Page:Kalevala (Kirby 1907) v2.djvu/82

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And he marched to furious battle,

Thus to fight his very brother.

Kalervoinen’s son’s fair consort

Then was sitting near the window,

And she looked from out the window,

And she spoke the words which follow:

“Is it smoke I see arising,

Or a gloomy cloud that rises,

On the borders of the cornfields,

Just beyond the new-made pathway?”

But no dark cloud there was rising,

Nor was smoke ascending thickly,

But ’twas Untamo’s assemblage

Marching onward to the battle.

On came Untamo’s assemblage,

In their belts their swords were hanging,

Kalervo’s folk overwhelming,

And his mighty race they slaughtered,

And they burned his house to ashes,

Like a level field they made it.

Left of Kalervo’s folk only

But one girl, and she was pregnant;

Then did Untamo’s assemblage

Lead her homeward on their journey,

That she there might sweep the chamber,

And the floor might sweep from litter.

But a little time passed over,

When a little boy was born her,

From a most unhappy mother,

So by what name should they call him?

Kullervo his mother called him,

Untamo, the Battle-hero.

Then the little boy they swaddled,

And the orphan child they rested

In the cradle made for rocking,

That it might be rocked to lull him.

So they rocked the child in cradle,

Rocked it till his hair was tossing,

Rocked him for one day, a second,

Rocked him on the third day likewise,