“I weep for the great deep sea,” answered the boat. “I am unhappy because I am tied to the shore. I long to be free, to speed over the water, to glide upon the waves.”
“Where is your master, and why do you lie here idle?” asked Ilmarinen.
“I am waiting for my master,” said the boat. “The wizard who sang my boards together bade me wait here for the hero who is to guide me across the sea. But he does not come, he does not come!” and with that it began again to cry and lament in tones of impatience and grief.
“Do not fret yourself, O boat with rowlocks!” said Wainamoinen. “Your master will surely come soon to claim you. Then you shall ride [[303]]proudly upon the waves, you shall sail to unknown shores, you shall mix in the battle struggle and return home laden with plunder. Only be patient and wait.”
“I have waited long already,” answered the boat. “I have waited till my rowlocks are rusty and my deck boards are rotting. Worms are gnawing through my beams; toads are leaping in my hold; birds are nesting on my mast; all my sails and ropes are mildewed. I would rather be a mountain pine tree, or an oak in the valley with squirrels leaping among my branches.”
“Have patience, O boat!” said Wainamoinen. “Lament no more, for your master has surely come.”
Then the heroes leaped from their horses, turning them loose to wander free among the sand-hills. They put their shoulders to the little vessel and pushed it into deeper water. They climbed quickly on board of it, singing as it floated slowly from the shore:
“Little boat so snug, so strong,
Listen to our earnest song.
You are fair to gaze upon,