Dear Fatherland, no danger thine: 
    Firm stand thy sons to watch the Rhine!

From the German of MAX SCHNECKENBURGER.

* * * * *

PROEM.

FROM “THE KALEVALA” (Land of heroes), THE NATIONAL EPIC OF FINLAND.[A]

[Footnote A:  Aside from its national significance “The Kalevala” is interesting from the fact of its having been taken as the model in rhythm and style for Longfellow’s “Hiawatha,” the epic of the American Indian.]

  Mastered by desire impulsive,
  By a mighty inward urging,
  I am ready now for singing,
  Ready to begin the chanting
  Of our nation’s ancient folk-song,
  Handed down from bygone ages. 
  In my mouth the words are melting,
  From my lips the tones are gliding,
  From my tongue they wish to hasten;
  When my willing teeth are parted,
  When my ready mouth is opened,
  Songs of ancient wit and wisdom
  Hasten from me not unwilling. 
    Golden friend, and dearest brother,
  Brother dear of mine in childhood,
  Come and sing with me the stories,
  Come and chant with me the legends,
  Legends of the times forgotten,
  Since we now are here together,
  Come together from our roamings. 
  Seldom do we come for singing,
  Seldom to the one, the other,
  O’er this cold and cruel country,
  O’er the poor soil of the Northland. 
  Let us clasp our hands together,
  That we thus may best remember. 
  Join we now in merry singing,
  Chant we now the oldest folk-lore,
  That the dear ones all may hear them,
  That the well-inclined may hear them,
  Of this rising generation. 
  These are words in childhood taught me,
  Songs preserved from distant ages;
  Legends they that once were taken
  From the belt of Wainamoinen,
  From the forge of Ilmarinen,
  From the sword of Kaukomieli,
  From the bow of Youkahainen,
  From the pastures of the Northland,
  From the meads of Kalevala. 
  These my dear old father sang me
  When at work with knife and hatchet: 
  These my tender mother taught me
  When she twirled the flying spindle,
  When a child upon the matting
  By her feet I rolled and tumbled. 
    Incantations were not wanting
  Over Sampo and o’er Louhi,
  Sampo growing old in singing,
  Louhi ceasing her enchantment. 
  In the songs died wise Wipunen,
  At the games died Lemminkainen. 
  There are many other legends,
  Incantations that were taught me,
  That I found along the wayside,
  Gathered in the fragrant copses,
  Blown me from the forest branches,
  Culled among the plumes of pine-trees,
  Scented from the vines and flowers,
  Whispered to me as I followed
  Flocks in land of honeyed meadows,
  Over hillocks green and golden,