Rune XX-c

"Thus did Osmotar of Kalew Brew together hops and barley, Could not generate the ferment. Thinking long and long debating, Thus she spake in troubled accents: 'What will bring the effervescence, Who will add the needed factor, That the beer may foam and sparkle, May ferment and be delightful?' Kalevatar, magic maiden, Grace and beauty in her fingers, Swiftly moving, lightly stepping, In her trimly-buckled sandals, Steps upon the birch-wood bottom, Turns one way, and then another, In the centre of the caldron; Finds within a splinter lying From the bottom lifts the fragment, Turns it in her fingers, musing: 'What may come of this I know not, In the hands of magic maidens, In the virgin hands of Kapo, Snowy virgin of the Northland!' "Kalevatar took the splinter To the magic virgin, Kapo, Who by unknown force and insight. Rubbed her hands and knees together, And produced a snow-white squirrel; Thus instructed she her creature, Gave the squirrel these directions: 'Snow-white squirrel, mountain-jewel, Flower of the field and forest, Haste thee whither I would send thee, Into Metsola's wide limits, Into Tapio's seat of wisdom; Hasten through the heavy tree-tops, Wisely through the thickest branches, That the eagle may not seize thee, Thus escape the bird of heaven. Bring me ripe cones from the fir-tree, From the pine-tree bring me seedlings, Bring them to the hands of Kapo, For the beer of Osmo's daughter.' Quickly hastened forth the squirrel, Quickly sped the nimble broad-tail, Swiftly hopping on its journey From one thicket to another, From the birch-tree to the aspen, From the pine-tree to the willow, From the sorb-tree to the alder, Jumping here and there with method, Crossed the eagle-woods in safety, Into Metsola's wide limits, Into Tapio's seat of wisdom; There perceived three magic pine-trees, There perceived three smaller fir-trees, Quickly climbed the dark-green branches, Was not captured by the eagle, Was not mangled in his talons; Broke the young cones from the fir-tree, Cut the shoots of pine-tree branches, Hid the cones within his pouches, Wrapped them in his fur-grown mittens Brought them to the hands of Kapo, To the magic virgin's fingers. Kapo took the cones selected, Laid them in the beer for ferment, But it brought no effervescence, And the beer was cold and lifeless. "Osmotar, the beer-preparer, Kapo, brewer of the liquor, Deeply thought and long considered: 'What will bring the effervescence, Who will lend me aid efficient, That the beer may foam and sparkle, May ferment and be refreshing?' "Kalevatar, sparkling maiden, Grace and beauty in her fingers, Softly moving, lightly stepping, In her trimly-buckled sandals, Steps again upon the bottom, Turns one way and then another, In the centre of the caldron, Sees a chip upon the bottom, Takes it from its place of resting, Looks upon the chip and muses 'What may come of this I know not, In the hands of mystic maidens, In the hands of magic Kapo, In the virgin's snow-white fingers.' "Kalevatar took the birch-chip To the magic maiden, Kapo, Gave it to the white-faced maiden.