Tapio's Seat of Wisdom

 SAN SAN MILL

40 40 INTELLECT OF THE LORD

20:20 CURRICULUM

-"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.

Kapo, by the aid of magic,

Rubbed her hands and knees together,

And produced a magic marten,

And the marten, golden-breasted;

Thus instructed she her creature,

Gave the marten these directions.

'Thou, my golden-breasted marten,

Thou my son of golden color,

Haste thou whither I may send thee,

To the bear-dens of the mountain,

To the grottoes of the growler,

Gather yeast upon thy fingers,

Gather foam from lips of anger,

From the lips of bears in battle,

Bring it to the hands of Kapo,

To the hands of Osmo's daughter.'

"Then the marten golden-breasted,

Full consenting, hastened onward,

Quickly bounding on his journey,

Lightly leaping through the distance

Leaping o'er the widest rivers,

Leaping over rocky fissures,

To the bear-dens of the mountain,

To the grottoes of the growler,

Where the wild-bears fight each other,

Where they pass a dread existence,

Iron rocks, their softest pillows,

In the fastnesses of mountains;

From their lips the foam was dripping,

From their tongues the froth of anger;

This the marten deftly gathered,

Brought it to the maiden, Kapo,

Laid it in her dainty fingers.

"Osmotar, the beer-preparer,

Brewer of the beer of barley,

Used the beer-foam as a ferment;

But it brought no effervescence,

Did not make the liquor sparkle.

"Osmotar, the beer-preparer,

Thought again, and long debated:

'Who or what will bring the ferment,

Th at my beer may not be lifeless?'

"Kalevatar, magic 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 pod upon the bottom,

Lifts it in her snow-white fingers,

Turns it o'er and o'er, and muses:

'What may come of this I know not,

In the hands of magic maidens,

In the hands of mystic Kapo,

In the snowy virgin's fingers?'

"Kalevatar, sparkling maiden,

Gave the pod to magic Kapo;

Kapo, by the aid of magic,

Rubbed the pod upon her knee-cap,

And a honey-bee came flying

From the pod within her fingers,

Kapo thus addressed her birdling:

'Little bee with honeyed winglets,

King of all the fragrant flowers,

Fly thou whither I direct thee,

To the islands in the ocean,

To the water-cliffs and grottoes,

Where asleep a maid has fallen,

Girdled with a belt of copper

By her side are honey-grasses,

By her lips are fragrant flowers,

Herbs and flowers honey-laden;

Gather there the sweetened juices,

Gather honey on thy winglets,

From the calyces of flowers,

From the tips of seven petals,

Bring it to the hands of Kapo,

To the hands of Osmo's daughter.'

"Then the bee, the swift-winged birdling,

Flew away with lightning-swiftness

On his journey to the islands,

O'er the high waves of the ocean;

Journeyed one day, then a second,

Journeyed all the next day onward,

Till the third day evening brought him

To the islands in the ocean,

To the water-cliffs and grottoes;

Found the maiden sweetly sleeping,

In her silver-tinselled raiment,

Girdled with a belt of copper,

In a nameless meadow, sleeping,

In the honey-fields of magic;

By her side were honeyed grasses,

By her lips were fragrant flowers,

Silver stalks with golden petals;

Dipped its winglets in the honey,

Dipped its fingers in the juices

Of the sweetest of the flowers,

Brought the honey back to Kapo,

To the mystic maiden's fingers.

"Osmotar, the beer-preparer,

Placed the honey in the liquor;

Kapo mixed the beer and honey,

And the wedding-beer fermented;

Rose the live beer upward, upward,

From the bottom of the vessels,

Upward in the tubs of birch-wood,

Foaming higher, higher, higher,

Till it touched the oaken handles,

Overflowing all the caldrons;

To the ground it foamed and sparkled,

Sank away in sand and gravel.-

Kalevala Spirit Dwells in This Module

7 O'Clock Hour Skill-Builder

TON TON RA

12 STONE LEGEND

BRUTALIST SCORE

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