Rune XXIIIe

When the stranger leaves thy threshold, When his farewell has been spoken, Lead him only to the portals, Do not step without the doorway, That thy husband may not fancy, And the mother not imagine, Thou hast interest in strangers. "Shouldst thou ever make a journey To the centre of the village, There to gain some needed object, While thou speakest in the hamlet, Let thy words be full of wisdom, That thou shamest not thy kindred, Nor disgrace thy husband's household. "Village-maidens oft will ask thee, Mothers of the hamlet question: 'Does thy husband's mother greet thee As in childhood thou wert greeted, In thy happy home in Pohya?' Do not answer in negation, Say that she has always given Thee the best of her provisions, Given thee the kindest greetings, Though it be but once a season. "Listen well to what I tell thee: As thou goest from thy father To thy husband's distant dwelling, Thou must not forget thy mother, Her that gave thee life and beauty, Her that nurtured thee in childhood, Many sleepless nights she nursed thee; Often were her wants neglected, Numberless the times she rocked thee; Tender, true, and ever faithful, Is the mother to her daughter. She that can forget her mother, Can neglect the one that nursed her, Should not visit Mana's castle, In the kingdom of Tuoni; In Manala she would suffer, Suffer frightful retribution, Should her mother be forgotten; Should her dear one be neglected, Mana's daughters will torment her, And Tuoni's sons revile her, They will ask her much as follows: 'How couldst thou forget thy mother, How neglect the one that nursed thee? Great the pain thy mother suffered, Great the trouble that thou gavest When thy loving mother brought thee Into life for good or evil, When she gave thee earth-existence, When she nursed thee but an infant, When she fed thee in thy childhood, When she taught thee what thou knowest, Mana's punishments upon thee, Since thy mother is forgotten!'" On the floor a witch was sitting, Near the fire a beggar-woman, One that knew the ways of people, These the words the woman uttered: "Thus the crow calls in the winter: 'Would that I could be a singer, And my voice be full of sweetness, But, alas! my songs are worthless, Cannot charm the weakest creature; I must live without the singing Leave the songs to the musicians, Those that live in golden houses, In the homes of the beloved; Homeless therefore I must wander, Like a beggar in the corn-fields, And with none to do me honor.' "Hear now, sister, what I tell thee, Enter thou thy husband's dwelling, Follow not his mind, nor fancies, As my husband's mind I followed; As a flower was I when budding, Sprouting like a rose in spring-time, Growing like a slender maiden, Like the honey-gem of glory, Like the playmates of my childhood, Like the goslings of my father, Like the blue-ducks of my mother, Like my brother's water-younglings, Like the bullfinch of my sister; Grew I like the heather-flower, Like the berry of the meadow, Played upon the sandy sea-shore, Rocked upon the fragrant upland, Sang all day adown the valley, Thrilled with song the hill and mountain, Filled with mirth the glen and forest, Lived and frolicked in the woodlands. "Into traps are foxes driven By the cruel pangs of hunger, Into traps, the cunning ermine; Thus are maidens wooed and wedded, In their hunger for a husband.