Of Pohyola are pursuing;
Look again with keener vision.” 
Thereupon wild Lemminkainen
Looked again and spake as follows: 
“In the distance seems a forest,
In the south appears an island,
Aspen-groves with falcons laden,
Alders laden with the wood-grouse.” 
Spake the ancient Wainamoinen: 
“Surely thou art speaking falsehood;
’Tis no forest in the distance,
Neither aspen, birch, nor alders,
Laden with the grouse, or falcon;
I am fearful that Pohyola
Follows with her magic armies;
Look again with keener vision.” 
Then the daring Lemminkainen
Looked the third time from the topmast,
Spake and these the words be uttered: 
“From the north a boat pursues us,
Driven by a hundred rowers,
Carrying a thousand heroes!”
Knew at last old Wainamoinen,
Knew the truth of his inquiry,
Thus addressed his fleeing people: 
“Row, O blacksmith, Ilmarinen,
Row, O mighty Lemminkainen,
Row, all ye my noble oarsmen,
That our boat may skim the waters,
May escape from our pursuers!”
Rowed the blacksmith, Ilmarinen,
Rowed the mighty Lemminkainen,
With them rowed the other heroes;
Heavily groaned the helm of birch-wood,
Loudly rattled all the row-locks;
All the vessel shook and trembled,
Like a cataract it thundered
As it plowed the waste of waters,
Tossing sea-foam to the heavens. 
Strongly rowed Wainola’s forces,
Strongly were their arms united;
But the distance did not widen
Twixt the boat and their pursuers. 
Quick the hero, Wainamoinen,
Saw misfortune hanging over,
Saw destruction in the distance
Heavy-hearted, long reflecting,
Trouble-laden, spake as follows: 
“Only is there one salvation,
Know one miracle for safety!”
Then he grasped his box of tinder,
From the box he took a flint-stone,
Of the tinder took some fragments,
Cast the fragments on the waters,
Spake these words of master-magic. 
“Let from these arise a mountain
From the bottom of the deep-sea,
Let a rock arise in water,
That the war-ship of Pohyola,
With her thousand men and heroes,
May be wrecked upon the summit,
By the aid of surging billows.” 
Instantly a reef arises,
In the sea springs up a mountain,
Eastward, westward, through the waters. 
Came the war-ship of the Northland,
Through the floods the boat came steering,
Sailed against the mountain-ledges,
Fastened on the rocks in water,
Wrecked upon the Mount of Magic. 
In the deep-sea fell the topmasts,
Fell the sails upon the billows,
Carried by the winds and waters
O’er the waves of toil and trouble. 
Louhi, hostess of Pohyola,
Tries to free her sinking vessel,
Tries to rescue from destruction;
But she cannot raise the war-ship,
Firmly fixed upon the mountain;
Shattered are the ribs and rudder,
Ruined is the ship of Pohya. 
Then the hostess of the Northland,