er three teeth gnashed together,
"There is no one in this household,
Who can heal the wounds of iron,
None who knows efficient blood-spells,
And can close the wound that pains you.
Such may dwell in other houses:
Drive away to other houses."

Vainamoinen, old and steadfast,
O'er the horse his whip then brandished, 260
And the sledge went rattling onward.
Thus a little way he travelled,
On the highest of the pathways,
To the highest of the houses,
And he asked upon the threshold,
Calling from beside the doorpost,
"Is there any in this household,
Who can heal the wounds of iron,
Who can check this rushing bloodstream,
And can stay the dark red torrent?" 270

By the stove an old man rested,
On the stove-bed lay a greybeard,
From the stove the old man mumbled,
And the greybeard cried in answer,
"Stemmed before were greater torrents,
Greater floods than this were hindered,
By three words of the Creator,
By the mighty words primeval.
Brooks and streams were checked from flowing;
Mighty streams in cataracts falling, 280
Bays were formed in rocky headlands,
Tongues of land were linked together."

RUNO IX.--THE ORIGIN OF IRON

_Argument_

Vainamoinen repeats to the old man the legend of the origin of iron
(1-266). The old man reviles the iron and repeats spells for the
stopping of blood, and the flow of blood is stayed (267-416). The old
man directs his son to prepare a salve, and dresses and binds up the
wound. Vainamoinen is cured, and thanks Jumala for his merciful
assistance (417-586).

Then the aged Vainamoinen
In the sledge at once stood upright,
From the sledge he sprang unaided,
And courageously stood upright.
To the room he hastened quickly,
And beneath the roof he hurried.

There they brought a silver beaker,
And a golden goblet likewise,
But they proved by far too little,
Holding but the smallest measure 10
Of the blood of aged Vaino,
From the hero's foot that spouted.

From the stove the old man mumbled,
Cried the greybeard when he saw him,
"Who among mankind may'st thou be,
Who among the roll of heroes?
Seven large boats with blood are brimming,
Eight large tubs are overflowing
From your knee, O most unhappy,
On the floor in torrents gushing.