m to sleep, in the midst of the wild
marsh-land, where the wells of the waters begin.' It is a curious
instance of the animism, the vivid power of personifying all the beings
and forces of nature, which marks the 'Kalevala,' that the Cold speaks to
Lemminkainen in human voice, and seeks a reconciliation.

At this part of the epic there is an obvious lacuna. The story goes to
Kullervo, a luckless man, who serves as shepherd to Ilmarinen. Thinking
himself ill-treated by the heroic smith's wife, the shepherd changes his
flock into bears and wolves, which devour their mistress. Then he
returns to his own home, where he learns that his sister has been lost
for many days, and is believed to be dead. Travelling in search of her
he meets a girl, loves her, and all unwittingly commits an inexpiable
offence. 'Then,' says the 'Kalevala,' 'came up the new dawn, and the
maiden spoke, saying, "What is thy race, bold young man, and who is thy
father?" Kullervo said, "I am the wretched son of Kalerva; but tell me,
what is thy race, and who is thy father?" Then said the maiden, "I am
the wretched daughter of Kalerva. Ah! would God that I had died, then
might I have grown with the green grass, and blossomed with the flowers,
and never known this sorrow." With this she sprang into the midst of the
foaming waves, and found peace in Tuoni, and rest in the waters of
forgetfulness.' Then there was no word for Kullervo, but the bitter moan
of the brother in the terrible Scotch ballad of the Bonny Hind, and no
rest but in death by his own sword, where grass grows never on his
sister's tomb.

The epic now draws to a close. Ilmarinen seeks a new wife in Pohja, and
endeavours with Wainamoinen's help to recover the mystic sampo. On the
voyage, the Runoia makes a harp out of the bones of a monstrous fish, so
strange a harp that none may play it but himself. When he played, all
four-footed things came about him, and the white birds dropped down 'like
a storm of snow.' The maidens of the sun and the moon paused in their
weaving, and the golden thread fell from their hands. The Ancient One of
the sea-water listened, and the nymphs of the wells forgot to comb their
loose locks with the golden combs. All men and maidens and little
children wept, amid the silent joy of nature; nay, the great harper wept,
and _of his tears were pearls made_.

In the war with Pohjola the heroes were victorious, but the sampo was
broken in the fight, and l