Rune X-a

FORGES THE SAMPO. Wainamoinen, the magician, Takes his steed of copper color, Hitches quick his fleet-foot courser, Puts his racer to the snow-sledge, Straightway springs upon the cross-seat, Snaps his whip adorned with jewels. Like the winds the steed flies onward, Like a lightning flash, the racer Makes the snow-sledge creak and rattle, Makes the highway quickly vanish, Dashes on through fen and forest, Over hills and through the valleys, Over marshes, over mountains, Over fertile plains and meadows; Journeys one day, then a second, So a third from morn till evening, Till the third day evening brings him To the endless bridge of Osmo, To the Osmo-fields and pastures, To the plains of Kalevala; When the hero spake as follows: "May the wolves devour the dreamer, Eat the Laplander for dinner, May disease destroy the braggart, Him who said that I should never See again my much-loved home-land, Nevermore behold my kindred, Never during all my life-time, Never while the sunshine brightens, Never while the moonlight glimmers On the meadows of Wainola, On the plains of Kalevala." Then began old Wainamoinen, Ancient bard and famous singer, To renew his incantations; Sang aloft a wondrous pine-tree, Till it pierced the clouds in growing With its golden top and branches, Till it touched the very heavens, Spread its branches in the ether, In the ever-shining sunlight. Now he sings again enchanting, Sings the Moon to shine forever In the fir-tree's emerald branches; In its top he sings the Great Bear. Then be quickly journeys homeward, Hastens to his golden portals, Head awry and visage wrinkled, Crooked cap upon his forehead, Since as ransom he had promised Ilmarinen, magic artist, Thus to save his life from torture On the distant fields of Northland In the dismal Sariola. When his stallion he had halted On the Osmo-field and meadow, Quickly rising in his snow-sledge, The magician heard one knocking, Breaking coal within the smithy, Beating with a heavy hammer. Wainamoinen, famous minstrel, Entering the smithy straightway, Found the blacksmith, Ilmarinen, Knocking with his copper hammer. Ilmarinen spake as follows: "Welcome, brother Wainamoinen, Old and worthy Wainamoinen! Why so long hast thou been absent, Where hast thou so long been hiding?" Wainamoinen then made answer, These the words of the magician: "Long indeed have I been living, Many dreary days have wandered, Many cheerless nights have lingered, Floating on the cruel ocean, Weeping in the fens and woodlands Of the never-pleasant Northland, In the dismal Sariola; With the Laplanders I've wandered, With the people filled with witchcraft." Promptly answers Ilmarinen, These the words the blacksmith uses: "O thou ancient Wainamoinen, Famous and eternal singer, Tell me of thy journey northward, Of thy wanderings in Lapland, Of thy dismal journey homeward." Spake the minstrel, Wainamoinen: "I have much to tell thee, brother, Listen to my wondrous story: In the Northland lives a virgin, In a village there, a maiden, That will not accept a lover, That a hero's hand refuses, That a wizard's heart disdaineth; All of Northland sings her praises, Sings her worth and magic beauty, Fairest maiden of Pohyola, Daughter of the earth and ocean.