When the aged played upon it, Dissonance their only music. Spake the wizard, Lemminkainen: "O ye witless, worthless children, O ye senseless, useless maidens, O ye wisdom-lacking heroes, Cannot play this harp of magic, Cannot touch the notes of concord! Give to me this thing or beauty, Hither bring the harp of fish-bones, Let me try my skillful fingers." Lemminkainen touched the harp-strings, Carefully the strings adjusted, Turned the harp in all directions, Fingered all the strings in sequence, Played the instrument of wonder, But it did not speak in concord, Did not sing the notes of joyance. Spake the ancient Wainamoinen: "There is none among these maidens, None among these youthful heroes, None among the old magicians That can play the harp of magic, Touch the notes of joy and pleasure. Let us take the harp to Pohya, There to find a skillful player That can touch the strings in concord." Then they sailed to Sariola, To Pohyola took the wonder, There to find the harp a master. All the heroes of Pohyola, All the boys and all the maidens, Ancient dames, and bearded minstrels, Vainly touched the harp of beauty. Louhi, hostess of the Northland, Took the harp-strings in her fingers; All the youth of Sariola, Youth of every tribe and station, Vainly touched the harp of fish-bone; Could not find the notes of joyance, Dissonance their only pleasure; Shrieked the harp-strings like the whirlwinds, All the tones wore harsh and frightful. In a corner slept a blind man, Lay a gray-beard on the oven, Rousing from his couch of slumber, Murmured thus within his corner: "Cease at once this wretched playing, Make an end of all this discord; It benumbs mine ears for hearing, Racks my brain, despoils my senses, Robs me of the sweets of sleeping. If the harp of Suomi's people True delight cannot engender, Cannot bring the notes of pleasure, Cannot sing to sleep the aged, Cast the thing upon the waters, Sink it in the deeps of ocean, Take it back to Kalevala, To the home of him that made it, To the bands of its creator." Thereupon the harp made answer, To the blind man sang these measures: "Shall not fall upon the waters, Shall not sink within the ocean; I will play for my creator, Sing in melody and concord In the fingers of my master." Carefully the harp was carried To the artist that had made it To the hands of its creator, To the feet of Wainamoinen. RUNE XLI. WAINAMOINEN'S HARP-SONGS.