"Bridegroom, dearest of my brothers,
Thou the best of all my brothers,
Dearest of my mother's children,
Gentlest of my father's children,
Listen now to what I tell thee,
What I speak and what I tell thee,10
Of thy linnet who awaits thee,
And the dove that thou hast captured.
"Bridegroom, bless thy happy fortune,
For the fair one granted to thee,
When thou praisest, praise thou loudly,
Loudly praise the good that's granted,
Loudly praise thou thy Creator,
For the gracious gift He granted,
And her father praise thou also,
Even more her mother praise thou,20
They who reared their lovely daughter
To the charming bride beside thee.
"Stainless sits the maid beside thee,
Maiden bright to thee united,
Pledged to thee in all her beauty,
Fair one under thy protection,
Charming girl upon thy bosom,
At thy side so sweetly blushing,
Girl with strength to help in threshing,
Or to help thee in the hayfield,30
Skilful, too, to do the washing,
Quick to bleach the clothes to whiteness,
Skilful, too, the thread in spinning,
Rapid, too, the cloth when weaving.
"And I hear her loom resounding,
As upon the hill the cuckoo,
And I see her shuttle darting,
As the ermine through a thicket,
And the reel she twists as quickly
As the squirrel's mouth a fir-cone.40
Never sound has slept the village,
Nor the country people slumbered,
For her loom's incessant clatter,
And the whizzing of the shuttle.
"O thou loved and youthful bridegroom,
Handsomest of all the people,
Forge thou now a scythe of sharpness,
Fix the best of handles on it,
Carve it, sitting in the doorway,
Hammer it upon a tree-stump.50
When there comes the time of sunshine,
Take thy young wife to the meadow,
Look thou where the grass is rustling,
And the harder grass is crackling,
And the reeds are gently murmuring,
And the sorrel gently rustling,
Also note where stand the hillocks,
And the shoots from stumps arising.
"When another day is dawning,
Let her have a weaver's shuttle,60
And a batten that shall suit it,
And a loom of best construction,
And a treadle of the finest.
Make the weaver's chair all ready,
For the damsel fix the treadle,
Lay her hand upon the batten.
Soon the shuttle shall be singing,
And the treadle shall be thumping,
Till the rattling fills the village,
And the noise is heard beyond it:70
And the crones will all perceive it,
And the village women question,
'Who is this we hear a-weaving?'
And you thus must make them answer:
''Tis my own, my darling, weaving,
'Tis my loved one makes the clatter,
Shall she loosen now the fabric,
And the shuttle cease from throwing?'
"'Let her not the fabric loosen,
Nor the shuttle cease from throwing.80
Thus may weave the Moon's fair daughters,
Thus may spin the Sun's fair daughters,
Even thus the Great Bear's daughters.
Of the lovely stars the daughters.'
"O thou loved and youthful bridegroom,
Handsomest of all the people,
Set thou forth upon thy journey,
Hasten to commence thy journey,
Bear away thy youthful maiden,
Bear away thy dove so lovely.90
From thy finch depart thou never,
Nor desert thy darling linnet;
In the ditches do not drive her,
Nor against the hedge-stakes drive her,
Nor upset her on the tree-stumps,
Nor in stony places cast her.
In her father's house she never,
In her dearest mother's homestead,
In the ditches has been driven,
Nor against the hedge-stakes driven,100
Nor upset upon the tree-stumps,
Nor upset in stony places.
"O thou loved and youthful bridegroom,
Handsomest of all the people,
Never may'st thou send the damsel,
Never may'st thou push the fair one
In the corner there to loiter,
Or to rummage in the corner.
In her father's house she never,
Never in her mother's household,110
Went to loiter in the corner,
Or to rummage in the corner.
Always sat she at the window,
In the room she sat, and rocked her,
As her father's joy at evening,
And her mother's love at morning.
"Never may'st thou, luckless husband,
Never may'st thou lead thy dovekin,
Where with arum-roots the mortar,
Stands, the rind to pound from off them,120
Or her bread from straw prepare her,
Neither from the shoots of fir-trees.
In her father's house she never,
In her tender mother's household,
Needed thus to use the mortar,
Pounding thus the rind from marsh-roots,
Nor from straw her bread prepare her,
Neither from the shoots of fir-tree.