Page:Kalevala (Kirby 1907) v2.djvu/42

30

And he struck a third blow after,

But he could not strike him fairly,

Could not scratch the flesh upon him,

From his skin a single bristle.

Then spoke Ahti Saarelainen,

Said the handsome Kaukomieli,

“Give me leave to try a little,

For at last my time is coming.”

Natheless Pohjola’s great Master,

Did not pay the least attention,

Striking on, without reflection,

Ever striking, never hitting.

From his sword-blade flashed red fire,

And its edge was always gleaming

In the hands of Lemminkainen,

And the sheen extended further,

As against the neck he turned it,

Of the mighty son of Pohja.

Said the handsome Lemminkainen,

“Hearken, Pohjola’s great Master,

True it is, thy neck so wretched,

Is as red as dawn of morning.”

Thereupon the son of Pohja,

He, the mighty lord of Pohja,

Bent his eyes that he might witness

How his own neck had been reddened.

Then the lively Lemminkainen,

Hurriedly a stroke delivered,

With his sword he struck the hero,

Quickly with the sword he struck him.

Full and fair he struck the hero,

Struck his head from off his shoulders,

And the skull from neck he severed,

As from off the stalk a turnip,

Or an ear of corn is severed,

From a fish a fin divided.

In the yard the head went rolling,

And the skull in the enclosure,

As when it is struck by arrow

Falls, the capercail from tree-top.