Rune L-a

—WAINAMOINEN'S DEPARTURE. Mariatta, child of beauty, Grew to maidenhood in Northland, In the cabin of her father, In the chambers of her mother, Golden ringlets, silver girdles, Worn against the keys paternal, Glittering upon her bosom; Wore away the father's threshold With the long robes of her garments; Wore away the painted rafters With her beauteous silken ribbons; Wore away the gilded pillars With the touching of her fingers; Wore away the birchen flooring With the tramping of her fur-shoes. Mariatta, child of beauty, Magic maid of little stature, Guarded well her sacred virtue, Her sincerity and honor, Fed upon the dainty whiting, On the inner bark of birch-wood, On the tender flesh of lambkins. When she hastened in the evening To her milking in the hurdles, Spake in innocence as follows: "Never will the snow-white virgin Milk the kine of one unworthy!" When she journeyed over snow-fields, On the seat beside her father, Spake in purity as follows: "Not behind a steed unworthy Will I ever ride the snow-sledge!" Mariatta, child of beauty, Lived a virgin with her mother, As a maiden highly honored, Lived in innocence and beauty, Daily drove her flocks to pasture, Walking with the gentle lambkins. When the lambkins climbed the mountains, When they gamboled on the hill-tops, Stepped the virgin to the meadow, Skipping through a grove of lindens, At the calling of the cuckoo, To the songster's golden measures. Mariatta, child of beauty, Looked about, intently listened, Sat upon the berry-meadow Sat awhile, and meditated On a hillock by the forest, And soliloquized as follows: "Call to me, thou golden cuckoo, Sing, thou sacred bird of Northland, Sing, thou silver breasted songster, Speak, thou strawberry of Ehstland, Tell bow long must I unmarried, As a shepherdess neglected, Wander o'er these bills and mountains, Through these flowery fens and fallows. Tell me, cuckoo of the woodlands, Sing to me how many summers I must live without a husband, As a shepherdess neglected!" Mariatta, child of beauty, Lived a shepherd-maid for ages, As a virgin with her mother. Wretched are the lives of shepherds, Lives of maidens still more wretched, Guarding flocks upon the mountains; Serpents creep in bog and stubble, On the greensward dart the lizards; But it was no serpent singing, Nor a sacred lizard calling, It was but the mountain-berry Calling to the lonely maiden: "Come, O virgin, come and pluck me, Come and take me to thy bosom, Take me, tinsel-breasted virgin, Take me, maiden, copper-belted, Ere the slimy snail devours me, Ere the black-worm feeds upon me. Hundreds pass my way unmindful, Thousands come within my hearing, Berry-maidens swarm about me, Children come in countless numbers, None of these has come to gather, Come to pluck this ruddy berry." Mariatta, child of beauty, Listened to its gentle pleading, Ran to pick the berry, calling, With her fair and dainty fingers,.