they chew the bark of fir-tree. 440
Wherefore then should I not carol,
Wherefore should our children sing not,
While the juice of corn we're drinking,
And the best-brewed ale of barley?

"Lapland's children they are singing,
And the hay-shod ones are chanting,
Even by the sooty fire,
As they lay the coals upon it.
Wherefore then should I not carol,
Wherefore should our children sing not, 450
Underneath these famous rafters,
Underneath a roof so splendid?

"Good it is for men to dwell here,
Good for women to reside here,
All among the barrels ale-filled,
Standing close beside the mead-tubs,
Near the sound where swarm the powans,
Near the place for netting salmon,
Where the food is never failing,
And the drink is never stinted. 460

"Good it is for men to dwell here,
Good for women to reside here,
Here to eat by care untroubled,
Here to live without affliction,
Here to eat unvexed by trouble,
And to live without a sorrow,
Long as lives our host among us,
All the lifetime of our hostess.

"Which shall I first praise in singing,
Shall it be the host or hostess? 470
Always first they praise the heroes,
Therefore first I praise the Master,
He who first prepared the marshland,
And along the shore who wandered,
And he brought great stumps of fir-trees,
And he trimmed the crowns of fir-trees,
Took them to a good position,
Firmly built them all together,
For his race a great house builded,
And he built a splendid homestead, 480
Walls constructed from the forest,
Rafters from the fearful mountains,
Laths from out the woods provided,
Boards from berry-bearing heathlands,
Bark from cherry-bearing uplands,
Moss from off the quaking marshes.

"And the house is well-constructed,
And the roof securely fastened.
Here a hundred men were gathered,
On the house-roof stood a thousand, 490
When this house was first constructed,
And the flooring duly fitted.

"Be assured our host so worthy,
In the building of this homestead,
Oft his hair exposed to tempest,
And his hair was much disordered.
Often has our host so noble,
On the rocks his gloves left lying,
Lost his hat among the fir-trees,
In the marsh has sunk his