Beer for all, the tongues to quicken,
  Mead and beer the minds to freshen.
  Who is there to lead the singing,
  Lead the songs of Kalevala?
  Wainamoinen, old and truthful,
  The eternal, wise enchanter,
  Quick begins his incantations,
  Straightway sings the songs that follow.
  "Golden brethren, dearest kindred,
  Ye, my loved ones, wise and worthy
  Ye companions, highly-gifted,
  Listen to my simple sayings:
  Rarely stand the geese together,
  Sisters do not mate each other,
  Not together stand the brothers,
  Nor the children of one mother,
  In the countries of the Northland.
  "Shall we now begin the singing,
  Sing the songs of old tradition?
  Singers can but sing their wisdom,
  And the cuckoo call the spring-time,
  And the goddess of the heavens
  Only dyes the earth in beauty;
  So the goddesses of weaving
  Can but weave from dawn till twilight,
  Ever sing the youth of Lapland
  In their straw-shoes full of gladness,
  When the coarse-meat of the roebuck,
  Or of blue-moose they have eaten.
  Wherefore should I not be singing,
  And the children not be chanting
  Of the biscuits of Wainola,
  Of the bread of Kalew-waters?
  Even Sing the lads of Lapland
  In their straw-shoes filled with joyance,
  Drinking but a cup of water,
  Eating but the bitter tan-bark.
  Wherefore should I not be singing,
  And the children not be chanting
  Of the beer of Kalevala,
  Brewed from barley in perfection,
  Dressed in quaint and homely costume,
  As they sit beside their hearth-stones.
  Wherefore should I not be singing,
  And the children too be chanting
  Underneath these painted rafters,
  In these halls renowned and ancient?
  This the place for men to linger,
  This the court-room for the maidens,
  Near the foaming beer of barley,
  Honey-brewed in great abundance,
  Very near, the salmon-waters,
  Near, the nets for trout and whiting,
  Here where food is never wanting,
  Where the beer is ever brewing.
  Here Wainola's sons assemble,
  Here Wainola's daughters gather,
  Here they never eat in trouble,
  Here they live without regretting,
  In the life-time of the landlord,
  While the hostess lives and prospers.
  "Who shall first be sung and lauded?
  Shall it be the bride or bridegroom?
  Let us praise the bridegroom's father,
  Let the hero-host be chanted,
  Him whose home is in the forest,
  Him who built upon the mountains,
  Him who brought the trunks of lindens,
  With their tops and slender branches,
  Brought them to the best of places,
  Joined them skilfully together,
  For the mansion of the nation,
  For this famous hero-dwelling,
  Walls procured upon the lowlands,
  Rafters from the pine and fir-tree,
  From the woodlands beams of oak-wood,
  From the berry-plains the studding,
  Bark was furnished by the aspen,
  And the mosses from the fenlands.
  Trimly builded is this mansion,
  In a haven warmly sheltered;
  Here a hundred men have labored,
  On the roof have stood a thousand,
  As this spacious house was building,
  As this roof was tightly jointed.
  Here the ancient mansion-builder,
  When these rafters were erected,
  Lost in storms his locks of sable,
  Scattered by the winds of heaven.
  Often has the hero-landlord
  On the rocks his gloves forgotten,
  Left his hat upon the willows,
  Lost his mittens in the marshes;
  Oftentimes the mansion-builder,
  In the early hours of morning,
  Ere his workmen had awakened,
  Unperceived by all the village,
  Has arisen from his slumber,
  Left his cabin the snow-fields,
  Combed his locks among the branches,
  Bathed his eyes in dews of morning.
  "Thus obtained the pleasant landlord
  Friends to fill his spacious dwelling,
  Fill his benches with magicians,
  Fill his windows with enchanters,
  Fill his halls with wizard-singers,
  Fill his floors with ancient speakers,
  Fill his ancient court with strangers,
  Fill his hurdles with the needy;
  Thus the Kalew-host is lauded.
  "Now I praise the genial hostess,
  Who prepares the toothsome dinner,
  Fills with plenty all her tables,
  Bakes the honeyed loaves of barley,
  Kneads the dough with magic fingers,
  With her arms of strength and beauty,
  Bakes her bread in copper ovens,
  Feeds her guests and bids them welcome,
  Feeds them on the toothsome bacon,
  On the trout, and pike, and whiting,
  On the rarest fish in ocean,
  On the dainties of Wainola.
  "Often has the faithful hostess
  Risen from her couch in silence,
  Ere the crowing of the watcher,
  To prepare the wedding-banquet,
  Make her tables look attractive.
  Brew the honey-beer of wedlock.
  Excellently has the housewife,
  Has the hostess filled with wisdom,
  Brewed the beer from hops and barley,
  From the corn of Kalevala,
  From the wheat-malt honey-seasoned,
  Stirred the beer with graceful fingers,
  At the oven in the penthouse,
  In the chamber swept and polished.
  Neither did the prudent hostess,
  Beautiful, and full of wisdom,
  Let the barley sprout too freely,
  Lest the beer should taste of black-earth,
  Be too bitter in the brewing,
  Often went she to the garners,
  Went alone at hour of midnight,
  Was not frightened by the black-wolf,
  Did not fear the beasts of woodlands.
  "Now the hostess I have lauded,
  Let me praise the favored suitor,
  Now the honored hero-bridegroom,
  Best of all the village-masters.
  Clothed in purple is the hero,
  Raiment brought from distant nations,
  Tightly fitting to his body;
  Snugly sets his coat of ermine,
  To the floor it hangs in beauty,
  Trailing from his neck and shoulders,
  Little of his vest appearing,
  Peeping through his outer raiment,
  Woven by the Moon's fair daughters,
  And his vestment silver-tinselled.
  Dressed in neatness is the suitor,
  Round his waist a belt of copper,
  Hammered by the Sun's sweet maidens,
  Ere the early fires were lighted,
  Ere the fire had been discovered.
  Dressed in richness is the bridegroom,
  On his feet are silken stockings,
  Silken ribbons on his ankles,
  Gold and silver interwoven.
  Dressed in beauty is the bridegroom,
  On his feet are shoes of deer-skin,
  Like the swans upon the water,
  Like the blue-duck on the sea-waves,
  Like the thrush among the willows,
  Like the water-birds of Northland.
  Well adorned the hero-suitor,
  With his locks of golden color,
  With his gold-beard finely braided,
  Hero-hat upon his forehead,
  Piercing through the forest branches,
  Reaching to the clouds of heaven,
  Bought with countless gold and silver,
  Priceless is the suitor's head-gear.
  "Now the bridegroom has been lauded,
  I will praise the young bride's playmate,
  Day-companion in her childhood,
  In the maiden's magic mansion.
  Whence was brought the merry maiden,
  From the village of Tanikka?
  Thence was never brought the playmate,
  Playmate of the bride in childhood.
  Has she come from distant nations,
  From the waters of the Dwina,
  O'er the ocean far-outstretching?
  Not from Dwina came the maiden,
  Did not sail across the waters;
  Grew as berry in the mountains,
  As a strawberry of sweetness,
  On the fields the child of beauty,
  In the glens the golden flower.
  Thence has come the young bride's playmate,
  Thence arose her fair companion.
  Tiny are her feet and fingers,
  Small her lips of scarlet color,
  Like the maiden's loom of Suomi;
  Eyes that shine in kindly beauty
  Like the twinkling stars of heaven;
  Beam the playmate's throbbing temples
  Like the moonlight on the waters.
  Trinkets has the bride's companion,
  On her neck a golden necklace,
  In her tresses, silken ribbons,
  On her arms are golden bracelets,
  Golden rings upon her fingers,
  Pearls are set in golden ear-rings,
  Loops of gold upon her temples,
  And with pearls her brow is studded.
  Northland thought the Moon was shining
  When her jeweled ear-ringsglistened;
  Thought the Sun had left his station
  When her girdle shone in beauty;
  Thought a ship was homeward sailing
  When her colored head-gear fluttered.
  Thus is praised the bride's companion,
  Playmate of the Rainbow-maiden.
  "Now I praise the friends assembled,
  All appear in graceful manners;
  If the old are wise and silent,
  All the youth are free and merry,
  All the guests are fair and worthy.
  Never was there in Wainola,
  Never will there be in Northland,
  Such a company assembled;
  All the children speak in joyance,
  All the aged move sedately;
  Dressed in white are all the maidens,
  Like the hoar-frost of the morning,
  Like the welcome dawn of spring-time,
  Like the rising of the daylight.
  Silver then was more abundant,
  Gold among the guests in plenty,
  On the hills were money, pockets,
  Money-bags along the valleys,
  For the friends that were invited,
  For the guests in joy assembled.
  All the friends have now been lauded,
  Each has gained his meed of honor."
  Wainamoinen, old and truthful,
  Song-deliverer of Northland,
  Swung himself upon the fur-bench
  Or his magic sledge of copper,
  Straightway hastened to his hamlet,
  Singing as he journeyed onward,
  Singing charms and incantations,
  Singing one day, then a second,
  All the third day chanting legends.
  On the rocks the runners rattled,
  Hung the sledge upon a birch-stump,
  Broke it into many pieces,
  With the magic of his singing;
  Double were the runners bended,
  All the parts were torn asunder,
  And his magic sledge was ruined.
  Then the good, old Wainamoinen
  Spake these words in meditation:
  "Is there one among this number,
  In this rising generation,
  Or perchance among the aged,
  In the passing generation,
  That will go to Mana's kingdom,
  To the empire of Tuoni,
  There to get the magic auger
  From the master of Manala,
  That I may repair my snow-sledge,
  Or a second sledge may fashion?"
  What the younger people answered
  Was the answer of the aged:
  "Not among the youth of Northland,
  Nor among the aged heroes,
  Is there one of ample courage,
  That has bravery sufficient,
  To attempt the reckless journey
  To the kingdom of Tuoni,
  To Manala's fields and castles,
  Thence to bring Tuoni's auger,
  Wherewithal to mend thy snow-sledge,
  Build anew thy sledge of magic."
  Thereupon old Wainamoinen,
  The eternal wisdom-singer,
  Went again to Mana's empire,
  To the kingdom of Tuoni,
  Crossed the sable stream of Deathland,
  To the castles of Manala,
  Found the auger of Tuoni,
  Brought the instrument in safety.
  Straightway sings old Wainamoinen,
  Sings to life a purple forest,
  In the forest, slender birches,
  And beside them, mighty oak-trees,
  Shapes them into shafts and runners,
  Moulds them by his will and power,
  Makes anew his sledge of magic.
  On his steed he lays the harness,
  Binds him to his sledge securely,
  Seats himself upon the cross-bench,
  And the racer gallops homeward,
  To the manger filled and waiting,
  To the stable of his master;
  Brings the ancient Wainamoinen,
  Famous bard and wise enchanter,
  To the threshold of his dwelling,
  To his home in Kalevala.