Should this cheery maiden vanish
From the fields of Sariola,
From Pohyola’s fens and forests,
Where the cuckoo sings and echoes? 
Should I leave my father’s dwelling,
Should my mother’s berry vanish,
Should these mountains lose their cherry,
Then the cuckoo too would vanish,
All the birds would leave the forest,
Leave the summit of the mountain,
Leave my native fields and woodlands,
Never shall I, in my life-time,
Say farewell to maiden freedom,
Nor to summer cares and labors,
Lest the harvest be ungarnered,
Lest the berries be ungathered,
Lest the song-birds leave the forest,
Lest the mermaids leave the waters,
Lest I sing with them no longer.” 
Ilmarinen, the magician,
The eternal metal-forger,
Cap awry and head dejected,
Disappointed, heavy-hearted,
Empty-handed, well considers,
How to reach his distant country,
Reach his much-loved home and kinded,
Gain the meadows of Wainola,
From the never-pleasant Northland,
From the darksome Sariola. 
Louhi thus addressed the suitor: 
“O thou blacksmith, Ilmarinen,
Why art thou so heavy-hearted,
Why thy visage so dejected? 
Hast thou in thy mind to journey
From the vales and hills of Pohya,
To the meadows of Wainola,
To thy home in Kalevala? 
This is Ilmarinen’s answer: 
“Thitherward my mind is tending,
To my home-land let me journey,
With my kindred let me linger,
Be at rest in mine own country.” 
Straightway Louhi, dame of Northland,
Gave the hero every comfort,
Gave him food and rarest viands,
Placed him in a boat of copper,
In a copper-banded vessel,
Called the winds to his assistance,
Made the North-wind guide him homeward. 
Thus the skilful Ilmarinen
Travels toward his native country,
On the blue back of the waters,
Travels one day, then a second,
Till the third day evening brings him
To Wainola’s peaceful meadows,
To his home in Kalevala. 
Straightway ancient Wainamoinen
Thus addresses Ilmarinen: 
“O my brother, metal-artist,
Thou eternal wonder-worker,
Didst thou forge the magic Sampo,
Forge the lid in many colors?”
Spake the brother, Ilmarinen,
These the words the master uttered: 
“Yea, I forged the magic Sampo,
Forged the lid in many colors;
To and fro the lid in rocking
Grinds one measure at the day-dawn,
Grinds a measure fit for eating,
Grinds a second for the market,
Grinds a third one for the store-house. 
Louhi has the wondrous Sampo,
I have not the Bride of Beauty.”

RUNE XI.

LEMMINKAINEN’S LAMENT.