Page:Kalevala (Kirby 1907) v1.djvu/35

Runo II]

Thus the third blow was delivered,

And the oak-tree fell before him,

For the mighty tree was shattered,

And the hundred boughs had fallen,

And the trunk extended eastward,

And the summit to the north-west,

And the leaves were scattered southward,

And the branches to the northward.

He who took a branch from off it,

Took prosperity unceasing,

What was broken from the summit,

Gave unending skill in magic;

He who broke a leafy branchlet,

Gathered with it love unending.

What remained of fragments scattered,

Chips of wood, and broken splinters,

On the bright expanse of ocean,

On the far-extending billows,

In the breeze were gently rocking,

On the waves were lightly drifted,

Like the boats on ocean’s surface,

Like the ships amid the sea-waves.

Northward drove the wind the fragments,

Where the little maid of Pohja,

Stood on beach, and washed her head-dress,

And she washed her clothes and rinsed them,

On the shingle by the ocean,

On a tongue of land projecting.

On the waves she saw the fragments,

Put them in her birch-bark wallet,

In her wallet took them homeward;

In the well-closed yard she stored them,

For the arrows of the sorcerer,

For the chase to furnish weapons.

When the oak at last had fallen,

And the evil tree was levelled,

Once again the sun shone brightly,

And the pleasant moonlight glimmered,

And the clouds extended widely,

And the rainbow spanned the heavens,