Kalevala, The Land of the Heroes, Volume Two. Anonymous

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      Then said Lemminkainen's mother,

       "Such the third death that awaits you:

       When you've gone a little further,

       And another day have travelled,

       Unto Pohjola's dread gateway,

       Where the pathway is the narrowest,

       Then a wolf will rush upon you,

       And a bear for his companion,

       There in Pohjola's dread gateway,

       Where the pathway is the narrowest. 190

       Hundreds have been there devoured,

       Heroes have by thousands perished;

       Wherefore should they not devour thee,

       Kill thee likewise, unprotected?"

      Answered lively Lemminkainen,

       Said the handsome Kaukomieli,

       "Perhaps a young ewe might be eaten,

       Or a lamb be torn to pieces,

       Not a man, how weak soever,

       Not the sleepiest of the heroes! 200

       With a hero's belt I'm girded,

       And I wear a hero's armour,

       Fixed with buckles of a hero,

       So be sure I shall not hasten,

       Unto Untamo's dread wolf's jaws,

       In the throat of that curst creature.

      "'Gainst the wolf I know a refuge,

       'Gainst the bear I know a method;

       For the wolfs mouth sing a muzzle,

       For the bear sing iron fetters, 210

       Or to very chaff will chop them,

       Or to merest dust will sift them;

       Thus I'll clear the path before me,

       Reach the ending of my journey."

      Then said Lemminkainen's mother,

       "Even yet your goal you reach not,

       There are still upon your pathway,

       On your road tremendous marvels.

       Three terrific dangers wait you,

       Three more deaths await the hero; 220

       And there even yet await you,

       On the spot the worst of marvels.

      "When a little way you've travelled,

       Up to Pohjola's enclosure,

       There a fence is reared of iron,

       And a fence of steel erected,

       From the ground to heaven ascending,

       From the heavens to earth descending.

       Spears they are which form the hedgestakes,

       And for wattles, creeping serpents, 230 Thus the fence with snakes is wattled, And among them there are lizards, And their tails are always waving, And their thick heads always swelling, And their round heads always hissing, Heads turned out, and tails turned inwards.

      "On the ground are other serpents,

       On the path are snakes and adders,

       And above, their tongues are hissing,

       And below, their tails are waving. 240

       One of all the most terrific

       Lies before the gate across it,

       Longer is he than a roof-tree,

       Than the roof-props is he thicker,

       And above, his tongue is hissing,

       And above, his mouth is hissing,

       Lifted not against another,

       Threatening thee, O luckless hero!"

      Answered lively Lemminkainen,

       Said the handsome Kaukomieli: 250

       "Such a death is perhaps for children;

       But 'tis not a death for heroes,

       For I can enchant the fire,

       And can quench a glowing furnace,

       And can ban away the serpents,

       Twist the snakes between my fingers.

       Only yesterday it happened

       That I ploughed a field of adders;

       On the ground the snakes were twisting,

       And my hands were all uncovered. 260

       With my nails I seized the vipers,

       In my hands I took the serpents,

       Ten I killed among the vipers,

       And the serpents black by hundreds.

       Still my nails are stained with snake-blood,

       And my hands with slime of serpents.

       Therefore will I not permit me,

       And by no means will I journey

       As a mouthful for the serpents,

       To the sharp fangs of the adders. 270

       I myself will crush the monsters, Crush the nasty things to pieces, And will sing away the vipers, Drive the serpents from my pathway, Enter then the yard of Pohja, And into the house will force me."

      Then said Lemminkainen's mother,

       "O my son, forbear to venture,

       Into Pohjola's dread castle,

       House of Sariola all timbered; 280

       For the men with swords are girded,

       Heroes all equipped for battle,

       Men with drink of hops excited,

       Very furious from their drinking.

       They will sing thee, most unhappy,

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