Tramping to the walls and watching;
Worn and torn, the shoes of heroes,
Running on the shore to meet him. 
Now at last upon a morning
Of a lovely day in winter,
Heard they from the woods the rumble
Of a snow-sledge swiftly bounding. 
Lakko, hostess of Wainola,
She the lovely Kalew-daughter,
Spake these words in great excitement: 
“’Tis the sledge of the magician,
Comes at last the metal-worker
From the dismal Sariola,
By his side the Bride of Beauty! 
Welcome, welcome, to this hamlet,
Welcome to thy mother’s hearth-stone,
To the dwelling of thy father,
By thine ancestors erected!”
Straightway came great Ilmarinen
To his cottage drove the blacksmith,
To the fireside of his father,
To his mother’s ancient dwelling. 
Hazel-birds were sweetly singing
On the newly-bended collar;
Sweetly called the sacred cuckoos
From the summit of the break-board;
Merry, jumped the graceful squirrel
On the oaken shafts and cross-bar. 
Lakko, Kalew’s fairest hostess,
Beauteous daughter of Wainola,
Spake these words of hearty welcome: 
“For the new moon hopes the village,
For the sun, the happy maidens,
For the boat, the swelling water;
I have not the moon expected,
For the sun have not been waiting,
I have waited for my hero,
Waited for the Bride of Beauty;
Watched at morning, watched at evening,
Did not know but some misfortune,
Some sad fate had overtaken
Bride and bridegroom on their journey;
Thought the maiden growing weary,
Weary of my son’s attentions,
Since he faithfully had promised
To return to Kalevala,
Ere his foot-prints had departed
From the snow-fields of his father. 
Every morn I looked and listened,
Constantly I thought and wondered
When his sledge would rumble homeward,
When it would return triumphant
To his home, renowned and ancient. 
Had a blind and beggared straw-horse
Hobbled to these shores awaiting,
With a sledge of but two pieces,
Well the steed would have been lauded,
Had it brought my son beloved,
Had it brought the Bride of Beauty. 
Thus I waited long, impatient,
Looking out from morn till even,
Watching with my head extended,
With my tresses streaming southward,
With my eyelids widely opened,
Waiting for my son’s returning
To this modest home of heroes,
To this narrow place of resting. 
Finally am I rewarded,
For the sledge has come triumphant,
Bringing home my son and hero,
By his side the Rainbow maiden,
Red her cheeks, her visage winsome,
Pride and joy of Sariola. 
“Wizard-bridegroom of Wainola,
Take thy-courser to the stable,
Lead him to the well-filled manger,
To the best of grain and clover;
Give to us thy friendly greetings,
Greetings send to all thy people. 
When thy greetings thou hast ended,
Then relate what has befallen