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of the Finnish Olympus, the harmonies of which no mortal hand could awaken, but which, "wheh the god himself touched the strings, accompanying it with his voice, caused the birds of the air, the beasts of the field and the fishes of the sea to listen at- tentively, while even Wainamoinen was himself moved to t^rs which fell like pearls down his robe." With the grouping of many weird and beautiful fancies, Longfellow, in " The Tales of a Way- side Inn," describes his Musician : He lived in that ideal world Whose language is not speech, but song ; Around him evermore the throng Of elves and sprites their dances whirled ; The Stromkarl sang, the cataract hurled Its headlong waters from the height ; And mingled in the wild delight The scream of sea birds in their flight, The rumor of the forest trees. The plunge of the implacable seas, The tumult of the wind at night, Voices of eld, like trumpets blowing, Old ballads, and wild melodies Through mist and darkness pouring forth, Like Elivagar's river flowing Out of the glaciers of the North. And when he played, the atmosphere Was filled with magic, and the ear Caught echoes of that Harp of Gold, Whose music had so weird a sound, The hunted stag forgot to bound, The leaping rivulet backward rolled. The birds came down from bush and tree. The dead came from beneath the sea. The maiden to the harper's knee. Geoege Wakeman.