothing as sweet as this,
the new son-in-law's gifts,
my child's sendings."

The servant spoke from the rafter,
the herdsman from the pillar-top:
"Oh, by the soles of my feet,
do not eat the treats!
If you knew a little,
if you understood a trifle,
you would never eat those,
the new son-in-law's gifts,
your child's sendings."

"Tell me, tell me, poor servant,
what is in these treats?" —
"If I tell, poor mistress,
you will dissolve in water,
turn the colour of earth,
fall the shade of iron."

"Let me change a hundred times,
let me fall even twice.
Tell me, tell me, poor servant,
what is in these treats?
I will feed you a year without work,
another year without sending to labour."

"Then I will tell, poor mistress,
what is in these treats:
there are the shoulder-bones of a woman,
the head-pieces of a maiden;
you ate the breasts of your daughter,
you ate the nipples of your own child,
whom you long raised,
whom you yourself nursed at the breast."

She dissolved in water,
wept one day, wept another,
wept a third day straight,
finally slipped into death,
turned the colour of earth,
fell the shade of iron.

Song 26 — The Maiden to Be Ransomed (Lunastettava neiti)

The archetypal ransom ballad. A maiden weeps in a Russian raider's boat as it circles the cape. Father, mother, brother, sister — each comes to the shore but refuses to give up their finest stallion, cow, gelding, sheep. Only the suitor gives his finest ship: "I can get another ship, but I cannot get another bride." The maiden curses each relative's wealth in return.

The Russian raider,
the Karelian wanderer,
rows and rows,
circles round the cape,
around the cape of Ylänen,
along both sides of Kangasniemi.
The maiden laments,
the copper-belted one wails
in the Russian's boat,
in the Karelian's vessel.

The father comes down to the shore
to hear the lamenting,
to catch the wailing.

"Good father, dear father,
ransom me from here!"

"With what shall I ransom you,
when I have so few means?"

"Once you had,
had in my days,
in my growing days,
three fine stallions;
put one up as ransom,
as redemption for my life."

"I cannot, my poor one,
I cannot, my poor girl,
put up the finest stallion;
I would sooner give up my maiden
than my finest stallion,
on which much money was spent,
and more was promised."

The Russian raider,
the Karelian wanderer,
rows and rows,
circles round the cape,
around the cape of Ylänen,
along both sides of Kangasniemi.
The maiden laments,
the copper-belted one wails
in the Russian's boat,
in the Karelian's vessel.

The mother comes down to the shore
to hear the lamenting,
to catch the wailing.

"Good mother, dear mother,
ransom me from here!"

"With what shall I ransom you,
when I have so few means?"

"Once you had,
had in my days,
in my growing days,
three fine cows;
put one up as ransom,
as redemption for my life."

"I cannot, my poor one,
I cannot, my poor girl,
put up the finest cow;
I would sooner give up my maiden
than my finest cow,
on which much money was spent,
and more was promised."

The Russian raider,
the Karelian wanderer,
rows and rows,
circles round the cape,
around the cape of Ylänen,
along both sides of Kangasniemi.
The maiden laments,
the copper-belted one wails
in the Russian's boat,
in the Karelian's vessel.

The brother comes down to the shore
to hear the lamenting,
to catch the wailing.

"Good brother, dear brother,
ransom me from here!"

"With what shall I ransom you,
when I have so few means?"

"Once you had,
had in my days,
in my growing days,
three fine geldings;
put one up as ransom."

"I cannot, my poor one,
I cannot, my poor sister,
put up the finest gelding;
I would sooner give up my sister
than my finest gelding,
on which much money was spent,
and more was promised."

The Russian raider,
the Karelian wanderer,
rows and rows,
circles round the cape,
around the cape of Ylänen,
along both sides of Kangasniemi.
The maiden laments,
the copper-belted one wails
in the Russian's boat,
in the Karelian's vessel.

The sister comes down to the shore
to hear the lamenting,
to catch the wailing.

"Good sister, dear sister,
ransom me from here!"

"With what shall I ransom you,
when I have so few means?"

"Once you had,
had in my days,
in my growing days,
three fine sheep;
put one up as ransom."

"I cannot, my poor one,
I cannot, my poor sister,
put up the finest sheep;
I would sooner give up my sister
than my finest sheep,
on which much money was spent,
and more was promised."

The Russian raider,
the Karelian wanderer,
rows and rows,
circles round the cape,
around the cape of Ylänen,
along both sides of Kangasniemi.
The maiden laments,
the copper-belted one wails
in the Russian's boat,
in the Karelian's vessel.

The suitor comes down to the shore
to hear the lamenting,
to catch the wailing.

"Good suitor, dear suitor,
ransom me from here!"

"With what shall I ransom you,
when I have so few means?"

"Once you had,
had in my days,
in my growing days,
three fine ships;
put one up as ransom,
as redemption for my life."

"Yes, my poor one,
yes, my poor maiden,
I will put up my finest ship;
I would sooner give up my ship
than my finest maiden:
I can get another ship,
but I cannot get another bride."

The suitor ransomed the maiden;
the maiden wished for vengeance;
now I shall wish for vengeance:
"Let God bring vengeance:
my father's great stallions —
let fire burn them fiercely,
let flame destroy them
in the best trading-time.
My mother's milch-cows —
let them waste for their calves,
let them collapse at the pail,
in the best milking-time.
My brother's great geldings —
let them fall in their harness,
let them fail in their collars,
in the best hauling-time.
My sister's blue-grey ewes —
let them bleed with their lambs,
let them perish with their young,
in the best shearing-time.
May the suitor's ships sail
in calm and storm alike,
in tail-wind and head-wind,
for the suitor ransomed me."

Song 27 — The Maiden to Be Ransomed (Lunastettava neiti — variant)

A variant of Song 26 in a different metre — more archaic, closer to prose-rhythm. The pattern is the same but the cast is wider: father (ships), mother (cows), brother (swords), sister (looms), son-in-law (bows), sister-in-law (bowls), and finally the suitor (castles). Each excuse names the season: "the best trading-time," "the best milking-time," "the best war-time." The suitor alone gives, and the maiden curses each who refused.

The maiden, the maiden,
weeps and sighs
in the blood-hound's boat,
in the red-beard's vessel.
Her father watched from afar
along the sea's shore.

"Oh, oh, oh, father dear,
ransom me away!"
"With what shall I ransom you?"
"You have three fine ships;
put the best up as pledge,
as redemption for my head,
as ransom for myself."

"No, poor girl,
not as your ransom,
nor as redemption for your head;
the best trading-season.
I would sooner give up my daughter
than my finest ship;
another daughter I can get,
but I cannot get another ship."

The maiden, the maiden,
weeps and sighs
in the blood-hound's boat,
in the red-beard's vessel.
Her mother watched from afar
along the sea's shore.

"Oh, oh, oh, mother dear,
ransom me away!"
"With what shall I ransom you?"
"You have three fine cows;
put the best up as pledge,
as redemption for my head,
as ransom for myself."

"No, poor girl,
not as your ransom,
nor as redemption for your head;
the best milking-season.
I would sooner give up my daughter
than my finest cow;
another daughter I can get,
but I cannot get another cow."

The maiden, the maiden,
weeps and sighs
in the blood-hound's boat,
in the red-beard's vessel.
Her brother watched from afar
along the sea's shore.

"Oh, oh, oh, brother dear,
ransom me away!"
"With what shall I ransom you?"
"You have three fine swords;
put the best up as pledge,
as redemption for my head,
as ransom for your sister."

"No, poor sister,
not as your ransom,
nor as redemption for your head;
the best war-season.
I would sooner give up my sister
than my finest sword;
another sister I can get,
but I cannot get another sword."

The maiden, the maiden,
weeps and sighs
in the blood-hound's boat,
in the red-beard's vessel.
Her sister watched from afar
along the sea's shore.

"Oh, oh, oh, sister dear,
ransom me away!"
"With what shall I ransom you?"
"You have three fine looms;
put the best up as pledge,
as redemption for my head,
as ransom for your sister."

"No, poor sister,
not as your ransom,
nor as redemption for your head;
the best weaving-season.
I would sooner give up my sister
than my finest loom;
another sister I can get,
but I cannot get another loom."

The maiden, the maiden,
weeps and sighs
in the blood-hound's boat,
in the red-beard's vessel.
Her son-in-law watched from afar
along the sea's shore.

"Oh, oh, oh, son-in-law dear,
ransom me away!"
"With what shall I ransom you?"
"You have three fine bows;
put the best up as pledge,
as redemption for my head,
as ransom for your bride-companion."

"No, poor bride-companion,
not as your ransom,
nor as redemption for your head;
the best hunting-season.
I would sooner give up my bride-companion
than my finest bow;
another bride-companion I can get,
but I cannot get another bow."

The maiden, the maiden,
weeps and sighs
in the blood-hound's boat,
in the red-beard's vessel.
Her sister-in-law watched from afar
along the sea's shore.

"Oh, oh, oh, sister-in-law dear,
ransom me away!"
"With what shall I ransom you?"
"You have three fine bowls;
put the best up as pledge,
as redemption for my head,
as ransom for your bride-companion."

"No, poor bride-companion,
not as your ransom,
nor as redemption for your head;
the best drinking-season.
I would sooner give up my bride-companion
than my finest bowl;
another bride-companion I can get,
but I cannot get another bowl."

The maiden, the maiden,
weeps and sighs
in the blood-hound's boat,
in the red-beard's vessel.
Her suitor watched from afar.

"Oh, oh, oh, suitor dear,
ransom me away!"
"With what shall I ransom you?"
"You have three fine castles;
put the best up as pledge,
as redemption for my head,
as ransom for your beloved."

"Yes, poor maiden,
I will put up the finest castle,
as redemption for your head,
as ransom for my beloved;
I would sooner give up my castle
than my finest maiden;
another castle I can get,
but I cannot get another maiden."

He put up the finest castle,
ransomed the maiden away.

The maiden wished for vengeance:
"Let God bring vengeance:
my father's ship — let it leak
in the best trading-season;
my mother's cattle — let them perish
in the middle of summer;
my brother's sword — let it break
in the best war-season;
my sister's loom — let it snap
in the best weaving-season;
my son-in-law's bow — let it break
in the best hunting-season;
my sister-in-law's bowl — let it crack
in the best drinking-season.
May the suitor's castle prosper
in the worst year of famine."

Song 28 — The Maiden on the Perch (Neiti lepetissä)

A maiden sits on a perch — a rock or platform surrounded by water — weeping. Father, mother, brother, sister each pass in their boats but defer to the next: "Your mother's boats are nimbler." Only the suitor says "Now I come, now I can." The maiden curses each relative's boat to break and patch the suitor's vessel.

A maiden sat on a perch,
both sat and wept,
wringing her fingers,
breaking her hands;
she looked up to heaven,
she looked down to the shores;
the sun shone in heaven,
a boat travelled on the shores.

Her father in the boat.
"Come, father, and take me!"
The father spoke these words:
"I cannot take you, I cannot;
your mother comes behind me;
mother's boats are nimbler,
mother's oars are gentler,
mother's rudders are finer."

A maiden sat on a perch,
both sat and wept,
wringing her fingers,
breaking her hands;
she looked up to heaven,
she looked down to the shores;
the sun shone in heaven,
a boat travelled on the shores.

Her mother in that boat.
"Come, mother, and take me!"
The mother spoke these words:
"I cannot take you, I cannot;
your brother comes behind me;
brother's boats are nimbler,
brother's oars are gentler,
brother's rudders are finer."

A maiden sat on a perch,
both sat and wept,
wringing her fingers,
breaking her hands;
she looked up to heaven,
she looked down to the shores;
the sun shone in heaven,
a boat travelled on the shores.

"That is my brother's boat;
come, brother, and take me!"
The brother spoke these words:
"I cannot take you, I cannot;
your sister comes behind me;
sister's boats are nimbler,
sister's oars are gentler,
sister's rudders are finer."

A maiden sat on a perch,
both sat and wept,
wringing her fingers,
breaking her hands;
she looked up to heaven,
she looked down to the shores;
the sun shone in heaven,
a boat travelled on the shores.

"That is my sister's boat;
come, sister, and take me!"
The sister spoke these words:
"I cannot take you, I cannot;
your suitor rows behind me;
the suitor's boats are nimbler,
the suitor's oars are gentler,
the suitor's rudders are finer."

A maiden sat on a perch,
both sat and wept,
wringing her fingers,
breaking her hands;
she looked up to heaven,
she looked down to the shores;
the sun shone in heaven,
a boat travelled on the shores.

"That is my suitor's boat;
come, suitor, and take me!"
The suitor spoke these words:
"Now I come, now I can;
the suitor's boats are nimblest,
the suitor's oars are gentlest,
the suitor's seats are loveliest."
The suitor took her into his boat.

The maiden spoke these words:
"Let the prow fall off,
the prow of my father's boat,
to mend the suitor's boat;
let the sides burst out,
the sides of my mother's boat,
to mend the suitor's boat;
let the ribs break off,
the ribs of my brother's boat,
to mend the suitor's boat;
let the bottom blow out,
the bottom of my sister's boat,
to mend the suitor's boat."

Song 29 — Three Suitors (Kolmet kosijat)

A maiden grows beautifully in the hollow of a cape. Suitors come from three directions. She rejects Tuuteri — "the men are dull, the women lazy." She rejects Päivölä — "the days are long, the nights short." She accepts the Kemi River — "the men are cheerful, the daughters well-mannered."

A maiden grew beautifully,
rose up most delightfully;
she grew in the hollow of a cape,
beside a honey-sweet forest,
at the edge of the loving grove;
she grew a week, was heard of far.
From far came the suitors:
some from Tuuteri,
others from Päivölä,
the third from the Kemi River.

The suitor from Tuuteri came.
The maiden answered:
"I cannot leave before
I grind the stone to nothing,
beat the pestle to pieces,
pound the mortar to splinters;
nor will I go to Tuuteri —
in Tuuteri the men are dull,
the men dull, the women lazy,
the daughters simple-minded."

The suitor from Päivölä came.
The maiden answered:
"I cannot leave before
I grind the stone to nothing,
beat the pestle to pieces,
pound the mortar to splinters;
nor will I go to Päivölä —
in Päivölä the days are long,
the days long, the nights short,
the evening sittings tedious."

The suitor from the Kemi River came.
The maiden answered:
"Now I shall go, now I can;
I shall go to the Kemi River,
to eat the fish of Kemi,
to cook the salmon of Kemi;
it is good to live in Kemi,
beautiful by Karelia's river;
there the men are cheerful,
the daughters well-mannered;
the evenings are not dull,
the mornings not bitter."

Song 30 — Kullervo's Departure for War (Kullervon sotaan lähtö)

Kullervo, Kaleva's son — the doomed hero of the Kalevala — sets out for war against everyone's wishes, yet no one truly grieves. Father, brother, sister each say a replacement will be found. His wife says she will put on new shoes and dance for a better husband. Only his mother weeps: "I will weep the snows to bare ground, the bare ground to green earth." Then, as Kullervo marches, news arrives one by one that each family member has died. He dismisses each death — until his mother's. For her alone he pauses: "Let the dead be laid in the earth."

Kullervo, Kaleva's son,
he makes ready for war,
for nothing makes ready for war,
of his own will for battle,
against his father's warning,
his mother's still more.

Kullervo, Kaleva's son,
spoke a word, said thus:
"No kin grieve for me,
no family shows me kindness,
if I should die in the lane,
wither on the household threshold;
father does not think it ill,
mother does not mourn,
no tear falls from brother's eye,
sister's cheek does not dampen;
but the kin would grieve,
my family would show kindness,
if I go to war,
if I set out to battle,
if I fall in war,
if I sink on the fields of strife."

Kullervo, Kaleva's son,
set out piping to war,
striking joy for other lands.
He spoke a word to his father:
"Farewell, my good father!
Will you weep for me,
when you hear that I have died,
that I have vanished from the people,
that I have fallen from the family?"

His father spoke these words:
"I will not weep for you,
even if I hear you have died:
another son will be made,
a son far better,
much cleverer."

Kullervo, Kaleva's son,
set out piping to war,
striking joy for other lands;
he spoke to his brother:
"Farewell, my brother!
Will you weep for me,
when you hear that I have died,
that I have vanished from the people,
that I have fallen from the family?"

His brother spoke these words:
"I will not weep for you,
even if I hear you have died:
another brother will be got,
a brother far better,
more skilful with money."

Kullervo, Kaleva's son,
set out piping to war,
striking joy for other lands;
he spoke to his sister:
"Farewell, my sister!
Will you weep for me,
when you hear that I have died,
that I have vanished from the people,
that I have fallen from the family?"

His sister spoke these words:
"I will not weep for you,
even if I hear you have died:
another brother will be got,
a brother far better,
taller by a quart."

Kullervo, Kaleva's son,
set out piping to war,
striking joy for other lands;
he spoke to his wife:
"Farewell, my wife!
Will you weep for me, wife,
when you hear that I have died,
that I am left on the sea-ice,
that I am torn in the tangles,
that I am tumbled on the pile?"

His wife spoke these words:
"I will not weep for you;
for nothing you go to war,
of your own will to battle;
when I hear you have died,
lessened from the folk,
I shall sit on the joy-stone,
drop upon the singing-rock,
fling my shoes into the mud,
put on new closed shoes,
make my throat beautiful,
make my breast fine,
go to the maidens' room,
to the brides' quarters,
there I shall dance a reel,
toss a heian-tejakko,
get a better husband,
a cleverer man."

Kullervo, Kaleva's son,
set out piping to war,
striking joy for other lands.
He spoke a word to his mother:
"Mother dear, dearest one,
my beautiful bearer,
dear one who gave me milk,
lovely one who nursed me!
Will you weep for me,
when you hear that I have died,
that I have vanished from the people,
that I have fallen from the family?"

His mother spoke these words:
"Do you not know a mother's voice,
a mother's voice, a mother's heart?
I will weep for you,
when I hear you have died,
that you have lessened from the folk,
that you have fallen from the family:
I will weep the tubs, I will weep the saunas,
I will weep the rafts in the forest,
I will weep the lanes with my sobs,
the barns with my groaning,
I will weep the snows to bare ground,
the bare ground to green earth,
the green earth to sprouting fields."

Kullervo, Kaleva's son,
set out straight for war,
put his pipes in his pouch,
played as he went through the marsh,
Kullervo'd across the heath,
drummed upon the fire-clearing.

Word was brought after him:
"Your father has died at home."

Kullervo, Kaleva's son,
spoke a word, said thus:
"If my father has died,
good riddance to my father;
he ate my fattened pigs,
he drank my stored barrels."

Kullervo, Kaleva's son,
set out straight for war,
put his pipes in his pouch,
played as he went through the marsh,
Kullervo'd across the heath,
drummed upon the fire-clearing.

Word was brought after him:
"Your brother has died at home."

Kullervo, Kaleva's son,
spoke a word, said thus:
"If my brother has died,
good riddance to my brother;
he took my slash-and-burn field,
he broke my bark-boats."

Kullervo, Kaleva's son,
set out straight for war,
put his pipes in his pouch,
played as he went through the marsh,
Kullervo'd across the heath,
drummed upon the fire-clearing.

Word was brought after him:
"Your sister has died at home."

Kullervo, Kaleva's son,
spoke a word, said thus:
"If my sister has died,
good riddance to my sister;
she broke my porridge-kettle,
she spoiled my cake-tribute."

Kullervo, Kaleva's son,
set out straight for war,
put his pipes in his pouch,
played as he went through the marsh,
Kullervo'd across the heath,
drummed upon the fire-clearing.

Word was brought after him:
"Your wife has died at home."

Kullervo, Kaleva's son,
spoke a word, said thus:
"If my wife has died,
good riddance to my wife;
she took my woollen clothes,
she lost my silk stockings."

Kullervo, Kaleva's son,
set out straight for war,
put his pipes in his pouch,
played as he went through the marsh,
Kullervo'd across the heath,
drummed upon the fire-clearing.

Word was brought after him:
"Your mother has died at home."

Kullervo, Kaleva's son,
spoke a word, said thus:
"If my mother has died,
good riddance to my mother —
from grieving for me,
from weeping all her days;
let the dead be laid in the earth,
let the perished be covered in the grave;
there is peace in the earth for the dead,
in the grave for the perished."

Song 31 — The Maiden's Goose (Neien hanhi)

The longest and strangest of the historical songs — part love-lyric, part catalogue poem, part cosmic vision. A hunter with three dogs finds a weeping maiden whose beloved has gone to war. He will return — and brings a golden-beaked goose as his gift. But where to keep the goose? The barn smells, the sauna smokes, the threshing-barn is cold, the house is hot — every place on earth is wrong. The goose disappears. When the maiden searches, she finds it winding weft on a loom at the edge of a red cloud, on the rim of heaven's arch.

I set out tracking the road,
marching through November's land,
three dogs behind me:
one Liukki, another Läykki,
the third the dog Puritsa.
I tracked the roads, I marched the lands,
I stepped through clearings,
through silver forests,
through golden spruce-groves;
a stream came before me,
on the streambank a tussock,
on the tussock a cottage,
reins on the cottage door,
a collar on the barn eaves;
I knocked at the cottage door,
rattled the eaves-beam;
a maiden came weeping out.

"Why do you weep, poor maiden?"
"This is why I weep, poor maiden:
your dogs are biting me,
the gaping-jawed one is snapping."

"Come under my shelter,
step beneath my shadow;
the dogs will not bite you —
Scat! Away! Shame on you, dog!"

"Why do you weep, young maiden?"
"This is why I weep, young maiden:
my gentle beloved has been taken
to the soldier's head-wars,
to the fortress-man's battles,
taken to the war in Viena,
to battle beyond the sea;
he will not come home from there,
he will never come:
he would sooner come from Tuonela,
journey back from Manala."

"Do not weep, young maiden,
your beloved is coming now,
he is coming from Tuonela,
journeying back from Manala;
beneath the fortress the oars flash,
above the fortress his head appears."

"What will my beloved bring me,
what will he bring as gifts?"

"He will bring breast-crosses,
he will bring ear-trinkets,
he will bring finger-rings,
he will bring hand-gloves,
he will bring shoe-buckles,
heel-clappers for your feet."

"What shall I give my beloved?
I have nothing worth giving;
shall I make a thorn-shirt,
or a prickle-shirt?
A thorn-shirt is no good,
nor a prickle-shirt;
it would scratch the skin,
dig at the armpits,
tickle the hip-flesh.
I shall make a linen shirt,
or a fine hempen one;
good is a linen shirt,
good is a hempen one;
it does not scratch the skin,
nor dig at the armpits,
nor tickle the hip-flesh;
I shall sew riding-breeches,
a sleeveless body-vest,
without sleeves, without hems,
a little short at the collar."

My beloved came home;
he brought a goose as a gift,
gold on the tip of its beak,
all its toes of copper;
he brought new closed shoes,
Saxon hundred-studded boots,
heels that clatter beneath,
soles that clack below;
he brought breast-crosses,
he brought ear-trinkets,
he brought finger-rings,
he brought hand-gloves.
I put the crosses on my breast,
the trinkets on my ears,
the rings on my fingers,
the gloves on my hands.

"Where shall I put my shoes,
where the hundred-studded boots?"

"I shall put the shoes on my feet:
the bridge-planks will break —
let them break even twice,
as if they were slender pines
and soft spruces,
that cannot bear the shoe's step,
the clatter of the heel."
I put the shoes on my feet.

"Where shall I put my goose,
where shall I place my dear bird?
I would put it on the barn eaves —
the barn stench would sicken it."

"Where shall I put my goose,
where shall I place my dear bird?
I would put it on the sauna eaves —
the sauna smoke would choke it."

"Where shall I put my goose,
where shall I place my dear bird?
I would put it on the threshing-barn eaves —
the outside cold would chill it."

"Where shall I put my goose,
where shall I place my dear bird?
I would put it on the house eaves —
the heat would suffocate it."

"Where shall I put my goose,
where shall I place my dear bird?
I would put it on the storehouse rafter —
the rafter would sag."

"Where shall I put my goose,
where shall I place my dear bird?
I would put it in my barley-bin —
it would eat my barley."

"Where shall I put my goose,
where shall I place my dear bird?
I would put it in my buckwheat-bin —
it would choke on my buckwheat."

"Where shall I put my goose,
where shall I place my dear bird?
I would put it in my rye-bin —
it would rummage in my rye."

"Where shall I put my goose,
where shall I place my dear bird?
I would put it in my wool-basket —
it would felt my wool."

"Where shall I put my goose,
where shall I place my dear bird?
I would put it on my spindle-tip —
it would twist my spindle."

"Where shall I put my goose,
where shall I place my dear bird?
I would put it in my hair-braids —
it would tangle my braids."

"Where shall I put my goose,
where shall I place my dear bird?
I would put it on a fence-post —
the village dog would bark at it."

"Where shall I put my goose,
where shall I place my dear bird?
I would put it on a water-stone —
the sea-eagle would snatch it."

"Where did I put my goose,
where did I place my dear bird?
There I put my goose,
there I placed my dear bird:
I put it on the barn eaves.
I set a rooster to watch,
a black dog to remember;
the rooster did not watch,
the black dog did not remember.
Then one day,
one morning among many,
I went to look myself —
already my goose was gone,
my dear bird was gone."

I set out to search for it,
to look for the vanished one.
A woodcutter met me.

"Oh, woodcutter brother!
Have you seen my goose,
seen my dear bird?
Where has my goose gone,
where my dear bird?"

"What mark is on your goose,
what mark on your dear bird?"

"This mark is on my goose,
this mark on my dear bird:
its body written in gold,
its toes cast in copper."

"I have not seen your goose,
not seen your dear bird."

A rumble was heard from the lane,
a clatter from the yard;
a servant goes to look
what that rumble muttered,
what that clatter clattered:
were stallions fighting
on the great stable floor,
or bulls quarrelling
on the new barn floor?

The stallions were not fighting
on the great stable floor,
nor the bulls quarrelling
on the new barn floor:
Kati was weaving cloth,
a maiden held the shuttle,
at the edge of a red cloud,
on the rim of heaven's arch.
There were geese winding the weft,
weaving on Kati's loom;
so the shuttle whirred,
so the bobbin wound,
so the reed sang,
like a squirrel in a spruce,
a small claw in a pine,
a stoat in a rock-cleft.

Colophon

These twenty-five historical songs — Songs 7 through 31 of Book III — are translated from the first edition of Elias Lönnrot's Kanteletar taikka Suomen kansan vanhoja lauluja ja virsiä (Helsinki, 1840). The Finnish source text is from Project Gutenberg eBook #7078, digitized from the 1840 Recks edition.

No complete English translation of the Kanteletar exists in the public domain. Keith Bosley's 1992 Kanteletar: Lyrics and Ballads (Oxford World's Classics) is the nearest English selection but remains in copyright. These translations are independently derived from the 1840 Finnish text without reference to Bosley or any other English version. The register is ballad-plain: short lines, stark images, the original's repetitions and formulaic patterns preserved as closely as English permits. Finnish Kalevala-metre (trochaic tetrameter with alliteration) is rendered as free verse with natural speech rhythms.

The historical songs span roughly six centuries of Finnish folk memory: the crusade-era murder of Bishop Henry (c. 1156), the fifteenth-century burning of Elina at Laukko, the sixteenth-century wars of Pontus de la Gardie, and Charles XII's defeat in the Great Northern War (1700–1721). Alongside the wars are ballads of bride-theft, forced marriage, incest, and the grim Kojonen cycle — Finnish variants of motifs found across the European ballad tradition.

Compiled, translated, and formatted for the Good Work Library by the New Tianmu Anglican Church, 2026.

🌲

Source Text: Kanteletar III — Historiallisia lauluja

Finnish source text from Elias Lönnrot, Kanteletar taikka Suomen kansan vanhoja lauluja ja virsiä (Helsinki: Recks, 1840). Digitized text from Project Gutenberg eBook #7078. Presented here for reference, study, and verification alongside the English translation above.

7. Piispa Heinrikin surma.

Kasvoi ennen kaksi lasta,
Toinen kasvoi kaalimaassa,
Toinen Ruotsissa yleni.
Se kun kasvoi kaalimaassa,
Se Häme'en Heinrikki;
Se kun Ruotsissa yleni,
Se on Eirikki kuningas.

Sanoi Hämeen Heinrikki
Eirikille veljellensä:
"Läkkäs maita ristimähän,
Mailla ristimättömillä,
Paikoilla papittomilla!"

Sanoi Eirikki kuningas
Heinrikille veljellensä:
"Ent' on järvet jäätämättä,
Sulana joki kovera."

Sanoi Hämeen Heinrikki
Eirikille veljellensä:
"Kyllä kierrän Kiulon järven,
Ympäri joki koveran."

Pani varsat valjahisin,
Suvikunnat suitsi suuhun,
Pani korjat kohallensa,
Saatti lastat sarjallensa,
Anturoillensa avarat,
Perällensä pienet kirjat.
Niin kohta ajohon lähti,
Ajoi tietä, matkaeli,
Kaksi päiveä keväistä,
Kaksi yötä järjestänsä.

Sanoi Eirikki kuningas
Heinrikille veljellensä:
"Jo tässä tulevi nälkä,
Eikä syöä, eikä juoa,
Eikä purtua pietä."

"On Lalli lahen takana,
Hyvä neuo niemen päässä,
Siinä syömmä, siinä juomma,
Siinä purtua piämmä."

Sitte sinne saatuansa
Kerttu kelvoton emäntä,
Suitsi suuta kunnotonta,
Keitti kieltä kelvotonta.

Sitte Hämeen Heinrikki
Otti heiniä hevosen,
Heitti penningit sialle,
Otti leivän uunin päältä,
Heitti penningit sialle,
Otti olutta kellarista,
Vieritti rahat siallen.
Siinä söivät, siinä joivat,
Siinä purtua pitivät;
Sitte lähtivät ajhon.

Tuli Lalli kotiansa--
Tuo Lallin paha emäntä
Suitsi suuta kunnotonta,
Keitti kieltä kelvotonta:
"Jo tässä kävi ihmisiä,
Täss' on syöty, täss' on juotu,
Tässä purtua pietty,
Viety heiniä hevosen,
Heitty hietoja siahan,
Syöty leivät uunin päältä,
Heitty hietoja siahan,
Juotu oluet kellarista,
Saatu santoa siahan."

Lausui paimen patsahalta:
"Jo vainen valehtelitki,
Elä vainen usko'kahan!"

Lalli se pahatapainen,
Sekä mies pahasukuinen,
Otti Lalli laukkarinsa,
Piru pitkän keihäänsä,
Ajoi Herroja taka'an.

Sanoi orja uskollinen,
Lausui parka palvelija:
"Jo kuuluu kumu takana,
Ajanko tätä hevoista?"

Sanoi Hämeen Heinrikki:
"Jos kuuluu kumu takana,
Elä aja tätä hevoista,
Karkottele konkaria."

"Entä jos tavotetahan,
Taikkapa tapetahanki?"

"Käy sinä kiven taaksi,
Kuultele kiven takana,
Jos mua tavotetahan,
Taikka myös tapetahanki;
Poimi mun luuni lumesta,
Ne pane härän rekehen
Härän Suomehen veteä.
Kussa härkä uupunevi,
Sihen kirkko tehtäköhön,
Kappeli rakettakohon,
Papin saarnoja sanella,
Kansan kaiken kuultavaksi."

Palasi paha kotia,
Lausui paimen patsahalta:
"Kusta Lalli lakin saanut,
Mies paha hyvän hytyrän,
Pispan hiipan hirtehinen?"

Niinpä mies murehissansa,
Lakin päästänsä tavotti,
Hivukset himahtelivat,
Veti sormuksen sormesta,
Lihat ne liukahtelivat.

Niin tämän pahantapaisen
Pispan raukan raatelijan
Tuli kosto korkialta,
Makso mailman valtialta.

8. Elinan surma.

Elinainen neiti nuori
Meni aittahan mäelle,
Vaskivakka kainalossa,
Vaskiavain vakkasessa.
Tuoltapa tulee Klaus Kurki.
"Mistäs tunnet Klaus Kurjen?"
"Tulennasta tuiman tunnen,
Jalon jalan heitännästä."
"Eikös muita ylpiöitä,
Kun on Laukon Klaus Kurki?"--

Klaus tuo tuli pihalle,
Sa'an hevoismiehen kanssa,
Sa'an satulaurohon,
Miehet kulta miekoissansa,
Hevoset hopiapäissä.

Viisi veljestä Elinan
Istuit kaikki pöyän päässä,
Nousit kaikki seisoalle,
Läksit vastahan Klaulle.

"Onkos teillä neittä myyä,
Piika pietty minulle?"

"Ei neittä mäellä myyä,
Panna kaupan kartanolla;
Hevot myyähän mäellä,
Luukaviat kartanolla.
Kyll' on meillä tupiaki:
Tupa meill' on yljän tulla,
Tupa tulla, toinen mennä.
Talli meill' on hevot panna,
Vaja varsat valjutella,
Naula laskea satulat."

Klaus tuo tuli tupahan
Miekalla oven avasi,
Tupellansa kiini tunki.
"Onkos teillä neittä myyä,
Piika pietty minulle?"--

Äitinsä Elina neien
Klaus Kurjelle kumarsi:
"Ei ole meillä neittä myyä,
Eikä piika'a piolla.
Piiat meill on piskusia,
Kaikki kesken kasvavia."

"Onpa tuo vähä Elina,
Anna'pa vähä Elina!"

"Oh mun äiti kultaseni,
Elä anna minua Klaulle!"

"Ei taia vähä Elina
Panna työhön palkollista,
Ruokkia perehiäsi,
Kaita tarhakarjojasi."

"Eikä tarvitse Elinan;
Onpa siellä Kirstipiika.--
Minä annan Kirstipiian
Panna työhön palkollisen,
Ruokkia talon perettä,
Kaita kanssa tarhakarjan."

"Kyll' on sulla Kirstipiika,
Laukon entinen emäntä,
Se mun polttaisi tulessa,
Kovin päivin kuolettaisi."

"Ei ole Kirsti ennenkähän
Ketän polttanut tulessa,
Kovin päivin kuolettanut,
Ei ole ennen, eikä vasta."

Kukas kuitenki on hullu,--
Kukas muu, kun piika raukka?
Jos ei hullu, niin on himmi,
Otti kihlat, antoi kättä;
Käsi on Klaun käessä,
Kävi Klaun kartanolle.

Kirsti katseli lasissa,
Välkytteli västäröillä.
"Oh, jos sitäki olisi,
Tuon välin pahentajata!
Ennenkun avaimet annan,
Toisen käskyllä kävelen."

Lähti hän Klaun puheille:
"Ohoh, Klaus kultaseni!
Vähän kyllä sinä tieät--
Uolevi emännän makasi."

"Oh mun Kirsti piikaseni!
Jospas tuottelet toeksi
Minkä sattelit sanoiksi,
Vielä sun verassa käytän;
Elinan tulessa poltan--
Viisi verkaista hametta
Annan sinun käyäksesi,
Ennenkun Elina rouan;
Annan kätehes avaimet
Ennenkun Elina rouan."

"Ohoh, Klaus kultaseni!
Aja Aumasten laolle,
Pikkunniittuisten nimelle.
Sano kauas meneväsi,
Monet viikot viipyväsi,
Keräjissä Pohjanmaalla.
Niinpän tuottelen toeksi
Minkä saattelin sanoiksi."

Klaus lähteä lupasi.--
"Oh mun vähä Elinani!
Viillä voita vakkasehen,
Sääli säkkihin evästä,
Liikkiö sianlihoa,
Karpio kananmunia,
Minun kauas mennäkseni,
Keräjihin Pohjanmaalle.-

"Oh mun Klaus kultaseni!
Elä viivy kauan siellä:
Viikot on viimeiset minulla,
Vielä päivät viimeisimmät;
Astu puoli saappahassa,
Anna toisten toinen puoli,
Puhu puolilla sanoilla,
Anna toisten toinen puoli;
Juo vaan puoli siemenystä,
Anna toisten toinen puoli--
Niin sinä pikemmin pääset
Pohjan noitain seasta."

Elina vähä emäntä
Säälei säkkihin evästä,
Viilti voita vakkasehen,
Liikkiön sianlihoa,
Karpion kananmunia.
Klaus lähtepi ajohon

Ajoi Aumasten laolle,--
Pikkuniittuisten nimelle.

Kirsti pyykille menevi,
Pienten vaatetten pesolle,
Paitain Elina rouan.
Kuului kolkkina koasta;
Kävi roua katsomahan
"Oh mun Kirsti piikaseni!
Mitä kolkitset koassa,
Paukutat patoin luona?"

"Huoran huopia virutan,
Pahan vaimon vaattehia."

"Elä Kirsti piikaseni!
Kolki niitä niin kovasti."

Kirstipä tähän mutkan muisti,
Kolkki vieläki kovemmin.

"Elä kolki Kirsti huora!
Paitojani niin pahasti.
Ei ole niitä täällä tehty,
Vaan on äitini kotona."

"Huoratpa hyvätki piiat,
Vaan ei portot puoletkana--
Eik' ole minun lukua,
Vaikka parka palkollinen
Haukuttaisi huoraksiki;
Itseki isot emännät
Ovat Uolevin ohessa,
Pitkäparran parmahissa."

Itkusilmässä Elina
Tuli rannalta tupahan.
Kirsti kiiruhti perässä:
"Oh mun roua kultaseni!
Ottakasme orjat työstä,
Häiyt härkäen perästä;
Pietään pitoset pienet,
Kanssa kempit kestijuhlat--
Niinkun ennenki on tehty,
Kun oli matkoilla isäntä."

"Ohoh Kirsti piikaseni!
Tehe itse, kuinkas tahot,
Niinkun teit minua ennen;
Iske kaikki muut tynnörit,
Yksi jätä iskemättä,
Jok' on pantu minua varten."

Kirstipä tähän mutkan muisti,
Iski ensin sen tynnörin.

"Ohoh Kirsti piikaseni!
Toisa tehit, toisa käskin."

"Oh mun roua kultaseni!
Minne teen mä sian teille,
Teenkö uutehen tupahan,
Ylimmäisen portin päälle?"

"Elä tee uutehen tupahan,
Ylimmäisen portin päälle;
Tee sia Klaun tupahan,
Niinkun ennenki olet tehnyt!"

"Siell' on pyssyt paukkavaiset,
Siellä miekat välkkyväiset,
Siellä rauat raatelevat,
Terävät teräasehet."

"Pyssyt on surmana soassa,
Miekat miehillä käsissä;
Tuttuna ovat tuvassa,
Kammarissa kaunihina.
Tee vaan sinne yösiani,
Pane kaksin villavaipat,
Pane kaksin korvatyynyt,
Kaksin liinaiset lakanat."

Kirstipä tähän mutkan muisti:
Pani viiet villavaipat,
Pani viiet korvatyynyt,
Viiet liinaiset lakanat.

Elina levolle lähti
"Ohoh Kirsti piikaseni,
Etpäs tehnyt, niinkun käskin!
Panit viiet villavaipat,
Panit viiet korvatyynyt,
Viiet liinaiset lakanat."

Läksi Kirsti kammarista,
Meni Uolevin tupahan:
"Uolevi ylimystrenki,
Tulkate Klaun tupahan!
Siellä teitä tarvittaisi,
Kiiruhusti kutsuttihin."--
"Mitästä mä siellä tehnen?"

Meni hän sinne arvollansa;
Kirsti kiiruhti perässä,
Yheksät lukut lukitsi,
Takateljen kymmenennen;
Juoks sitte Aumasten laolle,
Pikkuniittuisten nimelle:
"Ohoh Klaus kultaseni!
Jo nyt tuottelin toeksi,
Minkä saattelin sanoiksi;
Onpa Uolevi nytki siellä,
Rouan kanssa kammarissa."
Klaus kohta kotio riensi,
Alla päin, pahoilla mielin;
Otti tulta tervaksehen,
Tulta tuoheen viritti,
Pisti tulen nurkan alle,
Valoi alle valkiata.

Elinainen nuori roua
Pisti sormensa lasista,
Vihkisormus sormessansa:
"Ohoh Klaus kultaseni,
Elä sormustas kaota,
Jossas kantajan kaotat!"

Klaus Kurki kurja miesi
Veti miekkansa tupesta,
Raappas rauan kiiltäväisen,
Laski oitis sormen poikki.

Elinainen nuori roua
Piti lastansa lasista,
ltkeväistä ikkunasta:
"Ohoh kulta Klaus kulta!
Elä polta poikalastas,
Jossas poltat poiantuojan."

"Pala portto poikinesi,
Tulen lautta lapsinesi!
Ei se ole minun poika,
Se onpi Uolevin poika:"

Elinainen nuori roua
Herra Kiesusta rukoili:
"Ohoh Herra Kiesus kulta,
Anna armas Herra Kiesus,
Vielä äitini näkisin!
Palakohon kaikki paikat,
Tämä vettä vuotakohon,
Siks' ett' äitini näkisin!
Ohoh Uoti veikkoseni,
Juokse, jouvu Suomelahan,
Käske häntä tänne tulla,
Puhu paremmin kun onkaan!"

Otti Uoti mennäksensä,
Sekä juoksi, jotta joutui,
Pian juoksi järven poikki,
Tuli tuonne Suomelahan:
"Ohoh muori kultaseni!
Roua teitä sinne kutsui."

Nousi hän pian vuotehelta,
Puki päälle vaattehia--
"Voi, voi minua, vaimo valju,
Kuinka hamehin hametta,
Hame aina eestakaisin,
Kuinka lie'kään tyttäreni!"

"Hyvin kyllä, muori kulta,
Hyvin ennen, nyt paremmin!"

"Voi, voi minua, vaimo valju,
Kuinka sukin sukkiani,
Sukin aina eestakaisin,
Kuinka lie'kään tyttäreni!"

"Hyvin kyllä, muori kulta,
Hyvin ennen, nyt paremmin!"

"Voi, voi minua, vaimo valju,
Kuinka kengin kenkiäni,
Kengin aina eestakaisin,
Kuinka lie'kään tyttäreni!"

"Hyvin kyllä, muori kulta,
Hyvin ennen, nyt paremmin!"

"Voi, voi minua, vaimo valju,
Kuinka levin liinojani,
Levin aina eestakaisin,
Kuinka lie'kään tyttäreni!"

"Hyvin kyllä, muori kulta,
Hyvin ennen, nyt paremmin!"

Tulit Suomelan lahelle--
"Voi, voi minua, vaimo valju,
Savu Laukosta näkypi,
Savu Klaun kartanosta,
Mitä tuolla tehtäneeki,
Noin sakian savun kanssa!"

"Kukot siellä kultatahan,
Kanan pojat kaltatahan,
Lampaita lahtatahan,
Sianpäitä korvetahan,
Pienen rinsin ristimiksi,
Pienen poikasen pioiksi."

Tuli Klaun kartanolle,
Laski maahan polvillensa,
Oman vävynsä etehen:
"Oh mun Klaus kultaseni,
Ota pois tulesta poika,
Vaka vaimo valkiasta!"

"Poltan porton poikinensa,
Kansan lautan lapsinensa."

"Elä polta Klaus kulta,
Anna mennä muille maille,
Elkiänsä piilemähän,
Töitänsä häpeämähän!"

Tuli Kirsti kiiruhusti:
"Elä vainen Klaus kulta!
Pane jauhoja pahoja
Tervatynnörin lisäksi;
Ne heitä tulen sekahan,
Että paremmin palaisi."

"Oh mun vähä Elinani!
Ohoh lapsi parkaseni!
Mahoit olla mielin kielin,
Mielin kielin porton kanssa."

"Ohoh äiti kultaseni!
Ei ole syytä pientäkähän,
Vikoa vähäistäkähän,
Verta neulan silmättömän--
Tein kaikki minkä taisin,
Vielä päällenki vähäsen--
Pala nyt tämäki paikka,
Koskan vielä viimeiseksi,
Kovan kuolloni e'ellä,
Sain nähä äitini silmät."

Viel' olis ottanut hyvästi,
Sanonut pari sanoa,
Itkevälle äitillensä.
Raukka raukesi samasa,
Lenti liekkien sisähän,
Vaipui ilmivalkiahan.

Se oli meno nuoren rouan,
Nuoren Elina emännän,
Jok' oli kaunis kasvoiltansa,
Kaunis kaikella tavalla--
Kauan sinua kaivatahan,
Iän kaiken itketähän;
Itku ei Laukosta laka'a
Valitus Vesilahesta!

Se oli loppu nuoren vaimon,
Kanssa pienen poikalapsen;
Kului tuskin puoli kuuta,
Taikka kaksi viilkokautta,
Hevosia tallin täysi,
Nautoja naveton täysi,
Kuoli kaikki korsi suuhun,
Kaatui kaurain nojalle.

Klaus kurki kurja miesi,
Miesi kurja ja kamala,
Istui aitan kynnyksellä,
Sekä istui että itki.

Kiesus äiänä käveli:
"Mitä itket Klaus Kurki?"

"Kyll' on syytä itkemistä,
Vaivoja valittamista:
Poltin oman puolisoni,
Sytytin syleni täyen,
Poltin pienen poikaseni,
Vastakannetun kaotin."

"Kyllä tieän Elina rouan--"
"Missäs on Elina roua?"

"Tuollapa on Elina roua,
Tuolla taivahan talossa,
Ylisessä ymmärkissä,
Jalan juuressa Jumalan,
Kuuen kynttilän e'essä,
Kultakirjanen käessä,
Pikku poikanen sylissä,
Uolevi oven e'essä.
Tieän myöski Klaus Kurjen--"
Kussast' onpi Klaus Kurki?"

"Tuoll' on, tuolla Klaus Kurki,
Alaisessa helvetissä,
Kannukset vähän näkyvät,
Jalat alta kiilustavat.--

Vielä tieän Kirstihuoran
Tuoll' on, tuolla Kirstihuora,
Alisessa helvetissä,
Alimmaisen portin alla,
Palmikot vähän näkyvät,
Kultarihmat kuumottavat."

Klaus tuo ajohon lähti,
Pisti pillit säkkihinsä,
Soitti suolla mennessänsä,
Kajahutti kankahalla,
Järähytti järven päässä;
Ajoi päin sula'a merta,
Alle aaltojen syvinten.--

Se oli meno nuoren miehen,
Kanssa nainehen urohon;
Kirsti rakkina perässä.

9. Inkerin sulhot.

Inkeri ihana neito,
Varasi vakuun naia,
Lalmanti iso ritari
Antoi kättä kätkyelle,
Isoin kimpuin kihlaeli,
Suurin sormuksin lunasti.
"Kokotteles vuotta viisi,
Vuotta viisi, vuotta kuusi,
Sekä seitsemän kevättä,
Kanssa kaheksan keseä,
Ynnä syksyä yheksän,
Talvikausi kymmenettä;
Kunsa kuulet kuolleheni,
Kaiketi katoneheni,
Otiakos uros parempi,
Elkösä pahempatani,
Elkösä parempatani;
Ota muutoin muotohittes."

Eirikki vähä ritari
Valhekirjat kannatteli,
Valhekirjat kiiruhulta:
"Lalmanti on soissa voitu,
Pantu maahan paineluissa."

Inkeri ihana neito
Väen vietiin vihintupahan,
Väen kihlat annettihin,
Väen ei vihille saatu,
Eikä miehin, eikä miekoin,
Eikä uljasten urosten,
Eikä vaimoin valittuin,
Eikä neittenn kaunokaisten.

Inkeri ihana neito
Istui se lutin solassa,
Sekä istui, että itki,
Katsoi iän, katsoi lännen,
Katsoi poikki pohjasehen,
Näki kykkärän merellä:
"Jossa lienet lintuparvi,
Niin sä lähe lentämähän,
Jossa lienet kalaparvi,
Niin sä vaipunet vetehen,
Jossa lienet Lalmantini,
Laske purtes valkamahan."

"Mistä tunnen Lalmantini?
Tulennasta tunnen purren,
Tulennasta, laskennasta,
Toisen puolen purjehesta,
Uusi on toinen purjepuoli,
Toinen silkkiä sinistä,
Silkki Inkerin kutoma,
Kauan neion kaiehtima."

"Minun nuori veljyeni,
Ota ohrilta orisi,
I'ulta ikälihasi,
Maatajalka maltahilta,
Aja vasta Lalmantia!"

"Terve nuori näätämiehein,
Kuinka Inkeri elävi?"

"Hyvin Inkeri elävi:
Viikkokaus' on häitä juotu,
Toinen lahjoja laelta,
Kolmasi on kuoletettu."

10. Wiipurin linnan hävitys.

Iivana iso isäntä,
Meiän kuulu kullan solki,
Sukivi sotaoritta,
Sorajouhta suorittavi,
Sanovi sanalla tuolla,
Lausui tuolla lausehella:
"Et sie itkisi emoni,
Välittäisi vaimo rukka!
Jos mä jonne'ki menisin,
Ruotsin rohkian tiloille,
Suurille sotakeoille,
Miehen tappotanterille."

Emo estellä käkesi,
Varotella vaimo rukka:
"Ellös menkö niille maille,
Ruotsin rohkian tiloille,
Suurille sotakeoille,
Miesten tappotanterille!"

Iivana iso isäntä,
Meiän kuulu kullan solki,
Toki mietti mennäksensä,
Lähtiäksensä lupasi.

Jalan kenki kiukahalla,
Toisen lautsan partahalla,
Pihalla kävysteleksen,
Veräjillä vyötteleksen.

Latoi laivoja lähelle,
Suoritti sotavenoja.
Niin on laivoja lähellä,
Kuni suuret suorsaparvet.

Miekotsi tuhannen miestä,
Satuloitsi saan urosta,
Latoi miehet laivoihinsa,
Suoritti sotaurohot,
Kuni sotka poikiansa,
Tavi lapsensa latovi.

Kohenteli purjepuita,
Vaate'varpoja varasi,
Nosti puuhun purjehia,
Vaattehia varpapuihin.
Niin on puussa purjehia,
Vaattehia varpapuissa,
Kuni kummun kuusosia,
Tahi mäntyjä mäellä.
Läksi siitä laskemahan,
Laski päivän maavesiä,
Päivän toisen suovesiä,
Kolmannen merivesiä.

Niin päivällä kolmannella,
Loi silmänsä luotehelle,
Näki suuren Suomen linnan,
Keksi Wiipurin vihannan.

Veäksen vesiä myöten,
Halki aaltojen ajaksen,
Lankes' alle Suomen linnan,
Alle Wiipurin vihannan.

Sai hän linnahan sanoja,
Pani työntäen paperin:
"Onko linnassa olutta,
Taaria talossa linnan,
Ilman oluen panematta,
Mallasten imeltämättä,
Tulialle vierahalle,
Saavalle käkeävälle?"

Lausui Matti Laurin poika,
Virkki Wiipurin isäntä:
"Onpa linnassa olutta,
Taaria talossa linnan,
Ilman olven panematta,
Mallasten imeltämättä:
Tynnyri tulikiveä,
Panni jauhoja pahoja,
Lyiyn luomia tinoja,
Kahmalo kananmunia,
Tulialle vierahalle,
Saavalle käkeävälle."

Iivana iso isäntä,
Meiän kuulu kullan solki,
Murti suuta, väänti päätä,
Murti mustoa haventa,
Työnti kirjan kiirehesti,
Paperin pakon perästä:
"Onko linnassa lihoa,
Onko voita volmarissa,
Ilman härän iskemättä,
Suuren sonnin sortamatta,
Iivanalle iltaiseksi,
Venäläiselle veroksi?"

Lausui Matti Laurin poika,
Virkki Wiipurin isäntä:
"Onpa linnassa lihoa,
Onpa voita volmarissa,
Ilman härän iskemättä,
Suuren sonnin sortumatta:
Uupui muinen musta ruuna,
Vaipui valkia hevonen,
Tuoll' on raato rauniolla,
Luukontti koan perässä,
Miehen suuren suupalaksi,
Miehen murhan murkinaksi."

Iivana iso isäntä,
Meiän kuulu kullan solki,
Siitä suuttui, siitä syäntyi,
Kovin suuttui ja vihastui,
Pani pyssyt pyykämähän,
Umpiputket ulvomahan,
Avokurkut ammomahan,
Jalot jouset joikumahan,
Alla Wiipurin vihannan,
Alla suuren Suomen linnan.

Ampui kerran, ampui toisen,
Ampui kerran, noin alatse,
Ampui toisen, noin ylitse,
Ampui kolmannen kohalle;
Jopa liikkui linnan tornit,
Räystähät rämähtelivät,
Patsahat pamahtelivat,
Kivet linnan kiikahteli,
Tornit maahan torkahteli.

Ampui vielä kerran, toisen,
Meni räystähät rämynä,
Tuohet lenteli levyinä,
Linnan seinät liistehinä.

Siitä Matti Laurin poika,
Viisas Wiipurin isäntä,
Pani Wiipurin avaimet
Kultaiselle luotaselle:
"Venäläinen veikkoseni,
Karjalainen kaunoseni!
Jätä vielä heikko henki,
Elä murhalla murenna,
Ammuit taaton, ammuit maammon,
Ammuit viisi veljiäni;
Ota kultia kupilla,
Hopehia puolikolla,
Oman pääni päästimeksi,
Henkeni lunastimeksi."

Sanoi Iivana isäntä,
Meiän kuulu kullan solki:
"Jo on ruostui Ruotsin kullat,
Saastui Saksan maan hopiat,
En huoli hopehistasi,
Kysy konna kultiasi,
Kun kauan minua vainoit,
Aivot päästäni alensit!"

Siitä Matti Laurin poika,
Viisas Wiipurin isäntä
Jo itse pakohon pääsi,
Rienti luoksi laivosensa,
Astuvi aluksehensa,
Läksi merta laskemahan,
Sinistä sirottamahan,
Melan vaivaisen varassa,
Kokan koukkupään nojassa.

Itse Iivana isäntä,
Meiän kuulu kullan solki
Kettukenkäset jalassa,
Kut' ei pauka pakkasella,
Ei kolka kovalla säällä,
Likennäksen linnan luoksi,
Kivet on kirkkoa jälellä,
Torit linnan torniloita,
Patsahat papin tupoa,
Itse pappi paiatonna,
Ruotsin kaunis kaatiotta.

11. Puntuksen sota.

Viholainen, vainolainen,
Uhkasi ikänsä kaiken,
Maata Ruotsin ruoskivansa,
Tappavansa kaikki tyyni
Kuninkahat kansoinensa,
Papit kirkkokuntinensa,
Rustingit hevosinensa,
Pitäjät perehinensä.

Jalo herra Jaakko Puntus,
Itse Wiipurin isäntä,
Latoi laivoja lahelle,
Kun kana munasiansa,
Veti päälle purjehia,
Kun on kummun kuusiloita;
Veipä tuuli Turjuksehen,
Ahavainen Aunuksehen,
Purje Puolahan osasi,
Ajoi riskin Riian alle.

Jalo herra Jaakko Puntus
Työnti linnahan sanoja;
Paperit pakon perästä:
"Onko pantuna olutta,
Mettä meiän miehillemme?"

"Onpa pantua olutta,
Mettä miehille hyville,
Tallissa hevon kusia,
Lehmän läävän lattialla."

Jalo herra Jaakko Puntus
Alkoi lyiyllä lykätä,
Tinapallin paiskiloia.--
Viholainen, vainolainen
Kohta itkien tulevi,
Sanoi suurella surulla:
"Jalo herra Jaakko Puntus!
Tule siivolla sisähän,
Kaunihisti kaupunkihin,
On olutta juoaksesi,
Sekä mettä syöäksesi,
Ei mesi merestä puutu,
Olut Riian kaupunnista."

12. Kaarlon sota.

Läksi Kaarlo kaupunnille,
Verolle verikäpälä,
Ruotsin murha murkinalle,
Pillomus on Piiterille,
Läksi veikaten vesille,
Uhotellen ulkomaille,
Päälle päien päästäksensä,
Valloille ruvetaksensa.

Venähen väki väkevä,
Kuninkahan miehet kuulut,
Maaliman valitut miehet,
Alinomaiset kasakat
Illoin aamuin vuotetahan,
Kerta keskipäivälläki
Katsellahan, käännellähän,
Selvälle meren selälle,
Ulapalle aukialle.
Kaarlo kaukoa näkyvi,
Sinisorkka sinnempätä,
Kahen luotosen lomatse,
Päällitse satamasaaren.

Venähen väki väkevä,
Meiän korkia komanto,
Komantierat korkiammat,
Ne leipoi kivisen leivän,
Kakun paistoi kallioisen,
Kakun rautaisen rakenti
Tulevalle vierahalle,
Saavalle käkeävälle.

Kului aikoa vähäsen,
Pikkaraisen piirahteli,
Kaarlo ei oo kaukana enämpi,
Kovan loittona koroli:
"Venäläinen veikkoseni,
Saa lihoa syöäkseni,
Tuo olutta juoakseni!"

Venähen väki väkevä,
Kuninkahan miehet kuulut,
Ei ne anna ampumatta,
Eikä syötä syöksemättä;
Ampumalla antelevi,
Syöksemällä syöttelevi--
Saipa jouset joikumahan,
Jäntehet järäjämähän,
Kivileivät lentämähän,
Rautaharkot raastamahan
Kohti Kaarlon karpasoa,
Punaparran purtta myöten.

Jo tiirut tipahtelevi,
Purjepuut tomahtelevi,
Puraksihen purjenuorat,
Mastot maiskahti merehen,
Purjehet putoelevi,
Hajoeli hattaroiksi;
Noiksi tuulen vietäviksi,
Ahavan ajeltaviksi.

Kaarlo, kuulusa kuningas,
Jo tunsi tuhon tulevan,
Hätäpäivän päälle saavan;
Jopa lässä lämmittävi,
Jopa riipi rinnuksia,
Nousun nappia hosuvi,
Tullessa tulisen nuolen,
Teräsnuolen tellätessä.

Kaarlon kulkku kuivettuvi,
Kero käypi keltaiseksi,
Parta vaahessa valuvi:
"Venäläinen, veikko rukka!
Anna vettä juoakseni,
Ostoa veroksi vettä,
Venäläiseltä veroksi."

Venäläinen vet sanovi,
Kovarinta kolkkasevi:
"On vettä venosi alla,
Alla laivan lakkimista,
Juoa kulkun kuivanehen,
Apata halunalaisen,
Vettä viljalta veroksi,
Kaarluelle kaunihille."

Kaarlo varsin vastoavi,
Mies paha pakaelevi:
"Verell' on vesi meressä,
Rannat Ruotsin raatoloita!"

Jo on Kaarlo kahlehessa,
Sinisorkka silmuksessa:
"Venäläinen, veikko kulta!
Jätä vielä heikko henki;
Enmä toiste tulle'kana,
Vasta saane'kaan verolle."

Karku Kaarlolle tulevi,
Lähtö Ruotsin rohkialle,
Tullessa tulisen nuolen,
Kivileivän lentäessä,
Rautaharkon rastaessa;
Läksi maalle marsimahan,
Ruotsin maalle rohkialle,
Vannoi vaikian valansa:
"Ennen kieli kirvotkohon,
Silmä päästä siirtyöhön,
Kun ma tänne toiste tullen!"

13. Turusen neiti.

Annikki Turusen neiti
Istuvi Turun korolla,
Luopi silmänsä selälle,
Käänti päätä päivän alle,

Näki purren purjehtivan:
"Se on pursi Kestin pursi."

Jopa Kesti kerkiävi,
Itse purresta puhuvi:
"Tule poies neiti lapsi!"

"En tule minä sinulle,
En sinulle, enkä muille,
Vasten kieltoa emoni,
Varotusta vanhempani.--
Noin sanoi minun emoni,
Varotteli vanhempani:
Ellös vainen neito nuori,
Ellös kasvaja kananen,
Rengin reistoihin ruvetko,
Kauppoihin kasakkamiesten,
Kesti poikien poluille,
Joutolaisten juoniloihin!--
Kerran Kesti pettänevi,
Renki lyöpi reistastansa,
Kaupoistaan kasakkapoika,
Joutomiesi juonistaan."

Kesti kerkesi sanoa,
Kesti purresta puhuvi:
"Tule poies, elä huoli,
Tule minun turvihini,
Käy käsivarrelleni,
Pohatalle puolisoksi,
Kauppamiehelle kanaksi!"

Annikki Turusen neiti
Jo meni Kestin keralle,
Kesti taisi talven syöä,
Sekä syöä, jotta juoa
Paljo pantua olutta,
Ruokia rakennetuita,

Kesti toivovi keseä,
Tuota toivoi Kestin laiva,
Kestin laiva, Kestin lapset,
Kestin entinen emäntä;
Muut kaikki keseä toivoi,
Yksi pelkäsi petäjä,
Kuorensa kolottavaksi,
Varaeli vastakoivu
Oksansa otettavaksi.

Kesti vuotteli keseä.--
Kun tiesi kesän tulevan,
Kantoi rannalle kalunsa,
Venehesen vei elonsa;
Itse istuihen sisähän,
Soutamahan suorittihen,
Heitti raukan rannikolle,
Verevän vesikivelle,
Kultansa kujertamahan,
Kaunosensa katsomahan.

Raukka huusi rannikolla,
Verevä vesikivellä,
Itki äänellä isolla,
Ukkoa rukoelevi:

"Ukkoseni, ainoseni!
Nosta pilvi luotehelta,
Nosta suuri säien voima,
Aalto ankara kohota
Hurjoa hukuttamahan,
Mielipuolta painamahan."

Tuo ukko ylinen herra
Nosti pilven luotehelta,
Nosti suuren säien voiman,
Aallon ankaran kohotti
Hurjoa hukuttamahan,
Mielipuolta painamahan.

"Kutti, kutti, keito Kesti,
Keito Kesti, leino leski!
Ainako sull' on Annin tyynyt,
Ainako Annin päänalaset,
Aina Kirstin kirjovaipat?
Meren tyrsky tyynynäsi,
Meren vaahti vaippanasi,
Aalto päänalasinasi."

14. Anterun surma.

Kaisa sääti sänkyänsä
Luisten lukkojen takana.
Anterus ylinen yrkä,
Ylimmäisen miehen poika
Oli teiensä kävijä,
Matkojensa mittelijä;
Seisattihen seinän alla,
Lausuvi lasin takoa:
"Laske tuttusi tupakan,
Kamarihin kaunosesi!"

Kaisa saattavi sanoa:
"Et ole oma uroni,
Olet huorien hosuja,
Väärtivaimojen väjyjä.--
Laitoin kaunoni kalahan,
Luotuni lohen perähän,
Ainoseni ahvenehen,
Kesän tuopi suuret hauit,
Talven ruskiat reposet,
Syksyllä oravirihmat."

Anterus ylinen yrkä,
Ylimmäisen miehen poika,
Itse ikkunan avavi,
Itse tungeksen tupahan.

Kaisa sängystä kavahti,
Miekan seinältä sivalti,
Tempasi tupesta tuiman,
Syöksi miestä syänalahan,
Läpi lämmöisten lihojen,
Kautta kainalon vasemen.

Virkkoi Antti Annillehen:
"Mene Anni katsomahan,
Karhuko huuti karjassani,
Metsän lieho lehmissäni."

Anni arka päivälläki,
Yölläpä sitäi arempi,
Turkkihinsa turveleksen,
Vaippoihinsa varjeleksen.

Meni itse katsomahan.--
Kaisa seisoi seinän alla,
Alla ikkunan asuvi,
Käessä verinen veitsi,
Tupetonna tuima rauta,
Päässä huntu hurmehinen.

"Voi sinua vaimo raukka,
Jo tapoit oman urosi!"

Kaisa saattavi sanoa:
"Ei ollut oma uroni,
Oli huorien hosuja,
Väärtivaimojen väjyjä.
Jos tuo syyksi pantanehe,
Vioiksi ve'ettänehe,
Otan pankon palttinoa,
Toisen verkoa vetäsen,
Jolla tuomarit totutan,
Jolla lahjon lautamiehet,
Puhumahan puoleltani,
Viereltäni virkkamahan;
Vaan jos syyksi syyetähän,
Vielä veetähän vioiksi,
Kyll' on suurta Suomen maata,
Laajoa Lapin rajoa,
Piiltä suuren pilloniekan,
Paeta pahan tekijän."

15. Riion poika.

Katri kaunis, neito nuori,
Sekä lievin tyttäristä,
Kovin kaunis kauoittaki,
Paras ilman pauloittaki,
Lakittaki muihenlainen,
Veroittaki muihen verta,
Myöhän myllylle menevi,
Päivän nostessa norolle.

Teki liiton kuun keralla,
Kuun keralla, päivän kanssa,
Yhen aian nostaksensa,
Katri ennen ennätteli,
Viisi villoa keritsi,
Teki kuusi kuontaloa,
Ne kaikki saraksi saattoi,
Vaattehiksi valmisteli,
Ennen päivän nousemista,
Auringon ylenemistä.

Pesi suuret pyöräpöyät,
Laajat lattiat lakasi,
Vei pihalle rikkojansa,
Rikoillansa seisatteli:
Kuuluvi kumu kylästä,
Tomu toisesta talosta,
Rikkahasta Riikolasta,
Paksusta Pajarilasta;
Kuului kattilan kamina,
Sekä riehtilän reminä,
Suolta suuri suitsen helke,
Avannolta aisan kolke.

Juoksi Katri katsomahan:
Siell' on riski Riion poika,
Ja paksu Pajarin poika,
Hevoistahan valjastavi,
Kalujahan kaunistavi,
Lähtiäksensä kosihin.

Sanoi riski Riion poika,
Ja paksu Pajarin poika:
"Eläpä muille kaunis Katri,
Kun minulle Katri kaunis,
Pane päätä palmikolle,
Sio silkillä hivusta!"

Tunki kihlat kukkarohon,
Taskuhun tali hopiat.

Katri itkien kotihin,
Kallotellen kartanolle,
Ennätti emä kysyä:
"Mitä itket piika pieni,
Nuorra saamani nureksit?--
Mene aittahan mäelle,
Pane paita palttinainen,
Liitä liinan aivinainen,
Veä'pä verkainen hamonen,
Päälle paian palttinaisen!"

Katri kaunis, neito nuori,
Meni aittahan mäelle,
Löyti rihman rippumasta,
Langanpään lapattamasta,
Sihen surmansa sukesi,
Kuolemansa kohtaeli.

Kukas sanan saatantahan,
Kielikerran kerrantahan,
Rikkahasen Riikolahan,
Paksuhun Pajarilahan?

Karhu sanan saatantahan;
Kielikerran kerrantahan;
Ei saanut karhulla sanaksi,
Lehmikarjahan katosi.

Kukas sanan saatantahan,
Kielikerran kerrantahan,
Rikkahasen Riikolahan,
Paksuhun Pajarilahan?

Susi sanan saatantahan,
Kielikerran kerrantahan;
Ei saanut suella sanaksi,
Lammaskarjahan katosi.

Kukas sanan saatantahan,
Kielikerran kerrantahan,
Rikkahasen Riikolahan,
Paksuhun Pajarilahan?

Repo sanan saatantahan,
Kielikerran kerrantahan;
Ei saanut revolla sanaksi,
Hanhikarjahan katosi.

Kukas sanan saatantahan,
Kielikerran kerrantahan,
Rikkahasen Riikolahan,
Paksuhun Pajarilahan?

Jänis sanan saatantahan,
Kieli kerran kerrantahan;
Jänis varman vastaeli:
"Sana ei miehe'en katoa."

Läksi jänis juoksemahan,
Pitkäkorva piippomahan,
Vääräsääri vääntämähän,
Ristisuu ripittämähän;
Jänis juoksi, pää järisi,
Perä pyöri, pelto liikkui,
Meni riskin Riion luoksi,
Ja paksun Pajarin luoksi,
Juoksi saunan kynnykselle,
Sauna täynnä neitosia;
Juoksi riihen kynnykselle,
Kyykistihen kynnykselle.

Riihess' onpi Riion poika,
Se paksu Pajarin poika;
Sanoi riski Riion poika,
Ja paksu Pajarin poika:
"Pankate jänis tulelle,
Kierosilmä kiehumahan!"

Jänis saattavi sanoa,
Jänis varman vastaeli:
"Lie'pä lempo lähtenynnä
Kattiloihin kiehumahan;
Läksin sanan saatantahan,
Kielikerran kerrantahan."

Sanoi riski Riion poika,
Ja paksu Pajarin poika:
"Mip' on sana saatavana,
Kieli kerrateltavana?"

Jänis saattavi sanoa,
Jänis varman vastaella:
"Se on sana saatavana,
Kieli kerrateltavana:
Jo on Katri kaatununna,
Tinarinta riutununna,
Sortunna hopiasolki,
Vyövaski valahtanunna."

Tuopa riski Riion poika,
Ja paksu Pajarin poika,
Tempasi isänsä miekan,
Hioi päivän, hioi toisen,
Päivän kolmannen lopulla.

Kyselevi, lauselevi:
"Syötkö syytöntä lihoa,
Juotko verta viatonta?"

Miekka mietti miehen kielen,
Arvasi uron pakinan:
"Syönpä kun syötettänehe,
Juonpa kun juotettanehe."

Se on riski Riion poika,
Ja paksu Pajarin poika,
Meni peltonsa perille,
Perin peltohon sysäsi,
Kärin käänti taivosehen,
Itse kääntyvi käressä,
Kun on kuiva kuusen oksa,
Karsittu katajan latva.

Sihen surmansa sukesi,
Kuolemansa kohtaeli,
Sanoi kerran mennessänsä:
"Elkäte etiset sulhot
Tahtoko tytärtä toisen
Vasten mieltä mieholahan!"

16. Hannus Pannus.

Hannus Pannus, mies koria,
Läksi Koskelta kosihin
Virran nuorinta tytärtä,
Pajarin parasta lasta.

Sanoi sinne tultuansa,
Pajarihin päästyänsä:
"Paras minulle, ei pahinta,
Pisin minulle, ei lyhintä."

Sanoi Virran nuorin tyttö,
Pajarin parahin lapsi:
"Ei parasta, ei pahinta,
Ei pisintä, ei lyhintä.
Sinull' on ennen naitu nainen,
Koissa entinen emäntä.--
Tapa nainen ennen naitu,
Murra entinen emäntä!"

Hannus Pannus, mies koria,
Uskoi huoran houkutukset,
Pahan vaimon vaavitukset,
Hyppäsi sälön säkähän,
Nousi laikon lautasille.
Niin kohta kotia läksi,
Tappoi naisen ennen naiun,
Murti entisen emännän.

Meni Koskelle kosihin
Virran nuorinta tytärtä,
Pajarin parasta lasta.
Sanoi sinne mentyänsä:
"Paras minulle, ei pahinta
Pisin minulle, ei lyhintä."

Sanoi Virran nuorin tyttö,
Pajarin parahin lapsi:
"Ei parasta, ei pahinta,
Ei pisintä, ei lyhintä.
Tapoit naisen ennen naiun,
Murrit entisen emännän,
Taiat tappoa minunki,
Surmata hyväsukuisen,
Mennä uutta ostamahan,
Kohta kolmatta kosihin."

17. Marketta ja Anterus.

Marketta koria neito
Keträeli joutessansa,
Lauloi keträellessänsä:
"Ei neiti minun näköinen
Aja sen hevosen reissä,
Joka lie ollunna orilla,
Kun ei varsaset vetäne,
Kuletelle kuutiaiset."

Marketta koria neiti
Keträeli joutessansa,
Lauloi keträellessänsä:
"Ei neiti minun näköinen
Koske sen lehmän nisähän,
Joka lie häilynnä härille,
Kun ei hiehoista heryne,
Vasikkaisista valune."

Marketta koria neiti
Keträeli joutessansa,
Lauloi keträellessänsä:
"Ei neiti minun näköinen
Käy uuhta keritsemähän,
Jok' on ollut oinahilla
Kun ei karkko kasvatelle,
Tahi kantane karitsa."

Anterus ylinen yrkä,
Ylimmäisen miehen poika
Oli teihensä kävijä,
Matkojensa mittelijä;
Kauan soitti kanteletta,
Vingutti isänsä virttä,
Paljahilla paioillahan,
Aivan aivinaisillahan.

Marketta koria neiti
Tuolla sääti sänkyänsä,
Yheksän ylisen päällä,
Kaheksan katon rajassa.

Anterus ylinen yrkä,
Ylimmäisen miehen poika
Otti sarvehen olutta,
Tuolla voiteli ovia,
Ovet viskoi viertehellä,
Kaljalla saranat kasti--
Meni hän ylitupahan,
Kaheksan katon rajalle;
Tuolla Marketan makasi,
Alla uutimen utuisen,
Alla vaipan vaskikirjan,
Alla tellan tehterisen,
Yheksän ylisen päällä,
Kaheksan katon rajassa.

Marketta koria neiti,
Alkoi saunassa asua,
Alkoi vyöttä vyörehtiä,
Hamehetta hyörehtiä.

Alina hyvä emäntä
Tuop' on tuosta arvelevi:
"Mikä meiän Marketalla,
Kuka Kurketta rukalla,
Aina saunassa asuvi,
Aina saunan karsinassa?"

Lapsi saattavi sanoa,
Lapsi pieni lausuella:
"Se on meiän Marketalla,
Sepä Kurketta rukalla,
Söi äiän kutukaloa,
Sären lientä liiemmäksi."

Alina hyvä emäntä
Ain' on aamulla varahin,
Kävi kuunnellen kujoa,
Seisatellen seinän viertä,
Löysi lapsen itkemässä,
Vakaisen vankumassa.

Hänpä lapsen helmahansa
Kääri kääre'liinahansa,
Meni sulhosten tupahan,

Poikasien mynstärihin:
"Kukas teistä poikasista
Tehnyt näitä työkkösiä?
Joka lapsen lapseksehen,
Se olutta juoaksehen."

Vannoi yksi, vannoi toinen,
Se kohta kovasti vannoi,
Joka tiesi tehnehensä,
Varoi vaivan nähnehensä.

Meni neitosten tupahan,
Morsianten mynstärihin:
"Kukas teistä neitosista
Tehnyt näitä työkkösiä?
Joka lapsen lapseksehen,
Se olutta juoaksehen."

Vannoi yksi, vannoi toinen,
Se kohta kovasti vannoi,
Joka tiesi tehnehensä,
Varoi vaivan nähnehensä.
Lapsi tuomitaan tulehen,
Lapsi suolle vietäväksi,
Korennalla päähän lyöä,
Hongan oksalla hotasta.

Kiesus kielen, Maaria mielen
Lapselle vakaiselle,
Yksöiselle, äskeiselle--
Lausui lapsi yksiöinen:
"Anterun tulinen turkki,
Marketan panuinen paita
Turvakseni tuotaohon,
Päälleni puettaohon,
Palamattani tulessa,
Vetehenki vaipumatta."

18. Kiikan lapset.

Tyyn' on sää, ihana ilma,
Kuu paistoi Kutumäeltä,
Päivä Pätsivuoren päältä.
Jo on aika nosta nuorten,
Kun on vanhat valvehella,
Ikäpuolet istumassa.

"Nouse pois nokinen poika!
Vaivaiselta vuotehelta,
Poloisilta pääaloilta,
Nokiselta nuotiolta,
Kylän kynnöt kyntämättä,
Kylän vaot vakoamatta.

Nouse pois makoamasta,
Ulos unta lappamasta;
Lokki verkkosi vetävi,
Kajava kalasi syöpi,
Lohet koskessa kutevi,
Siiat Kiikasillan alla."

"Mistä tunnet Kiikakosken,
Kiikakosken, Kiikasillan?"

"Tok' ma tunnen Kiikakosken,
Kiikakosken, Kiikasillan;
Siinä synnyin, siinä kasvoin;
Siinä lauloin lapsipäivän;
Siinä Kiikasillan päässä--
Mie olen Kiikan Yrjön tyttö."

"Siinäpä minäi synnyin,
Sekä synnyin, jotta kasvoin,
Siinä Kiikasillan päässä--
Mie olen Kiikan Yrjön poika,
Voi minä poloinen poika,
Voi poika polonalainen!
Makasin sisarueni,
Ainoan emoni lapsen,
Alla uutimen utuisen,
Alla vaipan vaskikirjan.
Missä nyt piiltä pillojani?--
Tuolla piilen pillojani,
Kuss' ennen isoni piili,
Miehen murhan tehtyänsä,
Karhun kiljuvan kiassa,
Vatsassa valaskalojen,
Vein uivan untuvassa."

19. Tuiretuisen lapset.

Poika tuhma Tuiretuisen,
Lapsi kehjo Keiretyisen
Läksi viemähän vetoja,
Maarahoja maksamahan.

Rekehensä reutoaksen,
Kohennaksen korjahansa,
Ajoa karettelevi,
Matkojansa mittelevi,
Noilla Pohjan kankahilla,
Lapin synkillä saloilla.

Neiti vastahan tulevi,
Hivus kulta hiihtelevi,
Noilla Pohjan kankahilla,
Lapin laajoilla saloilla.

Poika tuhma Tuiretuisen,
Lapsi kehjo Keiretyisen
Jo tuossa piättelevi,
Suutahan sovittelevi:
"Tule korjahan koria,
Hyvä lahja laitohoni!"

Neiti suksilta sanovi,
Hiihtimiltä hiioavi:
"Surma siulle korjahasi,
Manala rekyehesi."

Poika tuhma Tuiretuisen,
Lapsi kehjo keiretyisen
Iski virkkua vitsalla,
Helähytti helmivyöllä;
Virkku juoksi, matka joutui,
Tie vieri, reki ratsasi.
Ajavi karettelevi,
Matkojansa mittelevi,
Selvällä meren selällä,
Ulapalla aukialla.

Neiti vastahan tulevi,
Tinarinta riioavi,
Selvällä meren selällä,
Ulapalla aukialla.

Poika tuhma Tuiretuisen,
Lapsi kehjo Keiretyisen
Matkoaan piättelevi,
Suutahan sovittelevi:
"Tules neiti korjahani
Maan valio matkoihini!"

Neiti vastahan sanovi,
Tinarinta riitelevi:
"Tuoni siulle korjahasi,
Manalainen matkoihisi."

Poika tuhma Tuiretuisen,
Lapsi kehjo Keiretyisen
Iski virkkua vitsalla,
Helähytti helmivyöllä;
Virkku juoksi, matka joutui,
Reki vieri, tie lyheni.
Ajavi karettelevi,
Matkojansa mittelevi,
Noilla Väinön kankahilla,
Ammoin raatuilla ahoilla.

Neiti vastahan tulevi,
Kautokenkä kaalelevi,
Noilla Wäinön kankahilla,
Ammoin raatuilla ahoilla.

Poika tuhma Tuiretuisen,
Lapsi kehjo Keiretyisen
Hevoistaan piättelevi,
Suutahan sovittelevi:
"Tule neiti korjahani,
Armas alle vilttiseni!"

Neiti vastahan sanovi,
Kautokenkä kantelevi:
"Vilu on olla viltin alla,
Kolkko korjassa eleä."

Poika tuhma Tuiretuisen,
Lapsi kehjo Keiretyisen
Avasi parahan arkun,
Kimmahutti kirjakannen,
Nostelevi, näyttelevi,
Katselevi, kääntelevi
Kultasuita sukkasia,
Vöitänsä hopiapäitä.

Niin tuli rekehen neiti,
Korjahan kohenteleksen,
Itse laitohon las'eksen,
Alle viltin vieretäksen.

Poika tuhma Tuiretuisen,
Lapsi kehjo Kieretyisen
Jo tuossa lepäelevi,
Nuoren neitosen keralla,
Käs' orosen ohjaksessa,
Toinen neitosen nisoissa.

Siinä neitosen kisaili,
Tinarinnan riskaeli,
Noilla Wäinön kankahilla,
Ammoin raatuilla ahoilla.

Niin neiti sanoiksi virkki,
Sekä lausui ja kyseli:
"Lienetkö sukua suurta,
Isoa isän aloa?"

Poika tuhma Tuiretuisen,
Lapsi kehjo Keiretyisen
Itse tuon sanoiksi virkki:
"En ole sukua suurta,
Enkä suurta, enkä pientä,
Olen kerran keskimäistä,
Poika tyhjä Tuiretuisen,
Lapsi köyhä Keiretyisen;
Vaan mipä sinun sukusi?
Sano'pa sinun sukusi,
Jos olet sukua suurta,
Isoa isän aloa."

Neiti tuon sanoiksi virkki:
"En ole sukua suurta,
Enkä suurta, enkä pientä--
Olen kerran keskimäistä,
Tytär tyhjä Tuiretuisen,
Lapsi köyhä Keiretyisen."

Poika tuhma Tuiretuisen,
Lapsi kehjo Keiretyisen
Korjasta kohotteleksen:
"Voi poloinen päiviäni,
Kun pi'in sisarueni,
Lannutin emoni lapsen,
Noilla Wäinön kankahilla,
Ammoin raatuilla ahoilla!"

Veitsin länkensä levitti,
Rauoin rahnoi rahkehensa,
Hyppäsi hyvän selälle,
Hyvän laukin lautasille;
Ajoi päin sinistä merta,
Kohti kuohuja kovia,
Alle aaltojen syvien,
Päälle mustien murien.

20. Vienan neiet.

Olipa ennen neljä neittä,
Viisi Vienan morsianta,
Kaheksan merikanoa,
Vienan niemyen nenässä,
Sininurmen niitännässä,
Kastekorren katkonnassa.
Löyettihin lemmen lehti,
Lemmen lehti, tammen lastu;
Veivät maalle kasvavalle,
Orolle ylenevälle.
Siitä kasvoi kaunis tammi,
Yleni vihanta virpi:
Oksat ilmoille olotti,
Latva täytti taivahalle,
Piätti pilvet juoksemasta,
Hattarat hajoamasta.
Yksi pääsi pitkä pilvi,
Pitkä pilvi, kaita pilvi,
Pilvessä vesi-pisara,
Pisarassa pikku lampi,
Lammissa veno punainen,
Venosessa nuoret sulhot,
Nuoret sulhot, naimattomat,
Vielä viinan juomattomat;
Punoivat punaista köyttä,
Köyttä rauta rahnikoivat,
Sitoa meren sivua,
Lahta Kannan kaakistoa,
Meren tyynenä pysyä,
Lahen Kannan kaunihina,
Vieä Vienan neitosia;
Kaupita kotikanoja,
Näiltä raukoilta rajoilta,
Poloisilta Pohjanmailta.

"Elkäte meriset miehet,
Vielä viekö neitojamme!
Vienan on neitoset verevät,
Kannanlahen kaunokaiset;
Ei niitä tukulla myöä,
Eikä kansoin kaupitella;
Tukun myöähän oravat,
Revot kansoin kaupitahan,
Neiet yksin annellahan,
Eikä aina yksinkänä."

21. Kalevalan neiti.

Läksin palja paimenehen,
Leino lehmien ajohon,
Kurja karjan katselohon;
Ajoin lehmät suota myöten,
Lampahat palomäkeä,
Vuonat vuoren kukkuloa,
Mie kiero kivi kiveltä,
Palja paasi paaterelta,
Haikia havu havulta,
Sukan mustan mustumatta,
Kengän kannan kastumatta.

Yhtyi yrkä karjahani,
Pää leviä lehnuhini,
Hän istui tyvelle puuta,
Minä laitto latvemmalle,
Minä hoikka huonommalle,
Minä pieni pienemmälle,
Vähän kuollutta parempi,
Katonutta kaunihimpi.

Kyselemmä, lauselemma:
"Mistäpä sinä vaellat,
Kulitko minun kotona,
Kävitkö Kalevalassa?"

"Kulinpa sinun kotona,
Kävinpä Kalevalassa."

"Kukkuiko käet Kalevan,
Kalevalan kuusikossa?"

"Kukkuipa käet Kalevan,
Kalevalan kuusikossa."

"Haukkuiko Kalevan koirat,
Kalevalan kankahalla?"

"Haukkuipa Kalevan koirat,
Kalevalan kankahalla."

"Katsoiko Kalevan neiot,
Kalevalan ikkunoissa?"

"Katsoipa Kalevan neiot,
Kalevalan ikkunoissa."

"Mistäspä tunsit minun kotini,
Mi merkki minun ko'issa?"

"Siitä tunsin sinun kotisi,
Se merkki sinun ko'issa:
Pihlajikko pirtin eessä,
Tuomikko tuvan takana,
Koivikko kotamäellä,
Katajikko kaivotiellä,
Kuusisto kujoisten suussa,
Petäjikkö pellon päässä,
Tammi keskitanhualla,
Hetet tammen juuren alla,
Kultakansi kattehena,
Kultakauha kannen päällä."

"Mitäpä meillä laaittihin,
Raattihin minun koissa?"

"Survottihin, jauhettihin,
Leivottihin, paistettihin,
Pinopuita pilkottihin,
Vielä vettä kannettihin,
Neitosia naitettihin,
Päitä kassa kaupittihin."

"Joko lien minäki myöty,
Joko kaupittu katala?"

"Jopa oot sinäki myöty,
Jo oot kaupittu katala."

"Kellen myötihin minua,
Kulle kurja kaupittihin?"

"Minulle myötihin sinua,
Minulle kurja kaupittihin."

"Äiänkö minusta annoit,
Paljoko panit hyvästä,
Kun otit oluen tuojan,
Kannun kantajan valitsit?"

"Annoinpa minä sinusta
Isolles ikiorosen,
Jok' on tarkka askelelta,
Sekä käymähän terävä."

"Vähänpä hyvästä annoit,
Pikkaraisen kaunihista--
Mitäpä annoit maammolleni?"

"Maammolle maherolehmän,
Jok' on syömättä lihava,
Koria kostuttamatta."

"Vähänpä hyvästä annoit,
Pikkaraisen kaunihista--
Mitäp' annoit veljelleni?"

"Veljelle veno punasen,
Itseksen sotia käypi,
Itse kaupat kaupitsevi."

"Vähänpä hyvästä annoit,
Pikkaraisen kaunihista--
Mitäp' annoit siskolleni?"

"Siskolle sinervän uuhen,
Joka viikko villan tuopi,
Joka kuu karitsan kantoi."

"Vähänpä hyvästä annoit,
Pikkaraisen kaunihista--
Mitäpä annoit ukolleni?"

"Ukolle uuen lusikan,
Jonk' ei syöen syömät puutu,
Juoen juomiset vähene."

"Vähänpä hyvästä annoit,
Pikkaraisen kaunihista--
Mitäpä annoit ämmölleni?"

"Ämmöllesi vaskimaljan,
Tuletta tuvassa käypi,
Valkiatta vailehtivi."

"Vähänpä hyvästä annoit,
Pikkaraisen kaunihista.
En lähe minä sinulle,
Enkä lähteä käkeä."

"Kun vähä hyvästä annoin,
Pikkaraisen kaunihista,
Isosi ikoronen
Sotitiellä sortuohon,
Kaatuohon kauppatiellä,
Kauppa-aikana parassa."

"Kun vähä hyvästä annoin,
Pikkaraisen kaunihista,
Maammosi maherolehmä
Vasoillensa vaipuohon,
Kiulullensa kirvotkohon,
Lypsiaikana parassa."

"Kun vähä hyvästä annoin,
Pikkaraisen kaunihista,
Veljesi veno punanen
Kiven kohti kiitäköhön
Halki juoskohon hakohon,
Soutuaikana parassa."

"Kun vähä hyvästä annoin,
Pikkaraisen kaunihista,
Siskosi sinervä uuhi.
Villoihinsa viipyköhön,
Karvoihinsa kaatukohon,
Villa-aikana parassa."

"Kun vähä hyvästä annoin,
Pikkaraisen kaunihista,
Ukkosi uusi lusikka--
Kanta poies katketkohon,
Poikki ponsi lentäköhön,
Syöntiaikana parassa."

"Kun vähä hyvästä annoin,
Pikkaraisen kaunihista,
Ämmösesi vaskimalja
Kivehen kilahtakohon,
Poies pohja puhetkohon,
Juontiaikana parassa."

22. Neien rosvo.

Tuoll' on neitoset kisassa,
Kaunokaiset karkelossa,
Noilla Väinölän ahoilla,
Kalevalan kankahilla.

Kullervo Kalevan poika,
Sinisukka Äiön lapsi,
Hivus keltainen koria,
Kengän kauto kaunokainen,
Lähtiäksensä käkesi,
Hyvällä ison orilla,
Noien neitojen kisahan,
Kaunokaisten karkelohon.

Hyppäsi hyvän selälle,
Hyvän laukin lautasille,
Ajoi päivän, ajoi toisen,
Kohta kolmannen ajavi;
Niin päivänä kolmantena,
Pääsi neitojen kisahan,
Kassapäien karkelohon,
Noille Väinölän ahoille,
Kalevalan kankahille.

Ken ihanin impyistä,
Kassapäistä kaunokaisin,
Sen hän koppoi koprihinsa;
Itse tuon sanoiksi virkki:
"Elkäte sinä ikänä,
Ilmottako immet milma!
Ettei äiti ääntä saisi,
Emo etsivä olisi,
Jos ma vuoenki viruisin,
Tahi kaksi kalkettaisin,
Tuolla tuomivaaran päällä
Kasvaisin katajikossa."

Ajavi kahattelevi,
Immen itkevän keralla,
Ajoi Väinölän ahoilta
Kalevalan kankahilta.

Niin etsi emo tytärtä,
Vanhin lasta vaikerteli,
Etsivi kisasioilta,
Noilta karkukankahilta:
"Ettekö nähnyt mun tytärtä,
Kuullut kullan lapsukaista?"

Niin sanovi poika pieni,
Lausui paimen ja pakisi:
"Oli täss' eräs uroita,
Kullervo Kalevan poika,
Sinisukka Äiön lapsi.
Sinisukka, hienohelma,
Hivus keltainen koria,
Kengän kauto kaunokainen,
Koppoi neien koprihinsa,
Pani laukin lautasille;
Niin itse ajohon lähti,
Immen itkevän keralla.
Sanan virkki, noin nimesi:
Elkäte sinä ikänä,
Ilmottako immet milma!
Ettei äiti ääntä saisi,
Emo etsivä olisi,
Jos ma vuoenki viruisin,
Tahi kaksi kalkettaisin,
Tuolla tuomivaaran päällä,
Kaukana katajikossa."

Niin emo sanoiksi virkki,
Äiti äänellen paneksen:
"Voi poloinen päiviäni,
Onneton olelmiani,
Sinne meni siitelmäni,
Sinne kannettu katosi!"

Itse eillehen menevi,
Astua tihuttelevi
Tuonne tuomivaaran päälle,
Katajikkokankahalle,
Kujerrellen kuusikossa,
Kaikkuen katajikossa:
"Tule tänne tyttäreni,
Lähe pois poloinen tyttö!
Miehen tuhmaisen tulilta,
Varattoman valkioilta,
Turvihin oman emosi,
Oman vanhemman varoihin."

Tytär tuolta vastaeli,
Lapsi lausui ja saneli
"En minä emoni pääse,
Kun et tulle päästämähän.
Olin mie kisakeoilla,
Noilla karkukartanoilla;
Niin tuli eräs uroita,
Sinisukka Äiön lapsi,
Se otti oron selälle,
Nosti laukin lautasille,
Ajoa kahattelevi,
Saloja samottelevi,
Yöt päivät piättelevi,
Vuorokauet kantelevi,
Marjoilla menettelevi,
Mustikoilla mustuttavi,
Vilussa viluttelevi,
Pakkasessa paistelevi.
Lähe sie oma emoni,
Jouvu kaunis kantajani,
Lähe lapsesi otolle,
Tyttäresi lunnahille,
Näiltä paikoilta pahoilta,
Vaaramailta vaikioilta!"

Niin emo sanoiksi virkki,
Itse intoen pakisi:
"Lähen mä lapseni otolle,
Tyttäreni lunnahille,
Tuon Ukon tuliset nuolet,
Kannan vaskiset vasamat.
Oi Ukko yli-jumala!
Tahi taatto taivahinen,
Jouvuta'pa jousi suurin,
Katso kaaresi parahin,
Pane vaskinen vasama
Tuon tulisen jousen päälle,
Niin työnnä tulinen nuoli,
Ammu vaskinen vasama,
Ammu kautta kainalojen,
Halki hartiolihojen,
Tuo paha Kalevan poika;
Laske lastani kotihin,
Päästä tielle tervehenä,
Koskematonna kotihin!"

Se Ukko ylijumala,
Itse taatto taivahinen
Jouvuttipa jousen suuren,
Kantoi kaarensa parahan,
Pani vaskisen vasaman
Tuon tulisen jousen päälle,
Työnnälti tulisen nuolen,
Ampui vaskisen vasaman,
Halki hartiolihoista,
Kalevaisen kainaloista.

23. Veenkantaja Anni.

Anni tyttö, aino neiti
Läksi vettä lähteheltä,
Pieni kiulunen käessä,
Pieni kauha kainalossa.

Ei oo vettä lähtehessä.--
Kult' on kansi kuivahtanna,
Valahtanna vaskilaita,
Tinapohja tilkahtanna,
Lehti päälle langennunna.

Anni tyttö, aino neiti
Tuosta astuvi etemmä,
Lähtehelle toisellenki;
Ei oo vettä toisessana--
Meni kohta kolmannelle,
Vett' ei kolmannessakana.

Anni tyttö, aino neiti
Yhä eistyvi etemmä,
Astuvi aluslahelle,
Meni mäen, meni toisen,
Kohta kolmannen menevi.

Niin mäellä kolmannella
Iski silmänsä itähän,
Käänsi päätä päivän alle,
Näki purren purjehtivan,
Satalaian laiehtivan.

Mies puhas perästä purtta,
Toinen mies nenästä purtta,
Sulho purren partahalta:
"Tules tytti purteheni,
Vyövaski venoseheni!"

"Enk' on tule, enkä huoli,
Eipä työntänyt emoni,
Varustellut vanhempani
Tätä lasta laivahasi,
Tytärtä venosehesi!"

Nousi mies perästä purtta,
Mies toinen nenästä purtta,
Sulho purren partahalta,
Koppoi neien purtehensa,
Vyövasken venosehensa.

Niin neiti kujertelevi,
Vyövaski valittelevi,
Sulkkuparran suun e'essä,
Kultaparran parmahilla.

Näki taattonsa vesillä,
Taaton laivan lainehilla:
"Tules taatto lunnahille,
Oman lapsesi otolle!"

"Enmä joua tyttö raukka!
Lohi kultanen kutevi,
Kultaisissa kupluskoissa."
Eipä taatto tullutkana.

Neitonen kujertelevi,
Vyövaski valittelevi,
Sulkkuparran suun e'essä,
Kultaparran parmahilla.

Näki maammonsa vesillä,
Maammon laivan lainehilla:
"Tules maammo lunnahille,
Oman lapsesi otolle!"

"Enmä joua tyttö raukka!
Siika kultanen kutevi,
Kultaisissa kupluskoissa."
Eipä maammo tullutkana.

Neitonen kujertelevi,
Vyövaski valittelevi,
Sulkkuparran suun e'essä,
Kultaparran parmahilla.

Näki veikkonsa vesillä,
Veikon laivan lainehilla:
"Tules veikko lunnahille,
Oman siskosi otolle!"

"Enmä joua sikko raukka!
Hauki kultanen kutevi,
Kultaisissa kupluskoissa."
Eipä veikko tullutkana.

Neitonen kujertelevi,
Vyövaski valittelevi,
Sulkkuparran suun e'essä,
Kultaparran parmahilla.

Näki siskonsa vesillä,
Siskon laivan lainehillla:
"Tules sisko lunnahille,
Oman siskosi otolle!"

"Enmä joua sikko raukka!
Lahna kultanen kutevi.
Kultaisissa kupluskoissa."
Eipä sisko tullutkana.

Neitonen kujertelevi,
Vyövaski valittelevi,
Sulkkuparran suun e'essä,
Kultaparran parmahilla.

Näki minnänsä vesillä,
Minnän laivan lainehilla:
"Tules minnä lunnahille,
Nato raukkasi otolle!"

"Enpä tieä minnä raukka,
En poloinen poian vaimo,
Millä mie sinun lunastan,
Kun onpi vähän varoa!"

"On sulla sinervä uuhi,
Jonka toit tullessasi,
Oman taattosi koista:
Sillä sie minun lunastat."

Antoi uuhensa sinervän.
Ei uuhi mitänä maksa,
Eipä työnnetä tytärtä,
Neitt' ei uuhesta yhestä.

Neitonen kujertelevi,
Vyövaski valittelevi,
Sulkkuparran suun e'essä,
Kultaparran parmahilla:
"Kun et laske lunnahitta,
Etkä laske lunnahilla,
Polen puhki uuen purren,
Halki haapaisen venehen,
Poikki tallan puiset laiat,
Katajaiset kaaret katkon."

"Jos polet puhki uuen purren,
Halki haapaisen venehen
Tallat poikki puiset laiat,
Katajaiset kaaret katkot;
Puilla pursi paikatahan,
Orasilla ommellahan,
Teräksillä temmotahan,
Katajilla kaaritahan."

Polki puhki uuen purren,
Halki haapaisen venehen,
Talloi poikki puiset laiat,
Katajaiset kaaret katkoi.

Sillä päästi päänsä neito,
Sillä itsensä ehätti,
Venehestä vierahasta,
Karjalaisen karpalosta.

Veip' on vettä taatollensa:
"Ota vettä taattoseni!"

Taatto taisi vastaella,
Taatto kirvesvarrellensa:
"Mene portto poikemmaksi,
Tulen lautta tuonemmaksi!
Et ollut ve'en etsossa,
Olit sulhasen etsossa,
Punapaulan puujelossa,
Kautokengän katselossa."

Veip' on vettä maammollensa:
"Ota vettä maammoseni!"

Maammo taisi vastaella,
Maammo kirnunmännällänsä:
"Mene portto poikemmaksi,
Tulen lautta tuonemmaksi!
Et ollut ve'en etsossa,
Olit sulhasen etsossa,
Punapaulan puujelossa,
Kautokengän katselossa."

Vei hän vettä veikollensa
"Ota vettä veikkoseni!"

Veikko taisi vastaella,
Veikko keihäsvarrellensa:
"Mene portto poikemmaksi,
Tulen lautta tuonemmaksi!
Et ollut ve'en etsossa,
Olit sulhasen etsossa,
Punapaulan puujelossa,
Kautokengän katselossa."

Vei hän vettä siskollensa:
"Ota vettä sikkoseni!"

Sikko taisi vastaella,
Sisko kirjalastasella:
"Mene portto poikemmaksi,
Tulen lautta tuonemmaksi!
Et ollut ve'en etsossa,
Olit sulhasen etsossa,
Punapaulan puujelossa,
Kautokengän katselossa."

Vei hän vettä minnällensä:
"Ota vettä minnäseni!"

Noin minnä sanoiksi virkki:
"Suuri kiitos, kostjumala!
Tuota vuotin tuon ikäni,
Naon vettä juoakseni."

Anni tytti, aino neiti
Meni aittahan mäelle,
Loihen tuosta kuolemahan,
Heittihen katoamahan.

Tuli taatto nostamahan:
"Nouse poies Anni tyttö,
Anni tyttö, aino neiti,
Nouse nuorra kuolemasta,
Verevänä vieremästä,
Kaunisna katoamasta!"

Anni saattavi sanoa:
"Enp' on nouse, taatto rukka!
Enkä nouse, enkä huoli;
Virhu olit virkannalta,
Karhu olit karjunnalta,
Susi suusi auonnalta."

Meni maammo nostamahan:
"Nouse poies Anni tyttö,
Anni tyttö, aino neiti,
Nouse nuorra kuolemasta,
Verevänä vieremästä,
Kaunisna katoamasta!"

Anni saattavi sanoa:
"Enp' on nouse, maammo rukka!
Enkä nouse, enkä huoli;
Virhu olit virkannalta,
Karhu olit karjunnalta,
Susi suusi auonnalta."

Meni veikko nostamahan:
"Nouse poies Anni sikko,
Anni sikko, aino neito,
Nouse nuorra kuolemasta,
Verevänä vieremästä,
Kaunisna katoamasta!"

Anni saattavi sanoa:
"Enp' on nouse, veikko rukka!
Enp' on nouse, enkä huoli;
Virhu olit virkannalta,
Karhu olit karjunnalta,
Susi suusi auonnalta."

Meni sisko nostamahan:
"Nouse poies Anni sikko,
Anni sikko, aino neito,
Nouse nuorra kuolemasta,
Verävänä vieremästä,
Kaunisna katoamasta!"

Anni saattavi sanoa:
"Enp' on nouse, sikko rukka!
Enp' on nouse, enkä huoli;
Virhu olit virkannalta,
Karhu olit karjunnalta,
Susi suusi auonnalta."

Meni minnä nostamahan:
"Nouse poies nato rukka,
Nato rukka, neito nuori,
Nouse nuorra kuolemasta,
Verevänä vieremästä,
Kaunisna katoamasta!"

"Jo nousenki, minnäseni!
Et ollut virhu virkannalta,
Etkä karhu karjunnalta,
Susi suusi auonnalta."

24. Kojosen poika.

Läksin piennä paimenehen,
Lassa lammasten ajohon,
Pistin pillit pussihini,
Soitin suolla mennessäni,
Kajahutin kankahalla;
Sen seppä pajassa kuuli
Kesken kullan keittämistä,
Hopian sulajamista,
Vasara vajui käestä,
Kulta kuohui kattilasta;
Kuhun kultoa tipahti,
Sihen saari siunattihin,
Saarelle koria nurmi,
Nurmelle koria neiti,
Jok' ei suostu sulhosihin,
Mielly miehiin hyviin.
Kävi pipit, kävi papit,
Kävi rikkahat ritarit,
Kävi hoikat hovin herrat.
Niin tuli Kojosen poika--
Tuo konsti Kojosen poika,
Vuoli vuoen liistehiä,
Toisen laativi rekiä,
Lähtiäksensä kosihin,
Tuota saaren kaunokaista,
Läksi kulliten kosihin,
Hopioiten heilumahan,
Kolme koiroa jälessä,
Yksi Luikki, toinen Laikki,
Kolmansi Puritsa koira,
Koppoi neien korjahansa,
Koppoi ruoskalla hevoista,
Nahkasiimalla sipasi.
"Jää hyvästi saaren nurmet,
Kuusen juuret, tervaskannot!
En enää sinä ikänä,
Vasta saane saaren maalle."

Neiti parka huokaseksen,
Huokaseksen, henkäseksen:
"Paremp' ois sutosen suussa,
Karhun kiljuvan kiassa,
Kun tämän Kojosen reissä."

"Mitä itket Hiitten huora,
Kuta kurja huokaelet?"

"Itken entistä ikeä,
Kun suotta kului ikäni."

"Elä huoli Hiitten huora,
Pääset Hiien kankahalle!
Niin mä kysyn miekaltani:
Syötkö uuelta lihoa,
Juotko verta lämpimältä?"

Pääsi Hiien kankahalle--
Pään pani kosken kiveksi,
Hieroi heiniksi hivukset,
Sääret särki aiaksiksi,
Sormet väänti vitsaksiksi,
Käsivarret seipähiksi,
Lihat listi lippahasen,
Pani rinnat riehtilähän,
Vei emolle tuomisiksi.

Emo syöpi, kiittelevi:
"En ole näitä ennen syönyt,
Vävyn uuen tuomisia,
Tyttäreni työntämiä."

Orja lausui oven suussa,
Oven suussa, pankon päässä:
"Voi! jos tietäisit vähäsen,
Arvoaisit pikkaraisen,
Etp' on noita söisikänä,
Vävyn uuen tuomisia,
Tyttäresi työnteheitä."

"Sano, sano orja raukka!"--
"En sano emäntä raukka!"

"Sano, sano orja raukka!
Annan kirjon karjastani,
Paraan lehmän läävästäni."--
"En sano emäntä raukka!"

"Sano, sano orja raukka!
Annan ainoan orihin,
Seitsemästä ruunastani."--
"En sano emäntä raukka!"

"Sano, sano orja raukka!
Syötän vuoen raatamatta,
Vuoen toisen vaatehetta,
Yhen vuoen voipaloilla,
Toisen kuore'kukkoloilla,
Kolmannen sianlihoilla."

"Jo sanon emäntä raukka!
Söit sä tissit tyttäresi,
Jota kauan kasvattelit,
Viikon vieressäis pitelit."

25. Joukosen nainen.

Neito istui sillan päässä,
Lauloi sillan lautasilla:
"Jouten synnyin, jouten kasvoin,
Jouten aikani elelin;
Joko mennen Joukoselle,
Jouten Joukonen pitäisi,
Työttä, vyöttä, kintahitta,
Jouten Jouko syötteleisi,
Jokiveellä juotteleisi,
Korttehilla kostuttaisi,
Sarasille saatteleisi,
Heinäsille heitteleisi,
Kiven suuren suojasehen,
Kallioisen kainalohon."

Päätyi Jouko kuulemassa,
Seinän alla seisomassa,
Kussa kuuli, siinä kosjoi,
Kussa kosjoi, siinä kihloi,
Kussa kihloi, siinä otti.

Kolkkoi Kommin ikkunoa,
Kosjoi Kommilta tytärtä,
Kommin nuorinta tytärtä:
"Anna Kommi tytärtäsi,
Nuorta neittä naisekseni,
Vastakasvuista varaksi."

"Äsken annan tyttäreni
Kojon pojan puolisoksi,
Kun ammut tähen taivahalta,
Pilkan pilvien lomasta,
Yhen nuolen nostannalta,
Yhen jalkasi sialta,
Yksillä yrityksillä."

Ampui tähen taivahalta,
Pilkan pilvien lomasta.

Kolkkoi Kommin ikkunoa,
Kosjoi Kommilta tytärtä:
"Anna Kommi tytärtäsi,
Nuorta neittä naisekseni,
Vastakasvuista varaksi."

"Äsken annan tyttäreni
Kojon pojan puolisoksi,
Kun käyt neulojen neniä,
Tallat rautatapparoita,
Päivän neulojen neniä,
Toisen tapparan teriä."

Takoi rautaiset talukset,
Kävi neulojen neniä,
Talloi rautatapparoita.

Kolkkoi Kommin ikkunoa,
Kösjoi Kommilta tytärtä,
Kommin nuorinta tytärtä:
"Anna Kommi tytärtäsi,
Nuorta neittä naisekseni,
Vastakasvuista varaksi."

"Äsken annan tyttäreni
Kojon pojan puolisoksi,
Kun sa uinet umpilammin,
Saanet sieltä suuren hauin,
Suuren hauin, kultasuomun,
Tahi kaksi pienemmäistä,
Tuonet Kommille kätehen,
Anopille antehiksi."

Siit' on uipi umpilammin,
Saapi sieltä suuren hauin,
Suuren hauin, kultasuomun.

Kolkkoi Kommin ikkunoa,
Kosjoi Kommilta tytärtä,
Kommin nuorinta tytärtä:
"Anna Kommi tytärtäsi!
Jo olen raatant työt tuhannet,
Saat toiset toimitellut;
Jo olen uinut umpilammit,
Saanut sieltä suuret hauit,
Suuret hauit, kultasuomut,
Käynyt neulojen neniä,
Tallant rautatapparoita,
Ampunt tähen taivahalta,
Pilkan pilvien lomasta."

Antoi Kommi tyttärensä,
Tyttärensä, nuorimpansa
Kojon pojan puolisoksi.

Se korppi Kojosen poika
Koppoi neien korjahansa,
Murralti mutson rekehen,
Viien alle villavaipan,
Veti virkkua vitsalla,
Helähytti helmispäällä,
Ajoa kahattelevi.
Ajoi soita, ajoi maita,
Ajoi Wäinölän ahoja,
Kalevalan kankahia.

Äiän siitä neittä neuoi,
Äiän orpoa opetti:
"Kun tulet Kojon kotihin,
Kojon etäälle korkialle,
Laai villaiset hamehet,
Yhen villan kylkyestä;
Keitä otraiset oluet
Yhen otrasen jyvästä."

Niin tuli jälille koiran.
Neiti korjasta kohosi,
Alta viltin vyökkeleksen.
"Mip' on juossut tästä poikki?"
Koir' on juossut tästä poikki.

Noin neiti sanoiksi virkki:
"Voi minua kurja raukka!
Parempi minun poloisen
Koiran kulkijan jälillä,
Lumme'korvasen ko'issa,
Kun tämän Kojosen reissä,
Viirunaaman viltin alla;
Kaunihimmat koiran karvat
Kojon pojan kutrisia."

Se korppi Kojosen poika
Murti suuta, väänti päätä,
Murti mustoa haventa,
Veti virkkua vitsalla,
Helähytti helmispäällä;
Ajoa kahattelevi
Selvällä meren selällä,
Ulapalla aukialla;
Niin tuli hukan jälille.

Neiti korjasta kohosi,
Alta viltin vöykkeleksen.
"Mip' on juossut tästä poikki?"
Hukk' on juossut tästä poikki.

Noin neiti sanoiksi virkki:
"Voi minua kurja raukka!
Parempi minun poloisen
Hukan huiskajan jälillä,
Alakärsän askelilla,
Kun korpin Kojosen reissä,
Viirunaaman viltin alla;
Kaunihimmat hukan karvat
Kojon pojan kutrisia."

Se korppi Kojosen poika
Murti suuta, väänti päätä,
Murti mustoa haventa,
Veti virkkua vitsalla,
Helähytti helmispäällä;
Ajoa kahattelevi

Noilla Pohjan kankahilla,
Lapin synkillä saloilla;
Niin tuli karhun jälille.

Neiti korjasta kohosi,
Alta viltin vyökkeleksen.
"Mip' on juossut tästä poikki?"
Karhu on juossut tästä poikki.

Noin neiti sanoiksi virkki:
"Voi minua kurja raukka!
Parempi minun poloisen
Karhun kaahlajan jälillä,
Kontion kovilla teillä,
Kun korpin Kojosen reissä,
Viirunaaman viltin alla;
Kaunihimmat karhun karvat,
Kojon pojan kutrisia."

Se korppi Kojosen poika
Murti suuta. väänti päätä,
Murti mustoa haventa,
Itse tuon sanoiksi virkki:
"Viel' on matkoa vähäsen,
Outa! saat Kojon kotihin,
Kojon määlle korkealle;
Viillät veitsettä lihoa,
Koet verta kauhasetta."

Kun tuli Kojon kotihin
Kojon määlle korkialle,
Otti miekan orren päästä,
Saip' on naulalta sapelin,
Kysyi mieltä miekaltansa,
Sapeliltansa sanoja:
"Syötkö liikoja lihoja,
Juotko verta joutavata?"

Miekka mietti syöäksensä,
Sanoi juovansa sapeli.

Veti siitä miekallansa,
Kavahutti kalvallansa
Neien neljäksi palaksi,
Viieksi vipaleheksi;
Pään mäkäsi mättähäksi,
Silmät suolle karpaloiksi,
Hiukset kuiviksi kuloiksi,
Viilti korvat korpin syöä,
Lihan linnuille rakensi,
Rinnat leipoi leipäsiksi,
Nänniset kalakukoiksi,
Anopille antehiksi,
Kommin eukon kostitsoiksi.

Läksi luoksi anoppinsa.
Päässä patsahan anoppi
Sanomia tieusteli:
"Mitä tiiät sanomia?"

Virkki orja orren päästä,
Paimo patsahan nenästä:

"Elä kysy sanomia,
Ouot oli unen näköni."

Antoi vävy kostitsoita.
Emo syö ja kiittelevi:
"Jo olen jotai syönyt,
Syönyt voita, syönyt kuuta,
Syönyt lehmeä mahoa,
Syönyt karjua sikoa,
Ei tämän makehisia,
Vävyn unen antehia,
Lapseni lähettämiä."

Virkki orja orren päästä,
Paimo patsahan nenästä:
"Oi on kukki jalkaseni,
Ellös syökö kostitsoita!
Jospa tietäisit vähäsen,
Ymmärtäisit pikkaraisen,
Tok' et noita söisikänä
Uuen vävyn antehia,
Lapsesi lähettämiä."

"Sano, sano orja rukka,
Mi on tässä kostitsoina?"--
"Jos sanon emäntä rukka,
Tulet veellä viruttaatse,
Muutut mullan muotoiseksi,
Kaaut rauan karvaiseksi."

"Muuttukoni jos monasti,
Kaatukoni jos kahesti.
Sano, sano orja rukka,
Mi on tässä kostitsoina?
Syötän vuoen raatamatta,
Toisen työlle työntämättä."

"Jo sanon emäntä rukka,
Mi on siinä kostitsoina:
Onpa naisen olkaluuta,
Palakaisen pääpaloja,
Söit sä tissit tyttäresi,
Söit nännit oman sikiön,
Jota kauan kasvattelit,
Itse rinnalla imetit."

Jo tuli veellä viruttaatse,
Itki päivän, itki toisen,
Itki kohta kolmannenki,
Vieri viimen kuolemahan,
Muuttui mullan muotoiseksi.
Kaatui rauan karvaiseksi.

26. Lunastettava neiti.

Venäläinen vainolainen,
Karjalainen kiertolainen
Soutelevi, joutelevi,
Nientä niemen kiertelevi
Ympäri Yläsen nientä,
Kahen puolen Kangasnientä.
Neitonen kujertelevi,
Vyövaski valittelevi
Venäläisen venehessä,
Karjalaisen karpasossa.

Iso rannalle laseksen
Kujerrusta kuulemahan,
Valitusta vaatimahan.

"Hyvä iso, rakas iso,
Lunasta minua täältä!"

"Millä mä sinun lunastan,
Kun onpi vähä varoa?"

"Olipa sinulla ennen,
Oli ennen aikoinani,
Minun kasvinaikoinani,
Kolme kontua hyveä,
Pane yksi lunnahiksi,
Henkeni hehättimeksi."

"Enpä raahi raukkaseni,
Enpä tyttö parkaseni,
Panna kontua parasta;
Ennen luovun neiostani
Kun paraasta konnustani,
Rahan paljon pantuani,
Enemmän luvattuani."

Venäläinen vainolainen,
Karjalainen kiertolainen
Soutelevi, joutelevi,
Nientä niemen kiertelevi
Ympäri Yläsen nientä,
Kahen puolen Kangasnientä.
Neitonen kujertelevi,
Vyövaski valittelevi
Venäläisen venehessä,
Karjalaisen karpasossa.

Emo rannalle laseksen
Kujerrusta kuulemahan,
Valitusta vaatimahan.

"Hyvä emo, armas emo
Lunasta minua täältä!"

"Millä mä sinun lunastan,
Kun onpi vähä varoa?"

"Olipa sinulla ennen,
Oli ennen aikoinani,
Minun kasvinaikoinani,
Kolme lehmeä hyveä;
Pane yksi lunnahiksi,
Henkeni hehättimeksi.

"Enpä raahi raukkaseni,
Enpä tyttö parkaseni,
Panna lehmeä parasta;
Ennen luovun neiostani
Kun paraasta lehmästäni,
Rahan paljon pantuani,
Enemmän luvattuani."

Venäläinen vainolainen,
Karjalainen kiertolainen
Soutelevi, joutelevi,
Nientä niemen kiertelevi
Ympäri Yläsen nientä,
Kahen puolen Kangasnientä.
Neitonen kujertelevi,
Vyövaski valittelevi,
Venäläisen venehessä,
Karjalaisen karpasossa.

Veikko rannalle laseksen
Kujerrusta kuulemahan,
Valitusta vaatimahan.

"Hyvä veikko, kaunis veikko,
Lunasta minua täältä!"

"Millä mä sinun lunastan,
Kun onpi vähä varoa?"

"Olipa sinulla ennen,
Oli ennen aikoinani,
Minun kasvinpäivinäni,
Kolme ruunoa hyveä;
Pane yksi lunnnahiksi."

"Enpä raahi raukkaseni,
Enpä sisko parkaseni,
Panna ruunoa parasta;
Ennen luovun siskostani
Kun paraasta ruunastani,
Rahan paljon pantuani,
Enemmän luvattuani."

Venäläinen vainolainen,
Karjalainen kiertolainen
Soutelevi, joutelevi,
Nientä niemen kiertelevi
Ympäri Yläsen nientä,
Kahen puolen Kangasnientä.
Neitonen kujertelevi,
Vyövaski valittelevi,
Venäläisen venehessä,
Karjalaisen karpasossa.

Sisko rannalle laseksen
Kujerrusta kuulemahan,
Valitusta vaatimahan.

"Hyvä sisko, kaunis sisko,
Lunasta minua täältä!

"Millä mä sinun lunastan,
Kun onpi vähä varoa?"

"Olipa sinulla ennen,
Oli ennen aikoinani,
Minun kasvinpäivinäni,
Kolme lammasta hyveä;
Pane yksi lunnahiksi."

"Enpä raahi raukkaseni,
Enpä sisko parkaseni,
Panna lammasta parasta;
Ennen luovun siskostani
Kun paraasta lampahasta,
Rahan paljon pantuani,
Enemmän luvattuani."

Venäläinen vainolainen,
Karjalainen kiertolainen
Soutelevi, joutelevi,
Nientä niemen kiertelevi
Ympäri Yläsen nientä,
Kahen puolen Kangasnientä.
Neitonen kujertelevi,
Vyövaski valittelevi
Venäläisen venehessä,
Karjalaisen karpasossa.

Sulho rannalle laseksen
Kujerrusta kuulemahan,
Valitusta vaatimahan.

"Hyvä sulho, kaunis sulho,
Lunasta minua täältä!"

"Millä mä sinun lunastan,
Kun onpi vähä varoa?"

"Olipa sinulla ennen,
Oli ennen aikoinani,
Minun kasvinpäivinäni,
Kolme laivoa hyveä;
Pane yksi lunnahiksi."

"Jopa raahin raukkaseni,
Jopa neiti parkaseni,
Panna laivani parahan;
Ennen luovun laivastani
Kun paraasta neiostani,
Saan ma vielä laivan toisen,
En saa toista morsianta."

Sulho neitosen lunasti,
Neiti koston toivottavi;
Nyt mä koston toivottanen:
"Luoja koston kostakohon,
Isoni isoiset konnut
Tuli tuiki polttakohon,
Valkia hävittäköhön
Elonaikana parassa.
Maammoni matikkalehmät
Rengillehen riutukohon,
Kapallehen kaatukohon,
Maitoaikana parassa.
Veljeni isoiset ruunat
Valjahinsa vaipukohon,
Länkihin läkähtyköhön,
Veentäaikana parassa.
Siskoni sinervät uuhet
Vuonihinsa vuotukohon,
Kaotkoon karitsoihinsa,
Villa-aikana parassa.
Sulhon laivat matkatkohon,
Tyynelläki, tuulellaki,
Myötäselläi, vastasellai,
Kun sulho minun lunasti."

27. Lunastettava neiti (toisin.)

Neitonen, neitonen
Itkee ja huokaa
Verikoiran venehessä,
Punaparran purtilossa.
Katsoi taatto matkaa
Pitkin meren rantaa.

"Oi oi, oi oi, taattoseni,
Lunasta minua poies!"
"Millä sinun lunastan?"
"Onhan sulia kolme koriata laivaa;
Pane paras panttiin
Minun pääni päästimeksi,
Itseni lunastimeksi."

"Eipä tyttö parka,
Ei sinun lunastimeksi,
Eikä pääsi päästimeksi;
Paras kauppa-aika.
Ennen luovun tyttärestä
Ennenkun paraasta laivastani;
Tyttären minä toisen saan,
Vaan en saane laivaa."

Neitonen, neitonen
Itkee ja huokaa
Verikoiran venehessä,
Punaparran purtilossa.
Katsoi maammo matkaa
Pitkin meren rantaa.

"Oi oi, oi oi, maammoseni,
Lunasta minua poies!"
"Millä sinun lunastan?"
"Onhan sulia kolme koriata lehmää;
Pane paras panttiin
Minun pääni päästimeksi,
Itseni lunastimeksi."

"Eipä tyttö parka,
Ei sinun lunastimeksi,
Eikä pääsi päästimeksi;
Paras lypsyaika.
Ennen luovun tyttärestä
Ennenkun paraasta lehmästäni;
Tyttären minä toisen saan,
Vaan en saane lehmää."

Neitonen, neitonen
Itkee ja huokaa
Verikoiran venehessä,
Punaparran purtilossa.
Katsoi veikko matkaa
Pitkin meren rantaa.

"Oi oi, oi oi, veikkoseni,
Lunasta minua poies!"
"Millä sinun lunastan?"
"Onhan sulla kolme koriata miekkaa;
Pane paras panttiin
Minun pääni päästimeksi,
Siskosi lunastimeksi."

"Eipä sisko raukka,
Ei sinun lunastimeksi,
Eikä pääsi päästimeksi;
Paras sota-aika.
Ennen luovun siskostani
Kun parahasta miekastani;
Sisaren minä toisen saan,
Vaan en saane miekkaa."

Neitonen, neitonen
Itkee ja huokaa
Verikoiran venehessä,
Punaparran purtilossa.
Katsoi sisko matkaa
Pitkin meren rantaa.

"Oi oi, oi oi, siskoseni,
Lunasta minun poies!"
"Millä sinun lunastan?"
"Onhan sulia kolme koriata pirtaa,
Pane paras panttiin
Minun pääni päästimeksi,
Siskosi lunastimeksi."

"Eipä sisko parka,
Ei sinun lunastimeksi,
Eikä pääsi päästimeksi;
Paras kuonta-aika.
Ennen luovun siskostani
Ennenkun paraasta pirrastani;
Sisaren minä toisen saan,
Vaan en saane pirtaa."

Neitonen, neitonen
Itkee ja huokaa
Verikoiran venehessä,
Punaparran purtilossa.
Katsoi vävy matkaa
Pitkin meren rantaa.

"Oi oi, oi oi, vävyseni,
Lunasta minun poies!"
"Millä sinun lunastan?"
"Onhan sulia kolme koriata jousta;
Pane paras panttiin
Minun pääni päästimeksi,
Natosi lunastimeksi."

"Eipä nato parka,
Ei sinun lunastimeksi,
Eikä pääsi päästimeksi;
Paras metsäaika.
Ennen luovun naostani
Ennenkun paraasta jousestani;
Natosen minä toisen saan,
Vaan en saane jousta."

Neitonen, neitonen
Itkee ja huokaa
Verikoiran venehessä,
Punaparran purtilossa.
Katsoi minnä matkaa
Pitkin meren rantaa.

"Oi oi, oi oi, minnäseni,
Lunasta minua poies!"
"Millä sinun lunastan?"
"Onhan sulla kolme koriata maljaa;
Pane paras panttiin
Minun pääni päästimeksi,
Natosi lunastimeksi."

"Eipä nato parka,
Ei sinun lunastimeksi,
Eikä pääsi päästimeksi;
Paras juonta-aika.
Ennen luovun naostani
Ennenkun paraasta maljastani;
Natosen minä toisen saan,
Vaan en saane maljaa."

Neitonen, neitonen
Itkee ja huokaa
Verikoiran venehessä,
Punaparran purtilossa.
Katsoi sulho matkaa.

"Oi oi, oi oi, sulhoseni,
Lunasta minua poies!"
"Millä sinun lunastan?"
"Onhan sulia kolme koriata linnaa;
Pane paras panttiin
Minun pääni päästimeksi,
Neitosi lunastimeksi."

"Jopa neito parka,
Panen parahan linnan
Sinun pääsi päästimeksi,
Neitoni lunastimeksi;
Ennen luovun linnastani
Kun paraasta neiostani;
Linnan minä toisen saan
Vaan en saane neittä."

Pani parahan linnan,
Lunasti neion poies.

Neito koston toivotti:
"Luoja koston tuokoon,
Taaton laiva levetköön
Paras kauppa-aika;
Maammon mahot hävitköön
Keski kesänaika;
Veljen miekka katketkohon
Paras sota-aika;
Siskon pirta taittukohon
Paras kuonta-aika;
Vävyn jousi katketkohon
Paras metsäaika;
Minnän malja haletkohon
Paras juonta-aika.
Sulhon linna hyötyköhön
Parassa nälkävuonna."

28. Neiti lepetissä.

Istui neiti lepetissä,
Sekä istui, että itki,
Sormiansa murtelevi,
Katkovi kätösiänsä,
Katsoi ylös taivahalle,
Katsoi alas maarajoille;
Taivahalla päivä paistoi,
Vene matkoi maarajoilla.

Taatto venehen sisässä.
"Tules taatto ottamahan!"
Taatto noin sanoiksi virkki:
"Enkä ota, enkä taia;
Maammosi tulee jäleltä;
Maammon venot vetrehemmät,
Maammon airot armahammat,
Maammon soutimet somemmat."

Istui neiti lepetissä,
Sekä istui, että itki,
Sormiansa murtelevi,
Katkovi kätösiänsä,
Katsoi ylös taivahalle,
Katsoi alas maarajoille;
Taivahalla päivä paistoi,
Vene matkoi maarajoilla.

Maammo tuon venon sisässä.
"Tules maammo ottamahan!"
Maammo noin sanoiksi virkki:
"Enkä ota, enkä taia,
Veljesi tulee jäleltä;
Veljen venot vetrehemmät
Veljen airot armahammat,
Veljen soutimet somemmat."

Istui neiti lepetissä,
Sekä istui, että itki,
Sormiansa murtelevi,
Katkovi kätösiänsä,
Katsoi ylös taivahalle,
Katsoi alas maarajoille;
Taivahalla päivä paistoi,
Vene matkoi maarajoilla.

"Se on veikkoni venonen;
Tules veikko ottamahan!"
Veikko noin sanoiksi virkki:
"Enkä ota, enkä taia,
Siskosi tulee jäleltä;
Siskon venot vetrehemmät,
Siskon airot armahammat,
Siskon soutimet somemmat."

Istui neiti lepetissä,
Sekä istui, että itki,
Sormiansa murtelevi,
Katkovi kätösiänsä,
Katsoi ylös taivahalle,
Katsoi alas maarajoille;
Taivahalla päivä paistoi,
Veno matkoi maarajoilla.

"Se on siskoni venonen;
Tule sisko ottamahan!"
Sisko noin sanoiksi virkki:
"Enkä ota, enkä taia,
Sulhosi jäleltä souti;
Sulhon venot vetrehemmät,
Sulhon airot armahammat,
Sulhon soutimet somemmat."

Istui neiti lepetissä,
Sekä istui, että itki,
Sormiansa murtelevi,
Katkovi kätösiänsä,
Katsoi ylös taivahalle,
Katsoi alas maarajoille;
Taivahalla päivä paistoi,
Vene matkoi maarajoilla.

"Se on sulhoni venonen;
Tules sulho ottamahan!"
Sulho noin sanoiksi virkki:
"Jopa tulen, jotta taian,
Sulhon venot vetrehimmät,
Sulhon airot armahimmat,
Sulhon istumet ihalat."
Sulho otti venosohensa.

Neiti noin sanoiksi virkki:
"Nenä poies lähteköhön,
Nenä taattoni venosta
Paikaksi sulhon venosen;
Laita poies lohetkohon,
Laita maammoni venosta
Paikaksi sulhon venosen;
Kaaret poies katketkohon,
Kaaret veikkoni venosta
Paikaksi sulhon venosen;
Pohja poies puotkohon,
Pohja siskoni venosta
Paikaksi sulhon venosen."

29. Kolmet kosijat.

Neito kasvoi kaunosasti,
Ylen lystisti yleni;
Kasvoi niemen kainalossa,
Simasen salon sivussa,
Lehon lemmen liepehellä;
Viikon kasvoi, kauas kuului.
Kaukoa tulit kosijat,
Yhet tuolta Tuuterista,
Toiset päätyi Päivölästä,
Kolmannet Kemijoelta.

Tuli Tuuterin kosija.
Neito vasten vastaeli:
"Enmä tästä ennen joua
Kun kiven kuluksi jauhan,
Pieksän petkelen periksi,
Huhmaren sukuksi survon;
Enkä lähe Tuuterihin
Tuuteriss' on miehet tuhmat,
Miehet tuhmat, naiset laiskat,
Tyttäret typerämielet."

Tuli Päivölän kosija.
Neito vasten vastaeli:
"Enmä tästä ennen joua
Kun kiven kuluksi jauhan,
Pieksän petkelen periksi,
Huhmaren sukuksi survon;
Enkä lähe Päivölähän:
Päivöläss' on pitkät päivät,
Päivät pitkät, yöt lyhyet,
Iltaistumat ikävät."

Tuli Kemijoin kosija.
Neito vasten vastaeli:
"Jo lähenki, jotta jouan,
Lähen mie Kemijoelle
Syömähän Kemin kaloja,
Kemin lohta keittämähän;
Hyv' onpi Kemissä olla,
Kaunis Karjalan joella;
Siell' on miehet mielelliset,
Tyttäret hyväntapaiset;
Eik' oo illoilla ikävä,
Ei apia aamusilla."

30. Kullervon sotaan lähtö.

Kullervo Kalevan poika
Tuop' on suoriksen sotahan,
Suotta suoriksen sotahan,
Tahallansa tappelohon,
Vasten kieltoa isonsa,
Emonsa sitäi enemmin.

Kullervo Kalevan poika
Sanan virkkoi, noin nimesi:
"Ei sure suku minua,
Eikä heimo hellittele,
Jos ma kuolisin kujalle,
Riutuisen kotirikoille,
Iso ei pane pahaksi,
Eikä äiti äyhkäele,
Vett' ei vieri veikon silmä,
Ei kastu sisaren kasvo;
Vaan tuota suku surevi,
Hellitteli heimoeni,
Saavani minun sotahan,
Lähteväni tappelohon,
Sortuvan minun soassa,
Vainoteillä vaipuvani."

Kullervo Kalevan poika
Läksi soitellen sotahan,
Ilon lyöen muille maille.
Sanovi sanan isälle:
"Hyvästi hyvä isoni!
Itketkö sinä minua,
Koskas kuulet kuolleheni,
Kansasta kaonneheni,
Sortuneheni suvusta?"

Noin isä sanoiksi virkki:
"En minä sinua itke,
Jospa kuulen kuolleheksi
Poika toinen tehtänehe,
Poika paljoa parempi
Äieä älykkähämpi."

Kullervo Kalevan poika
Läksi soitellen sotahan,
Ilon lyö en muille maille;
Noin se virkki veikollensa:
"Jää hyvästi veikkoseni!
Itketkö sinä minua,
Koskas kuulet kuolleheni,
Kansasta kaonneheni,
Sortuneheni suvusta?"

Noin veikko sanoiksi virkki:
"En itke minä sinua,
Jospa kuulen kuolleheksi:
Veli toinen saatanehe,
Veli paljoa parempi,
Taalaria taitavampi."

Kullervo Kalevan poika
Läksi soitellen sotahan,
Ilon lyöen muille maille;
Noin se siskolle sanovi:
"Hyvästi sisarueni!
Itketkö sinä minua,
Koskas kuulet kuolleheni,
Kansasta kaonneheni,
Sortuneheni suvusta?"

Noin sisar sanoiksi vinkki:
"En itke minä sinua,
Jospa kuulen kuolleheksi:
Veli toinen saatanehe,
Veli paljoa parempi,
Korttelia korkiampi."

Kullervo Kalevan poika
Läksi soitellen sotahan,
Ilon lyöen muille maille;
Noin se virkki naisellensa:
"Jää hyvästi naiskuluni!
Itketkö minua nainen,
Kun mun kuulet kuolleheni,
Meren jäälle jääneheni,
Rimpihin repistyneeni,
Kellistynehen keolle?"

Noin nainen sanoiksi virkki:
"En itke minä sinua;
Suottapa lähet sotahan,
Tahallasi tappelohon;
Kun sun kuulen kuolleheksi,
Väestä vähenneheksi,
Istume ilokivelle,
Laulupaelle langetame,
Viskon virsuni likahan,
Panen uuet ummiskengät,
Panen kaulan kaunihiksi,
Rinnan riskiksi rakennan,
Menen neitosten tupahan,
Morsianten mynstärihin,
Tuossa lyön hurinkuria,
Heitän heian teiakkoa,
Saan siitä paremman miehen,
Urohon älykkähämmän."

Kullervo Kalevan poika
Läksi soitellen sotahan,
Ilon lyöen muille maille.
Sanovi sanan emolle:
"Äitiseni, armaiseni,
Minun kaunis kantajani,
Armas maion antajani,
Ihana imettäjäni!
Itketkö sinä minua,
Koskas kuulet kuolleheksi.
Kansasta kaonneheksi,
Sortuneheksi suvusta?"

Noin emo sanoiksi virkki:
"Etkö tunnen äitin ääntä,
Äitin ääntä, äitin syäntä?
Itkenpä minä sinua,
Kun sun kuulen kuolleheksi,
Väestä vähenneheksi,
Sortuneheksi suvusta:
Itken saavit, itken saunat,
Itken salvoimet saloa,
Kujat itken kuurullani,
Läävät länkämäisilläni,
Itken lumet iljeneksi,
Iljenet suliksi maiksi,
Sulat maat vihottaviksi."

Kullervo Kalevan poika
Läksi suorien sotahan,
Pisti pillit pussihinsa,
Soitti suolla mennessänsä,
Kullervoitsi kankahalla,
Patakoitteli palolla.

Saatihin sana jälestä:
"Taattosi kotona kuoli."

Kullervo Kalevan poika
Sanan virkkoi, noin nimesi
"Josp' on kuoli taattoseni,
Jouti kuolla taattoseni,
Söi mun syötetyt sikani
Joi mun juomatynnyrini."

Kullervo Kalevan poika
Läksi suorien sotahan,
Pisti pillit pussihinsa,
Soitti suolla mennessänsä,
Kullervoitsi kankahalla,
Patakoitteli palolla.

Saatihin sana jälestä:
"Veikkosi kotona kuoli."

Kullervo Kalevan poika
Sanan virkkoi, noin nimesi:
"Josp' on kuoli veikkoseni,
Jouti kuolla veikkoseni,
Vei mun viertohalmeheni,
Katkoi kaskikassarani."

Kullervo Kalevan poika
Läksi suorien sotahan,
Pisti pillit pussihinsa,
Soitti suolla mennessänsä,
Kullervoitsi kankahalla,
Patakoitteli palolla.

Saatihin sana jälestä:
"Siskosi kotona kuoli."

Kullervo Kalevan poika
Sanan virkkoi, noin nimesi:
"Josp' on kuoli siskoseni,
Jouti kuolla siskoseni,
Puotti puurokattilani,
Kaotti kakkaraveroni."

Kullervo Kalevan poika
Läksi suorien sotahan,
Pisti pillit pussihinsa,
Soitti suolla mennessänsä,

Kullervoitsi kankahalla,
Patakoitteli palolla.

Saatihin sana jälestä:
"Naisesi kotona kuoli."

Kullervo Kalevan poika
Sanan virkkoi, noin nimesi:
"Josp' on kuoli nainen multa,
Jouti kuolla nainen multa,
Vei mun verkavaatteheni,
Silkkisukkani menetti."

Kullervo Kalevan poika
Läksi suorien sotahan,
Pisti pillit pussihinsa,
Soitti suolla mennessänsä,
Kullervoitsi kankahalla,
Patakoitteli palolla.

Saatihin sana jälestä:
"Maammosi kotona kuoli."

Kullervo Kalevan poika
Sanan virkkoi, noin nimesi:
"Josp' on kuoli maammoseni,
Jouti kuolla maammoseni,
Suremastansa minua,
Iän päivät itkemästä;
Kuollut maahan pantakohon,
Kalmahan katettakohon,
Sia on maassa kuollehella,
Kalmassa katonehella."

31. Neien hanhi.

Läksin tietä telkkimähän,
Marras maata malkkimahan,
Kolme koiroa jälessä:
Yksi Liukki, toinen Läykki,
Kolmansi Puritsa koira.
Telkin teitä, malkin maita,
Astelin ahoja myöten,
Hopiaisia saloja,
Kultaisia kuusikoita,
Tuli oja vastahani,
Ojasella mättähäinen,
Mättähäisellä kotanen,
Ohjakset koan ovella,
Länget läävän räystähällä;
Kolkkasin koan ovea,
Rämäytin räystäspuuta,
Impi itkien pihalle.

"Mitä' itket impi raukka?"
"Tuota itken impi raukka,
Koirasi minun purevi,
Harvahammas haukkoavi."

"Tule minun turvihini,
Astu alle varjoihini;
Ei sinua koira pure--
Syytis! pois! häpeä koira!"

"Mitä itket nuori neiti?"
"Tuota itken nuori neiti,
Viety on vieno veioseni
Sotilaisen pääsotihin,
Linnalaisen tappeloihin,
Viety Vienahan sotahan,
Meren taaksi tappelohon;
Ei tule kotihin sieltä,
Ei tule sinä ikänä:
Ennen tulisi Tuonelasta,
Manalasta matkoaisi."

"Elä itke nuori neiti,
Jo tulevi veiosesi,
Jo tulevi Tuonelasta,
Manalasta matkoavi,
Alta linnan airot välkkyi,
Päältä linnan pää näkyvi."

"Mitä minulle veio tuopi,
Kuta tuopi kostintsoiksi?"'

"Tuopi rinnan ristilöitä
Tuopi korvan koltuskoita,
Tuopi sormen sormuksia,
Tuopi käen kintahia,
Tuopi kannan kaplukoita,
Jalan alla jarskajia."

"Mitäpä minä veiolleni?
Ei mitään minusta liene;
Tekisinkö piikkopaian,
Eli paian kostopaian?
Ei oo hyvä piikkopaita,
Eikä paita kostopaita;
Sepä hierovi hipiitä,
Kaivelevi kainaloita,
Kutkuttaa kuvetlihoja.
Laitan paian palttinaisen,
Elikk' aito aivinaisen;
Hyv' on paita palttinainen,
Hyvä aito aivinaipen;
Se ei hierele hipiitä,
Eikä kaiva kainaloita,
Kutkuta kuvetlihoja;
Laain puksute kapuset,
Iholiivin liessingistä,
Hihattoman, helmattoman,
Kaha kaulusta vajohon."

Jo tuli kotihin veio;
Toipa hanhen kostintsoiksi,
Kultoa kuvun nenässä,
Kaikki varpahat vas'esta;
Toipa uuet ummiskengät,
Saksan saappahat sataiset,
Kannat alla karskajavi,
Jalan alla jarskajavi;
Toipa rinnan ristilöitä,
Toipa korvan koltuskoita,
Toipa sormen sormuksia,
Toipa käen kintahia.
Minä ristit rintahani,
Koltuskaiset korvihini,
Sormuksiset sormihini,
Käteheni kintahaiset.

"Minne minä kenkyeni,
Kunne saappahat sataiset?"

"Panen kengät jalkahani,
Siltapalkit katkennevi,
Katketkohon jos kahesti,
Niinkö oisi hoikat hongat,
Sekä pehmiät petäjät,
Ettei kestä kengän käyä,
Kengän kannan karskutella."
Panin kengät jalkahani."

"Kunne panen hanhueni,
Liitän lempilintuseni?
Panisin läävän räystähälle;
Läävän lemu lengannehe."

"Kunne panen hanhoseni,
Liitän lempilintuseni?
Panisin saunan räystähälle;
Saunan savu juuttanehe."

"Kunne panen hanhoseni,
Liitän lempilintuseni?
Panisin riihen räystähälle;
Ulkokylmä kylmännehe."

"Kunne panen hanhoseni,
Liitän lempilintuseni?
Panisin pirtin räystähälle;
Lämminkö läkähtänehe."

"Kunne panen hanhoseni,
Liitän lempilintuseni?
Panisin aitan orren päähän;
Orteni alentanehe."

"Kunne panen hanhoseni,
Liitän lempilintuseni?
Panisin otrapurnohoni;
Otrani oastanehe."

"Kunne panen hanhoseni,
Liitän lempilintuseni;
Panisin kakrapurnohoni;
Kakrani kakistanehe."

"Kunne panen hanhoseni,
Liitän lempilintuseni?
Panisin ruispurnohoni;
Rukihini rutjannehe."

"Kunne panen hanhoseni,
Liitän lempilintuseni?
Panisin villavakkahani;
Villani vanuttanehe."

"Kunne panen hanhoseni,
Liitän lempilintuseni?
Panisin värttinän nenähän;
Värttinäni väännellehe."

"Kunne panen hanhoseni.
Liitän lempilintuseni?
Panisin hivustukkahani;
Tukkani tuhertanehe."

"Kunne panen hanhoseni,
Liitän lempilintuseni?
Panisin aian seipähäsen;
Kylän koira haukkunehe."

"Kunne panen hanhoseni,
Liitän lempilintuseni?
Panisin vesikivelle;
Meren kokko koproaisi."

"Kunne panin hanhoseni,
Liitin lempilintuseni?
Tuonne panin hanhoseni,
Liitin lempilintuseni,
Panin läävän räystähälle.
Panin kukon kuulemahan,
Mustan koiran muistamahan;
Eipä kukko kuule'kana,
Musta koira muista'kana.
Jo päivänä muutamana,
Huomenna monikkahana,
Kävin itse katsomahan,
Jo oli mennyt hanhoseni,
Mennyt mielilintuseni."

Läksin tuota etsimähän,
Kaonnutta katsomahan.
Vastahan halonvetäjä.

"Oi veikko halonvetäjä!
Oletko nähnyt hanhoistani,
Nähnyt mielilintustani?
Kunne on mennyt hanhoseni,
Minne mielilintuseni?"

"Mi on merkki hanhossasi,
Merkki mielilinnussasi?"

"Se on merkki hanhossani,
Merkki mielilnnussani:
Kupu kullin kirjotettu,
Varpahat vasen valettu."

"En ole nähnyt hanhoistasi,
Nähnyt mielilintuasi."

Kuuluipa kumu kujalta,
Jymy tarhalta jytäsi;
Käy kasakka katsomahan,
Mitä se kumu kutisi,
Mitä se jymy jytisi:
Orihitko oteltanehe,
Suuren tallin lattialla,
Vai härät kisattanehe,
Uuen läävän lattialla?

Ei oriit tapella'kana
Suuren tallin lattialla,
Eikä härkäset kisata
Uuen läävän lattialla:
Kati kangasta kutovi,
Impi pirtoa piteli,
Äärellä punaisen pilven,
Taivon kaaren kannikalla.
Siell' on hanhut käämimässä,
Ka'in kankahan kuetta;
Niin sen suihki sukkulainen,
Niin sen kääntyi kääjin vaajin,
Niin sen pirta pirkueli,
Kun on kuusessa orava,
Petäjässä pieni kynsi,
Kärppänen kiven kolossa.

Source Colophon

Finnish text from Elias Lönnrot, Kanteletar taikka Suomen kansan vanhoja lauluja ja virsiä (Helsinki: C. A. Gottlund [printer J. C. Frenckell], 1840). Digitized and proofread by Project Gutenberg (eBook #7078). The Kanteletar was compiled by Lönnrot from Finnish Literary Society fieldwork manuscripts collected primarily in Finnish Karelia and Ingria between 1828 and 1837. The songs in Book III, Section II ("Historiallisia lauluja") preserve folk memory of events spanning the twelfth to eighteenth centuries. This source text is in the public domain.

🌲