Rune XVIII-g

Spake the master of Pohyola: "Go and learn, my trusted consort, Why the Northland dogs are barking, Why the black-dog signals danger." Thus his aged wife makes answer; "Have no time, nor inclination, I must feed my hungry household, Must prepare a worthy dinner, I must bake the toothsome biscuit, Knead the dough till it is ready, Only have I strength for kneading." Spake the master of Pohyola: "Dames are always in a hurry, Maidens too are ever busy, Whether warming at the oven, Or asleep upon their couches; Go my son, and learn the danger, Why the black-dog growls displeasure," Quickly does the son give answer: "Have no time, nor inclination, Am in haste to grind my hatchet; I must chop this log to cordwood, For the fire must cut the faggots, I must split the wood in fragments, Large the pile and small the fire-wood, Only have I strength for chopping." Still the watch-dog growls in anger, Growl the whelps within the mansion, Growl the dogs chained in the kennel, Growls the black-dog on the hill-top, Setting Northland in an uproar. Spake the master of Pohyola: "Never, never does my black-dog Growl like this without a reason; Never does he bark for nothing, Does not growl at angry billows, Nor the sighing of the pine-trees." Then the master of Pohyola Went himself to learn the reason For the barking of the watch-dogs; Strode he through the spacious court-yard, Through the open fields beyond it, To the summit of the uplands. Looking toward his black-dog barking, He beholds the muzzle pointed To a distant, stormy hill-top, To a mound with alders covered; There he learned the rightful reason, Why his dogs had barked so loudly, Why had growled the wool-tail bearer, Why his whelps had signalled danger. At full sail, he saw a vessel, And the ship was scarlet-colored, Entering the bay of Lempo; Saw a sledge of magic colors, Gliding up the curving sea-shore, O'er the snow-fields of Pohyola. Then the master of the Northland Hastened straightway to his dwelling, Hastened forward to his court-room, These the accents of the master: "Often strangers journey hither, On the blue back of the ocean, Sailing in a scarlet vessel, Rocking in the bay of Lempo; Often strangers come in sledges To the honey-lands of Louhi." Spake the hostess of Pohyola: How shall we obtain a token Why these strangers journey hither? My beloved, faithful daughter, Lay a branch upon the fire-place, Let it burn with fire of magic If it trickle drops of scarlet, War and bloodshed do they bring us; If it trickle drops of water, Peace and plenty bring the strangers." Northland's fair and slender maiden, Beautiful and modest daughter, Lays a sorb-branch on the fire-place, Lights it with the fire of magic; Does not trickle drops of scarlet, Trickles neither blood, nor water, From the wand come drops of honey.