ably prevented the translation of other of the runes. In 1888 Dr. John Martin Crawford, of Cincinnati, put forth a translation of the entire poem, which is now for the first time made accessible to the English-speaking race. From this admirable translation the following extracts are
WAINAMOINEN LOSES THE MAGIC WORDS.
Wainamoinen, old and skilful,
The eternal wonder-worker,
Builds his vessel by enchantment;
Builds his boat, by art of magic,
From the timber of the oak-tree,
From its posts and planks and flooring;
Sings a song, and joins the framework;
Sings a second, sets the siding;
Sings a third time, sets the rowlocks;
Fashions oars and ribs and rudder,
Joins the sides and ribs together.
When the ribs were firmly fastened,
When the sides were tightly jointed,
Then alas! three words were wanting.
Lost the words of master-magic,
How to fasten in the ledge,
How the stern should be completed,
How complete the boat's forecastle.
Then the ancient Wainamoinen,
Wise and wonderful enchanter,
Heavy-hearted, spake as follows:
"Woe is me, my life hard-fated!
Never will this magic vessel
Pass in safety o'er the water,
Never ride the rough sea-billows."
Then he thought and long considered,
Where to find these words of magic,
Find the lost-words of the Master:
From the brains of countless swallows,
From the heads of swans in dying,
From the plumage of the sea-duck?
For these words the hero searches,
Kills of swans a goodly number,
Kills a flock of fattened sea-ducks,
Kills of swallows countless numbers;
Cannot find the words of magic,
Not the lost-words of the Master.
Wainamoinen, wisdom-singer,
Still reflected and debated
"I perchance may find the lost-words
On the tongue of summer-reindeer,
In the mouth of the white squirrel."
Now again he hunts the lost-words,
Hastes to find the magic sayings;
Kills a countless host of reindeer,
Kills a rafter-ful of squirrels ;
Finds of words a goodly number,
But they are of little value,
Cannot find the magic lost-words.
Long he thought and well considered :-
"I can find of words a hundred
In the dwellings of Tuoni,
In the castles of Manala."
Wainamoinen quickly journeys
To the kingdom of Tuoni,
There to find the ancient wisdom,
There to learn the secret doctrine;
Hastens on through fen and forests
Over meads and over marshes,
Through the ever-rising woodlands;
Journeys one week through the brambles,
And a second through the hazels,
Through the junipers the third week,
When appear Tuoni's islands,
And the hill-tops of Manala.
WAINAMOINEN LEARNS THE MAGIC WORDS.
When the ancient Wainamoinen
Well had learned the magic sayings,
Learned the ancient songs and legends,
Learned the words of ancient wisdom,
Learned the lost-words of the Master,
Well had learned the secret doctrine,
He prepared to leave the body
Of the wisdom-bard, Wipunen,
Leave the bosom of the master,
Leave the wonderful enchanter.
Spake the hero, Wainamoinen :-
"O thou Antero Wipunen,
Open wide thy mouth and fauces;
I have found the magic lost-words,
I will leave thee now forever,
Leave thee and thy wondrous singing;
Will return to Kalevala,
To Wainola's fields and firesides."
Thus Wipunen spake in answer :-
"Many are the things I've eaten,
Eaten bear, and elk, and reindeer,
Eaten ox, and wolf and wild-boar,
Eaten man, and eaten hero;
Never, never, have I eaten
Such a thing as Wainamoinen.
Thou hast found what thou desirest,
Found the three words of the Master;
Go in peace, and ne'er returning,
Take my blessing on thy going."
Thereupon the bard Wipunen
Opens wide his mouth, and wider;
And the good old Wainamoinen
Straightway leaves the wise enchanter,
Leaves Wipunen's great abdomen.
From the mouth he glides and journeys
O'er the hills and vales of Northland,
Swift as red-deer of the forest,
Swift as yellow breasted marten,
To the firesides of Wainola,
To the plains of Kalevala.
Straightway hastes he to the smithy
Of his brother, Ilmarinen.
Thus the iron artist greets him :—
"Hast thou found the long-lost wisdom? Hast thou learned the secret doctrine : Hast thou learned the master-magic,
How to fasten in the ledges,
How the stern should be completed,
How complete the ship's forecastle?"
Wainamoinen thus made answer :-
"I have learned of words a hundred,
Learned a thousand incantations,
Hidden deep for many ages;
Learned the words of ancient wisdom,
Found the keys of secret doctrine,
Found the lost-words of the Master."
Wainamoinen, magic-builder,
Straightway journeys to his vessel,
To the spot of magic labor,
Quickly fastens in the ledges,
Firmly binds the stern together,
And completes the boat's forecastle.
Thus the ancient Wainamoinen
Built the boat with magic only,
And with magic launched his vessel;
Using not the hand to touch it,
Using not the foot to move it,
Using not the knee to turn it,
Using nothing to propel it.
Thus the third task was completed
For the hostess of Pohyola,
Dowry for the Maid of Beauty,
Sitting on the arch of heaven,
On the bow of many colors.
THE DEPARTURE OF WAINAMOINEN.
As the years passed, Wainamoinen
Recognized his waning powers,
Empty-handed, heavy-hearted,
Sang his farewell song to Northland,
To the people of Wainola :
Sang himself a boat of copper.
Beautiful his bark of magic;
At the helm sat the magician,
Sat the ancient wisdom-singer.
Westward, westward, sailed the hero
O'er the blue-back of the waters,
Singing as he left Wainola;
This his plaintive song and echo :-
"Suns may rise and set in Suomi,
Rise and set for generations,
When the North will learn my teachings,
Will recall my wisdom-sayings,
Hungry for the true religion;
Then will Suomi need my coming,
Watch for me at dawn of morning,
That I may bring back the Sampo
Bring anew the harp of joyance,
Bring again the golden moonlight,
Bring again the silver sunshine,
Peace and plenty to the Northland."
Thus the ancient Wainamoinen,
In his copper-banded vessel,
Left his tribe in Kalevala,
Sailing o'er the rolling billows,
Sailing through the azure vapors,
Sailing through the dusk of evening,
Sailing to the fiery sunset,
To the lower verge of heaven;
Quickly gained the far horizon,
Gained the purple-colored harbor,
There his bark he firmly anchored,
Rested in his boat of copper ;
But he left his harp of magic,
Left his songs and wisdom-sayings
To the lasting joy of Suomi.
Now I end my measured singing,
Bid my weary tongue keep silence,
Leave my songs to other singers.
Horses have their times of resting
After many hours of labor;
Even sickles will grow weary
When they have been long at reaping;
Waters seek a quiet haven
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