CHAPTER VII
THE TEMPEST
With painful labor, Ilmarinen climbed from branch to branch. He looked upward and saw the moon with silver face smiling from the topmost boughs. He saw the seven stars of the Bear glittering like gold amid the leaves and blossoms. They seemed almost within his grasp. They beckoned to him, called to him; and he, with right goodwill, climbed up, up, towards the moonlight and the starlight.
“Foolish fellow!” he heard a voice whispering. “Foolish fellow! foolish fellow! foolish fellow!”
“Who is it that calls me names—me the prince of all smiths?” he asked in anger.
“It is I,” came the answer. “I am the tree which you are climbing—foolish fellow, foolish fellow, foolish fellow! The moon which you are after is only a shadow, foolish fellow. The stars are false as jack-o’-lanterns, foolish fellow. [[60]]Even I, the tree, am a delusion. Save yourself while you may, foolish fellow, foolish fellow!”
The Smith heard, but he heeded not. The moon was just a little above him; the stars were right at his fingers’ ends; in another moment he would grasp them all. On the ground far below him, the Minstrel was working his spells of magic. Ilmarinen saw him dancing, heard him singing, but understood him not.
“Come storm wind, come whirlwind,
Come swiftly, I say now;
Pick up the wise blacksmith