520
Chop to bits the largest wood-pile,
And to faggots small reduce it.
Large the pile, and small the faggots,
And the workman of the weakest."

Still the castle-dog was barking,
And the yard-dog still was barking,
And the furious whelp was baying,
And the island watch-dog howling,
Sitting by the furthest cornfield,
And his tail was briskly wagging. 530

Then again said Pohja's Master,
"Not for nought the dog is barking,
Never has he barked for nothing,
Never growls he at the fir-trees."

So he went to reconnoitre,
And he walked across the courtyard,
To the cornfield's furthest borders,
To the path beyond the ploughed land.
Gazed he where the dog's snout pointed,
Where he saw his muzzle pointing, 540
To the hill where storms are raging,
To the hills where grow the alders,
Then he saw the truth most clearly,
Why the grey-brown dog was barking,
And the pride of earth was baying,
And the woolly-tailed one howling,
For he saw a red boat sailing
Out amid the Bay of Lempi,
And a handsome sledge was driving
On the shore of Sound of Sima. 550

After this the Lord of Pohja
To the house returned directly,
And beneath the roof he hastened,
And he spoke the words which follow:
"There are strangers swiftly sailing
O'er the blue lake's watery surface,
And a gaudy sledge is gliding
On the shore of Sound of Sima;
And a large boat is approaching
To the shore of Bay of Lempi." 560

Then said Pohjola's old Mistress,
"Whence shall we obtain an omen
Why these strangers here are coming?
O my little waiting-maiden,
On the fire lay rowan-faggots.
And the best log in its glowing.
If the log with blood is flowing,
Then the strangers come for battle,
If the log exudes clear water,
Then is peace abiding with us." 570

Then the little maid of Pohja,
She, the modest waiting-maiden,
On the fire laid rowan-faggots,
Placed the best log in its glowing.
From the log no blood was trickling,
Nor did water trickle from it;
From the log there oozed forth honey,
From the log dripped down the nectar.

From the corner spoke Suovakko,
Spoke the old dame 'neath the blankets: 580
"From the log if oozes