Black Magic Happens

 -Angry then grew Wainamoinen,

Wrathful waxed, and fiercely frowning,

Self-composed he broke his silence,

And began his wondrous singing.

Sang he not the tales of childhood,

Children's nonsense, wit of women,

Sang he rather bearded heroes,

That the children never heard of,

That the boys and maidens knew not

Known but half by bride and bridegroom,

Known in part by many heroes,

In these mournful days of evil,

Evil times our race befallen.

Grandly sang wise Wainamoinen,

Till the copper-bearing mountains,

And the flinty rocks and ledges

Heard his magic tones and trembled;

Mountain cliffs were torn to pieces,

All the ocean heaved and tumbled;

And the distant hills re-echoed.

Lo! the boastful Youkahainen

Is transfixed in silent wonder,

And his sledge with golden trimmings

Floats like brushwood on the billows;

Sings his braces into reed-grass,

Sings his reins to twigs of willow,

And to shrubs his golden cross-bench.

Lo! his birch-whip, pearl-enameled,

Floats a reed upon the border;

Lo! his steed with golden forehead,

Stands a statue on the waters;

Hames and traces are as fir-boughs,

And his collar, straw and sea-grass.

Still the minstrel sings enchantment,

Sings his sword with golden handle,

Sings it into gleam of lightning,

Hangs it in the sky above him;

Sings his cross-bow, gaily painted,

To a rainbow o'er the ocean;

Sings his quick and feathered arrows

Into hawks and screaming eagles;

Sings his dog with bended muzzle,

Into block of stone beside him;

Sings his cap from off his forehead,

Sings it into wreaths of vapor;

From his hands he sings his gauntlets

Into rushes on the waters;

Sings his vesture, purple-colored,

Into white clouds in the heavens;

Sings his girdle, set with jewels,

Into twinkling stars around him;

And alas! for Youkahainen,

Sings him into deeps of quick-sand;

Ever deeper, deeper, deeper,

In his torture, sinks the wizard,

To his belt in mud and water.

Now it was that Youkahainen

Comprehended but too clearly

What his folly, what the end was,

Of the journey he had ventured,

Vainly he had undertaken

For the glory of a contest

With the grand, old Wainamoinen.-

Kalevala