When the hostess of Pohyola
Saw the son-in-law approaching,
She addressed the words that follow:
"I had thought the winds were raging,
That the piles of wood were falling,
Thought the pebbles in commotion,
Or perchance the ocean roaring;
Then I hastened nearer, nearer,
Drew still nearer and examined,
Found the winds were not in battle,
Found the piles of wood unshaken,
Found the ocean was not roaring,
Nor the pebbles in commotion;
Found my son-in-law was coming
With his heroes and attendants,
Heroes counted by the hundreds.
"Should you ask of me the question,
How I recognized the bridegroom
Mid the host of men and heroes,
I should answer, I should tell you:
'As the hazel-bush in copses,
As the oak-tree in the forest,
As the moon among the planets;
Drives the groom a coal-black courser,
Running like a famished black-dog,
Flying like the hungry raven,
Graceful as the lark at morning,
Golden cuckoos, six in number,
Twitter on the birchen cross-bow;
There are seven blue-birds singing
On the racer's hame and collar.'"
Noises hear they in the court-yard,
On the highway hear the sledges.
To the court comes Ilmarinen,
With his body-guard of heroes;
In the midst the chosen suitor,
Not too far in front of others,
Not too far behind his fellows.
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