Hades District Gain Culture

 

-"Thus is iron in the swamp-lands,

Stretching by the water-courses,

Hidden well for many ages,

Hidden in the birchen forests,

But he could not hide forever

From the searchings of his brother;

Here and there the fire has caught him,

Caught and brought him to his furnace,

That the spears, and swords, and axes,

Might be forged and duly hammered.

In the swamps ran blackened waters,

From the heath the bears came ambling,

And the wolves ran through the marshes.

Iron then made his appearance,

Where the feet of wolves had trodden,

Where the paws of bears had trampled.

"Then the blacksmith, Ilmarinen,

Came to earth to work the metal;

He was born upon the Coal-mount,

Skilled and nurtured in the coal-fields;

In one hand, a copper hammer,

In the other, tongs of iron;

In the night was born the blacksmith,

In the morn he built his smithy,

Sought with care a favored hillock,

Where the winds might fill his bellows;

Found a hillock in the swamp-lands,

Where the iron hid abundant;

There he built his smelting furnace,

There he laid his leathern bellows,

Hastened where the wolves had travelled,

Followed where the bears had trampled,

Found the iron's young formations,

In the wolf-tracks of the marshes,

In the foot-prints of the gray-bear.

"Then the blacksmith, Ilmarinen,

'Thus addressed the sleeping iron:

Thou most useful of the metals,

Thou art sleeping in the marshes,

Thou art hid in low conditions,

Where the wolf treads in the swamp-lands,

Where the bear sleeps in the thickets.

Hast thou thought and well considered,

What would be thy future station,

Should I place thee in the furnace,

Thus to make thee free and useful?'

"Then was Iron sorely frightened,

Much distressed and filled with horror,

When of Fire he heard the mention,

Mention of his fell destroyer.

"Then again speaks Ilmarinen,

Thus the smith addresses Iron:

'Be not frightened, useful metal,

Surely Fire will not consume thee,

Will not burn his youngest brother,

Will not harm his nearest kindred.

Come thou to my room and furnace,

Where the fire is freely burning,

Thou wilt live, and grow, and prosper,

Wilt become the swords of heroes,

Buckles for the belts of women.'

"Ere arose the star of evening,

Iron ore had left the marshes,

From the water-beds had risen,

Had been carried to the furnace,

In the fire the smith had laid it,

Laid it in his smelting furnace.

Ilmarinen starts the bellows,

Gives three motions of the handle,

And the iron flows in streamlets

From the forge of the magician,

Soon becomes like baker's leaven,

Soft as dough for bread of barley.

Then out-screamed the metal, Iron:

'Wondrous blacksmith, Ilmarinen,

Take, O take me from thy furnace,

From this fire and cruel torture.'

"Ilmarinen thus made answer:

'I will take thee from my furnace,

'Thou art but a little frightened,

Thou shalt be a mighty power,

Thou shalt slay the best of heroes,

Thou shalt wound thy dearest brother.'

"Straightway Iron made this promise,

Vowed and swore in strongest accents,

By the furnace, by the anvil,

By the tongs, and by the hammer,

These the words he vowed and uttered:

'Many trees that I shall injure,

Shall devour the hearts of mountains,

Shall not slay my nearest kindred,

Shall not kill the best of heroes,

Shall not wound my dearest brother;

Better live in civil freedom,

Happier would be my life-time,

Should I serve my fellow-beings,

Serve as tools for their convenience,

Than as implements of warfare,

Slay my friends and nearest. kindred,

Wound the children of my mother.'

"Now the master, Ilmarinen,

The renowned and skilful blacksmith,

From the fire removes the iron,

Places it upon the anvil,

Hammers well until it softens,

Hammers many fine utensils,

Hammers spears, and swords, and axes,

Hammers knives, and forks, and hatchets,

Hammers tools of all descriptions.

"Many things the blacksmith needed,

Many things he could not fashion,

Could not make the tongue of iron,

Could not hammer steel from iron,

Could not make the iron harden.

Well considered Ilmarinen,

Deeply thought and long reflected.

Then he gathered birchen ashes,

Steeped the ashes in the water,

Made a lye to harden iron,

Thus to form the steel most needful.

With his tongue he tests the mixture,

Weighs it long and well considers,

And the blacksmith speaks as follows:

'All this labor is for nothing,

Will not fashion steel from iron,

Will not make the soft ore harden.'

"Now a bee flies from the meadow,

Blue-wing coming from the flowers,

Flies about, then safely settles

Near the furnace of the smithy.

"'Thus the smith the bee addresses,

These the words of Ilmarinen:

'Little bee, thou tiny birdling,

Bring me honey on thy winglets,

On thy tongue, I pray thee, bring me

Sweetness from the fragrant meadows,

From the little cups of flowers,

From the tips of seven petals,

That we thus may aid the water

To produce the steel from iron.'

"Evil Hisi's bird, the hornet,

Heard these words of Ilmarinen,

Looking from the cottage gable,

Flying to the bark of birch-trees,

While the iron bars were heating

While the steel was being tempered;

Swiftly flew the stinging hornet,

Scattered all the Hisi horrors,

Brought the blessing of the serpent,

Brought the venom of the adder,

Brought the poison of the spider,

Brought the stings of all the insects,

Mixed them with the ore and water,

While the steel was being, tempered.

"Ilmarinen, skilful blacksmith,

First of all the iron-workers,

Thought the bee had surely brought him

Honey from the fragrant meadows,

From the little cups of flowers,

From the tips of seven petals,

And he spake the words that follow:

'Welcome, welcome, is thy coming,

Honeyed sweetness from the flowers

Thou hast brought to aid the water,

Thus to form the steel from iron!'

"Ilmarinen, ancient blacksmith,

Dipped the iron into water,

Water mixed with many poisons,

Thought it but the wild bee's honey;

Thus he formed the steel from iron.

When he plunged it into water,

Water mixed with many poisons,

When be placed it in the furnace,

Angry grew the hardened iron,

Broke the vow that he had taken,

Ate his words like dogs and devils,

Mercilessly cut his brother,

Madly raged against his kindred,

Caused the blood to flow in streamlets

From the wounds of man and hero.

This, the origin of iron,

And of steel of light blue color."

From the hearth arose the gray-beard,

Shook his heavy looks and answered:

"Now I know the source of iron,

Whence the steel and whence its evils;

Curses on thee, cruel iron,

Curses on the steel thou givest,

Curses on thee, tongue of evil,

Cursed be thy life forever!

Once thou wert of little value,

Having neither form nor beauty,

Neither strength nor great importance,

When in form of milk thou rested,

When for ages thou wert hidden

In the breasts of God's three daughters,

Hidden in their heaving bosoms,

On the borders of the cloudlets,

In the blue vault of the heavens.

"Thou wert once of little value,

Having neither form nor beauty,

Neither strength nor great importance,

When like water thou wert resting

On the broad back of the marshes,

On the steep declines of mountains,

When thou wert but formless matter,

Only dust of rusty color.

"Surely thou wert void of greatness,

Having neither strength nor beauty,

When the moose was trampling on thee,

When the roebuck trod upon thee,

When the tracks of wolves were in thee,

And the bear-paws scratched thy body.

Surely thou hadst little value

When the skilful Ilmarinen,

First of all the iron-workers,

Brought thee from the blackened swamp-lands,

Took thee to his ancient smithy,

Placed thee in his fiery furnace.

Truly thou hadst little vigor,

Little strength, and little danger,

When thou in the fire wert hissing,

Rolling forth like seething water,

From the furnace of the smithy,

When thou gavest oath the strongest,

By the furnace, by the anvil,

By the tongs, and by the hammer,

By the dwelling of the blacksmith,

By the fire within the furnace.

"Now forsooth thou hast grown mighty,

Thou canst rage in wildest fury;

Thou hast broken all thy pledges,

All thy solemn vows hast broken,

Like the dogs thou shamest honor,

Shamest both thyself and kindred,

Tainted all with breath of evil.

Tell who drove thee to this mischief,

Tell who taught thee all thy malice,

Tell who gavest thee thine evil!

Did thy father, or thy mother,

Did the eldest of thy brothers,

Did the youngest of thy sisters,

Did the worst of all thy kindred

Give to thee thine evil nature?

Not thy father, nor thy mother,

Not the eldest of thy brothers,

Not the youngest of thy sisters,

Not the worst of all thy kindred,

But thyself hast done this mischief,

Thou the cause of all our trouble.

Come and view thine evil doings,

And amend this flood of damage,

Ere I tell thy gray-haired mother,

Ere I tell thine aged father.

Great indeed a mother's anguish,

Great indeed a father's sorrow,

When a son does something evil,

When a child runs wild and lawless.-

Kalevala