On the strand the boat he anchors, Looks in every nook and corner For the fragments of the monster; Gathers well the parts together, Speaks these words to those about him: "Let the oldest of the heroes Slice for me the pike of Northland, Slice the fish to fitting morsels." Answered all the men and heroes, And the maidens spake, assenting: "Worthier the catcher's fingers, Wainamoinen's hands are sacred!" Thereupon the wise magician Drew a fish-knife from his girdle, Sliced the pike to fitting morsels, Spake again to those about him: "Let the youngest of the maidens Cook for me the pike of Northland, Set for me a goodly dinner!" All the maidens quick responded, All the virgins vied in cooking; Neither could outdo the other, Thus the pike was rendered toothsome. Feasted all the old magicians, Feasted all the younger heroes, Feasted all the men and maidens; On the rocks were left the fish-bones, Only relics of their feasting. Wainamoinen, ancient minstrel, Looked upon the pile of fragments, On the fish-bones looked and pondered, Spake these words in meditation: "Wondrous things might be constructed From the relies of this monster, Were they in the blacksmith's furnace, In the hands of the magician, In the hands of Ilmarinen." Spake the blacksmith of Wainola: "Nothing fine can be constructed From the bones and teeth of fishes By the skillful forger-artist, By the hands of the magician." These the words of Wainamoinen: "Something wondrous might be builded From these jaws, and teeth, and fish-bones; Might a magic harp be fashioned, Could an artist be discovered That could shape them to my wishes." But he found no fish-bone artist That could shape the harp of joyance From the relies of their feasting, From the jaw-bones of the monster, To the will of the magician. Thereupon wise Wainamoinen Set himself at work designing; Quick became a fish-bone artist, Made a harp of wondrous beauty, Lasting joy and pride of Suomi. Whence the harp's enchanting arches? From the jaw-bones of the monster. Whence the necessary harp-pins? From the pike-teeth firmly fastened. Whence the sweetly singing harp-strings? From the tail of Lempo's stallion. Thus was born the harp of magic From the mighty pike of Northland, From the relies from the feasting Of the heroes of Wainola. All the young men came to view it, All the aged with their children, Mothers with their beauteous daughters, Maidens with their golden tresses; All the people on the islands Came to view the harp of joyance, Pride and beauty of the Northland. Wainamoinen, ancient minstrel, Let the aged try the harp-strings, Gave it to the young magicians, To the dames and to their daughters, To the maidens, silver-tinselled, To the singers of Wainola. When the young men touched the harp-strings, Then arose the notes of discord;