Even birds do build their nests in springtime.”
“Why is spring the fittest time for marriage?
What of birds, that build their nests in springtime?
Every season, dearest mother, suiteth
Those who have but love for every season.”
XX.
EDWARD spake thus to the Star of morning:
“Dearest Morning-star, thou, heaven’s daughter!
Say, what does Amanda, when she rises,
And the light veil throws across her shoulder?”
Answered him the Morning-star thus, saying:
“When, good youth, Amanda wakes and rises,
And the veil throws o’er her back, she goeth
To her window, looks on me, and weepeth,
And then turneth she her glances westward.”
Edward spoke again, and this he uttered:
“Good, that she looks on the Star of morning,
This her purity of heart bespeaketh;
Good, that she should look upon it weeping,
This the softness of her heart bespeaketh.
Yet the best, that she should look to westward,
For to westward lieth Edward’s bower.”
XXI.
ONCE the boy said to his maiden:
“Off thou fleest, dearest maiden,
Every time I try to catch thee.
But now say, say, didst thou ever
Find secure and safe a shelter,
Till to my embrace thou fleddest?”
XXII.
TO a peasant’s cottage came a warrior,
Bowed with years, a wooden leg to walk with.
Calm, for him the peasant filled a glass up,
Offering it, addressed the poor old soldier:
“Father, tell me, what did’st thou think of it,
“When in battle foemen did surround thee,
“Shots were cracking, and the bullets whistling?”
Raised his glass and answered the old soldier:
“Like thyself, when sometimes in the autumn
“Hail around thee whistles, lightning flashes,
“While thou’rt saving, for thine own, the harvest.”
XXIII.
ONCE a youth stood at a maiden’s window,
Three long evenings after one another,
Knocked and prayed that he might yet be let in;
On the first he got but threats and scolding,
On the second got he words and prayers,
On the third he got the window open.
XXIV.
‘NEATH the lake-shore pines a youth was playing
By a bay of Saimen sung by minstrels.
From the billowy halls the Sprite then saw him,
Looked with love upon the youth’s great beauty,
Wishing to allure him down unto him.
First an old man on the strand appeared he,
But the merry boy fled forth before him;
As a youth then on the strand appeared he,
But the merry youth no longer tarried;
Last, into a frisky foal transfigured,
Stepped he forth, and bounded mid’st the greenwood.
When the youth beheld the foal so frisky,
Went he gently, luringly, towards him,
Seized in haste his mane, and bounding mounted,
Longing now to have a ride right merry;
But into the deep, that very moment,
Fled the Sprite off with his charming booty.
To the strand came down the youth’s own mother,
Searching for her child in tears and sorrow.
From the billowy halls the Sprite then saw him,
Looked with love upon the woman’s beauty,
Wishing to allure her down unto him.
First an old man on the strand appeared he,
But the grieving woman fled before him,
As a youth then on the strand appeared he,
But the mourning woman would not tarry:
Last, into the merry youth transfigured,
Lay he glad and rocked upon the billow.
When the mother saw her son lamented,
Sprang she to his arms, into the billows,
Longing to redeem him from the peril.
But into the deep, that very moment,
Fled the Sprite off with his charming booty.
XXV.
HIGH ‘mid Sarijarvis’ moors resided
Peasant Paavo on a frost-bound homestead,
And the soil with earnest arm was tilling;
But awaited from the Lord the increase.
And he dwelt there with his wife and children,
By his sweat his scant bread with them eating,
Digging ditches, ploughing up, and sowing.
Spring came on, the drift from cornfields melted,
And with it away flowed half the young blades;
Summer came, burst forth with hail the shower,
And with it the ears were half down beaten;
Autumn came, and frost took the remainder.
Paavo’s wife then tore her hair, and spake thus:
“Paavo, old man, born to evil fortune,
Let us beg, for God hath us forsaken;
Hard is begging, but far worse is starving.”
Paavo took the good-wife’s hand, and spake thus:
“Nay, the Lord but trieth, not forsaketh,
Mix thou in the bread a half of bark now,
I shall dig out twice as many ditches,
And await then from the Lord the increase.
Half bark in the bread the good-wife mixed then,
Twice as many ditches dug the old man,
Sold the sheep, and bought some rye, and sowed it.
Spring came on, the drift from cornfields melted,
And with it away flowed half the young blades:
Summer came, burst forth with hail the shower,
And with it the ears were half down beaten,
Autumn came, and frost took the remainder.
Paavo’s wife then smote her breast, and spake thus:
“Paavo, old man, born to evil fortune,
Let us perish, God hath us forsaken,
Hard is dying, but much worse is living.”
Paavo took the good-wife’s hand, and spake thus:
“Nay, the Lord but trieth, not forsaketh,
Mix thou in the bread of bark the double,
I will dig of double size the ditches,
But await then from the Lord the increase.”
She mixed in the bread of bark the double,
He dug then of double size the ditches,
Sold the cows, and bought some rye and sowed it.
Spring came on, the drift from cornfields melted,
But with it away there flowed no young blades.
Summer came, burst forth with hail the shower,
But with it the ears were not down beaten,
Autumn came, and frost, the cornfields shunning,
Let them stand in gold to bide the reaper.
Then fell Paavo on his knee and spake thus:
“Aye, the Lord but trieth, not forsaketh.”
And his mate fell on her knees, and spake thus:
“Aye, the Lord but trieth, not forsaketh.”
But with gladness spoke she to the old man:
“Paavo, joyful to the scythe betake thee!
Now ’tis time for happy days and merry.
Now ’tis time to cast the bark away, and
Bake our bread henceforth of rye entirely.”
Paavo took the good-wife’s hand, and spake thus:
“Woman, he endureth trials only,
Who a needy neighbour ne’er forsaketh;
Mix thou in the bread a half of bark still,
For all frost-nipped stands our neighbour’s cornfield.”
XXVI.
FROM her mother had the girl a keepsake,
Had a bracelet, set with pearls and diamonds,
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One of value scarcely to be measured.
Then two wooers came and stood before her.
One of them was proud and rich and mighty,
But he wooed the maiden’s bracelet only.
And the other, he was poor and modest,
But the maiden’s heart he courted only.
Then the stepmother said to the daughter:
“Take the wealthy, and reject the poor one;
Fair is gold with poverty compared.”
Vainly wept remonstrating the maiden.
But the day the banns were to be published,
In the mother’s rooms was found no maiden,
At the stead, nor ‘mid the park’s stems either,
But upon the strand beside the ocean.
Thither came her mother and her wooer,
In a kind voice speaking to the maiden:
“Come with us to feasting and to gladness,
For to-day the banns are to be published.”
But the maid drew from her belt the bracelet,
Took it in her own white hand then, saying,
See, who little has, is pleased with little;
He, who owneth much, still more doth covet.
Years innumerable has the ocean
Swallowed wealth, accumulated treasures,
Yet demandeth still my golden jewel.
So she said, and from the strand afar she
Threw her bracelet forth into the ocean.
Her the rich one left exasperated,
And the girl’s stepmother cried in anger:
“Luckless one, what is it, thou art doing?
Never look thou more for any highness,
Never gold shall glitter in thy dwelling,
And no more beholdest thou thy bracelet.”
But the noble maiden laughed and answered:
“What to future happiness is highness,
What to life with love is gold and glitter,
What to my youth’s heart would be the bracelet?”
XXVII.
TAVASTLANDER large was Ojan Paavo,
Large and mighty ‘midst the sons of Finland,
Steady, as a rock o’ergrown with pine-trees,
Bold and quick and powerful, as a stormwind.
Fir-trees had he from the soil uprooted,
Smitten bears down with his arm’s strength only,
Lifted horses over lofty fences,
And like straws had bent the boldest wrestlers.
And now stood the sturdy Ojan Paavo,
Proud and mighty at the law-court holding.
At the home-stead, ‘mongst the folk he stood there,
Like a pine-tree towering o’er the brushwood:
And he raised his voice, and thus he challenged:
“Is there one of woman born and nurtured,
Who is able on this spot to hold me,
On this same spot only for a moment,
That one straight may take my wealthy homestead
That one win also my silver treasures,
That one own my many herds of cattle,
That one’s own I’ll be with soul and body!”
Thus unto the folk spoke Ojan Paavo.
But affrighted stood the village lads there,
Silent in the presence of the proud one;
And not one of them stepped out towards him.
And with wonder and with love were gazing
All the maidens on the stout young hero,
For he stood, the sturdy Ojan Paavo,
Like a pine-tree towering o’er the brushwood,
And his eye like heaven’s star was flaming,
And his brow as clear as day was shining,
And his yellow hair fell o’er his shoulder,
As cascades fall sunlit down a mountain.
From the crowd of women out-stepped Anna,
She, the fairest of the village maidens,
Lovely, as a morning is to gaze at.
And she stepped out swift to Ojan Paavo,
Threw around his neck her arms so supple,
Placed her heart unto his heart quite closely,
And, his cheek against her own cheek pressing,
Bade him tear himself from her away then.
And the sturdy fellow stood there vanquished,
From the place he could not stir or struggle,
But said, giving in, unto the maiden:
“Anna, Anna! I have lost my wager.
Thou may’st straightway take my wealthy homestead,
Thou may’st win also my silver treasures,
Thou may’st own my many herds of cattle,
And thine own I am with soul and body.”
XXVIII.
CAUGHT.
ON the ruddy river’s bottom
For some pearls a youth was fishing,
Found a pearl, as blue as heaven,
As the star of heaven rounded.
Lay within the pearl a maiden,
And she prayed a prayer, saying:
“Sacrifice thy pearl, oh, youth, now,
Break my prison, and release me;
In return a look all grateful
Will I give thee for my freedom!”
“No, by God, my darling maiden,
For the pearl is far too precious;
Bear but quietly thy fetter,
Many bore by far a worse one!”
Gently broke the crust the maiden;
Like the morning’s glow in beauty
She beside the youth did shoot up.
Golden locks her forehead covered,
Rosy-hued her cheeks were glowing. —
Dumb, and captured by her beauty,
Stood the youth for three full hours; —
When the third had struck, then prayed he
Silently a prayer, saying:
“Sacrifice thy beauty, maiden,
Break my prison, and release me;
In return a tear all grateful
Will I give thee for my freedom!”
“No, by God, oh, youth, my darling,
For the pearl is far too precious;
Bear but quietly thy fetter,
Many bore by far a worse one!”
XXIX.
THE EARLY SORROW.
ROSES cull’dst thou for thy merry sister,
Poppies kept’st thyself.
Rose betokens life and love, oh, maiden,
Poppy, cold and death.
Hast of heart’s enjoyments no foreboding —
Or, pale angel, say,
Own’st thou at fifteen a fate already
To betoken thus?
XXX.
THE MAIDEN’S SEASONS.
WALKED the maid, one wintry morning,
In the rime-besprinkled woodland,
Saw a withered rose, and spake thus:
“Grieve not, grieve not, poor wee floweret,
That thy fair time has flown over;
Thou hast lived, and known enjoyment,
Thou hast had thy spring and gladness,
Ere the winter’s cold o’ertook thee.
Worse fate has my heart befallen:
It has spring at once and winter;
For a youth’s eye is its spring-day
And my mother’s is its winter.”
XXXI.
LIKENESS.
HOW many waves dwell on the inlet,
How many thoughts within my bosom?
They seem to fly — and yet they tarry,
They seem to die — again revive though.
So different, yet so like each other,
So many, and yet all the self-same! —
On self-same sea, by self-same breezes
They all are stirred up,
From self-same breast they all are stirred up
By love the self-same.
XXXII.
THE BIRD.
OPEN is my maiden’s window,
If I were a bird unknown, I
Would at once fly in unto her.
In a cage then she would place me,
She would fill the glass with water,
She would fill with seed the drawer.
But then I should thus address her:
Girl, away with seed and water;
Know, that this thy bird so merry,
Drinketh only tender tears, and
Lives but on caress and kisses.
XXXIII.
THE FIRST KISS.
BY silver-clouds’ edge evening’s star was seated,
From dusky grove her thus a maiden greeted:
“Say, star of evening, what is thought in Heaven,
“When first a kiss is to a lover given?”
And heaven’s daughter coy was heard replying:
“The angel hosts of light, the Earth then eying,
Their own bliss see reflected there; — Death keepeth
Alone his eye then turned away — and weepeth.”
XXXIV.
FLY AWAY NOT.
WOULD’ST thou know, thou roguish maiden,
How they catch the thrush in autumn?
I will be myself the fowler,
Thou pretend to be the throstle.
Mark now how the fowler speaketh:
“Fly not off, thou pretty throstle;
Sit thou still amidst the berries,
For the snare no harm will do thee,
For the snare will but caress thee.”
Ah, thou rogue, thou’st let me catch thee,
Kiss me, and I’ll let thee go then.
XXXV.
THE KISS’S HOPE.
WHILE I sat in dreams beside a fountain,
Heard I how a kiss, my lips frequenting,
Softly uttered this unto another:
“See, she comes there, see the modest maiden
Comes already; and in a few hours
On her rosy lips I shall be sitting;
Faithfully the whole day she will bear me.
Care not e’en to taste a single strawberry,
Lest I with the juice of it be blended;
Care not e’en to drink of the clear fountain,
Lest against the glass’ brim I be crushed;
Care not e’en of love one word to whisper,
Lest she breathe me off her lips of roses.”
XXXVI.
LOVE.
ONCE a dame this wise reviled her daughter:
“Girl, against Love I have often warned thee,
And I find my warnings go for nothing.”
Said the daughter: “Be not angry, mother:
Though the door I bolted to escape him,
With each mote he’d fly into the chamber.
If abroad I went but to eschew him;
Should I hear in every breeze his sighing,
If I shut my eyes and ears together,
Like a rogue my heart he then would enter.”
XXXVII.
THE DIFFERENCE.
HOW I sat with head on hand dejected,
From the sill a sparrow gay detected,
Lightly pecked upon the pane and said,
Collected Works of Johan Ludvig Runeberg Page 35