Rune IVf

Nay, the wolf must not be herald, He would eat the gentle lambkins. Who then tell the cruel story, Who will bear the evil tidings. To the cottage of her sister? 'Will the fox repeat the story Tell the tidings to her sister? Nay, the fox must not be herald, He would eat the ducks and chickens. Who then tell the cruel story, Who will bear the evil tidings To the cottage of her brother, Once the home of lovely Aino? Shall the hare repeat the story, Bear the sad news to her brother? Yea, the hare shall be the herald, Tell to all the cruel story. Thus the harmless hare makes answer: "I will bear the evil tidings To the former home of Aino, Tell the story to her kindred." Swiftly flew the long-eared herald, Like the winds be hastened onward, Galloped swift as flight of eagles; Neck awry he bounded forward Till he gained the wished-for cottage, Once the home of lovely Aino. Silent was the home, and vacant; So he hastened to the bath-house, Found therein a group of maidens, Working each upon a birch-broom. Sat the hare upon the threshold, And the maidens thus addressed him: "Hie e there, Long-legs, or we'll roast thee, Hie there, Big-eye, or we'll stew thee, Roast thee for our lady's breakfast, Stew thee for our master's dinner, Make of thee a meal for Aino, And her brother, Youkahainen! Better therefore thou shouldst gallop To thy burrow in the mountains, Than be roasted for our dinners." Then the haughty hare made answer, Chanting thus the fate of Aino: "Think ye not I journey hither, To be roasted in the skillet, To be stewed in yonder kettle Let fell Lempo fill thy tables! I have come with evil tidings, Come to tell the cruel story Of the flight and death of Aino, Sister dear of Youkahainen. With the stone of many colors Sank poor Aino to the bottom Of the deep and boundless waters, Like a pretty song-bird perished; Hung her ribbons on the aspen, Left her gold-cross on the sea-shore, Silken robes upon the alders, On the rocks her silken stockings, On the grass her shoes of deer-skin, In the sand her shining necklace, In the sand her rings and jewels; In the waves, the lovely Aino, Sleeping on the very bottom Of the deep and boundless blue-sea, In the caverns of the salmon, There to be the whiting's sister And the friend of nimble fishes." Sadly weeps the ancient mother From her blue-eyes bitter tear-drops, As in sad and wailing measures, Broken-hearted thus she answers: "Listen, all ye mothers, listen, Learn from me a tale of wisdom: Never urge unwilling daughters From the dwellings of their fathers, To the bridegrooms that they love not, Not as I, inhuman mother, Drove away my lovely Aino, Fairest daughter of the Northland." Sadly weeps the gray-haired mother, And the tears that fall are bitter, Flowing down her wrinkled visage, Till they trickle on her bosom; Then across her heaving bosom, Till they reach her garment's border; Then adown her silken stockings, Till they touch her shoes of deer-skin; Then beneath her shoes of deer-skin, Flowing on and flowing ever, Part to earth as its possession, Part to water as its portion.