with understanding,
Nor attain to man's discretion,
Though they live till they are aged,
And in body well-developed." 360

RUNO XXXVII.--THE GOLD AND SILVER BRIDE

_Argument_

Ilmarinen weeps long for his dead wife and then forges himself a wife of
gold and silver with great labour and trouble (1-162). At night he rests
by the golden bride, but finds in the morning that the side which he has
turned towards her is quite cold (163-196). He offers his golden bride
to Vaeinaemoeinen, who declines to receive her, and advises him to forge
more useful things, or to send her to other countries where people wish
for gold (197-250).

Afterwards smith Ilmarinen
Mourned his wife throughout the evenings,
And through sleepless nights was weeping,
All the days bewailed her fasting,
And he mourned her all the mornings,
In the morning hours lamented,
Since the time his young wife perished,
Death the fair one had o'ertaken.
In his hand he swung no longer,
Copper handle of his hammer, 10
Nor his hammer's clang resounded,
While a month its course was running.

Said the smith, said Ilmarinen,
"Hapless youth, I know no longer,
How to pass my sad existence,
For at night I sit and sleep not,
Always in the night comes sorrow,
And my strength grows weak from trouble.

"All my evenings now are weary,
Sorrowful are all my mornings, 20
And the nights indeed are dismal,
Worst of all when I am waking.
Grieve I not because 'tis evening,
Sorrow not because 'tis morning,
Trouble not for other seasons;
But I sorrow for my fair one,
And I sorrow for my dear one,
Grieve for her, the dark-browed beauty.

"Sometimes in these times so dismal,
Often in my time of trouble, 30
Often in my dreams at midnight,
Has my hand felt out at nothing,
And my hand seized only trouble,
As it strayed about in strangeness."

Thus the smith awhile lived wifeless,
And without his wife grew older,
Wept for two months and for three months,
But upon the fourth month after,
Gold from out the lake he gathered,
Gathered silver from the billows, 40
And a pile of wood collected,
Nothing short of thirty sledgeloads,
Then he burned the wood to charcoal,
Took the charcoal to the smithy