n the new heavens and the new earth. There he sowed the
grain that is the bread of man, chanting the hymn used at seed-time,
calling on the mother earth to make the green herb spring, and on Ukko to
send clouds and rain. So the corn sprang, and the golden cuckoo--which
in Finland plays the part of the popinjay in Scotch ballads, or of the
three golden birds in Greek folksongs--came with his congratulations. In
regard to the epithet 'golden,' it may be observed that gold and silver,
in the Finnish epic, are lavished on the commonest objects of daily life.

This is a universal note of primitive poetry, and is not a peculiar
Finnish idiom, as M. Leouzon le Duc supposes; nor, as Mr. Tozer seems to
think, in his account of Romaic ballads, a trace of Oriental influence
among the modern Greeks. It is common to all the ballads of Europe, as
M. Ampere has pointed out, and may be observed in the 'Chanson de
Roland,' and in Homer.

While the corn ripened, Wainamoinen rested from his labours, and took the
task of Orpheus. 'He sang,' says the 'Kalevala,' of the origin of
things, of the mysteries hidden from babes, that none may attain to in
this sad life, in the hours of these perishable days. The fame of the
Runoia's singing excited jealousy in the breast of one of the men around
him, of whose origin the 'Kalevala' gives no account. This man,
Joukahainen, provoked him to a trial of song, boasting, like Empedocles,
or like one of the old Celtic bards, that he had been all things. 'When
the earth was made I was there; when space was unrolled I launched the
sun on his way.' Then was Wainamoinen wroth, and by the force of his
enchantment he rooted Joukahainen to the ground, and suffered him not to
go free without promising him the hand of his sister Aino. The mother
was delighted; but the girl wept that she must now cover her long locks,
her curls, her glory, and be the wife of 'the old imperturbable
Wainamoinen.' It is in vain that her mother offers her dainty food and
rich dresses; she flees from home, and wanders till she meets three
maidens bathing, and joins them, and is drowned, singing a sad song: 'Ah,
never may my sister come to bathe in the sea-water, for the drops of the
sea are the drops of my blood.' This wild idea occurs in the Romaic
ballad, [Greek], where a drop of blood on the lips of the drowned girl
tinges all the waters of the world. To return to the fate of Aino. A
swift hare runs (as in the Zulu legen