3690 lines
144 KiB
Plaintext
3690 lines
144 KiB
Plaintext
The Internet Wiretap edition of
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BEOWULF
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From The Harvard Classics, Volume 49.
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Copyright, 1910 by P.F. Collier & Son.
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This text is in the public domain, released July 1993.
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Prepared by Robin Katsuya-Corbet <corbet@astro.psu.edu>
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from scanner output provided by Internet Wiretap.
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B E O W U L F
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Translated by Francis B. Gummere
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PRELUDE OF THE FOUNDER OF THE DANISH HOUSE
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LO, praise of the prowess of people-kings
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of spear-armed Danes, in days long sped,
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we have heard, and what honor the athelings
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won!
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Oft Scyld the Scefing from squadroned foes,
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from many a tribe, the mead-bench tore,
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awing the earls. Since erst he lay
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friendless, a foundling, fate repaid him:
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for he waxed under welkin, in wealth he throve,
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till before him the folk, both far and near,
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who house by the whale-path, heard his mandate,
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gave him gifts: a good king he!
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To him an heir was afterward born,
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a son in his halls, whom heaven sent
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to favor the folk, feeling their woe
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that erst they had lacked an earl for leader
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so long a while; the Lord endowed him,
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the Wielder of Wonder, with world's renown.
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Famed was this Beowulf:[1] far flew the boast of him,
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son of Scyld, in the Scandian lands.
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So becomes it a youth to quit him well
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with his father's friends, by fee and gift,
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that to aid him, aged, in after days,
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come warriors willing, should war draw nigh,
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liegemen loyal: by lauded deeds
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shall an earl have honor in every clan.
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Forth he fared at the fated moment,
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sturdy Scyld to the shelter of God.
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Then they bore him over to ocean's billow,
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loving clansmen, as late he charged them,
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while wielded words the winsome Scyld,
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the leader beloved who long had ruled....
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In the roadstead rocked a ring-dight vessel,
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ice-flecked, outbound, atheling's barge:
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there laid they down their darling lord
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on the breast of the boat, the breaker-of-rings,[2]
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by the mast the mighty one. Many a treasure
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fetched from far was freighted with him.
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No ship have I known so nobly dight
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with weapons of war and weeds of battle,
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with breastplate and blade: on his bosom lay
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a heaped hoard that hence should go
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far o'er the flood with him floating away.
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No less these loaded the lordly gifts,
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thanes' huge treasure, than those had done
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who in former time forth had sent him
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sole on the seas, a suckling child.
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High o'er his head they hoist the standard,
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a gold-wove banner; let billows take him,
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gave him to ocean. Grave were their spirits,
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mournful their mood. No man is able
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to say in sooth, no son of the halls,
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no hero 'neath heaven, -- who harbored that freight!
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[1] Not, of course, Beowulf the Great, hero of the epic.
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[2] Kenning for king or chieftain of a comitatus: he breaks off gold from
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the spiral rings -- often worn on the arm -- and so rewards his followers.
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I
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Now Beowulf bode in the burg of the Scyldings,
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leader beloved, and long he ruled
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in fame with all folk, since his father had gone
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away from the world, till awoke an heir,
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haughty Healfdene, who held through life,
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sage and sturdy, the Scyldings glad.
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Then, one after one, there woke to him,
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to the chieftain of clansmen, children four:
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Heorogar, then Hrothgar, then Halga brave;
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and I heard that -- was --'s queen,
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the Heathoscylfing's helpmate dear.
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To Hrothgar was given such glory of war,
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such honor of combat, that all his kin
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obeyed him gladly till great grew his band
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of youthful comrades. It came in his mind
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to bid his henchmen a hall uprear,
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a master mead-house, mightier far
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than ever was seen by the sons of earth,
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and within it, then, to old and young
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he would all allot that the Lord had sent him,
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save only the land and the lives of his men.
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Wide, I heard, was the work commanded,
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for many a tribe this mid-earth round,
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to fashion the folkstead. It fell, as he ordered,
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in rapid achievement that ready it stood there,
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of halls the noblest: Heorot[1] he named it
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whose message had might in many a land.
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Not reckless of promise, the rings he dealt,
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treasure at banquet: there towered the hall,
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high, gabled wide, the hot surge waiting
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of furious flame.[2] Nor far was that day
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when father and son-in-law stood in feud
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for warfare and hatred that woke again.[3]
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With envy and anger an evil spirit
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endured the dole in his dark abode,
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that he heard each day the din of revel
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high in the hall: there harps rang out,
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clear song of the singer. He sang who knew[4]
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tales of the early time of man,
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how the Almighty made the earth,
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fairest fields enfolded by water,
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set, triumphant, sun and moon
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for a light to lighten the land-dwellers,
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and braided bright the breast of earth
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with limbs and leaves, made life for all
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of mortal beings that breathe and move.
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So lived the clansmen in cheer and revel
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a winsome life, till one began
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to fashion evils, that field of hell.
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Grendel this monster grim was called,
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march-riever[5] mighty, in moorland living,
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in fen and fastness; fief of the giants
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the hapless wight a while had kept
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since the Creator his exile doomed.
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On kin of Cain was the killing avenged
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by sovran God for slaughtered Abel.
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Ill fared his feud,[6] and far was he driven,
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for the slaughter's sake, from sight of men.
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Of Cain awoke all that woful breed,
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Etins[7] and elves and evil-spirits,
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as well as the giants that warred with God
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weary while: but their wage was paid them!
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[1] That is, "The Hart," or "Stag," so called from decorations in the
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gables that resembled the antlers of a deer. This hall has been carefully
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described in a pamphlet by Heyne. The building was rectangular, with
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opposite doors -- mainly west and east -- and a hearth in the middle of the
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single room. A row of pillars down each side, at some distance from
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the walls, made a space which was raised a little above the main floor,
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and was furnished with two rows of seats. On one side, usually south,
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was the high-seat midway between the doors. Opposite this, on the other
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raised space, was another seat of honor. At the banquet soon to be
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described, Hrothgar sat in the south or chief high-seat, and Beowulf oppo-
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site to him. The scene for a flying (see below, v.499) was thus very
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effectively set. Planks on trestles -- the "board" of later English litera-
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ture -- formed the tables just in front of the long rows of seats, and were
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taken away after banquets, when the retainers were ready to stretch them-
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selves out for sleep on the benches.
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[2] Fire was the usual end of these halls. See v. 781 below. One thinks
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of the splendid scene at the end of the Nibelungen, of the Nialssaga, of
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Saxo's story of Amlethus, and many a less famous instance.
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[3] It is to be supposed that all hearers of this poem knew how Hrothgar's
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hall was burnt, -- perhaps in the unsuccessful attack made on him by his
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son-in-law Ingeld.
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[4] A skilled minstrel. The Danes are heathens, as one is told presently;
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but this lay of beginnings is taken from Genesis.
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[5] A disturber of the border, one who sallies from his haunt in the fen
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and roams over the country near by. This probably pagan nuisance is now
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furnished with biblical credentials as a fiend or devil in good standing, so
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that all Christian Englishmen might read about him. "Grendel" may
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mean one who grinds and crushes.
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[6] Cain's.
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[7] Giants.
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II
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WENT he forth to find at fall of night
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that haughty house, and heed wherever
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the Ring-Danes, outrevelled, to rest had gone.
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Found within it the atheling band
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asleep after feasting and fearless of sorrow,
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of human hardship. Unhallowed wight,
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grim and greedy, he grasped betimes,
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wrathful, reckless, from resting-places,
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thirty of the thanes, and thence he rushed
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fain of his fell spoil, faring homeward,
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laden with slaughter, his lair to seek.
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Then at the dawning, as day was breaking,
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the might of Grendel to men was known;
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then after wassail was wail uplifted,
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loud moan in the morn. The mighty chief,
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atheling excellent, unblithe sat,
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labored in woe for the loss of his thanes,
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when once had been traced the trail of the fiend,
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spirit accurst: too cruel that sorrow,
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too long, too loathsome. Not late the respite;
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with night returning, anew began
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ruthless murder; he recked no whit,
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firm in his guilt, of the feud and crime.
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They were easy to find who elsewhere sought
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in room remote their rest at night,
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bed in the bowers,[1] when that bale was shown,
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was seen in sooth, with surest token, --
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the hall-thane's[2] hate. Such held themselves
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far and fast who the fiend outran!
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Thus ruled unrighteous and raged his fill
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one against all; until empty stood
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that lordly building, and long it bode so.
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Twelve years' tide the trouble he bore,
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sovran of Scyldings, sorrows in plenty,
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boundless cares. There came unhidden
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tidings true to the tribes of men,
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in sorrowful songs, how ceaselessly Grendel
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harassed Hrothgar, what hate he bore him,
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what murder and massacre, many a year,
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feud unfading, -- refused consent
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to deal with any of Daneland's earls,
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make pact of peace, or compound for gold:
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still less did the wise men ween to get
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great fee for the feud from his fiendish hands.
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But the evil one ambushed old and young
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death-shadow dark, and dogged them still,
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lured, or lurked in the livelong night
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of misty moorlands: men may say not
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where the haunts of these Hell-Runes[3] be.
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Such heaping of horrors the hater of men,
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lonely roamer, wrought unceasing,
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harassings heavy. O'er Heorot he lorded,
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gold-bright hall, in gloomy nights;
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and ne'er could the prince[4] approach his throne,
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-- 'twas judgment of God, -- or have joy in his hall.
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Sore was the sorrow to Scyldings'-friend,
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heart-rending misery. Many nobles
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sat assembled, and searched out counsel
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how it were best for bold-hearted men
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against harassing terror to try their hand.
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Whiles they vowed in their heathen fanes
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altar-offerings, asked with words[5]
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that the slayer-of-souls would succor give them
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for the pain of their people. Their practice this,
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their heathen hope; 'twas Hell they thought of
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in mood of their mind. Almighty they knew not,
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Doomsman of Deeds and dreadful Lord,
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nor Heaven's-Helmet heeded they ever,
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Wielder-of-Wonder. -- Woe for that man
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who in harm and hatred hales his soul
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to fiery embraces; -- nor favor nor change
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awaits he ever. But well for him
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that after death-day may draw to his Lord,
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and friendship find in the Father's arms!
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[1] The smaller buildings within the main enclosure but separate from
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the hall.
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[2] Grendel.
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[3] "Sorcerers-of-hell."
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[4] Hrothgar, who is the "Scyldings'-friend" of 170.
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[5] That is, in formal or prescribed phrase.
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III
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THUS seethed unceasing the son of Healfdene
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with the woe of these days; not wisest men
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assuaged his sorrow; too sore the anguish,
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loathly and long, that lay on his folk,
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most baneful of burdens and bales of the night.
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This heard in his home Hygelac's thane,
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great among Geats, of Grendel's doings.
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He was the mightiest man of valor
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in that same day of this our life,
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stalwart and stately. A stout wave-walker
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he bade make ready. Yon battle-king, said he,
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far o'er the swan-road he fain would seek,
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the noble monarch who needed men!
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The prince's journey by prudent folk
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was little blamed, though they loved him dear;
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they whetted the hero, and hailed good omens.
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And now the bold one from bands of Geats
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comrades chose, the keenest of warriors
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e'er he could find; with fourteen men
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the sea-wood[1] he sought, and, sailor proved,
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led them on to the land's confines.
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Time had now flown;[2] afloat was the ship,
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boat under bluff. On board they climbed,
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warriors ready; waves were churning
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sea with sand; the sailors bore
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on the breast of the bark their bright array,
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their mail and weapons: the men pushed off,
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on its willing way, the well-braced craft.
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Then moved o'er the waters by might of the wind
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that bark like a bird with breast of foam,
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till in season due, on the second day,
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the curved prow such course had run
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that sailors now could see the land,
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sea-cliffs shining, steep high hills,
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headlands broad. Their haven was found,
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their journey ended. Up then quickly
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the Weders'[3] clansmen climbed ashore,
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anchored their sea-wood, with armor clashing
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and gear of battle: God they thanked
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for passing in peace o'er the paths of the sea.
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Now saw from the cliff a Scylding clansman,
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a warden that watched the water-side,
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how they bore o'er the gangway glittering shields,
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war-gear in readiness; wonder seized him
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to know what manner of men they were.
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Straight to the strand his steed he rode,
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Hrothgar's henchman; with hand of might
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he shook his spear, and spake in parley.
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"Who are ye, then, ye armed men,
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mailed folk, that yon mighty vessel
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have urged thus over the ocean ways,
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here o'er the waters? A warden I,
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sentinel set o'er the sea-march here,
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lest any foe to the folk of Danes
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with harrying fleet should harm the land.
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No aliens ever at ease thus bore them,
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linden-wielders:[4] yet word-of-leave
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clearly ye lack from clansmen here,
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my folk's agreement. -- A greater ne'er saw I
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of warriors in world than is one of you, --
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yon hero in harness! No henchman he
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worthied by weapons, if witness his features,
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his peerless presence! I pray you, though, tell
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your folk and home, lest hence ye fare
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suspect to wander your way as spies
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in Danish land. Now, dwellers afar,
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ocean-travellers, take from me
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simple advice: the sooner the better
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I hear of the country whence ye came."
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[1] Ship.
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[2] That is, since Beowulf selected his ship and led his men to the harbor.
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[3] One of the auxiliary names of the Geats.
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[4] Or: Not thus openly ever came warriors hither; yet...
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IV
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To him the stateliest spake in answer;
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the warriors' leader his word-hoard unlocked:--
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"We are by kin of the clan of Geats,
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and Hygelac's own hearth-fellows we.
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To folk afar was my father known,
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noble atheling, Ecgtheow named.
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Full of winters, he fared away
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aged from earth; he is honored still
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through width of the world by wise men all.
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To thy lord and liege in loyal mood
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we hasten hither, to Healfdene's son,
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people-protector: be pleased to advise us!
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To that mighty-one come we on mickle errand,
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to the lord of the Danes; nor deem I right
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that aught be hidden. We hear -- thou knowest
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if sooth it is -- the saying of men,
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that amid the Scyldings a scathing monster,
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dark ill-doer, in dusky nights
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shows terrific his rage unmatched,
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hatred and murder. To Hrothgar I
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in greatness of soul would succor bring,
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so the Wise-and-Brave[1] may worst his foes, --
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if ever the end of ills is fated,
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of cruel contest, if cure shall follow,
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and the boiling care-waves cooler grow;
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else ever afterward anguish-days
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he shall suffer in sorrow while stands in place
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high on its hill that house unpeered!"
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Astride his steed, the strand-ward answered,
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clansman unquailing: "The keen-souled thane
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must be skilled to sever and sunder duly
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words and works, if he well intends.
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I gather, this band is graciously bent
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to the Scyldings' master. March, then, bearing
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weapons and weeds the way I show you.
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I will bid my men your boat meanwhile
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to guard for fear lest foemen come, --
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your new-tarred ship by shore of ocean
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faithfully watching till once again
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it waft o'er the waters those well-loved thanes,
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-- winding-neck'd wood, -- to Weders' bounds,
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heroes such as the hest of fate
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shall succor and save from the shock of war."
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They bent them to march, -- the boat lay still,
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fettered by cable and fast at anchor,
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broad-bosomed ship. -- Then shone the boars[2]
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over the cheek-guard; chased with gold,
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keen and gleaming, guard it kept
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o'er the man of war, as marched along
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heroes in haste, till the hall they saw,
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broad of gable and bright with gold:
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that was the fairest, 'mid folk of earth,
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of houses 'neath heaven, where Hrothgar lived,
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and the gleam of it lightened o'er lands afar.
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The sturdy shieldsman showed that bright
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burg-of-the-boldest; bade them go
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straightway thither; his steed then turned,
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hardy hero, and hailed them thus:--
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"Tis time that I fare from you. Father Almighty
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in grace and mercy guard you well,
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safe in your seekings. Seaward I go,
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'gainst hostile warriors hold my watch."
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[1] Hrothgar.
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[2] Beowulf's helmet has several boar-images on it; he is the "man of
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war"; and the boar-helmet guards him as typical representative of the
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marching party as a whole. The boar was sacred to Freyr, who was the
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favorite god of the Germanic tribes about the North Sea and the Baltic.
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Rude representations of warriors show the boar on the helmet quite as
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large as the helmet itself.
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V
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STONE-BRIGHT the street:[1] it showed the way
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to the crowd of clansmen. Corselets glistened
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hand-forged, hard; on their harness bright
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the steel ring sang, as they strode along
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in mail of battle, and marched to the hall.
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There, weary of ocean, the wall along
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they set their bucklers, their broad shields, down,
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and bowed them to bench: the breastplates clanged,
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war-gear of men; their weapons stacked,
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spears of the seafarers stood together,
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gray-tipped ash: that iron band
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was worthily weaponed! -- A warrior proud
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asked of the heroes their home and kin.
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"Whence, now, bear ye burnished shields,
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harness gray and helmets grim,
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spears in multitude? Messenger, I,
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Hrothgar's herald! Heroes so many
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ne'er met I as strangers of mood so strong.
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'Tis plain that for prowess, not plunged into exile,
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for high-hearted valor, Hrothgar ye seek!"
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Him the sturdy-in-war bespake with words,
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proud earl of the Weders answer made,
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hardy 'neath helmet:--"Hygelac's, we,
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fellows at board; I am Beowulf named.
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I am seeking to say to the son of Healfdene
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this mission of mine, to thy master-lord,
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the doughty prince, if he deign at all
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grace that we greet him, the good one, now."
|
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Wulfgar spake, the Wendles' chieftain,
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whose might of mind to many was known,
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||
his courage and counsel: "The king of Danes,
|
||
the Scyldings' friend, I fain will tell,
|
||
the Breaker-of-Rings, as the boon thou askest,
|
||
the famed prince, of thy faring hither,
|
||
and, swiftly after, such answer bring
|
||
as the doughty monarch may deign to give."
|
||
Hied then in haste to where Hrothgar sat
|
||
white-haired and old, his earls about him,
|
||
till the stout thane stood at the shoulder there
|
||
of the Danish king: good courtier he!
|
||
Wulfgar spake to his winsome lord:--
|
||
"Hither have fared to thee far-come men
|
||
o'er the paths of ocean, people of Geatland;
|
||
and the stateliest there by his sturdy band
|
||
is Beowulf named. This boon they seek,
|
||
that they, my master, may with thee
|
||
have speech at will: nor spurn their prayer
|
||
to give them hearing, gracious Hrothgar!
|
||
In weeds of the warrior worthy they,
|
||
methinks, of our liking; their leader most surely,
|
||
a hero that hither his henchmen has led."
|
||
|
||
[1] Either merely paved, the strata via of the Romans, or else thought of
|
||
as a sort of mosaic, an extravagant touch like the reckless waste of gold
|
||
on the walls and roofs of a hall.
|
||
|
||
VI
|
||
|
||
HROTHGAR answered, helmet of Scyldings:--
|
||
"I knew him of yore in his youthful days;
|
||
his aged father was Ecgtheow named,
|
||
to whom, at home, gave Hrethel the Geat
|
||
his only daughter. Their offspring bold
|
||
fares hither to seek the steadfast friend.
|
||
And seamen, too, have said me this, --
|
||
who carried my gifts to the Geatish court,
|
||
thither for thanks, -- he has thirty men's
|
||
heft of grasp in the gripe of his hand,
|
||
the bold-in-battle. Blessed God
|
||
out of his mercy this man hath sent
|
||
to Danes of the West, as I ween indeed,
|
||
against horror of Grendel. I hope to give
|
||
the good youth gold for his gallant thought.
|
||
Be thou in haste, and bid them hither,
|
||
clan of kinsmen, to come before me;
|
||
and add this word, -- they are welcome guests
|
||
to folk of the Danes."
|
||
[To the door of the hall
|
||
Wulfgar went] and the word declared:--
|
||
"To you this message my master sends,
|
||
East-Danes' king, that your kin he knows,
|
||
hardy heroes, and hails you all
|
||
welcome hither o'er waves of the sea!
|
||
Ye may wend your way in war-attire,
|
||
and under helmets Hrothgar greet;
|
||
but let here the battle-shields bide your parley,
|
||
and wooden war-shafts wait its end."
|
||
Uprose the mighty one, ringed with his men,
|
||
brave band of thanes: some bode without,
|
||
battle-gear guarding, as bade the chief.
|
||
Then hied that troop where the herald led them,
|
||
under Heorot's roof: [the hero strode,]
|
||
hardy 'neath helm, till the hearth he neared.
|
||
Beowulf spake, -- his breastplate gleamed,
|
||
war-net woven by wit of the smith:--
|
||
"Thou Hrothgar, hail! Hygelac's I,
|
||
kinsman and follower. Fame a plenty
|
||
have I gained in youth! These Grendel-deeds
|
||
I heard in my home-land heralded clear.
|
||
Seafarers say how stands this hall,
|
||
of buildings best, for your band of thanes
|
||
empty and idle, when evening sun
|
||
in the harbor of heaven is hidden away.
|
||
So my vassals advised me well, --
|
||
brave and wise, the best of men, --
|
||
O sovran Hrothgar, to seek thee here,
|
||
for my nerve and my might they knew full well.
|
||
Themselves had seen me from slaughter come
|
||
blood-flecked from foes, where five I bound,
|
||
and that wild brood worsted. I' the waves I slew
|
||
nicors[1] by night, in need and peril
|
||
avenging the Weders,[2] whose woe they sought, --
|
||
crushing the grim ones. Grendel now,
|
||
monster cruel, be mine to quell
|
||
in single battle! So, from thee,
|
||
thou sovran of the Shining-Danes,
|
||
Scyldings'-bulwark, a boon I seek, --
|
||
and, Friend-of-the-folk, refuse it not,
|
||
O Warriors'-shield, now I've wandered far, --
|
||
that I alone with my liegemen here,
|
||
this hardy band, may Heorot purge!
|
||
More I hear, that the monster dire,
|
||
in his wanton mood, of weapons recks not;
|
||
hence shall I scorn -- so Hygelac stay,
|
||
king of my kindred, kind to me! --
|
||
brand or buckler to bear in the fight,
|
||
gold-colored targe: but with gripe alone
|
||
must I front the fiend and fight for life,
|
||
foe against foe. Then faith be his
|
||
in the doom of the Lord whom death shall take.
|
||
Fain, I ween, if the fight he win,
|
||
in this hall of gold my Geatish band
|
||
will he fearless eat, -- as oft before, --
|
||
my noblest thanes. Nor need'st thou then
|
||
to hide my head;[3] for his shall I be,
|
||
dyed in gore, if death must take me;
|
||
and my blood-covered body he'll bear as prey,
|
||
ruthless devour it, the roamer-lonely,
|
||
with my life-blood redden his lair in the fen:
|
||
no further for me need'st food prepare!
|
||
To Hygelac send, if Hild[4] should take me,
|
||
best of war-weeds, warding my breast,
|
||
armor excellent, heirloom of Hrethel
|
||
and work of Wayland.[5] Fares Wyrd[6] as she must."
|
||
|
||
[1] The nicor, says Bugge, is a hippopotamus; a walrus, says ten Brink.
|
||
But that water-goblin who covers the space from Old Nick of jest to the
|
||
Neckan and Nix of poetry and tale, is all one needs, and Nicor is a good
|
||
name for him.
|
||
[2] His own people, the Geats.
|
||
[3] That is, cover it as with a face-cloth. "There will be no need of
|
||
funeral rites."
|
||
[4] Personification of Battle.
|
||
[5] The Germanic Vulcan.
|
||
[6] This mighty power, whom the Christian poet can still revere, has here
|
||
the general force of "Destiny."
|
||
|
||
VII
|
||
|
||
HROTHGAR spake, the Scyldings'-helmet:--
|
||
"For fight defensive, Friend my Beowulf,
|
||
to succor and save, thou hast sought us here.
|
||
Thy father's combat[1] a feud enkindled
|
||
when Heatholaf with hand he slew
|
||
among the Wylfings; his Weder kin
|
||
for horror of fighting feared to hold him.
|
||
Fleeing, he sought our South-Dane folk,
|
||
over surge of ocean the Honor-Scyldings,
|
||
when first I was ruling the folk of Danes,
|
||
wielded, youthful, this widespread realm,
|
||
this hoard-hold of heroes. Heorogar was dead,
|
||
my elder brother, had breathed his last,
|
||
Healfdene's bairn: he was better than I!
|
||
Straightway the feud with fee[2] I settled,
|
||
to the Wylfings sent, o'er watery ridges,
|
||
treasures olden: oaths he[3] swore me.
|
||
Sore is my soul to say to any
|
||
of the race of man what ruth for me
|
||
in Heorot Grendel with hate hath wrought,
|
||
what sudden harryings. Hall-folk fail me,
|
||
my warriors wane; for Wyrd hath swept them
|
||
into Grendel's grasp. But God is able
|
||
this deadly foe from his deeds to turn!
|
||
Boasted full oft, as my beer they drank,
|
||
earls o'er the ale-cup, armed men,
|
||
that they would bide in the beer-hall here,
|
||
Grendel's attack with terror of blades.
|
||
Then was this mead-house at morning tide
|
||
dyed with gore, when the daylight broke,
|
||
all the boards of the benches blood-besprinkled,
|
||
gory the hall: I had heroes the less,
|
||
doughty dear-ones that death had reft.
|
||
-- But sit to the banquet, unbind thy words,
|
||
hardy hero, as heart shall prompt thee."
|
||
|
||
Gathered together, the Geatish men
|
||
in the banquet-hall on bench assigned,
|
||
sturdy-spirited, sat them down,
|
||
hardy-hearted. A henchman attended,
|
||
carried the carven cup in hand,
|
||
served the clear mead. Oft minstrels sang
|
||
blithe in Heorot. Heroes revelled,
|
||
no dearth of warriors, Weder and Dane.
|
||
|
||
[1] There is no irrelevance here. Hrothgar sees in Beowulf's mission a
|
||
heritage of duty, a return of the good offices which the Danish king ren-
|
||
dered to Beowulf's father in time of dire need.
|
||
[2] Money, for wergild, or man-price.
|
||
[3] Ecgtheow, Beowulf's sire.
|
||
|
||
VIII
|
||
|
||
UNFERTH spake, the son of Ecglaf,
|
||
who sat at the feet of the Scyldings' lord,
|
||
unbound the battle-runes.[1] -- Beowulf's quest,
|
||
sturdy seafarer's, sorely galled him;
|
||
ever he envied that other men
|
||
should more achieve in middle-earth
|
||
of fame under heaven than he himself. --
|
||
"Art thou that Beowulf, Breca's rival,
|
||
who emulous swam on the open sea,
|
||
when for pride the pair of you proved the floods,
|
||
and wantonly dared in waters deep
|
||
to risk your lives? No living man,
|
||
or lief or loath, from your labor dire
|
||
could you dissuade, from swimming the main.
|
||
Ocean-tides with your arms ye covered,
|
||
with strenuous hands the sea-streets measured,
|
||
swam o'er the waters. Winter's storm
|
||
rolled the rough waves. In realm of sea
|
||
a sennight strove ye. In swimming he topped thee,
|
||
had more of main! Him at morning-tide
|
||
billows bore to the Battling Reamas,
|
||
whence he hied to his home so dear
|
||
beloved of his liegemen, to land of Brondings,
|
||
fastness fair, where his folk he ruled,
|
||
town and treasure. In triumph o'er thee
|
||
Beanstan's bairn[2] his boast achieved.
|
||
So ween I for thee a worse adventure
|
||
-- though in buffet of battle thou brave hast been,
|
||
in struggle grim, -- if Grendel's approach
|
||
thou darst await through the watch of night!"
|
||
|
||
Beowulf spake, bairn of Ecgtheow:--
|
||
"What a deal hast uttered, dear my Unferth,
|
||
drunken with beer, of Breca now,
|
||
told of his triumph! Truth I claim it,
|
||
that I had more of might in the sea
|
||
than any man else, more ocean-endurance.
|
||
We twain had talked, in time of youth,
|
||
and made our boast, -- we were merely boys,
|
||
striplings still, -- to stake our lives
|
||
far at sea: and so we performed it.
|
||
Naked swords, as we swam along,
|
||
we held in hand, with hope to guard us
|
||
against the whales. Not a whit from me
|
||
could he float afar o'er the flood of waves,
|
||
haste o'er the billows; nor him I abandoned.
|
||
Together we twain on the tides abode
|
||
five nights full till the flood divided us,
|
||
churning waves and chillest weather,
|
||
darkling night, and the northern wind
|
||
ruthless rushed on us: rough was the surge.
|
||
Now the wrath of the sea-fish rose apace;
|
||
yet me 'gainst the monsters my mailed coat,
|
||
hard and hand-linked, help afforded, --
|
||
battle-sark braided my breast to ward,
|
||
garnished with gold. There grasped me firm
|
||
and haled me to bottom the hated foe,
|
||
with grimmest gripe. 'Twas granted me, though,
|
||
to pierce the monster with point of sword,
|
||
with blade of battle: huge beast of the sea
|
||
was whelmed by the hurly through hand of mine.
|
||
|
||
[1] "Began the fight."
|
||
[2] Breca.
|
||
|
||
IX
|
||
|
||
ME thus often the evil monsters
|
||
thronging threatened. With thrust of my sword,
|
||
the darling, I dealt them due return!
|
||
Nowise had they bliss from their booty then
|
||
to devour their victim, vengeful creatures,
|
||
seated to banquet at bottom of sea;
|
||
but at break of day, by my brand sore hurt,
|
||
on the edge of ocean up they lay,
|
||
put to sleep by the sword. And since, by them
|
||
on the fathomless sea-ways sailor-folk
|
||
are never molested. -- Light from east,
|
||
came bright God's beacon; the billows sank,
|
||
so that I saw the sea-cliffs high,
|
||
windy walls. For Wyrd oft saveth
|
||
earl undoomed if he doughty be!
|
||
And so it came that I killed with my sword
|
||
nine of the nicors. Of night-fought battles
|
||
ne'er heard I a harder 'neath heaven's dome,
|
||
nor adrift on the deep a more desolate man!
|
||
Yet I came unharmed from that hostile clutch,
|
||
though spent with swimming. The sea upbore me,
|
||
flood of the tide, on Finnish land,
|
||
the welling waters. No wise of thee
|
||
have I heard men tell such terror of falchions,
|
||
bitter battle. Breca ne'er yet,
|
||
not one of you pair, in the play of war
|
||
such daring deed has done at all
|
||
with bloody brand, -- I boast not of it! --
|
||
though thou wast the bane[1] of thy brethren dear,
|
||
thy closest kin, whence curse of hell
|
||
awaits thee, well as thy wit may serve!
|
||
For I say in sooth, thou son of Ecglaf,
|
||
never had Grendel these grim deeds wrought,
|
||
monster dire, on thy master dear,
|
||
in Heorot such havoc, if heart of thine
|
||
were as battle-bold as thy boast is loud!
|
||
But he has found no feud will happen;
|
||
from sword-clash dread of your Danish clan
|
||
he vaunts him safe, from the Victor-Scyldings.
|
||
He forces pledges, favors none
|
||
of the land of Danes, but lustily murders,
|
||
fights and feasts, nor feud he dreads
|
||
from Spear-Dane men. But speedily now
|
||
shall I prove him the prowess and pride of the Geats,
|
||
shall bid him battle. Blithe to mead
|
||
go he that listeth, when light of dawn
|
||
this morrow morning o'er men of earth,
|
||
ether-robed sun from the south shall beam!"
|
||
Joyous then was the Jewel-giver,
|
||
hoar-haired, war-brave; help awaited
|
||
the Bright-Danes' prince, from Beowulf hearing,
|
||
folk's good shepherd, such firm resolve.
|
||
Then was laughter of liegemen loud resounding
|
||
with winsome words. Came Wealhtheow forth,
|
||
queen of Hrothgar, heedful of courtesy,
|
||
gold-decked, greeting the guests in hall;
|
||
and the high-born lady handed the cup
|
||
first to the East-Danes' heir and warden,
|
||
bade him be blithe at the beer-carouse,
|
||
the land's beloved one. Lustily took he
|
||
banquet and beaker, battle-famed king.
|
||
Through the hall then went the Helmings' Lady,
|
||
to younger and older everywhere
|
||
carried the cup, till come the moment
|
||
when the ring-graced queen, the royal-hearted,
|
||
to Beowulf bore the beaker of mead.
|
||
She greeted the Geats' lord, God she thanked,
|
||
in wisdom's words, that her will was granted,
|
||
that at last on a hero her hope could lean
|
||
for comfort in terrors. The cup he took,
|
||
hardy-in-war, from Wealhtheow's hand,
|
||
and answer uttered the eager-for-combat.
|
||
Beowulf spake, bairn of Ecgtheow:--
|
||
"This was my thought, when my thanes and I
|
||
bent to the ocean and entered our boat,
|
||
that I would work the will of your people
|
||
fully, or fighting fall in death,
|
||
in fiend's gripe fast. I am firm to do
|
||
an earl's brave deed, or end the days
|
||
of this life of mine in the mead-hall here."
|
||
Well these words to the woman seemed,
|
||
Beowulf's battle-boast. -- Bright with gold
|
||
the stately dame by her spouse sat down.
|
||
Again, as erst, began in hall
|
||
warriors' wassail and words of power,
|
||
the proud-band's revel, till presently
|
||
the son of Healfdene hastened to seek
|
||
rest for the night; he knew there waited
|
||
fight for the fiend in that festal hall,
|
||
when the sheen of the sun they saw no more,
|
||
and dusk of night sank darkling nigh,
|
||
and shadowy shapes came striding on,
|
||
wan under welkin. The warriors rose.
|
||
Man to man, he made harangue,
|
||
Hrothgar to Beowulf, bade him hail,
|
||
let him wield the wine hall: a word he added:--
|
||
"Never to any man erst I trusted,
|
||
since I could heave up hand and shield,
|
||
this noble Dane-Hall, till now to thee.
|
||
Have now and hold this house unpeered;
|
||
remember thy glory; thy might declare;
|
||
watch for the foe! No wish shall fail thee
|
||
if thou bidest the battle with bold-won life."
|
||
|
||
[1] Murder.
|
||
|
||
X
|
||
|
||
THEN Hrothgar went with his hero-train,
|
||
defence-of-Scyldings, forth from hall;
|
||
fain would the war-lord Wealhtheow seek,
|
||
couch of his queen. The King-of-Glory
|
||
against this Grendel a guard had set,
|
||
so heroes heard, a hall-defender,
|
||
who warded the monarch and watched for the monster.
|
||
In truth, the Geats' prince gladly trusted
|
||
his mettle, his might, the mercy of God!
|
||
Cast off then his corselet of iron,
|
||
helmet from head; to his henchman gave, --
|
||
choicest of weapons, -- the well-chased sword,
|
||
bidding him guard the gear of battle.
|
||
Spake then his Vaunt the valiant man,
|
||
Beowulf Geat, ere the bed be sought:--
|
||
"Of force in fight no feebler I count me,
|
||
in grim war-deeds, than Grendel deems him.
|
||
Not with the sword, then, to sleep of death
|
||
his life will I give, though it lie in my power.
|
||
No skill is his to strike against me,
|
||
my shield to hew though he hardy be,
|
||
bold in battle; we both, this night,
|
||
shall spurn the sword, if he seek me here,
|
||
unweaponed, for war. Let wisest God,
|
||
sacred Lord, on which side soever
|
||
doom decree as he deemeth right."
|
||
Reclined then the chieftain, and cheek-pillows held
|
||
the head of the earl, while all about him
|
||
seamen hardy on hall-beds sank.
|
||
None of them thought that thence their steps
|
||
to the folk and fastness that fostered them,
|
||
to the land they loved, would lead them back!
|
||
Full well they wist that on warriors many
|
||
battle-death seized, in the banquet-hall,
|
||
of Danish clan. But comfort and help,
|
||
war-weal weaving, to Weder folk
|
||
the Master gave, that, by might of one,
|
||
over their enemy all prevailed,
|
||
by single strength. In sooth 'tis told
|
||
that highest God o'er human kind
|
||
hath wielded ever! -- Thro' wan night striding,
|
||
came the walker-in-shadow. Warriors slept
|
||
whose hest was to guard the gabled hall, --
|
||
all save one. 'Twas widely known
|
||
that against God's will the ghostly ravager
|
||
him[1] could not hurl to haunts of darkness;
|
||
wakeful, ready, with warrior's wrath,
|
||
bold he bided the battle's issue.
|
||
|
||
[1] Beowulf, -- the "one."
|
||
|
||
XI
|
||
|
||
THEN from the moorland, by misty crags,
|
||
with God's wrath laden, Grendel came.
|
||
The monster was minded of mankind now
|
||
sundry to seize in the stately house.
|
||
Under welkin he walked, till the wine-palace there,
|
||
gold-hall of men, he gladly discerned,
|
||
flashing with fretwork. Not first time, this,
|
||
that he the home of Hrothgar sought, --
|
||
yet ne'er in his life-day, late or early,
|
||
such hardy heroes, such hall-thanes, found!
|
||
To the house the warrior walked apace,
|
||
parted from peace;[1] the portal opended,
|
||
though with forged bolts fast, when his fists had
|
||
struck it,
|
||
and baleful he burst in his blatant rage,
|
||
the house's mouth. All hastily, then,
|
||
o'er fair-paved floor the fiend trod on,
|
||
ireful he strode; there streamed from his eyes
|
||
fearful flashes, like flame to see.
|
||
He spied in hall the hero-band,
|
||
kin and clansmen clustered asleep,
|
||
hardy liegemen. Then laughed his heart;
|
||
for the monster was minded, ere morn should dawn,
|
||
savage, to sever the soul of each,
|
||
life from body, since lusty banquet
|
||
waited his will! But Wyrd forbade him
|
||
to seize any more of men on earth
|
||
after that evening. Eagerly watched
|
||
Hygelac's kinsman his cursed foe,
|
||
how he would fare in fell attack.
|
||
Not that the monster was minded to pause!
|
||
Straightway he seized a sleeping warrior
|
||
for the first, and tore him fiercely asunder,
|
||
the bone-frame bit, drank blood in streams,
|
||
swallowed him piecemeal: swiftly thus
|
||
the lifeless corse was clear devoured,
|
||
e'en feet and hands. Then farther he hied;
|
||
for the hardy hero with hand he grasped,
|
||
felt for the foe with fiendish claw,
|
||
for the hero reclining, -- who clutched it boldly,
|
||
prompt to answer, propped on his arm.
|
||
Soon then saw that shepherd-of-evils
|
||
that never he met in this middle-world,
|
||
in the ways of earth, another wight
|
||
with heavier hand-gripe; at heart he feared,
|
||
sorrowed in soul, -- none the sooner escaped!
|
||
Fain would he flee, his fastness seek,
|
||
the den of devils: no doings now
|
||
such as oft he had done in days of old!
|
||
Then bethought him the hardy Hygelac-thane
|
||
of his boast at evening: up he bounded,
|
||
grasped firm his foe, whose fingers cracked.
|
||
The fiend made off, but the earl close followed.
|
||
The monster meant -- if he might at all --
|
||
to fling himself free, and far away
|
||
fly to the fens, -- knew his fingers' power
|
||
in the gripe of the grim one. Gruesome march
|
||
to Heorot this monster of harm had made!
|
||
Din filled the room; the Danes were bereft,
|
||
castle-dwellers and clansmen all,
|
||
earls, of their ale. Angry were both
|
||
those savage hall-guards: the house resounded.
|
||
Wonder it was the wine-hall firm
|
||
in the strain of their struggle stood, to earth
|
||
the fair house fell not; too fast it was
|
||
within and without by its iron bands
|
||
craftily clamped; though there crashed from sill
|
||
many a mead-bench -- men have told me --
|
||
gay with gold, where the grim foes wrestled.
|
||
So well had weened the wisest Scyldings
|
||
that not ever at all might any man
|
||
that bone-decked, brave house break asunder,
|
||
crush by craft, -- unless clasp of fire
|
||
in smoke engulfed it. -- Again uprose
|
||
din redoubled. Danes of the North
|
||
with fear and frenzy were filled, each one,
|
||
who from the wall that wailing heard,
|
||
God's foe sounding his grisly song,
|
||
cry of the conquered, clamorous pain
|
||
from captive of hell. Too closely held him
|
||
he who of men in might was strongest
|
||
in that same day of this our life.
|
||
|
||
[1] That is, he was a "lost soul," doomed to hell.
|
||
|
||
XII
|
||
|
||
NOT in any wise would the earls'-defence[1]
|
||
suffer that slaughterous stranger to live,
|
||
useless deeming his days and years
|
||
to men on earth. Now many an earl
|
||
of Beowulf brandished blade ancestral,
|
||
fain the life of their lord to shield,
|
||
their praised prince, if power were theirs;
|
||
never they knew, -- as they neared the foe,
|
||
hardy-hearted heroes of war,
|
||
aiming their swords on every side
|
||
the accursed to kill, -- no keenest blade,
|
||
no farest of falchions fashioned on earth,
|
||
could harm or hurt that hideous fiend!
|
||
He was safe, by his spells, from sword of battle,
|
||
from edge of iron. Yet his end and parting
|
||
on that same day of this our life
|
||
woful should be, and his wandering soul
|
||
far off flit to the fiends' domain.
|
||
Soon he found, who in former days,
|
||
harmful in heart and hated of God,
|
||
on many a man such murder wrought,
|
||
that the frame of his body failed him now.
|
||
For him the keen-souled kinsman of Hygelac
|
||
held in hand; hateful alive
|
||
was each to other. The outlaw dire
|
||
took mortal hurt; a mighty wound
|
||
showed on his shoulder, and sinews cracked,
|
||
and the bone-frame burst. To Beowulf now
|
||
the glory was given, and Grendel thence
|
||
death-sick his den in the dark moor sought,
|
||
noisome abode: he knew too well
|
||
that here was the last of life, an end
|
||
of his days on earth. -- To all the Danes
|
||
by that bloody battle the boon had come.
|
||
From ravage had rescued the roving stranger
|
||
Hrothgar's hall; the hardy and wise one
|
||
had purged it anew. His night-work pleased him,
|
||
his deed and its honor. To Eastern Danes
|
||
had the valiant Geat his vaunt made good,
|
||
all their sorrow and ills assuaged,
|
||
their bale of battle borne so long,
|
||
and all the dole they erst endured
|
||
pain a-plenty. -- 'Twas proof of this,
|
||
when the hardy-in-fight a hand laid down,
|
||
arm and shoulder, -- all, indeed,
|
||
of Grendel's gripe, -- 'neath the gabled roof<6F>
|
||
|
||
[1] Kenning for Beowulf.
|
||
|
||
XIII
|
||
|
||
MANY at morning, as men have told me,
|
||
warriors gathered the gift-hall round,
|
||
folk-leaders faring from far and near,
|
||
o'er wide-stretched ways, the wonder to view,
|
||
trace of the traitor. Not troublous seemed
|
||
the enemy's end to any man
|
||
who saw by the gait of the graceless foe
|
||
how the weary-hearted, away from thence,
|
||
baffled in battle and banned, his steps
|
||
death-marked dragged to the devils' mere.
|
||
Bloody the billows were boiling there,
|
||
turbid the tide of tumbling waves
|
||
horribly seething, with sword-blood hot,
|
||
by that doomed one dyed, who in den of the moor
|
||
laid forlorn his life adown,
|
||
his heathen soul,-and hell received it.
|
||
Home then rode the hoary clansmen
|
||
from that merry journey, and many a youth,
|
||
on horses white, the hardy warriors,
|
||
back from the mere. Then Beowulf's glory
|
||
eager they echoed, and all averred
|
||
that from sea to sea, or south or north,
|
||
there was no other in earth's domain,
|
||
under vault of heaven, more valiant found,
|
||
of warriors none more worthy to rule!
|
||
(On their lord beloved they laid no slight,
|
||
gracious Hrothgar: a good king he!)
|
||
From time to time, the tried-in-battle
|
||
their gray steeds set to gallop amain,
|
||
and ran a race when the road seemed fair.
|
||
From time to time, a thane of the king,
|
||
who had made many vaunts, and was mindful of verses,
|
||
stored with sagas and songs of old,
|
||
bound word to word in well-knit rime,
|
||
welded his lay; this warrior soon
|
||
of Beowulf's quest right cleverly sang,
|
||
and artfully added an excellent tale,
|
||
in well-ranged words, of the warlike deeds
|
||
he had heard in saga of Sigemund.
|
||
Strange the story: he said it all, --
|
||
the Waelsing's wanderings wide, his struggles,
|
||
which never were told to tribes of men,
|
||
the feuds and the frauds, save to Fitela only,
|
||
when of these doings he deigned to speak,
|
||
uncle to nephew; as ever the twain
|
||
stood side by side in stress of war,
|
||
and multitude of the monster kind
|
||
they had felled with their swords. Of Sigemund
|
||
grew,
|
||
when he passed from life, no little praise;
|
||
for the doughty-in-combat a dragon killed
|
||
that herded the hoard:[1] under hoary rock
|
||
the atheling dared the deed alone
|
||
fearful quest, nor was Fitela there.
|
||
Yet so it befell, his falchion pierced
|
||
that wondrous worm, -- on the wall it struck,
|
||
best blade; the dragon died in its blood.
|
||
Thus had the dread-one by daring achieved
|
||
over the ring-hoard to rule at will,
|
||
himself to pleasure; a sea-boat he loaded,
|
||
and bore on its bosom the beaming gold,
|
||
son of Waels; the worm was consumed.
|
||
He had of all heroes the highest renown
|
||
among races of men, this refuge-of-warriors,
|
||
for deeds of daring that decked his name
|
||
since the hand and heart of Heremod
|
||
grew slack in battle. He, swiftly banished
|
||
to mingle with monsters at mercy of foes,
|
||
to death was betrayed; for torrents of sorrow
|
||
had lamed him too long; a load of care
|
||
to earls and athelings all he proved.
|
||
Oft indeed, in earlier days,
|
||
for the warrior's wayfaring wise men mourned,
|
||
who had hoped of him help from harm and bale,
|
||
and had thought their sovran's son would thrive,
|
||
follow his father, his folk protect,
|
||
the hoard and the stronghold, heroes' land,
|
||
home of Scyldings. -- But here, thanes said,
|
||
the kinsman of Hygelac kinder seemed
|
||
to all: the other[2] was urged to crime!
|
||
And afresh to the race,[3] the fallow roads
|
||
by swift steeds measured! The morning sun
|
||
was climbing higher. Clansmen hastened
|
||
to the high-built hall, those hardy-minded,
|
||
the wonder to witness. Warden of treasure,
|
||
crowned with glory, the king himself,
|
||
with stately band from the bride-bower strode;
|
||
and with him the queen and her crowd of maidens
|
||
measured the path to the mead-house fair.
|
||
|
||
[1] "Guarded the treasure."
|
||
[2] Sc. Heremod.
|
||
[3] The singer has sung his lays, and the epic resumes its story. The
|
||
time-relations are not altogether good in this long passage which describes
|
||
the rejoicings of "the day after"; but the present shift from the riders
|
||
on the road to the folk at the hall is not very violent, and is of a piece
|
||
with the general style.
|
||
|
||
XIV
|
||
|
||
HROTHGAR spake, -- to the hall he went,
|
||
stood by the steps, the steep roof saw,
|
||
garnished with gold, and Grendel's hand:--
|
||
"For the sight I see to the Sovran Ruler
|
||
be speedy thanks! A throng of sorrows
|
||
I have borne from Grendel; but God still works
|
||
wonder on wonder, the Warden-of-Glory.
|
||
It was but now that I never more
|
||
for woes that weighed on me waited help
|
||
long as I lived, when, laved in blood,
|
||
stood sword-gore-stained this stateliest house, --
|
||
widespread woe for wise men all,
|
||
who had no hope to hinder ever
|
||
foes infernal and fiendish sprites
|
||
from havoc in hall. This hero now,
|
||
by the Wielder's might, a work has done
|
||
that not all of us erst could ever do
|
||
by wile and wisdom. Lo, well can she say
|
||
whoso of women this warrior bore
|
||
among sons of men, if still she liveth,
|
||
that the God of the ages was good to her
|
||
in the birth of her bairn. Now, Beowulf, thee,
|
||
of heroes best, I shall heartily love
|
||
as mine own, my son; preserve thou ever
|
||
this kinship new: thou shalt never lack
|
||
wealth of the world that I wield as mine!
|
||
Full oft for less have I largess showered,
|
||
my precious hoard, on a punier man,
|
||
less stout in struggle. Thyself hast now
|
||
fulfilled such deeds, that thy fame shall endure
|
||
through all the ages. As ever he did,
|
||
well may the Wielder reward thee still!"
|
||
Beowulf spake, bairn of Ecgtheow:--
|
||
"This work of war most willingly
|
||
we have fought, this fight, and fearlessly dared
|
||
force of the foe. Fain, too, were I
|
||
hadst thou but seen himself, what time
|
||
the fiend in his trappings tottered to fall!
|
||
Swiftly, I thought, in strongest gripe
|
||
on his bed of death to bind him down,
|
||
that he in the hent of this hand of mine
|
||
should breathe his last: but he broke away.
|
||
Him I might not -- the Maker willed not --
|
||
hinder from flight, and firm enough hold
|
||
the life-destroyer: too sturdy was he,
|
||
the ruthless, in running! For rescue, however,
|
||
he left behind him his hand in pledge,
|
||
arm and shoulder; nor aught of help
|
||
could the cursed one thus procure at all.
|
||
None the longer liveth he, loathsome fiend,
|
||
sunk in his sins, but sorrow holds him
|
||
tightly grasped in gripe of anguish,
|
||
in baleful bonds, where bide he must,
|
||
evil outlaw, such awful doom
|
||
as the Mighty Maker shall mete him out."
|
||
|
||
More silent seemed the son of Ecglaf[1]
|
||
in boastful speech of his battle-deeds,
|
||
since athelings all, through the earl's great prowess,
|
||
beheld that hand, on the high roof gazing,
|
||
foeman's fingers, -- the forepart of each
|
||
of the sturdy nails to steel was likest, --
|
||
heathen's "hand-spear," hostile warrior's
|
||
claw uncanny. 'Twas clear, they said,
|
||
that him no blade of the brave could touch,
|
||
how keen soever, or cut away
|
||
that battle-hand bloody from baneful foe.
|
||
|
||
[1] Unferth, Beowulf's sometime opponent in the flyting.
|
||
|
||
XV
|
||
|
||
THERE was hurry and hest in Heorot now
|
||
for hands to bedeck it, and dense was the throng
|
||
of men and women the wine-hall to cleanse,
|
||
the guest-room to garnish. Gold-gay shone the
|
||
hangings
|
||
that were wove on the wall, and wonders many
|
||
to delight each mortal that looks upon them.
|
||
Though braced within by iron bands,
|
||
that building bright was broken sorely;[1]
|
||
rent were its hinges; the roof alone
|
||
held safe and sound, when, seared with crime,
|
||
the fiendish foe his flight essayed,
|
||
of life despairing. -- No light thing that,
|
||
the flight for safety, -- essay it who will!
|
||
Forced of fate, he shall find his way
|
||
to the refuge ready for race of man,
|
||
for soul-possessors, and sons of earth;
|
||
and there his body on bed of death
|
||
shall rest after revel.
|
||
Arrived was the hour
|
||
when to hall proceeded Healfdene's son:
|
||
the king himself would sit to banquet.
|
||
Ne'er heard I of host in haughtier throng
|
||
more graciously gathered round giver-of-rings!
|
||
Bowed then to bench those bearers-of-glory,
|
||
fain of the feasting. Featly received
|
||
many a mead-cup the mighty-in-spirit,
|
||
kinsmen who sat in the sumptuous hall,
|
||
Hrothgar and Hrothulf. Heorot now
|
||
was filled with friends; the folk of Scyldings
|
||
ne'er yet had tried the traitor's deed.
|
||
To Beowulf gave the bairn of Healfdene
|
||
a gold-wove banner, guerdon of triumph,
|
||
broidered battle-flag, breastplate and helmet;
|
||
and a splendid sword was seen of many
|
||
borne to the brave one. Beowulf took
|
||
cup in hall:[2] for such costly gifts
|
||
he suffered no shame in that soldier throng.
|
||
For I heard of few heroes, in heartier mood,
|
||
with four such gifts, so fashioned with gold,
|
||
on the ale-bench honoring others thus!
|
||
O'er the roof of the helmet high, a ridge,
|
||
wound with wires, kept ward o'er the head,
|
||
lest the relict-of-files[3] should fierce invade,
|
||
sharp in the strife, when that shielded hero
|
||
should go to grapple against his foes.
|
||
Then the earls'-defence[4] on the floor[5] bade lead
|
||
coursers eight, with carven head-gear,
|
||
adown the hall: one horse was decked
|
||
with a saddle all shining and set in jewels;
|
||
'twas the battle-seat of the best of kings,
|
||
when to play of swords the son of Healfdene
|
||
was fain to fare. Ne'er failed his valor
|
||
in the crush of combat when corpses fell.
|
||
To Beowulf over them both then gave
|
||
the refuge-of-Ingwines right and power,
|
||
o'er war-steeds and weapons: wished him joy of them.
|
||
Manfully thus the mighty prince,
|
||
hoard-guard for heroes, that hard fight repaid
|
||
with steeds and treasures contemned by none
|
||
who is willing to say the sooth aright.
|
||
|
||
[1] There is no horrible inconsistency here such as the critics strive and
|
||
cry about. In spite of the ruin that Grendel and Beowulf had made within
|
||
the hall, the framework and roof held firm, and swift repairs made the
|
||
interior habitable. Tapestries were hung on the walls, and willing hands
|
||
prepared the banquet.
|
||
[2] From its formal use in other places, this phrase, to take cup in hall,
|
||
or "on the floor," would seem to mean that Beowulf stood up to receive
|
||
his gifts, drink to the donor, and say thanks.
|
||
[3] Kenning for sword.
|
||
[4] Hrothgar. He is also the "refuge of the friends of Ing," below. Ing
|
||
belongs to myth.
|
||
[5] Horses are frequently led or ridden into the hall where folk sit at
|
||
banquet: so in Chaucer's Squire's tale, in the ballad of King Estmere, and
|
||
in the romances.
|
||
|
||
XVI
|
||
|
||
AND the lord of earls, to each that came
|
||
with Beowulf over the briny ways,
|
||
an heirloom there at the ale-bench gave,
|
||
precious gift; and the price[1] bade pay
|
||
in gold for him whom Grendel erst
|
||
murdered, -- and fain of them more had killed,
|
||
had not wisest God their Wyrd averted,
|
||
and the man's[2] brave mood. The Maker then
|
||
ruled human kind, as here and now.
|
||
Therefore is insight always best,
|
||
and forethought of mind. How much awaits him
|
||
of lief and of loath, who long time here,
|
||
through days of warfare this world endures!
|
||
|
||
Then song and music mingled sounds
|
||
in the presence of Healfdene's head-of-armies[3]
|
||
and harping was heard with the hero-lay
|
||
as Hrothgar's singer the hall-joy woke
|
||
along the mead-seats, making his song
|
||
of that sudden raid on the sons of Finn.[4]
|
||
Healfdene's hero, Hnaef the Scylding,
|
||
was fated to fall in the Frisian slaughter.[5]
|
||
Hildeburh needed not hold in value
|
||
her enemies' honor![6] Innocent both
|
||
were the loved ones she lost at the linden-play,
|
||
bairn and brother, they bowed to fate,
|
||
stricken by spears; 'twas a sorrowful woman!
|
||
None doubted why the daughter of Hoc
|
||
bewailed her doom when dawning came,
|
||
and under the sky she saw them lying,
|
||
kinsmen murdered, where most she had kenned
|
||
of the sweets of the world! By war were swept, too,
|
||
Finn's own liegemen, and few were left;
|
||
in the parleying-place[7] he could ply no longer
|
||
weapon, nor war could he wage on Hengest,
|
||
and rescue his remnant by right of arms
|
||
from the prince's thane. A pact he offered:
|
||
another dwelling the Danes should have,
|
||
hall and high-seat, and half the power
|
||
should fall to them in Frisian land;
|
||
and at the fee-gifts, Folcwald's son
|
||
day by day the Danes should honor,
|
||
the folk of Hengest favor with rings,
|
||
even as truly, with treasure and jewels,
|
||
with fretted gold, as his Frisian kin
|
||
he meant to honor in ale-hall there.
|
||
Pact of peace they plighted further
|
||
on both sides firmly. Finn to Hengest
|
||
with oath, upon honor, openly promised
|
||
that woful remnant, with wise-men's aid,
|
||
nobly to govern, so none of the guests
|
||
by word or work should warp the treaty,[8]
|
||
or with malice of mind bemoan themselves
|
||
as forced to follow their fee-giver's slayer,
|
||
lordless men, as their lot ordained.
|
||
Should Frisian, moreover, with foeman's taunt,
|
||
that murderous hatred to mind recall,
|
||
then edge of the sword must seal his doom.
|
||
Oaths were given, and ancient gold
|
||
heaped from hoard. -- The hardy Scylding,
|
||
battle-thane best,[9] on his balefire lay.
|
||
All on the pyre were plain to see
|
||
the gory sark, the gilded swine-crest,
|
||
boar of hard iron, and athelings many
|
||
slain by the sword: at the slaughter they fell.
|
||
It was Hildeburh's hest, at Hnaef's own pyre
|
||
the bairn of her body on brands to lay,
|
||
his bones to burn, on the balefire placed,
|
||
at his uncle's side. In sorrowful dirges
|
||
bewept them the woman: great wailing ascended.
|
||
Then wound up to welkin the wildest of death-fires,
|
||
roared o'er the hillock:[10] heads all were melted,
|
||
gashes burst, and blood gushed out
|
||
from bites[11] of the body. Balefire devoured,
|
||
greediest spirit, those spared not by war
|
||
out of either folk: their flower was gone.
|
||
|
||
[1] Man-price, wergild.
|
||
[2] Beowulf's.
|
||
[3] Hrothgar.
|
||
[4] There is no need to assume a gap in the Ms. As before about Sigemund
|
||
and Heremod, so now, though at greater length, about Finn and his feud,
|
||
a lay is chanted or recited; and the epic poet, counting on his readers'
|
||
familiarity with the story, -- a fragment of it still exists, --
|
||
simply gives the headings.
|
||
[5] The exact story to which this episode refers in summary is not to be
|
||
determined, but the following account of it is reasonable and has good
|
||
support among scholars. Finn, a Frisian chieftain, who nevertheless has
|
||
a "castle" outside the Frisian border, marries Hildeburh, a Danish prin-
|
||
cess; and her brother, Hnaef, with many other Danes, pays Finn a visit.
|
||
Relations between the two peoples have been strained before. Something
|
||
starts the old feud anew; and the visitors are attacked in their quarters.
|
||
Hnaef is killed; so is a son of Hildeburh. Many fall on both sides. Peace
|
||
is patched up; a stately funeral is held; and the surviving visitors become
|
||
in a way vassals or liegemen of Finn, going back with him to Frisia. So
|
||
matters rest a while. Hengest is now leader of the Danes; but he is set
|
||
upon revenge for his former lord, Hnaef. Probably he is killed in feud;
|
||
but his clansmen, Guthlaf and Oslaf, gather at their home a force of
|
||
sturdy Danes, come back to Frisia, storm Finn's stronghold, kill him, and
|
||
carry back their kinswoman Hildeburh.
|
||
[6] The "enemies" must be the Frisians.
|
||
[7] Battlefield. -- Hengest is the "prince's thane," companion of Hnaef.
|
||
"Folcwald's son" is Finn.
|
||
[8] That is, Finn would govern in all honor the few Danish warriors who
|
||
were left, provided, of course, that none of them tried to renew the quarrel
|
||
or avenge Hnaef their fallen lord. If, again, one of Finn's Frisians began
|
||
a quarrel, he should die by the sword.
|
||
[9] Hnaef.
|
||
[10] The high place chosen for the funeral: see description of Beowulf's
|
||
funeral-pile at the end of the poem.
|
||
[11] Wounds.
|
||
|
||
XVII
|
||
|
||
THEN hastened those heroes their home to see,
|
||
friendless, to find the Frisian land,
|
||
houses and high burg. Hengest still
|
||
through the death-dyed winter dwelt with Finn,
|
||
holding pact, yet of home he minded,
|
||
though powerless his ring-decked prow to drive
|
||
over the waters, now waves rolled fierce
|
||
lashed by the winds, or winter locked them
|
||
in icy fetters. Then fared another
|
||
year to men's dwellings, as yet they do,
|
||
the sunbright skies, that their season ever
|
||
duly await. Far off winter was driven;
|
||
fair lay earth's breast; and fain was the rover,
|
||
the guest, to depart, though more gladly he pondered
|
||
on wreaking his vengeance than roaming the deep,
|
||
and how to hasten the hot encounter
|
||
where sons of the Frisians were sure to be.
|
||
So he escaped not the common doom,
|
||
when Hun with "Lafing," the light-of-battle,
|
||
best of blades, his bosom pierced:
|
||
its edge was famed with the Frisian earls.
|
||
On fierce-heart Finn there fell likewise,
|
||
on himself at home, the horrid sword-death;
|
||
for Guthlaf and Oslaf of grim attack
|
||
had sorrowing told, from sea-ways landed,
|
||
mourning their woes.[1] Finn's wavering spirit
|
||
bode not in breast. The burg was reddened
|
||
with blood of foemen, and Finn was slain,
|
||
king amid clansmen; the queen was taken.
|
||
To their ship the Scylding warriors bore
|
||
all the chattels the chieftain owned,
|
||
whatever they found in Finn's domain
|
||
of gems and jewels. The gentle wife
|
||
o'er paths of the deep to the Danes they bore,
|
||
led to her land.
|
||
The lay was finished,
|
||
the gleeman's song. Then glad rose the revel;
|
||
bench-joy brightened. Bearers draw
|
||
from their "wonder-vats" wine. Comes Wealhtheow
|
||
forth,
|
||
under gold-crown goes where the good pair sit,
|
||
uncle and nephew, true each to the other one,
|
||
kindred in amity. Unferth the spokesman
|
||
at the Scylding lord's feet sat: men had faith in his
|
||
spirit,
|
||
his keenness of courage, though kinsmen had found
|
||
him
|
||
unsure at the sword-play. The Scylding queen spoke:
|
||
"Quaff of this cup, my king and lord,
|
||
breaker of rings, and blithe be thou,
|
||
gold-friend of men; to the Geats here speak
|
||
such words of mildness as man should use.
|
||
Be glad with thy Geats; of those gifts be mindful,
|
||
or near or far, which now thou hast.
|
||
Men say to me, as son thou wishest
|
||
yon hero to hold. Thy Heorot purged,
|
||
jewel-hall brightest, enjoy while thou canst,
|
||
with many a largess; and leave to thy kin
|
||
folk and realm when forth thou goest
|
||
to greet thy doom. For gracious I deem
|
||
my Hrothulf,[2] willing to hold and rule
|
||
nobly our youths, if thou yield up first,
|
||
prince of Scyldings, thy part in the world.
|
||
I ween with good he will well requite
|
||
offspring of ours, when all he minds
|
||
that for him we did in his helpless days
|
||
of gift and grace to gain him honor!"
|
||
Then she turned to the seat where her sons were
|
||
placed,
|
||
Hrethric and Hrothmund, with heroes' bairns,
|
||
young men together: the Geat, too, sat there,
|
||
Beowulf brave, the brothers between.
|
||
|
||
[1] That is, these two Danes, escaping home, had told the story of the
|
||
attack on Hnaef, the slaying of Hengest, and all the Danish woes. Collect-
|
||
ing a force, they return to Frisia and kill Finn in his home.
|
||
[2] Nephew to Hrothgar, with whom he subsequently quarrels, and elder
|
||
cousin to the two young sons of Hrothgar and Wealhtheow, -- their natural
|
||
guardian in the event of the king's death. There is something finely femi-
|
||
nine in this speech of Wealhtheow's, apart from its somewhat irregular and
|
||
irrelevant sequence of topics. Both she and her lord probably distrust
|
||
Hrothulf; but she bids the king to be of good cheer, and, turning to the
|
||
suspect, heaps affectionate assurances on his probity. "My own Hrothulf"
|
||
will surely not forget these favors and benefits of the past, but will repay
|
||
them to the orphaned boy.
|
||
|
||
XVIII
|
||
|
||
A CUP she gave him, with kindly greeting
|
||
and winsome words. Of wounden gold,
|
||
she offered, to honor him, arm-jewels twain,
|
||
corselet and rings, and of collars the noblest
|
||
that ever I knew the earth around.
|
||
Ne'er heard I so mighty, 'neath heaven's dome,
|
||
a hoard-gem of heroes, since Hama bore
|
||
to his bright-built burg the Brisings' necklace,
|
||
jewel and gem casket. -- Jealousy fled he,
|
||
Eormenric's hate: chose help eternal.
|
||
Hygelac Geat, grandson of Swerting,
|
||
on the last of his raids this ring bore with him,
|
||
under his banner the booty defending,
|
||
the war-spoil warding; but Wyrd o'erwhelmed him
|
||
what time, in his daring, dangers he sought,
|
||
feud with Frisians. Fairest of gems
|
||
he bore with him over the beaker-of-waves,
|
||
sovran strong: under shield he died.
|
||
Fell the corpse of the king into keeping of Franks,
|
||
gear of the breast, and that gorgeous ring;
|
||
weaker warriors won the spoil,
|
||
after gripe of battle, from Geatland's lord,
|
||
and held the death-field.
|
||
Din rose in hall.
|
||
Wealhtheow spake amid warriors, and said:--
|
||
"This jewel enjoy in thy jocund youth,
|
||
Beowulf lov'd, these battle-weeds wear,
|
||
a royal treasure, and richly thrive!
|
||
Preserve thy strength, and these striplings here
|
||
counsel in kindness: requital be mine.
|
||
Hast done such deeds, that for days to come
|
||
thou art famed among folk both far and near,
|
||
so wide as washeth the wave of Ocean
|
||
his windy walls. Through the ways of life
|
||
prosper, O prince! I pray for thee
|
||
rich possessions. To son of mine
|
||
be helpful in deed and uphold his joys!
|
||
Here every earl to the other is true,
|
||
mild of mood, to the master loyal!
|
||
Thanes are friendly, the throng obedient,
|
||
liegemen are revelling: list and obey!"
|
||
Went then to her place. -- That was proudest of
|
||
feasts;
|
||
flowed wine for the warriors. Wyrd they knew not,
|
||
destiny dire, and the doom to be seen
|
||
by many an earl when eve should come,
|
||
and Hrothgar homeward hasten away,
|
||
royal, to rest. The room was guarded
|
||
by an army of earls, as erst was done.
|
||
They bared the bench-boards; abroad they spread
|
||
beds and bolsters. -- One beer-carouser
|
||
in danger of doom lay down in the hall. --
|
||
At their heads they set their shields of war,
|
||
bucklers bright; on the bench were there
|
||
over each atheling, easy to see,
|
||
the high battle-helmet, the haughty spear,
|
||
the corselet of rings. 'Twas their custom so
|
||
ever to be for battle prepared,
|
||
at home, or harrying, which it were,
|
||
even as oft as evil threatened
|
||
their sovran king. -- They were clansmen good.
|
||
|
||
XIX
|
||
|
||
THEN sank they to sleep. With sorrow one bought
|
||
his rest of the evening, -- as ofttime had happened
|
||
when Grendel guarded that golden hall,
|
||
evil wrought, till his end drew nigh,
|
||
slaughter for sins. 'Twas seen and told
|
||
how an avenger survived the fiend,
|
||
as was learned afar. The livelong time
|
||
after that grim fight, Grendel's mother,
|
||
monster of women, mourned her woe.
|
||
She was doomed to dwell in the dreary waters,
|
||
cold sea-courses, since Cain cut down
|
||
with edge of the sword his only brother,
|
||
his father's offspring: outlawed he fled,
|
||
marked with murder, from men's delights
|
||
warded the wilds. -- There woke from him
|
||
such fate-sent ghosts as Grendel, who,
|
||
war-wolf horrid, at Heorot found
|
||
a warrior watching and waiting the fray,
|
||
with whom the grisly one grappled amain.
|
||
But the man remembered his mighty power,
|
||
the glorious gift that God had sent him,
|
||
in his Maker's mercy put his trust
|
||
for comfort and help: so he conquered the foe,
|
||
felled the fiend, who fled abject,
|
||
reft of joy, to the realms of death,
|
||
mankind's foe. And his mother now,
|
||
gloomy and grim, would go that quest
|
||
of sorrow, the death of her son to avenge.
|
||
To Heorot came she, where helmeted Danes
|
||
slept in the hall. Too soon came back
|
||
old ills of the earls, when in she burst,
|
||
the mother of Grendel. Less grim, though, that terror,
|
||
e'en as terror of woman in war is less,
|
||
might of maid, than of men in arms
|
||
when, hammer-forged, the falchion hard,
|
||
sword gore-stained, through swine of the helm,
|
||
crested, with keen blade carves amain.
|
||
Then was in hall the hard-edge drawn,
|
||
the swords on the settles,[1] and shields a-many
|
||
firm held in hand: nor helmet minded
|
||
nor harness of mail, whom that horror seized.
|
||
Haste was hers; she would hie afar
|
||
and save her life when the liegemen saw her.
|
||
Yet a single atheling up she seized
|
||
fast and firm, as she fled to the moor.
|
||
He was for Hrothgar of heroes the dearest,
|
||
of trusty vassals betwixt the seas,
|
||
whom she killed on his couch, a clansman famous,
|
||
in battle brave. -- Nor was Beowulf there;
|
||
another house had been held apart,
|
||
after giving of gold, for the Geat renowned. --
|
||
Uproar filled Heorot; the hand all had viewed,
|
||
blood-flecked, she bore with her; bale was returned,
|
||
dole in the dwellings: 'twas dire exchange
|
||
where Dane and Geat were doomed to give
|
||
the lives of loved ones. Long-tried king,
|
||
the hoary hero, at heart was sad
|
||
when he knew his noble no more lived,
|
||
and dead indeed was his dearest thane.
|
||
To his bower was Beowulf brought in haste,
|
||
dauntless victor. As daylight broke,
|
||
along with his earls the atheling lord,
|
||
with his clansmen, came where the king abode
|
||
waiting to see if the Wielder-of-All
|
||
would turn this tale of trouble and woe.
|
||
Strode o'er floor the famed-in-strife,
|
||
with his hand-companions, -- the hall resounded, --
|
||
wishing to greet the wise old king,
|
||
Ingwines' lord; he asked if the night
|
||
had passed in peace to the prince's mind.
|
||
|
||
[1] They had laid their arms on the benches near where they slept.
|
||
|
||
XX
|
||
|
||
HROTHGAR spake, helmet-of-Scyldings:--
|
||
"Ask not of pleasure! Pain is renewed
|
||
to Danish folk. Dead is Aeschere,
|
||
of Yrmenlaf the elder brother,
|
||
my sage adviser and stay in council,
|
||
shoulder-comrade in stress of fight
|
||
when warriors clashed and we warded our heads,
|
||
hewed the helm-boars; hero famed
|
||
should be every earl as Aeschere was!
|
||
But here in Heorot a hand hath slain him
|
||
of wandering death-sprite. I wot not whither,[1]
|
||
proud of the prey, her path she took,
|
||
fain of her fill. The feud she avenged
|
||
that yesternight, unyieldingly,
|
||
Grendel in grimmest grasp thou killedst, --
|
||
seeing how long these liegemen mine
|
||
he ruined and ravaged. Reft of life,
|
||
in arms he fell. Now another comes,
|
||
keen and cruel, her kin to avenge,
|
||
faring far in feud of blood:
|
||
so that many a thane shall think, who e'er
|
||
sorrows in soul for that sharer of rings,
|
||
this is hardest of heart-bales. The hand lies low
|
||
that once was willing each wish to please.
|
||
Land-dwellers here[2] and liegemen mine,
|
||
who house by those parts, I have heard relate
|
||
that such a pair they have sometimes seen,
|
||
march-stalkers mighty the moorland haunting,
|
||
wandering spirits: one of them seemed,
|
||
so far as my folk could fairly judge,
|
||
of womankind; and one, accursed,
|
||
in man's guise trod the misery-track
|
||
of exile, though huger than human bulk.
|
||
Grendel in days long gone they named him,
|
||
folk of the land; his father they knew not,
|
||
nor any brood that was born to him
|
||
of treacherous spirits. Untrod is their home;
|
||
by wolf-cliffs haunt they and windy headlands,
|
||
fenways fearful, where flows the stream
|
||
from mountains gliding to gloom of the rocks,
|
||
underground flood. Not far is it hence
|
||
in measure of miles that the mere expands,
|
||
and o'er it the frost-bound forest hanging,
|
||
sturdily rooted, shadows the wave.
|
||
By night is a wonder weird to see,
|
||
fire on the waters. So wise lived none
|
||
of the sons of men, to search those depths!
|
||
Nay, though the heath-rover, harried by dogs,
|
||
the horn-proud hart, this holt should seek,
|
||
long distance driven, his dear life first
|
||
on the brink he yields ere he brave the plunge
|
||
to hide his head: 'tis no happy place!
|
||
Thence the welter of waters washes up
|
||
wan to welkin when winds bestir
|
||
evil storms, and air grows dusk,
|
||
and the heavens weep. Now is help once more
|
||
with thee alone! The land thou knowst not,
|
||
place of fear, where thou findest out
|
||
that sin-flecked being. Seek if thou dare!
|
||
I will reward thee, for waging this fight,
|
||
with ancient treasure, as erst I did,
|
||
with winding gold, if thou winnest back."
|
||
|
||
[1] He surmises presently where she is.
|
||
[2] The connection is not difficult. The words of mourning, of acute grief,
|
||
are said; and according to Germanic sequence of thought, inexorable here,
|
||
the next and only topic is revenge. But is it possible? Hrothgar leads up
|
||
to his appeal and promise with a skillful and often effective description of
|
||
the horrors which surround the monster's home and await the attempt of
|
||
an avenging foe.
|
||
|
||
XXI
|
||
|
||
BEOWULF spake, bairn of Ecgtheow:
|
||
"Sorrow not, sage! It beseems us better
|
||
friends to avenge than fruitlessly mourn them.
|
||
Each of us all must his end abide
|
||
in the ways of the world; so win who may
|
||
glory ere death! When his days are told,
|
||
that is the warrior's worthiest doom.
|
||
Rise, O realm-warder! Ride we anon,
|
||
and mark the trail of the mother of Grendel.
|
||
No harbor shall hide her -- heed my promise! --
|
||
enfolding of field or forested mountain
|
||
or floor of the flood, let her flee where she will!
|
||
But thou this day endure in patience,
|
||
as I ween thou wilt, thy woes each one."
|
||
Leaped up the graybeard: God he thanked,
|
||
mighty Lord, for the man's brave words.
|
||
For Hrothgar soon a horse was saddled
|
||
wave-maned steed. The sovran wise
|
||
stately rode on; his shield-armed men
|
||
followed in force. The footprints led
|
||
along the woodland, widely seen,
|
||
a path o'er the plain, where she passed, and trod
|
||
the murky moor; of men-at-arms
|
||
she bore the bravest and best one, dead,
|
||
him who with Hrothgar the homestead ruled.
|
||
On then went the atheling-born
|
||
o'er stone-cliffs steep and strait defiles,
|
||
narrow passes and unknown ways,
|
||
headlands sheer, and the haunts of the Nicors.
|
||
Foremost he[1] fared, a few at his side
|
||
of the wiser men, the ways to scan,
|
||
till he found in a flash the forested hill
|
||
hanging over the hoary rock,
|
||
a woful wood: the waves below
|
||
were dyed in blood. The Danish men
|
||
had sorrow of soul, and for Scyldings all,
|
||
for many a hero, 'twas hard to bear,
|
||
ill for earls, when Aeschere's head
|
||
they found by the flood on the foreland there.
|
||
Waves were welling, the warriors saw,
|
||
hot with blood; but the horn sang oft
|
||
battle-song bold. The band sat down,
|
||
and watched on the water worm-like things,
|
||
sea-dragons strange that sounded the deep,
|
||
and nicors that lay on the ledge of the ness --
|
||
such as oft essay at hour of morn
|
||
on the road-of-sails their ruthless quest, --
|
||
and sea-snakes and monsters. These started away,
|
||
swollen and savage that song to hear,
|
||
that war-horn's blast. The warden of Geats,
|
||
with bolt from bow, then balked of life,
|
||
of wave-work, one monster, amid its heart
|
||
went the keen war-shaft; in water it seemed
|
||
less doughty in swimming whom death had seized.
|
||
Swift on the billows, with boar-spears well
|
||
hooked and barbed, it was hard beset,
|
||
done to death and dragged on the headland,
|
||
wave-roamer wondrous. Warriors viewed
|
||
the grisly guest.
|
||
Then girt him Beowulf
|
||
in martial mail, nor mourned for his life.
|
||
His breastplate broad and bright of hues,
|
||
woven by hand, should the waters try;
|
||
well could it ward the warrior's body
|
||
that battle should break on his breast in vain
|
||
nor harm his heart by the hand of a foe.
|
||
And the helmet white that his head protected
|
||
was destined to dare the deeps of the flood,
|
||
through wave-whirl win: 'twas wound with chains,
|
||
decked with gold, as in days of yore
|
||
the weapon-smith worked it wondrously,
|
||
with swine-forms set it, that swords nowise,
|
||
brandished in battle, could bite that helm.
|
||
Nor was that the meanest of mighty helps
|
||
which Hrothgar's orator offered at need:
|
||
"Hrunting" they named the hilted sword,
|
||
of old-time heirlooms easily first;
|
||
iron was its edge, all etched with poison,
|
||
with battle-blood hardened, nor blenched it at fight
|
||
in hero's hand who held it ever,
|
||
on paths of peril prepared to go
|
||
to folkstead[2] of foes. Not first time this
|
||
it was destined to do a daring task.
|
||
For he bore not in mind, the bairn of Ecglaf
|
||
sturdy and strong, that speech he had made,
|
||
drunk with wine, now this weapon he lent
|
||
to a stouter swordsman. Himself, though, durst not
|
||
under welter of waters wager his life
|
||
as loyal liegeman. So lost he his glory,
|
||
honor of earls. With the other not so,
|
||
who girded him now for the grim encounter.
|
||
|
||
[1] Hrothgar is probably meant.
|
||
[2] Meeting place.
|
||
|
||
XXII
|
||
|
||
BEOWULF spake, bairn of Ecgtheow:--
|
||
"Have mind, thou honored offspring of Healfdene
|
||
gold-friend of men, now I go on this quest,
|
||
sovran wise, what once was said:
|
||
if in thy cause it came that I
|
||
should lose my life, thou wouldst loyal bide
|
||
to me, though fallen, in father's place!
|
||
Be guardian, thou, to this group of my thanes,
|
||
my warrior-friends, if War should seize me;
|
||
and the goodly gifts thou gavest me,
|
||
Hrothgar beloved, to Hygelac send!
|
||
Geatland's king may ken by the gold,
|
||
Hrethel's son see, when he stares at the treasure,
|
||
that I got me a friend for goodness famed,
|
||
and joyed while I could in my jewel-bestower.
|
||
And let Unferth wield this wondrous sword,
|
||
earl far-honored, this heirloom precious,
|
||
hard of edge: with Hrunting I
|
||
seek doom of glory, or Death shall take me."
|
||
|
||
After these words the Weder-Geat lord
|
||
boldly hastened, biding never
|
||
answer at all: the ocean floods
|
||
closed o'er the hero. Long while of the day
|
||
fled ere he felt the floor of the sea.
|
||
Soon found the fiend who the flood-domain
|
||
sword-hungry held these hundred winters,
|
||
greedy and grim, that some guest from above,
|
||
some man, was raiding her monster-realm.
|
||
She grasped out for him with grisly claws,
|
||
and the warrior seized; yet scathed she not
|
||
his body hale; the breastplate hindered,
|
||
as she strove to shatter the sark of war,
|
||
the linked harness, with loathsome hand.
|
||
Then bore this brine-wolf, when bottom she touched,
|
||
the lord of rings to the lair she haunted
|
||
whiles vainly he strove, though his valor held,
|
||
weapon to wield against wondrous monsters
|
||
that sore beset him; sea-beasts many
|
||
tried with fierce tusks to tear his mail,
|
||
and swarmed on the stranger. But soon he marked
|
||
he was now in some hall, he knew not which,
|
||
where water never could work him harm,
|
||
nor through the roof could reach him ever
|
||
fangs of the flood. Firelight he saw,
|
||
beams of a blaze that brightly shone.
|
||
Then the warrior was ware of that wolf-of-the-deep,
|
||
mere-wife monstrous. For mighty stroke
|
||
he swung his blade, and the blow withheld not.
|
||
Then sang on her head that seemly blade
|
||
its war-song wild. But the warrior found
|
||
the light-of-battle[1] was loath to bite,
|
||
to harm the heart: its hard edge failed
|
||
the noble at need, yet had known of old
|
||
strife hand to hand, and had helmets cloven,
|
||
doomed men's fighting-gear. First time, this,
|
||
for the gleaming blade that its glory fell.
|
||
Firm still stood, nor failed in valor,
|
||
heedful of high deeds, Hygelac's kinsman;
|
||
flung away fretted sword, featly jewelled,
|
||
the angry earl; on earth it lay
|
||
steel-edged and stiff. His strength he trusted,
|
||
hand-gripe of might. So man shall do
|
||
whenever in war he weens to earn him
|
||
lasting fame, nor fears for his life!
|
||
Seized then by shoulder, shrank not from combat,
|
||
the Geatish war-prince Grendel's mother.
|
||
Flung then the fierce one, filled with wrath,
|
||
his deadly foe, that she fell to ground.
|
||
Swift on her part she paid him back
|
||
with grisly grasp, and grappled with him.
|
||
Spent with struggle, stumbled the warrior,
|
||
fiercest of fighting-men, fell adown.
|
||
On the hall-guest she hurled herself, hent her short
|
||
sword,
|
||
broad and brown-edged,[2] the bairn to avenge,
|
||
the sole-born son. -- On his shoulder lay
|
||
braided breast-mail, barring death,
|
||
withstanding entrance of edge or blade.
|
||
Life would have ended for Ecgtheow's son,
|
||
under wide earth for that earl of Geats,
|
||
had his armor of war not aided him,
|
||
battle-net hard, and holy God
|
||
wielded the victory, wisest Maker.
|
||
The Lord of Heaven allowed his cause;
|
||
and easily rose the earl erect.
|
||
|
||
[1] Kenning for "sword." Hrunting is bewitched, laid under a spell of
|
||
uselessness, along with all other swords.
|
||
[2] This brown of swords, evidently meaning burnished, bright, continues to
|
||
be a favorite adjective in the popular ballads.
|
||
|
||
XXIII
|
||
|
||
'MID the battle-gear saw he a blade triumphant,
|
||
old-sword of Eotens, with edge of proof,
|
||
warriors' heirloom, weapon unmatched,
|
||
-- save only 'twas more than other men
|
||
to bandy-of-battle could bear at all --
|
||
as the giants had wrought it, ready and keen.
|
||
Seized then its chain-hilt the Scyldings' chieftain,
|
||
bold and battle-grim, brandished the sword,
|
||
reckless of life, and so wrathfully smote
|
||
that it gripped her neck and grasped her hard,
|
||
her bone-rings breaking: the blade pierced through
|
||
that fated-one's flesh: to floor she sank.
|
||
Bloody the blade: he was blithe of his deed.
|
||
Then blazed forth light. 'Twas bright within
|
||
as when from the sky there shines unclouded
|
||
heaven's candle. The hall he scanned.
|
||
By the wall then went he; his weapon raised
|
||
high by its hilts the Hygelac-thane,
|
||
angry and eager. That edge was not useless
|
||
to the warrior now. He wished with speed
|
||
Grendel to guerdon for grim raids many,
|
||
for the war he waged on Western-Danes
|
||
oftener far than an only time,
|
||
when of Hrothgar's hearth-companions
|
||
he slew in slumber, in sleep devoured,
|
||
fifteen men of the folk of Danes,
|
||
and as many others outward bore,
|
||
his horrible prey. Well paid for that
|
||
the wrathful prince! For now prone he saw
|
||
Grendel stretched there, spent with war,
|
||
spoiled of life, so scathed had left him
|
||
Heorot's battle. The body sprang far
|
||
when after death it endured the blow,
|
||
sword-stroke savage, that severed its head.
|
||
Soon,[1] then, saw the sage companions
|
||
who waited with Hrothgar, watching the flood,
|
||
that the tossing waters turbid grew,
|
||
blood-stained the mere. Old men together,
|
||
hoary-haired, of the hero spake;
|
||
the warrior would not, they weened, again,
|
||
proud of conquest, come to seek
|
||
their mighty master. To many it seemed
|
||
the wolf-of-the-waves had won his life.
|
||
The ninth hour came. The noble Scyldings
|
||
left the headland; homeward went
|
||
the gold-friend of men.[2] But the guests sat on,
|
||
stared at the surges, sick in heart,
|
||
and wished, yet weened not, their winsome lord
|
||
again to see.
|
||
Now that sword began,
|
||
from blood of the fight, in battle-droppings,[3]
|
||
war-blade, to wane: 'twas a wondrous thing
|
||
that all of it melted as ice is wont
|
||
when frosty fetters the Father loosens,
|
||
unwinds the wave-bonds, wielding all
|
||
seasons and times: the true God he!
|
||
Nor took from that dwelling the duke of the Geats
|
||
precious things, though a plenty he saw,
|
||
save only the head and that hilt withal
|
||
blazoned with jewels: the blade had melted,
|
||
burned was the bright sword, her blood was so hot,
|
||
so poisoned the hell-sprite who perished within
|
||
there.
|
||
Soon he was swimming who safe saw in combat
|
||
downfall of demons; up-dove through the flood.
|
||
The clashing waters were cleansed now,
|
||
waste of waves, where the wandering fiend
|
||
her life-days left and this lapsing world.
|
||
Swam then to strand the sailors'-refuge,
|
||
sturdy-in-spirit, of sea-booty glad,
|
||
of burden brave he bore with him.
|
||
Went then to greet him, and God they thanked,
|
||
the thane-band choice of their chieftain blithe,
|
||
that safe and sound they could see him again.
|
||
Soon from the hardy one helmet and armor
|
||
deftly they doffed: now drowsed the mere,
|
||
water 'neath welkin, with war-blood stained.
|
||
Forth they fared by the footpaths thence,
|
||
merry at heart the highways measured,
|
||
well-known roads. Courageous men
|
||
carried the head from the cliff by the sea,
|
||
an arduous task for all the band,
|
||
the firm in fight, since four were needed
|
||
on the shaft-of-slaughter[4] strenuously
|
||
to bear to the gold-hall Grendel's head.
|
||
So presently to the palace there
|
||
foemen fearless, fourteen Geats,
|
||
marching came. Their master-of-clan
|
||
mighty amid them the meadow-ways trod.
|
||
Strode then within the sovran thane
|
||
fearless in fight, of fame renowned,
|
||
hardy hero, Hrothgar to greet.
|
||
And next by the hair into hall was borne
|
||
Grendel's head, where the henchmen were drinking,
|
||
an awe to clan and queen alike,
|
||
a monster of marvel: the men looked on.
|
||
|
||
[1] After the killing of the monster and Grendel's decapitation.
|
||
[2] Hrothgar.
|
||
[3] The blade slowly dissolves in blood-stained drops like icicles.
|
||
[4] Spear.
|
||
|
||
XXIV
|
||
|
||
BEOWULF spake, bairn of Ecgtheow:--
|
||
"Lo, now, this sea-booty, son of Healfdene,
|
||
Lord of Scyldings, we've lustily brought thee,
|
||
sign of glory; thou seest it here.
|
||
Not lightly did I with my life escape!
|
||
In war under water this work I essayed
|
||
with endless effort; and even so
|
||
my strength had been lost had the Lord not shielded
|
||
me.
|
||
Not a whit could I with Hrunting do
|
||
in work of war, though the weapon is good;
|
||
yet a sword the Sovran of Men vouchsafed me
|
||
to spy on the wall there, in splendor hanging,
|
||
old, gigantic, -- how oft He guides
|
||
the friendless wight! -- and I fought with that brand,
|
||
felling in fight, since fate was with me,
|
||
the house's wardens. That war-sword then
|
||
all burned, bright blade, when the blood gushed o'er it,
|
||
battle-sweat hot; but the hilt I brought back
|
||
from my foes. So avenged I their fiendish deeds
|
||
death-fall of Danes, as was due and right.
|
||
And this is my hest, that in Heorot now
|
||
safe thou canst sleep with thy soldier band,
|
||
and every thane of all thy folk
|
||
both old and young; no evil fear,
|
||
Scyldings' lord, from that side again,
|
||
aught ill for thy earls, as erst thou must!"
|
||
Then the golden hilt, for that gray-haired leader,
|
||
hoary hero, in hand was laid,
|
||
giant-wrought, old. So owned and enjoyed it
|
||
after downfall of devils, the Danish lord,
|
||
wonder-smiths' work, since the world was rid
|
||
of that grim-souled fiend, the foe of God,
|
||
murder-marked, and his mother as well.
|
||
Now it passed into power of the people's king,
|
||
best of all that the oceans bound
|
||
who have scattered their gold o'er Scandia's isle.
|
||
Hrothgar spake -- the hilt he viewed,
|
||
heirloom old, where was etched the rise
|
||
of that far-off fight when the floods o'erwhelmed,
|
||
raging waves, the race of giants
|
||
(fearful their fate!), a folk estranged
|
||
from God Eternal: whence guerdon due
|
||
in that waste of waters the Wielder paid them.
|
||
So on the guard of shining gold
|
||
in runic staves it was rightly said
|
||
for whom the serpent-traced sword was wrought,
|
||
best of blades, in bygone days,
|
||
and the hilt well wound. -- The wise-one spake,
|
||
son of Healfdene; silent were all:--
|
||
"Lo, so may he say who sooth and right
|
||
follows 'mid folk, of far times mindful,
|
||
a land-warden old,[1] that this earl belongs
|
||
to the better breed! So, borne aloft,
|
||
thy fame must fly, O friend my Beowulf,
|
||
far and wide o'er folksteads many. Firmly thou
|
||
shalt all maintain,
|
||
mighty strength with mood of wisdom. Love of
|
||
mine will I assure thee,
|
||
as, awhile ago, I promised; thou shalt prove a stay
|
||
in future,
|
||
in far-off years, to folk of thine,
|
||
to the heroes a help. Was not Heremod thus
|
||
to offspring of Ecgwela, Honor-Scyldings,
|
||
nor grew for their grace, but for grisly slaughter,
|
||
for doom of death to the Danishmen.
|
||
He slew, wrath-swollen, his shoulder-comrades,
|
||
companions at board! So he passed alone,
|
||
chieftain haughty, from human cheer.
|
||
Though him the Maker with might endowed,
|
||
delights of power, and uplifted high
|
||
above all men, yet blood-fierce his mind,
|
||
his breast-hoard, grew, no bracelets gave he
|
||
to Danes as was due; he endured all joyless
|
||
strain of struggle and stress of woe,
|
||
long feud with his folk. Here find thy lesson!
|
||
Of virtue advise thee! This verse I have said
|
||
for thee,
|
||
wise from lapsed winters. Wondrous seems
|
||
how to sons of men Almighty God
|
||
in the strength of His spirit sendeth wisdom,
|
||
estate, high station: He swayeth all things.
|
||
Whiles He letteth right lustily fare
|
||
the heart of the hero of high-born race, --
|
||
in seat ancestral assigns him bliss,
|
||
his folk's sure fortress in fee to hold,
|
||
puts in his power great parts of the earth,
|
||
empire so ample, that end of it
|
||
this wanter-of-wisdom weeneth none.
|
||
So he waxes in wealth, nowise can harm him
|
||
illness or age; no evil cares
|
||
shadow his spirit; no sword-hate threatens
|
||
from ever an enemy: all the world
|
||
wends at his will, no worse he knoweth,
|
||
till all within him obstinate pride
|
||
waxes and wakes while the warden slumbers,
|
||
the spirit's sentry; sleep is too fast
|
||
which masters his might, and the murderer nears,
|
||
stealthily shooting the shafts from his bow!
|
||
|
||
[1] That is, "whoever has as wide authority as I have and can remember
|
||
so far back so many instances of heroism, may well say, as I say, that no
|
||
better hero ever lived than Beowulf."
|
||
|
||
XXV
|
||
|
||
"UNDER harness his heart then is hit indeed
|
||
by sharpest shafts; and no shelter avails
|
||
from foul behest of the hellish fiend.[1]
|
||
Him seems too little what long he possessed.
|
||
Greedy and grim, no golden rings
|
||
he gives for his pride; the promised future
|
||
forgets he and spurns, with all God has sent
|
||
him,
|
||
Wonder-Wielder, of wealth and fame.
|
||
Yet in the end it ever comes
|
||
that the frame of the body fragile yields,
|
||
fated falls; and there follows another
|
||
who joyously the jewels divides,
|
||
the royal riches, nor recks of his forebear.
|
||
Ban, then, such baleful thoughts, Beowulf dearest,
|
||
best of men, and the better part choose,
|
||
profit eternal; and temper thy pride,
|
||
warrior famous! The flower of thy might
|
||
lasts now a while: but erelong it shall be
|
||
that sickness or sword thy strength shall minish,
|
||
or fang of fire, or flooding billow,
|
||
or bite of blade, or brandished spear,
|
||
or odious age; or the eyes' clear beam
|
||
wax dull and darken: Death even thee
|
||
in haste shall o'erwhelm, thou hero of war!
|
||
So the Ring-Danes these half-years a hundred I
|
||
ruled,
|
||
wielded 'neath welkin, and warded them bravely
|
||
from mighty-ones many o'er middle-earth,
|
||
from spear and sword, till it seemed for me
|
||
no foe could be found under fold of the sky.
|
||
Lo, sudden the shift! To me seated secure
|
||
came grief for joy when Grendel began
|
||
to harry my home, the hellish foe;
|
||
for those ruthless raids, unresting I suffered
|
||
heart-sorrow heavy. Heaven be thanked,
|
||
Lord Eternal, for life extended
|
||
that I on this head all hewn and bloody,
|
||
after long evil, with eyes may gaze!
|
||
-- Go to the bench now! Be glad at banquet,
|
||
warrior worthy! A wealth of treasure
|
||
at dawn of day, be dealt between us!"
|
||
Glad was the Geats' lord, going betimes
|
||
to seek his seat, as the Sage commanded.
|
||
Afresh, as before, for the famed-in-battle,
|
||
for the band of the hall, was a banquet dight
|
||
nobly anew. The Night-Helm darkened
|
||
dusk o'er the drinkers.
|
||
The doughty ones rose:
|
||
for the hoary-headed would hasten to rest,
|
||
aged Scylding; and eager the Geat,
|
||
shield-fighter sturdy, for sleeping yearned.
|
||
Him wander-weary, warrior-guest
|
||
from far, a hall-thane heralded forth,
|
||
who by custom courtly cared for all
|
||
needs of a thane as in those old days
|
||
warrior-wanderers wont to have.
|
||
So slumbered the stout-heart. Stately the hall
|
||
rose gabled and gilt where the guest slept on
|
||
till a raven black the rapture-of-heaven[2]
|
||
blithe-heart boded. Bright came flying
|
||
shine after shadow. The swordsmen hastened,
|
||
athelings all were eager homeward
|
||
forth to fare; and far from thence
|
||
the great-hearted guest would guide his keel.
|
||
Bade then the hardy-one Hrunting be brought
|
||
to the son of Ecglaf, the sword bade him take,
|
||
excellent iron, and uttered his thanks for it,
|
||
quoth that he counted it keen in battle,
|
||
"war-friend" winsome: with words he slandered not
|
||
edge of the blade: 'twas a big-hearted man!
|
||
Now eager for parting and armed at point
|
||
warriors waited, while went to his host
|
||
that Darling of Danes. The doughty atheling
|
||
to high-seat hastened and Hrothgar greeted.
|
||
|
||
[1] That is, he is now undefended by conscience from the temptations
|
||
(shafts) of the devil.
|
||
[2] Kenning for the sun. -- This is a strange role for the raven. He is the
|
||
warrior's bird of battle, exults in slaughter and carnage; his joy here is a
|
||
compliment to the sunrise.
|
||
|
||
XXVI
|
||
|
||
BEOWULF spake, bairn of Ecgtheow:--
|
||
"Lo, we seafarers say our will,
|
||
far-come men, that we fain would seek
|
||
Hygelac now. We here have found
|
||
hosts to our heart: thou hast harbored us well.
|
||
If ever on earth I am able to win me
|
||
more of thy love, O lord of men,
|
||
aught anew, than I now have done,
|
||
for work of war I am willing still!
|
||
If it come to me ever across the seas
|
||
that neighbor foemen annoy and fright thee, --
|
||
as they that hate thee erewhile have used, --
|
||
thousands then of thanes I shall bring,
|
||
heroes to help thee. Of Hygelac I know,
|
||
ward of his folk, that, though few his years,
|
||
the lord of the Geats will give me aid
|
||
by word and by work, that well I may serve thee,
|
||
wielding the war-wood to win thy triumph
|
||
and lending thee might when thou lackest men.
|
||
If thy Hrethric should come to court of Geats,
|
||
a sovran's son, he will surely there
|
||
find his friends. A far-off land
|
||
each man should visit who vaunts him brave."
|
||
Him then answering, Hrothgar spake:--
|
||
"These words of thine the wisest God
|
||
sent to thy soul! No sager counsel
|
||
from so young in years e'er yet have I heard.
|
||
Thou art strong of main and in mind art wary,
|
||
art wise in words! I ween indeed
|
||
if ever it hap that Hrethel's heir
|
||
by spear be seized, by sword-grim battle,
|
||
by illness or iron, thine elder and lord,
|
||
people's leader, -- and life be thine, --
|
||
no seemlier man will the Sea-Geats find
|
||
at all to choose for their chief and king,
|
||
for hoard-guard of heroes, if hold thou wilt
|
||
thy kinsman's kingdom! Thy keen mind pleases me
|
||
the longer the better, Beowulf loved!
|
||
Thou hast brought it about that both our peoples,
|
||
sons of the Geat and Spear-Dane folk,
|
||
shall have mutual peace, and from murderous strife,
|
||
such as once they waged, from war refrain.
|
||
Long as I rule this realm so wide,
|
||
let our hoards be common, let heroes with gold
|
||
each other greet o'er the gannet's-bath,
|
||
and the ringed-prow bear o'er rolling waves
|
||
tokens of love. I trow my landfolk
|
||
towards friend and foe are firmly joined,
|
||
and honor they keep in the olden way."
|
||
To him in the hall, then, Healfdene's son
|
||
gave treasures twelve, and the trust-of-earls
|
||
bade him fare with the gifts to his folk beloved,
|
||
hale to his home, and in haste return.
|
||
Then kissed the king of kin renowned,
|
||
Scyldings' chieftain, that choicest thane,
|
||
and fell on his neck. Fast flowed the tears
|
||
of the hoary-headed. Heavy with winters,
|
||
he had chances twain, but he clung to this,[1] --
|
||
that each should look on the other again,
|
||
and hear him in hall. Was this hero so dear to him.
|
||
his breast's wild billows he banned in vain;
|
||
safe in his soul a secret longing,
|
||
locked in his mind, for that loved man
|
||
burned in his blood. Then Beowulf strode,
|
||
glad of his gold-gifts, the grass-plot o'er,
|
||
warrior blithe. The wave-roamer bode
|
||
riding at anchor, its owner awaiting.
|
||
As they hastened onward, Hrothgar's gift
|
||
they lauded at length. -- 'Twas a lord unpeered,
|
||
every way blameless, till age had broken
|
||
-- it spareth no mortal -- his splendid might.
|
||
|
||
[1] That is, he might or might not see Beowulf again. Old as he was, the
|
||
latter chance was likely; but he clung to the former, hoping to see his
|
||
young friend again "and exchange brave words in the hall."
|
||
|
||
XXVII
|
||
|
||
CAME now to ocean the ever-courageous
|
||
hardy henchmen, their harness bearing,
|
||
woven war-sarks. The warden marked,
|
||
trusty as ever, the earl's return.
|
||
From the height of the hill no hostile words
|
||
reached the guests as he rode to greet them;
|
||
but "Welcome!" he called to that Weder clan
|
||
as the sheen-mailed spoilers to ship marched on.
|
||
Then on the strand, with steeds and treasure
|
||
and armor their roomy and ring-dight ship
|
||
was heavily laden: high its mast
|
||
rose over Hrothgar's hoarded gems.
|
||
A sword to the boat-guard Beowulf gave,
|
||
mounted with gold; on the mead-bench since
|
||
he was better esteemed, that blade possessing,
|
||
heirloom old. -- Their ocean-keel boarding,
|
||
they drove through the deep, and Daneland left.
|
||
A sea-cloth was set, a sail with ropes,
|
||
firm to the mast; the flood-timbers moaned;[1]
|
||
nor did wind over billows that wave-swimmer blow
|
||
across from her course. The craft sped on,
|
||
foam-necked it floated forth o'er the waves,
|
||
keel firm-bound over briny currents,
|
||
till they got them sight of the Geatish cliffs,
|
||
home-known headlands. High the boat,
|
||
stirred by winds, on the strand updrove.
|
||
Helpful at haven the harbor-guard stood,
|
||
who long already for loved companions
|
||
by the water had waited and watched afar.
|
||
He bound to the beach the broad-bosomed ship
|
||
with anchor-bands, lest ocean-billows
|
||
that trusty timber should tear away.
|
||
Then Beowulf bade them bear the treasure,
|
||
gold and jewels; no journey far
|
||
was it thence to go to the giver of rings,
|
||
Hygelac Hrethling: at home he dwelt
|
||
by the sea-wall close, himself and clan.
|
||
Haughty that house, a hero the king,
|
||
high the hall, and Hygd[2] right young,
|
||
wise and wary, though winters few
|
||
in those fortress walls she had found a home,
|
||
Haereth's daughter. Nor humble her ways,
|
||
nor grudged she gifts to the Geatish men,
|
||
of precious treasure. Not Thryth's pride showed she,
|
||
folk-queen famed, or that fell deceit.
|
||
Was none so daring that durst make bold
|
||
(save her lord alone) of the liegemen dear
|
||
that lady full in the face to look,
|
||
but forged fetters he found his lot,
|
||
bonds of death! And brief the respite;
|
||
soon as they seized him, his sword-doom was spoken,
|
||
and the burnished blade a baleful murder
|
||
proclaimed and closed. No queenly way
|
||
for woman to practise, though peerless she,
|
||
that the weaver-of-peace[3] from warrior dear
|
||
by wrath and lying his life should reave!
|
||
But Hemming's kinsman hindered this. --
|
||
For over their ale men also told
|
||
that of these folk-horrors fewer she wrought,
|
||
onslaughts of evil, after she went,
|
||
gold-decked bride, to the brave young prince,
|
||
atheling haughty, and Offa's hall
|
||
o'er the fallow flood at her father's bidding
|
||
safely sought, where since she prospered,
|
||
royal, throned, rich in goods,
|
||
fain of the fair life fate had sent her,
|
||
and leal in love to the lord of warriors.
|
||
He, of all heroes I heard of ever
|
||
from sea to sea, of the sons of earth,
|
||
most excellent seemed. Hence Offa was praised
|
||
for his fighting and feeing by far-off men,
|
||
the spear-bold warrior; wisely he ruled
|
||
over his empire. Eomer woke to him,
|
||
help of heroes, Hemming's kinsman,
|
||
Grandson of Garmund, grim in war.
|
||
|
||
[1] With the speed of the boat.
|
||
[2] Queen to Hygelac. She is praised by contrast with the antitype, Thryth,
|
||
just as Beowulf was praised by contrast with Heremod.
|
||
[3] Kenning for "wife."
|
||
|
||
XXVIII
|
||
|
||
HASTENED the hardy one, henchmen with him,
|
||
sandy strand of the sea to tread
|
||
and widespread ways. The world's great candle,
|
||
sun shone from south. They strode along
|
||
with sturdy steps to the spot they knew
|
||
where the battle-king young, his burg within,
|
||
slayer of Ongentheow, shared the rings,
|
||
shelter-of-heroes. To Hygelac
|
||
Beowulf's coming was quickly told, --
|
||
that there in the court the clansmen's refuge,
|
||
the shield-companion sound and alive,
|
||
hale from the hero-play homeward strode.
|
||
With haste in the hall, by highest order,
|
||
room for the rovers was readily made.
|
||
By his sovran he sat, come safe from battle,
|
||
kinsman by kinsman. His kindly lord
|
||
he first had greeted in gracious form,
|
||
with manly words. The mead dispensing,
|
||
came through the high hall Haereth's daughter,
|
||
winsome to warriors, wine-cup bore
|
||
to the hands of the heroes. Hygelac then
|
||
his comrade fairly with question plied
|
||
in the lofty hall, sore longing to know
|
||
what manner of sojourn the Sea-Geats made.
|
||
"What came of thy quest, my kinsman Beowulf,
|
||
when thy yearnings suddenly swept thee yonder
|
||
battle to seek o'er the briny sea,
|
||
combat in Heorot? Hrothgar couldst thou
|
||
aid at all, the honored chief,
|
||
in his wide-known woes? With waves of care
|
||
my sad heart seethed; I sore mistrusted
|
||
my loved one's venture: long I begged thee
|
||
by no means to seek that slaughtering monster,
|
||
but suffer the South-Danes to settle their feud
|
||
themselves with Grendel. Now God be thanked
|
||
that safe and sound I can see thee now!"
|
||
Beowulf spake, the bairn of Ecgtheow:--
|
||
"'Tis known and unhidden, Hygelac Lord,
|
||
to many men, that meeting of ours,
|
||
struggle grim between Grendel and me,
|
||
which we fought on the field where full too many
|
||
sorrows he wrought for the Scylding-Victors,
|
||
evils unending. These all I avenged.
|
||
No boast can be from breed of Grendel,
|
||
any on earth, for that uproar at dawn,
|
||
from the longest-lived of the loathsome race
|
||
in fleshly fold! -- But first I went
|
||
Hrothgar to greet in the hall of gifts,
|
||
where Healfdene's kinsman high-renowned,
|
||
soon as my purpose was plain to him,
|
||
assigned me a seat by his son and heir.
|
||
The liegemen were lusty; my life-days never
|
||
such merry men over mead in hall
|
||
have I heard under heaven! The high-born queen,
|
||
people's peace-bringer, passed through the hall,
|
||
cheered the young clansmen, clasps of gold,
|
||
ere she sought her seat, to sundry gave.
|
||
Oft to the heroes Hrothgar's daughter,
|
||
to earls in turn, the ale-cup tendered, --
|
||
she whom I heard these hall-companions
|
||
Freawaru name, when fretted gold
|
||
she proffered the warriors. Promised is she,
|
||
gold-decked maid, to the glad son of Froda.
|
||
Sage this seems to the Scylding's-friend,
|
||
kingdom's-keeper: he counts it wise
|
||
the woman to wed so and ward off feud,
|
||
store of slaughter. But seldom ever
|
||
when men are slain, does the murder-spear sink
|
||
but briefest while, though the bride be fair![1]
|
||
"Nor haply will like it the Heathobard lord,
|
||
and as little each of his liegemen all,
|
||
when a thane of the Danes, in that doughty throng,
|
||
goes with the lady along their hall,
|
||
and on him the old-time heirlooms glisten
|
||
hard and ring-decked, Heathobard's treasure,
|
||
weapons that once they wielded fair
|
||
until they lost at the linden-play[2]
|
||
liegeman leal and their lives as well.
|
||
Then, over the ale, on this heirloom gazing,
|
||
some ash-wielder old who has all in mind
|
||
that spear-death of men,[3] -- he is stern of mood,
|
||
heavy at heart, -- in the hero young
|
||
tests the temper and tries the soul
|
||
and war-hate wakens, with words like these:--
|
||
_Canst thou not, comrade, ken that sword
|
||
which to the fray thy father carried
|
||
in his final feud, 'neath the fighting-mask,
|
||
dearest of blades, when the Danish slew him
|
||
and wielded the war-place on Withergild's fall,
|
||
after havoc of heroes, those hardy Scyldings?
|
||
Now, the son of a certain slaughtering Dane,
|
||
proud of his treasure, paces this hall,
|
||
joys in the killing, and carries the jewel[4]
|
||
that rightfully ought to be owned by thee!_
|
||
Thus he urges and eggs him all the time
|
||
with keenest words, till occasion offers
|
||
that Freawaru's thane, for his father's deed,
|
||
after bite of brand in his blood must slumber,
|
||
losing his life; but that liegeman flies
|
||
living away, for the land he kens.
|
||
And thus be broken on both their sides
|
||
oaths of the earls, when Ingeld's breast
|
||
wells with war-hate, and wife-love now
|
||
after the care-billows cooler grows.
|
||
"So[5] I hold not high the Heathobards' faith
|
||
due to the Danes, or their during love
|
||
and pact of peace. -- But I pass from that,
|
||
turning to Grendel, O giver-of-treasure,
|
||
and saying in full how the fight resulted,
|
||
hand-fray of heroes. When heaven's jewel
|
||
had fled o'er far fields, that fierce sprite came,
|
||
night-foe savage, to seek us out
|
||
where safe and sound we sentried the hall.
|
||
To Hondscio then was that harassing deadly,
|
||
his fall there was fated. He first was slain,
|
||
girded warrior. Grendel on him
|
||
turned murderous mouth, on our mighty kinsman,
|
||
and all of the brave man's body devoured.
|
||
Yet none the earlier, empty-handed,
|
||
would the bloody-toothed murderer, mindful of bale,
|
||
outward go from the gold-decked hall:
|
||
but me he attacked in his terror of might,
|
||
with greedy hand grasped me. A glove hung by him[6]
|
||
wide and wondrous, wound with bands;
|
||
and in artful wise it all was wrought,
|
||
by devilish craft, of dragon-skins.
|
||
Me therein, an innocent man,
|
||
the fiendish foe was fain to thrust
|
||
with many another. He might not so,
|
||
when I all angrily upright stood.
|
||
'Twere long to relate how that land-destroyer
|
||
I paid in kind for his cruel deeds;
|
||
yet there, my prince, this people of thine
|
||
got fame by my fighting. He fled away,
|
||
and a little space his life preserved;
|
||
but there staid behind him his stronger hand
|
||
left in Heorot; heartsick thence
|
||
on the floor of the ocean that outcast fell.
|
||
Me for this struggle the Scyldings'-friend
|
||
paid in plenty with plates of gold,
|
||
with many a treasure, when morn had come
|
||
and we all at the banquet-board sat down.
|
||
Then was song and glee. The gray-haired Scylding,
|
||
much tested, told of the times of yore.
|
||
Whiles the hero his harp bestirred,
|
||
wood-of-delight; now lays he chanted
|
||
of sooth and sadness, or said aright
|
||
legends of wonder, the wide-hearted king;
|
||
or for years of his youth he would yearn at times,
|
||
for strength of old struggles, now stricken with age,
|
||
hoary hero: his heart surged full
|
||
when, wise with winters, he wailed their flight.
|
||
Thus in the hall the whole of that day
|
||
at ease we feasted, till fell o'er earth
|
||
another night. Anon full ready
|
||
in greed of vengeance, Grendel's mother
|
||
set forth all doleful. Dead was her son
|
||
through war-hate of Weders; now, woman monstrous
|
||
with fury fell a foeman she slew,
|
||
avenged her offspring. From Aeschere old,
|
||
loyal councillor, life was gone;
|
||
nor might they e'en, when morning broke,
|
||
those Danish people, their death-done comrade
|
||
burn with brands, on balefire lay
|
||
the man they mourned. Under mountain stream
|
||
she had carried the corpse with cruel hands.
|
||
For Hrothgar that was the heaviest sorrow
|
||
of all that had laden the lord of his folk.
|
||
The leader then, by thy life, besought me
|
||
(sad was his soul) in the sea-waves' coil
|
||
to play the hero and hazard my being
|
||
for glory of prowess: my guerdon he pledged.
|
||
I then in the waters -- 'tis widely known --
|
||
that sea-floor-guardian savage found.
|
||
Hand-to-hand there a while we struggled;
|
||
billows welled blood; in the briny hall
|
||
her head I hewed with a hardy blade
|
||
from Grendel's mother, -- and gained my life,
|
||
though not without danger. My doom was not yet.
|
||
Then the haven-of-heroes, Healfdene's son,
|
||
gave me in guerdon great gifts of price.
|
||
|
||
[1] Beowulf gives his uncle the king not mere gossip of his journey, but a
|
||
statesmanlike forecast of the outcome of certain policies at the Danish court.
|
||
Talk of interpolation here is absurd. As both Beowulf and Hygelac know, --
|
||
and the folk for whom the Beowulf was put together also knew, -- Froda
|
||
was king of the Heathobards (probably the Langobards, once near neigh-
|
||
bors of Angle and Saxon tribes on the continent), and had fallen in fight
|
||
with the Danes. Hrothgar will set aside this feud by giving his daughter
|
||
as "peace-weaver" and wife to the young king Ingeld, son of the slain
|
||
Froda. But Beowulf, on general principles and from his observation of the
|
||
particular case, foretells trouble.
|
||
[2] Play of shields, battle. A Danish warrior cuts down Froda in the fight,
|
||
and takes his sword and armor, leaving them to a son. This son is selected
|
||
to accompany his mistress, the young princess Freawaru, to her new home
|
||
when she is Ingeld's queen. Heedlessly he wears the sword of Froda in
|
||
hall. An old warrior points it out to Ingeld, and eggs him on to vengeance.
|
||
At his instigation the Dane is killed; but the murderer, afraid of results,
|
||
and knowing the land, escapes. So the old feud must break out again.
|
||
[3] That is, their disastrous battle and the slaying of their king.
|
||
[4] The sword.
|
||
[5] Beowulf returns to his forecast. Things might well go somewhat as
|
||
follows, he says; sketches a little tragic story; and with this prophecy by
|
||
illustration returns to the tale of his adventure.
|
||
[6] Not an actual glove, but a sort of bag.
|
||
|
||
XXXI
|
||
|
||
"So held this king to the customs old,
|
||
that I wanted for nought in the wage I gained,
|
||
the meed of my might; he made me gifts,
|
||
Healfdene's heir, for my own disposal.
|
||
Now to thee, my prince, I proffer them all,
|
||
gladly give them. Thy grace alone
|
||
can find me favor. Few indeed
|
||
have I of kinsmen, save, Hygelac, thee!"
|
||
Then he bade them bear him the boar-head standard,
|
||
the battle-helm high, and breastplate gray,
|
||
the splendid sword; then spake in form:--
|
||
"Me this war-gear the wise old prince,
|
||
Hrothgar, gave, and his hest he added,
|
||
that its story be straightway said to thee. --
|
||
A while it was held by Heorogar king,
|
||
for long time lord of the land of Scyldings;
|
||
yet not to his son the sovran left it,
|
||
to daring Heoroweard, -- dear as he was to him,
|
||
his harness of battle. -- Well hold thou it all!"
|
||
And I heard that soon passed o'er the path of
|
||
this treasure,
|
||
all apple-fallow, four good steeds,
|
||
each like the others, arms and horses
|
||
he gave to the king. So should kinsmen be,
|
||
not weave one another the net of wiles,
|
||
or with deep-hid treachery death contrive
|
||
for neighbor and comrade. His nephew was ever
|
||
by hardy Hygelac held full dear,
|
||
and each kept watch o'er the other's weal.
|
||
I heard, too, the necklace to Hygd he presented,
|
||
wonder-wrought treasure, which Wealhtheow gave
|
||
him
|
||
sovran's daughter: three steeds he added,
|
||
slender and saddle-gay. Since such gift
|
||
the gem gleamed bright on the breast of the queen.
|
||
Thus showed his strain the son of Ecgtheow
|
||
as a man remarked for mighty deeds
|
||
and acts of honor. At ale he slew not
|
||
comrade or kin; nor cruel his mood,
|
||
though of sons of earth his strength was greatest,
|
||
a glorious gift that God had sent
|
||
the splendid leader. Long was he spurned,
|
||
and worthless by Geatish warriors held;
|
||
him at mead the master-of-clans
|
||
failed full oft to favor at all.
|
||
Slack and shiftless the strong men deemed him,
|
||
profitless prince; but payment came,
|
||
to the warrior honored, for all his woes. --
|
||
Then the bulwark-of-earls[1] bade bring within,
|
||
hardy chieftain, Hrethel's heirloom
|
||
garnished with gold: no Geat e'er knew
|
||
in shape of a sword a statelier prize.
|
||
The brand he laid in Beowulf's lap;
|
||
and of hides assigned him seven thousand,[2]
|
||
with house and high-seat. They held in common
|
||
land alike by their line of birth,
|
||
inheritance, home: but higher the king
|
||
because of his rule o'er the realm itself.
|
||
|
||
Now further it fell with the flight of years,
|
||
with harryings horrid, that Hygelac perished,[3]
|
||
and Heardred, too, by hewing of swords
|
||
under the shield-wall slaughtered lay,
|
||
when him at the van of his victor-folk
|
||
sought hardy heroes, Heatho-Scilfings,
|
||
in arms o'erwhelming Hereric's nephew.
|
||
Then Beowulf came as king this broad
|
||
realm to wield; and he ruled it well
|
||
fifty winters,[4] a wise old prince,
|
||
warding his land, until One began
|
||
in the dark of night, a Dragon, to rage.
|
||
In the grave on the hill a hoard it guarded,
|
||
in the stone-barrow steep. A strait path reached it,
|
||
unknown to mortals. Some man, however,
|
||
came by chance that cave within
|
||
to the heathen hoard.[5] In hand he took
|
||
a golden goblet, nor gave he it back,
|
||
stole with it away, while the watcher slept,
|
||
by thievish wiles: for the warden's wrath
|
||
prince and people must pay betimes!
|
||
|
||
[1] Hygelac.
|
||
[2] This is generally assumed to mean hides, though the text simply says
|
||
"seven thousand." A hide in England meant about 120 acres, though "the
|
||
size of the acre varied."
|
||
[3] On the historical raid into Frankish territory between 512 and 520 A.D.
|
||
The subsequent course of events, as gathered from hints of this epic, is
|
||
partly told in Scandinavian legend.
|
||
[4] The chronology of this epic, as scholars have worked it out, would make
|
||
Beowulf well over ninety years of age when he fights the dragon. But the
|
||
fifty years of his reign need not be taken as historical fact.
|
||
[5] The text is here hopelessly illegible, and only the general drift of the
|
||
meaning can be rescued. For one thing, we have the old myth of a dragon
|
||
who guards hidden treasure. But with this runs the story of some noble,
|
||
last of his race, who hides all his wealth within this barrow and there
|
||
chants his farewell to life's glories. After his death the dragon takes pos-
|
||
session of the hoard and watches over it. A condemned or banished man,
|
||
desperate, hides in the barrow, discovers the treasure, and while the dragon
|
||
sleeps, makes off with a golden beaker or the like, and carries it for propi-
|
||
tiation to his master. The dragon discovers the loss and exacts fearful
|
||
penalty from the people round about.
|
||
|
||
XXXII
|
||
|
||
THAT way he went with no will of his own,
|
||
in danger of life, to the dragon's hoard,
|
||
but for pressure of peril, some prince's thane.
|
||
He fled in fear the fatal scourge,
|
||
seeking shelter, a sinful man,
|
||
and entered in. At the awful sight
|
||
tottered that guest, and terror seized him;
|
||
yet the wretched fugitive rallied anon
|
||
from fright and fear ere he fled away,
|
||
and took the cup from that treasure-hoard.
|
||
Of such besides there was store enough,
|
||
heirlooms old, the earth below,
|
||
which some earl forgotten, in ancient years,
|
||
left the last of his lofty race,
|
||
heedfully there had hidden away,
|
||
dearest treasure. For death of yore
|
||
had hurried all hence; and he alone
|
||
left to live, the last of the clan,
|
||
weeping his friends, yet wished to bide
|
||
warding the treasure, his one delight,
|
||
though brief his respite. The barrow, new-ready,
|
||
to strand and sea-waves stood anear,
|
||
hard by the headland, hidden and closed;
|
||
there laid within it his lordly heirlooms
|
||
and heaped hoard of heavy gold
|
||
that warden of rings. Few words he spake:
|
||
"Now hold thou, earth, since heroes may not,
|
||
what earls have owned! Lo, erst from thee
|
||
brave men brought it! But battle-death seized
|
||
and cruel killing my clansmen all,
|
||
robbed them of life and a liegeman's joys.
|
||
None have I left to lift the sword,
|
||
or to cleanse the carven cup of price,
|
||
beaker bright. My brave are gone.
|
||
And the helmet hard, all haughty with gold,
|
||
shall part from its plating. Polishers sleep
|
||
who could brighten and burnish the battle-mask;
|
||
and those weeds of war that were wont to brave
|
||
over bicker of shields the bite of steel
|
||
rust with their bearer. The ringed mail
|
||
fares not far with famous chieftain,
|
||
at side of hero! No harp's delight,
|
||
no glee-wood's gladness! No good hawk now
|
||
flies through the hall! Nor horses fleet
|
||
stamp in the burgstead! Battle and death
|
||
the flower of my race have reft away."
|
||
Mournful of mood, thus he moaned his woe,
|
||
alone, for them all, and unblithe wept
|
||
by day and by night, till death's fell wave
|
||
o'erwhelmed his heart. His hoard-of-bliss
|
||
that old ill-doer open found,
|
||
who, blazing at twilight the barrows haunteth,
|
||
naked foe-dragon flying by night
|
||
folded in fire: the folk of earth
|
||
dread him sore. 'Tis his doom to seek
|
||
hoard in the graves, and heathen gold
|
||
to watch, many-wintered: nor wins he thereby!
|
||
Powerful this plague-of-the-people thus
|
||
held the house of the hoard in earth
|
||
three hundred winters; till One aroused
|
||
wrath in his breast, to the ruler bearing
|
||
that costly cup, and the king implored
|
||
for bond of peace. So the barrow was plundered,
|
||
borne off was booty. His boon was granted
|
||
that wretched man; and his ruler saw
|
||
first time what was fashioned in far-off days.
|
||
When the dragon awoke, new woe was kindled.
|
||
O'er the stone he snuffed. The stark-heart found
|
||
footprint of foe who so far had gone
|
||
in his hidden craft by the creature's head. --
|
||
So may the undoomed easily flee
|
||
evils and exile, if only he gain
|
||
the grace of The Wielder! -- That warden of gold
|
||
o'er the ground went seeking, greedy to find
|
||
the man who wrought him such wrong in sleep.
|
||
Savage and burning, the barrow he circled
|
||
all without; nor was any there,
|
||
none in the waste.... Yet war he desired,
|
||
was eager for battle. The barrow he entered,
|
||
sought the cup, and discovered soon
|
||
that some one of mortals had searched his treasure,
|
||
his lordly gold. The guardian waited
|
||
ill-enduring till evening came;
|
||
boiling with wrath was the barrow's keeper,
|
||
and fain with flame the foe to pay
|
||
for the dear cup's loss. -- Now day was fled
|
||
as the worm had wished. By its wall no more
|
||
was it glad to bide, but burning flew
|
||
folded in flame: a fearful beginning
|
||
for sons of the soil; and soon it came,
|
||
in the doom of their lord, to a dreadful end.
|
||
|
||
XXXIII
|
||
|
||
THEN the baleful fiend its fire belched out,
|
||
and bright homes burned. The blaze stood high
|
||
all landsfolk frighting. No living thing
|
||
would that loathly one leave as aloft it flew.
|
||
Wide was the dragon's warring seen,
|
||
its fiendish fury far and near,
|
||
as the grim destroyer those Geatish people
|
||
hated and hounded. To hidden lair,
|
||
to its hoard it hastened at hint of dawn.
|
||
Folk of the land it had lapped in flame,
|
||
with bale and brand. In its barrow it trusted,
|
||
its battling and bulwarks: that boast was vain!
|
||
|
||
To Beowulf then the bale was told
|
||
quickly and truly: the king's own home,
|
||
of buildings the best, in brand-waves melted,
|
||
that gift-throne of Geats. To the good old man
|
||
sad in heart, 'twas heaviest sorrow.
|
||
The sage assumed that his sovran God
|
||
he had angered, breaking ancient law,
|
||
and embittered the Lord. His breast within
|
||
with black thoughts welled, as his wont was never.
|
||
The folk's own fastness that fiery dragon
|
||
with flame had destroyed, and the stronghold all
|
||
washed by waves; but the warlike king,
|
||
prince of the Weders, plotted vengeance.
|
||
Warriors'-bulwark, he bade them work
|
||
all of iron -- the earl's commander --
|
||
a war-shield wondrous: well he knew
|
||
that forest-wood against fire were worthless,
|
||
linden could aid not. -- Atheling brave,
|
||
he was fated to finish this fleeting life,[1]
|
||
his days on earth, and the dragon with him,
|
||
though long it had watched o'er the wealth of the
|
||
hoard! --
|
||
Shame he reckoned it, sharer-of-rings,
|
||
to follow the flyer-afar with a host,
|
||
a broad-flung band; nor the battle feared he,
|
||
nor deemed he dreadful the dragon's warring,
|
||
its vigor and valor: ventures desperate
|
||
he had passed a-plenty, and perils of war,
|
||
contest-crash, since, conqueror proud,
|
||
Hrothgar's hall he had wholly purged,
|
||
and in grapple had killed the kin of Grendel,
|
||
loathsome breed! Not least was that
|
||
of hand-to-hand fights where Hygelac fell,
|
||
when the ruler of Geats in rush of battle,
|
||
lord of his folk, in the Frisian land,
|
||
son of Hrethel, by sword-draughts died,
|
||
by brands down-beaten. Thence Beowulf fled
|
||
through strength of himself and his swimming power,
|
||
though alone, and his arms were laden with thirty
|
||
coats of mail, when he came to the sea!
|
||
Nor yet might Hetwaras[2] haughtily boast
|
||
their craft of contest, who carried against him
|
||
shields to the fight: but few escaped
|
||
from strife with the hero to seek their homes!
|
||
Then swam over ocean Ecgtheow's son
|
||
lonely and sorrowful, seeking his land,
|
||
where Hygd made him offer of hoard and realm,
|
||
rings and royal-seat, reckoning naught
|
||
the strength of her son to save their kingdom
|
||
from hostile hordes, after Hygelac's death.
|
||
No sooner for this could the stricken ones
|
||
in any wise move that atheling's mind
|
||
over young Heardred's head as lord
|
||
and ruler of all the realm to be:
|
||
yet the hero upheld him with helpful words,
|
||
aided in honor, till, older grown,
|
||
he wielded the Weder-Geats. -- Wandering exiles
|
||
sought him o'er seas, the sons of Ohtere,
|
||
who had spurned the sway of the Scylfings'-helmet,
|
||
the bravest and best that broke the rings,
|
||
in Swedish land, of the sea-kings' line,
|
||
haughty hero.[3] Hence Heardred's end.
|
||
For shelter he gave them, sword-death came,
|
||
the blade's fell blow, to bairn of Hygelac;
|
||
but the son of Ongentheow sought again
|
||
house and home when Heardred fell,
|
||
leaving Beowulf lord of Geats
|
||
and gift-seat's master. -- A good king he!
|
||
|
||
[1] Literally "loan-days," days loaned to man.
|
||
[2] Chattuarii, a tribe that dwelt along the Rhine, and took part in repelling
|
||
the raid of (Hygelac) Chocilaicus.
|
||
[3] Onela, son of Ongentheow, who pursues his two nephews Eanmund and
|
||
Eadgils to Heardred's court, where they have taken refuge after their un-
|
||
successful rebellion. In the fighting Heardred is killed.
|
||
|
||
XXXIV
|
||
|
||
THE fall of his lord he was fain to requite
|
||
in after days; and to Eadgils he proved
|
||
friend to the friendless, and forces sent
|
||
over the sea to the son of Ohtere,
|
||
weapons and warriors: well repaid he
|
||
those care-paths cold when the king he slew.[1]
|
||
Thus safe through struggles the son of Ecgtheow
|
||
had passed a plenty, through perils dire,
|
||
with daring deeds, till this day was come
|
||
that doomed him now with the dragon to strive.
|
||
With comrades eleven the lord of Geats
|
||
swollen in rage went seeking the dragon.
|
||
He had heard whence all the harm arose
|
||
and the killing of clansmen; that cup of price
|
||
on the lap of the lord had been laid by the finder.
|
||
In the throng was this one thirteenth man,
|
||
starter of all the strife and ill,
|
||
care-laden captive; cringing thence
|
||
forced and reluctant, he led them on
|
||
till he came in ken of that cavern-hall,
|
||
the barrow delved near billowy surges,
|
||
flood of ocean. Within 'twas full
|
||
of wire-gold and jewels; a jealous warden,
|
||
warrior trusty, the treasures held,
|
||
lurked in his lair. Not light the task
|
||
of entrance for any of earth-born men!
|
||
Sat on the headland the hero king,
|
||
spake words of hail to his hearth-companions,
|
||
gold-friend of Geats. All gloomy his soul,
|
||
wavering, death-bound. Wyrd full nigh
|
||
stood ready to greet the gray-haired man,
|
||
to seize his soul-hoard, sunder apart
|
||
life and body. Not long would be
|
||
the warrior's spirit enwound with flesh.
|
||
Beowulf spake, the bairn of Ecgtheow:--
|
||
"Through store of struggles I strove in youth,
|
||
mighty feuds; I mind them all.
|
||
I was seven years old when the sovran of rings,
|
||
friend-of-his-folk, from my father took me,
|
||
had me, and held me, Hrethel the king,
|
||
with food and fee, faithful in kinship.
|
||
Ne'er, while I lived there, he loathlier found me,
|
||
bairn in the burg, than his birthright sons,
|
||
Herebeald and Haethcyn and Hygelac mine.
|
||
For the eldest of these, by unmeet chance,
|
||
by kinsman's deed, was the death-bed strewn,
|
||
when Haethcyn killed him with horny bow,
|
||
his own dear liege laid low with an arrow,
|
||
missed the mark and his mate shot down,
|
||
one brother the other, with bloody shaft.
|
||
A feeless fight,[2] and a fearful sin,
|
||
horror to Hrethel; yet, hard as it was,
|
||
unavenged must the atheling die!
|
||
Too awful it is for an aged man
|
||
to bide and bear, that his bairn so young
|
||
rides on the gallows. A rime he makes,
|
||
sorrow-song for his son there hanging
|
||
as rapture of ravens; no rescue now
|
||
can come from the old, disabled man!
|
||
Still is he minded, as morning breaks,
|
||
of the heir gone elsewhere;[3] another he hopes not
|
||
he will bide to see his burg within
|
||
as ward for his wealth, now the one has found
|
||
doom of death that the deed incurred.
|
||
Forlorn he looks on the lodge of his son,
|
||
wine-hall waste and wind-swept chambers
|
||
reft of revel. The rider sleepeth,
|
||
the hero, far-hidden;[4] no harp resounds,
|
||
in the courts no wassail, as once was heard.
|
||
|
||
[1] That is, Beowulf supports Eadgils against Onela, who is slain by Eadgils
|
||
in revenge for the "care-paths" of exile into which Onela forced him.
|
||
[2] That is, the king could claim no wergild, or man-price, from one son
|
||
for the killing of the other.
|
||
[3] Usual euphemism for death.
|
||
[4] Sc. in the grave.
|
||
|
||
XXXV
|
||
|
||
"THEN he goes to his chamber, a grief-song chants
|
||
alone for his lost. Too large all seems,
|
||
homestead and house. So the helmet-of-Weders
|
||
hid in his heart for Herebeald
|
||
waves of woe. No way could he take
|
||
to avenge on the slayer slaughter so foul;
|
||
nor e'en could he harass that hero at all
|
||
with loathing deed, though he loved him not.
|
||
And so for the sorrow his soul endured,
|
||
men's gladness he gave up and God's light chose.
|
||
Lands and cities he left his sons
|
||
(as the wealthy do) when he went from earth.
|
||
There was strife and struggle 'twixt Swede and Geat
|
||
o'er the width of waters; war arose,
|
||
hard battle-horror, when Hrethel died,
|
||
and Ongentheow's offspring grew
|
||
strife-keen, bold, nor brooked o'er the seas
|
||
pact of peace, but pushed their hosts
|
||
to harass in hatred by Hreosnabeorh.
|
||
Men of my folk for that feud had vengeance,
|
||
for woful war ('tis widely known),
|
||
though one of them bought it with blood of his heart,
|
||
a bargain hard: for Haethcyn proved
|
||
fatal that fray, for the first-of-Geats.
|
||
At morn, I heard, was the murderer killed
|
||
by kinsman for kinsman,[1] with clash of sword,
|
||
when Ongentheow met Eofor there.
|
||
Wide split the war-helm: wan he fell,
|
||
hoary Scylfing; the hand that smote him
|
||
of feud was mindful, nor flinched from the death-blow.
|
||
|
||
-- "For all that he[2] gave me, my gleaming sword
|
||
repaid him at war, -- such power I wielded, --
|
||
for lordly treasure: with land he entrusted me,
|
||
homestead and house. He had no need
|
||
from Swedish realm, or from Spear-Dane folk,
|
||
or from men of the Gifths, to get him help, --
|
||
some warrior worse for wage to buy!
|
||
Ever I fought in the front of all,
|
||
sole to the fore; and so shall I fight
|
||
while I bide in life and this blade shall last
|
||
that early and late hath loyal proved
|
||
since for my doughtiness Daeghrefn fell,
|
||
slain by my hand, the Hugas' champion.
|
||
Nor fared he thence to the Frisian king
|
||
with the booty back, and breast-adornments;
|
||
but, slain in struggle, that standard-bearer
|
||
fell, atheling brave. Not with blade was he slain,
|
||
but his bones were broken by brawny gripe,
|
||
his heart-waves stilled. -- The sword-edge now,
|
||
hard blade and my hand, for the hoard shall strive."
|
||
Beowulf spake, and a battle-vow made
|
||
his last of all: "I have lived through many
|
||
wars in my youth; now once again,
|
||
old folk-defender, feud will I seek,
|
||
do doughty deeds, if the dark destroyer
|
||
forth from his cavern come to fight me!"
|
||
Then hailed he the helmeted heroes all,
|
||
for the last time greeting his liegemen dear,
|
||
comrades of war: "I should carry no weapon,
|
||
no sword to the serpent, if sure I knew
|
||
how, with such enemy, else my vows
|
||
I could gain as I did in Grendel's day.
|
||
But fire in this fight I must fear me now,
|
||
and poisonous breath; so I bring with me
|
||
breastplate and board.[3] From the barrow's keeper
|
||
no footbreadth flee I. One fight shall end
|
||
our war by the wall, as Wyrd allots,
|
||
all mankind's master. My mood is bold
|
||
but forbears to boast o'er this battling-flyer.
|
||
-- Now abide by the barrow, ye breastplate-mailed,
|
||
ye heroes in harness, which of us twain
|
||
better from battle-rush bear his wounds.
|
||
Wait ye the finish. The fight is not yours,
|
||
nor meet for any but me alone
|
||
to measure might with this monster here
|
||
and play the hero. Hardily I
|
||
shall win that wealth, or war shall seize,
|
||
cruel killing, your king and lord!"
|
||
Up stood then with shield the sturdy champion,
|
||
stayed by the strength of his single manhood,
|
||
and hardy 'neath helmet his harness bore
|
||
under cleft of the cliffs: no coward's path!
|
||
Soon spied by the wall that warrior chief,
|
||
survivor of many a victory-field
|
||
where foemen fought with furious clashings,
|
||
an arch of stone; and within, a stream
|
||
that broke from the barrow. The brooklet's wave
|
||
was hot with fire. The hoard that way
|
||
he never could hope unharmed to near,
|
||
or endure those deeps,[4] for the dragon's flame.
|
||
Then let from his breast, for he burst with rage,
|
||
the Weder-Geat prince a word outgo;
|
||
stormed the stark-heart; stern went ringing
|
||
and clear his cry 'neath the cliff-rocks gray.
|
||
The hoard-guard heard a human voice;
|
||
his rage was enkindled. No respite now
|
||
for pact of peace! The poison-breath
|
||
of that foul worm first came forth from the cave,
|
||
hot reek-of-fight: the rocks resounded.
|
||
Stout by the stone-way his shield he raised,
|
||
lord of the Geats, against the loathed-one;
|
||
while with courage keen that coiled foe
|
||
came seeking strife. The sturdy king
|
||
had drawn his sword, not dull of edge,
|
||
heirloom old; and each of the two
|
||
felt fear of his foe, though fierce their mood.
|
||
Stoutly stood with his shield high-raised
|
||
the warrior king, as the worm now coiled
|
||
together amain: the mailed-one waited.
|
||
Now, spire by spire, fast sped and glided
|
||
that blazing serpent. The shield protected,
|
||
soul and body a shorter while
|
||
for the hero-king than his heart desired,
|
||
could his will have wielded the welcome respite
|
||
but once in his life! But Wyrd denied it,
|
||
and victory's honors. -- His arm he lifted
|
||
lord of the Geats, the grim foe smote
|
||
with atheling's heirloom. Its edge was turned
|
||
brown blade, on the bone, and bit more feebly
|
||
than its noble master had need of then
|
||
in his baleful stress. -- Then the barrow's keeper
|
||
waxed full wild for that weighty blow,
|
||
cast deadly flames; wide drove and far
|
||
those vicious fires. No victor's glory
|
||
the Geats' lord boasted; his brand had failed,
|
||
naked in battle, as never it should,
|
||
excellent iron! -- 'Twas no easy path
|
||
that Ecgtheow's honored heir must tread
|
||
over the plain to the place of the foe;
|
||
for against his will he must win a home
|
||
elsewhere far, as must all men, leaving
|
||
this lapsing life! -- Not long it was
|
||
ere those champions grimly closed again.
|
||
The hoard-guard was heartened; high heaved his
|
||
breast
|
||
once more; and by peril was pressed again,
|
||
enfolded in flames, the folk-commander!
|
||
Nor yet about him his band of comrades,
|
||
sons of athelings, armed stood
|
||
with warlike front: to the woods they bent them,
|
||
their lives to save. But the soul of one
|
||
with care was cumbered. Kinship true
|
||
can never be marred in a noble mind!
|
||
|
||
[1] Eofor for Wulf. -- The immediate provocation for Eofor in killing "the
|
||
hoary Scylfing," Ongentheow, is that the latter has just struck Wulf down;
|
||
but the king, Haethcyn, is also avenged by the blow. See the detailed
|
||
description below.
|
||
[2] Hygelac.
|
||
[3] Shield.
|
||
[4] The hollow passage.
|
||
|
||
XXXVI
|
||
|
||
WIGLAF his name was, Weohstan's son,
|
||
linden-thane loved, the lord of Scylfings,
|
||
Aelfhere's kinsman. His king he now saw
|
||
with heat under helmet hard oppressed.
|
||
He minded the prizes his prince had given him,
|
||
wealthy seat of the Waegmunding line,
|
||
and folk-rights that his father owned
|
||
Not long he lingered. The linden yellow,
|
||
his shield, he seized; the old sword he drew: --
|
||
as heirloom of Eanmund earth-dwellers knew it,
|
||
who was slain by the sword-edge, son of Ohtere,
|
||
friendless exile, erst in fray
|
||
killed by Weohstan, who won for his kin
|
||
brown-bright helmet, breastplate ringed,
|
||
old sword of Eotens, Onela's gift,
|
||
weeds of war of the warrior-thane,
|
||
battle-gear brave: though a brother's child
|
||
had been felled, the feud was unfelt by Onela.[1]
|
||
For winters this war-gear Weohstan kept,
|
||
breastplate and board, till his bairn had grown
|
||
earlship to earn as the old sire did:
|
||
then he gave him, mid Geats, the gear of battle,
|
||
portion huge, when he passed from life,
|
||
fared aged forth. For the first time now
|
||
with his leader-lord the liegeman young
|
||
was bidden to share the shock of battle.
|
||
Neither softened his soul, nor the sire's bequest
|
||
weakened in war.[2] So the worm found out
|
||
when once in fight the foes had met!
|
||
Wiglaf spake, -- and his words were sage;
|
||
sad in spirit, he said to his comrades:--
|
||
"I remember the time, when mead we took,
|
||
what promise we made to this prince of ours
|
||
in the banquet-hall, to our breaker-of-rings,
|
||
for gear of combat to give him requital,
|
||
for hard-sword and helmet, if hap should bring
|
||
stress of this sort! Himself who chose us
|
||
from all his army to aid him now,
|
||
urged us to glory, and gave these treasures,
|
||
because he counted us keen with the spear
|
||
and hardy 'neath helm, though this hero-work
|
||
our leader hoped unhelped and alone
|
||
to finish for us, -- folk-defender
|
||
who hath got him glory greater than all men
|
||
for daring deeds! Now the day is come
|
||
that our noble master has need of the might
|
||
of warriors stout. Let us stride along
|
||
the hero to help while the heat is about him
|
||
glowing and grim! For God is my witness
|
||
I am far more fain the fire should seize
|
||
along with my lord these limbs of mine![3]
|
||
Unsuiting it seems our shields to bear
|
||
homeward hence, save here we essay
|
||
to fell the foe and defend the life
|
||
of the Weders' lord. I wot 'twere shame
|
||
on the law of our land if alone the king
|
||
out of Geatish warriors woe endured
|
||
and sank in the struggle! My sword and helmet,
|
||
breastplate and board, for us both shall serve!"
|
||
Through slaughter-reek strode he to succor his
|
||
chieftain,
|
||
his battle-helm bore, and brief words spake:--
|
||
"Beowulf dearest, do all bravely,
|
||
as in youthful days of yore thou vowedst
|
||
that while life should last thou wouldst let no wise
|
||
thy glory droop! Now, great in deeds,
|
||
atheling steadfast, with all thy strength
|
||
shield thy life! I will stand to help thee."
|
||
At the words the worm came once again,
|
||
murderous monster mad with rage,
|
||
with fire-billows flaming, its foes to seek,
|
||
the hated men. In heat-waves burned
|
||
that board[4] to the boss, and the breastplate failed
|
||
to shelter at all the spear-thane young.
|
||
Yet quickly under his kinsman's shield
|
||
went eager the earl, since his own was now
|
||
all burned by the blaze. The bold king again
|
||
had mind of his glory: with might his glaive
|
||
was driven into the dragon's head, --
|
||
blow nerved by hate. But Naegling[5] was shivered,
|
||
broken in battle was Beowulf's sword,
|
||
old and gray. 'Twas granted him not
|
||
that ever the edge of iron at all
|
||
could help him at strife: too strong was his hand,
|
||
so the tale is told, and he tried too far
|
||
with strength of stroke all swords he wielded,
|
||
though sturdy their steel: they steaded him nought.
|
||
Then for the third time thought on its feud
|
||
that folk-destroyer, fire-dread dragon,
|
||
and rushed on the hero, where room allowed,
|
||
battle-grim, burning; its bitter teeth
|
||
closed on his neck, and covered him
|
||
with waves of blood from his breast that welled.
|
||
|
||
[1] That is, although Eanmund was brother's son to Onela, the slaying of
|
||
the former by Weohstan is not felt as cause of feud, and is rewarded by
|
||
gift of the slain man's weapons.
|
||
[2] Both Wiglaf and the sword did their duty. -- The following is one of
|
||
the classic passages for illustrating the comitatus as the most conspicuous
|
||
Germanic institution, and its underlying sense of duty, based partly on
|
||
the idea of loyalty and partly on the practical basis of benefits received
|
||
and repaid.
|
||
[3] Sc. "than to bide safely here," -- a common figure of incomplete
|
||
comparison.
|
||
[4] Wiglaf's wooden shield.
|
||
[5] Gering would translate "kinsman of the nail," as both are made of iron.
|
||
|
||
XXXVII
|
||
|
||
'TWAS now, men say, in his sovran's need
|
||
that the earl made known his noble strain,
|
||
craft and keenness and courage enduring.
|
||
Heedless of harm, though his hand was burned,
|
||
hardy-hearted, he helped his kinsman.
|
||
A little lower the loathsome beast
|
||
he smote with sword; his steel drove in
|
||
bright and burnished; that blaze began
|
||
to lose and lessen. At last the king
|
||
wielded his wits again, war-knife drew,
|
||
a biting blade by his breastplate hanging,
|
||
and the Weders'-helm smote that worm asunder,
|
||
felled the foe, flung forth its life.
|
||
So had they killed it, kinsmen both,
|
||
athelings twain: thus an earl should be
|
||
in danger's day! -- Of deeds of valor
|
||
this conqueror's-hour of the king was last,
|
||
of his work in the world. The wound began,
|
||
which that dragon-of-earth had erst inflicted,
|
||
to swell and smart; and soon he found
|
||
in his breast was boiling, baleful and deep,
|
||
pain of poison. The prince walked on,
|
||
wise in his thought, to the wall of rock;
|
||
then sat, and stared at the structure of giants,
|
||
where arch of stone and steadfast column
|
||
upheld forever that hall in earth.
|
||
Yet here must the hand of the henchman peerless
|
||
lave with water his winsome lord,
|
||
the king and conqueror covered with blood,
|
||
with struggle spent, and unspan his helmet.
|
||
Beowulf spake in spite of his hurt,
|
||
his mortal wound; full well he knew
|
||
his portion now was past and gone
|
||
of earthly bliss, and all had fled
|
||
of his file of days, and death was near:
|
||
"I would fain bestow on son of mine
|
||
this gear of war, were given me now
|
||
that any heir should after me come
|
||
of my proper blood. This people I ruled
|
||
fifty winters. No folk-king was there,
|
||
none at all, of the neighboring clans
|
||
who war would wage me with 'warriors'-friends'[1]
|
||
and threat me with horrors. At home I bided
|
||
what fate might come, and I cared for mine own;
|
||
feuds I sought not, nor falsely swore
|
||
ever on oath. For all these things,
|
||
though fatally wounded, fain am I!
|
||
From the Ruler-of-Man no wrath shall seize me,
|
||
when life from my frame must flee away,
|
||
for killing of kinsmen! Now quickly go
|
||
and gaze on that hoard 'neath the hoary rock,
|
||
Wiglaf loved, now the worm lies low,
|
||
sleeps, heart-sore, of his spoil bereaved.
|
||
And fare in haste. I would fain behold
|
||
the gorgeous heirlooms, golden store,
|
||
have joy in the jewels and gems, lay down
|
||
softlier for sight of this splendid hoard
|
||
my life and the lordship I long have held."
|
||
|
||
[1] That is, swords.
|
||
|
||
XXXVIII
|
||
|
||
I HAVE heard that swiftly the son of Weohstan
|
||
at wish and word of his wounded king, --
|
||
war-sick warrior, -- woven mail-coat,
|
||
battle-sark, bore 'neath the barrow's roof.
|
||
Then the clansman keen, of conquest proud,
|
||
passing the seat,[1] saw store of jewels
|
||
and glistening gold the ground along;
|
||
by the wall were marvels, and many a vessel
|
||
in the den of the dragon, the dawn-flier old:
|
||
unburnished bowls of bygone men
|
||
reft of richness; rusty helms
|
||
of the olden age; and arm-rings many
|
||
wondrously woven. -- Such wealth of gold,
|
||
booty from barrow, can burden with pride
|
||
each human wight: let him hide it who will! --
|
||
His glance too fell on a gold-wove banner
|
||
high o'er the hoard, of handiwork noblest,
|
||
brilliantly broidered; so bright its gleam,
|
||
all the earth-floor he easily saw
|
||
and viewed all these vessels. No vestige now
|
||
was seen of the serpent: the sword had ta'en him.
|
||
Then, I heard, the hill of its hoard was reft,
|
||
old work of giants, by one alone;
|
||
he burdened his bosom with beakers and plate
|
||
at his own good will, and the ensign took,
|
||
brightest of beacons. -- The blade of his lord
|
||
-- its edge was iron -- had injured deep
|
||
one that guarded the golden hoard
|
||
many a year and its murder-fire
|
||
spread hot round the barrow in horror-billows
|
||
at midnight hour, till it met its doom.
|
||
Hasted the herald, the hoard so spurred him
|
||
his track to retrace; he was troubled by doubt,
|
||
high-souled hero, if haply he'd find
|
||
alive, where he left him, the lord of Weders,
|
||
weakening fast by the wall of the cave.
|
||
So he carried the load. His lord and king
|
||
he found all bleeding, famous chief
|
||
at the lapse of life. The liegeman again
|
||
plashed him with water, till point of word
|
||
broke through the breast-hoard. Beowulf spake,
|
||
sage and sad, as he stared at the gold. --
|
||
"For the gold and treasure, to God my thanks,
|
||
to the Wielder-of-Wonders, with words I say,
|
||
for what I behold, to Heaven's Lord,
|
||
for the grace that I give such gifts to my folk
|
||
or ever the day of my death be run!
|
||
Now I've bartered here for booty of treasure
|
||
the last of my life, so look ye well
|
||
to the needs of my land! No longer I tarry.
|
||
A barrow bid ye the battle-fanned raise
|
||
for my ashes. 'Twill shine by the shore of the flood,
|
||
to folk of mine memorial fair
|
||
on Hrones Headland high uplifted,
|
||
that ocean-wanderers oft may hail
|
||
Beowulf's Barrow, as back from far
|
||
they drive their keels o'er the darkling wave."
|
||
From his neck he unclasped the collar of gold,
|
||
valorous king, to his vassal gave it
|
||
with bright-gold helmet, breastplate, and ring,
|
||
to the youthful thane: bade him use them in joy.
|
||
"Thou art end and remnant of all our race
|
||
the Waegmunding name. For Wyrd hath swept them,
|
||
all my line, to the land of doom,
|
||
earls in their glory: I after them go."
|
||
This word was the last which the wise old man
|
||
harbored in heart ere hot death-waves
|
||
of balefire he chose. From his bosom fled
|
||
his soul to seek the saints' reward.
|
||
|
||
[1] Where Beowulf lay.
|
||
|
||
XXXIX
|
||
|
||
IT was heavy hap for that hero young
|
||
on his lord beloved to look and find him
|
||
lying on earth with life at end,
|
||
sorrowful sight. But the slayer too,
|
||
awful earth-dragon, empty of breath,
|
||
lay felled in fight, nor, fain of its treasure,
|
||
could the writhing monster rule it more.
|
||
For edges of iron had ended its days,
|
||
hard and battle-sharp, hammers' leaving;[1]
|
||
and that flier-afar had fallen to ground
|
||
hushed by its hurt, its hoard all near,
|
||
no longer lusty aloft to whirl
|
||
at midnight, making its merriment seen,
|
||
proud of its prizes: prone it sank
|
||
by the handiwork of the hero-king.
|
||
Forsooth among folk but few achieve,
|
||
-- though sturdy and strong, as stories tell me,
|
||
and never so daring in deed of valor, --
|
||
the perilous breath of a poison-foe
|
||
to brave, and to rush on the ring-board hall,
|
||
whenever his watch the warden keeps
|
||
bold in the barrow. Beowulf paid
|
||
the price of death for that precious hoard;
|
||
and each of the foes had found the end
|
||
of this fleeting life.
|
||
Befell erelong
|
||
that the laggards in war the wood had left,
|
||
trothbreakers, cowards, ten together,
|
||
fearing before to flourish a spear
|
||
in the sore distress of their sovran lord.
|
||
Now in their shame their shields they carried,
|
||
armor of fight, where the old man lay;
|
||
and they gazed on Wiglaf. Wearied he sat
|
||
at his sovran's shoulder, shieldsman good,
|
||
to wake him with water.[2] Nowise it availed.
|
||
Though well he wished it, in world no more
|
||
could he barrier life for that leader-of-battles
|
||
nor baffle the will of all-wielding God.
|
||
Doom of the Lord was law o'er the deeds
|
||
of every man, as it is to-day.
|
||
Grim was the answer, easy to get,
|
||
from the youth for those that had yielded to fear!
|
||
Wiglaf spake, the son of Weohstan, --
|
||
mournful he looked on those men unloved:--
|
||
"Who sooth will speak, can say indeed
|
||
that the ruler who gave you golden rings
|
||
and the harness of war in which ye stand
|
||
-- for he at ale-bench often-times
|
||
bestowed on hall-folk helm and breastplate,
|
||
lord to liegemen, the likeliest gear
|
||
which near of far he could find to give, --
|
||
threw away and wasted these weeds of battle,
|
||
on men who failed when the foemen came!
|
||
Not at all could the king of his comrades-in-arms
|
||
venture to vaunt, though the Victory-Wielder,
|
||
God, gave him grace that he got revenge
|
||
sole with his sword in stress and need.
|
||
To rescue his life, 'twas little that I
|
||
could serve him in struggle; yet shift I made
|
||
(hopeless it seemed) to help my kinsman.
|
||
Its strength ever waned, when with weapon I struck
|
||
that fatal foe, and the fire less strongly
|
||
flowed from its head. -- Too few the heroes
|
||
in throe of contest that thronged to our king!
|
||
Now gift of treasure and girding of sword,
|
||
joy of the house and home-delight
|
||
shall fail your folk; his freehold-land
|
||
every clansman within your kin
|
||
shall lose and leave, when lords highborn
|
||
hear afar of that flight of yours,
|
||
a fameless deed. Yea, death is better
|
||
for liegemen all than a life of shame!"
|
||
|
||
[1] What had been left or made by the hammer; well-forged.
|
||
[2] Trying to revive him.
|
||
|
||
XL
|
||
|
||
THAT battle-toil bade he at burg to announce,
|
||
at the fort on the cliff, where, full of sorrow,
|
||
all the morning earls had sat,
|
||
daring shieldsmen, in doubt of twain:
|
||
would they wail as dead, or welcome home,
|
||
their lord beloved? Little[1] kept back
|
||
of the tidings new, but told them all,
|
||
the herald that up the headland rode. --
|
||
"Now the willing-giver to Weder folk
|
||
in death-bed lies; the Lord of Geats
|
||
on the slaughter-bed sleeps by the serpent's deed!
|
||
And beside him is stretched that slayer-of-men
|
||
with knife-wounds sick:[2] no sword availed
|
||
on the awesome thing in any wise
|
||
to work a wound. There Wiglaf sitteth,
|
||
Weohstan's bairn, by Beowulf's side,
|
||
the living earl by the other dead,
|
||
and heavy of heart a head-watch[3] keeps
|
||
o'er friend and foe. -- Now our folk may look
|
||
for waging of war when once unhidden
|
||
to Frisian and Frank the fall of the king
|
||
is spread afar. -- The strife began
|
||
when hot on the Hugas[4] Hygelac fell
|
||
and fared with his fleet to the Frisian land.
|
||
Him there the Hetwaras humbled in war,
|
||
plied with such prowess their power o'erwhelming
|
||
that the bold-in-battle bowed beneath it
|
||
and fell in fight. To his friends no wise
|
||
could that earl give treasure! And ever since
|
||
the Merowings' favor has failed us wholly.
|
||
Nor aught expect I of peace and faith
|
||
from Swedish folk. 'Twas spread afar
|
||
how Ongentheow reft at Ravenswood
|
||
Haethcyn Hrethling of hope and life,
|
||
when the folk of Geats for the first time sought
|
||
in wanton pride the Warlike-Scylfings.
|
||
Soon the sage old sire[5] of Ohtere,
|
||
ancient and awful, gave answering blow;
|
||
the sea-king[6] he slew, and his spouse redeemed,
|
||
his good wife rescued, though robbed of her gold,
|
||
mother of Ohtere and Onela.
|
||
Then he followed his foes, who fled before him
|
||
sore beset and stole their way,
|
||
bereft of a ruler, to Ravenswood.
|
||
With his host he besieged there what swords had left,
|
||
the weary and wounded; woes he threatened
|
||
the whole night through to that hard-pressed throng:
|
||
some with the morrow his sword should kill,
|
||
some should go to the gallows-tree
|
||
for rapture of ravens. But rescue came
|
||
with dawn of day for those desperate men
|
||
when they heard the horn of Hygelac sound,
|
||
tones of his trumpet; the trusty king
|
||
had followed their trail with faithful band.
|
||
|
||
[1] Nothing.
|
||
[2] Dead.
|
||
[3] Death-watch, guard of honor, "lyke-wake."
|
||
[4] A name for the Franks.
|
||
[5] Ongentheow.
|
||
[6] Haethcyn.
|
||
|
||
XLI
|
||
|
||
"THE bloody swath of Swedes and Geats
|
||
and the storm of their strife, were seen afar,
|
||
how folk against folk the fight had wakened.
|
||
The ancient king with his atheling band
|
||
sought his citadel, sorrowing much:
|
||
Ongentheow earl went up to his burg.
|
||
He had tested Hygelac's hardihood,
|
||
the proud one's prowess, would prove it no longer,
|
||
defied no more those fighting-wanderers
|
||
nor hoped from the seamen to save his hoard,
|
||
his bairn and his bride: so he bent him again,
|
||
old, to his earth-walls. Yet after him came
|
||
with slaughter for Swedes the standards of Hygelac
|
||
o'er peaceful plains in pride advancing,
|
||
till Hrethelings fought in the fenced town.[1]
|
||
Then Ongentheow with edge of sword,
|
||
the hoary-bearded, was held at bay,
|
||
and the folk-king there was forced to suffer
|
||
Eofor's anger. In ire, at the king
|
||
Wulf Wonreding with weapon struck;
|
||
and the chieftain's blood, for that blow, in streams
|
||
flowed 'neath his hair. No fear felt he,
|
||
stout old Scylfing, but straightway repaid
|
||
in better bargain that bitter stroke
|
||
and faced his foe with fell intent.
|
||
Nor swift enough was the son of Wonred
|
||
answer to render the aged chief;
|
||
too soon on his head the helm was cloven;
|
||
blood-bedecked he bowed to earth,
|
||
and fell adown; not doomed was he yet,
|
||
and well he waxed, though the wound was sore.
|
||
Then the hardy Hygelac-thane,[2]
|
||
when his brother fell, with broad brand smote,
|
||
giants' sword crashing through giants'-helm
|
||
across the shield-wall: sank the king,
|
||
his folk's old herdsman, fatally hurt.
|
||
There were many to bind the brother's wounds
|
||
and lift him, fast as fate allowed
|
||
his people to wield the place-of-war.
|
||
But Eofor took from Ongentheow,
|
||
earl from other, the iron-breastplate,
|
||
hard sword hilted, and helmet too,
|
||
and the hoar-chief's harness to Hygelac carried,
|
||
who took the trappings, and truly promised
|
||
rich fee 'mid folk, -- and fulfilled it so.
|
||
For that grim strife gave the Geatish lord,
|
||
Hrethel's offspring, when home he came,
|
||
to Eofor and Wulf a wealth of treasure,
|
||
Each of them had a hundred thousand[3]
|
||
in land and linked rings; nor at less price reckoned
|
||
mid-earth men such mighty deeds!
|
||
And to Eofor he gave his only daughter
|
||
in pledge of grace, the pride of his home.
|
||
|
||
"Such is the feud, the foeman's rage,
|
||
death-hate of men: so I deem it sure
|
||
that the Swedish folk will seek us home
|
||
for this fall of their friends, the fighting-Scylfings,
|
||
when once they learn that our warrior leader
|
||
lifeless lies, who land and hoard
|
||
ever defended from all his foes,
|
||
furthered his folk's weal, finished his course
|
||
a hardy hero. -- Now haste is best,
|
||
that we go to gaze on our Geatish lord,
|
||
and bear the bountiful breaker-of-rings
|
||
to the funeral pyre. No fragments merely
|
||
shall burn with the warrior. Wealth of jewels,
|
||
gold untold and gained in terror,
|
||
treasure at last with his life obtained,
|
||
all of that booty the brands shall take,
|
||
fire shall eat it. No earl must carry
|
||
memorial jewel. No maiden fair
|
||
shall wreathe her neck with noble ring:
|
||
nay, sad in spirit and shorn of her gold,
|
||
oft shall she pass o'er paths of exile
|
||
now our lord all laughter has laid aside,
|
||
all mirth and revel. Many a spear
|
||
morning-cold shall be clasped amain,
|
||
lifted aloft; nor shall lilt of harp
|
||
those warriors wake; but the wan-hued raven,
|
||
fain o'er the fallen, his feast shall praise
|
||
and boast to the eagle how bravely he ate
|
||
when he and the wolf were wasting the slain."
|
||
|
||
So he told his sorrowful tidings,
|
||
and little[4] he lied, the loyal man
|
||
of word or of work. The warriors rose;
|
||
sad, they climbed to the Cliff-of-Eagles,
|
||
went, welling with tears, the wonder to view.
|
||
Found on the sand there, stretched at rest,
|
||
their lifeless lord, who had lavished rings
|
||
of old upon them. Ending-day
|
||
had dawned on the doughty-one; death had seized
|
||
in woful slaughter the Weders' king.
|
||
There saw they, besides, the strangest being,
|
||
loathsome, lying their leader near,
|
||
prone on the field. The fiery dragon,
|
||
fearful fiend, with flame was scorched.
|
||
Reckoned by feet, it was fifty measures
|
||
in length as it lay. Aloft erewhile
|
||
it had revelled by night, and anon come back,
|
||
seeking its den; now in death's sure clutch
|
||
it had come to the end of its earth-hall joys.
|
||
By it there stood the stoups and jars;
|
||
dishes lay there, and dear-decked swords
|
||
eaten with rust, as, on earth's lap resting,
|
||
a thousand winters they waited there.
|
||
For all that heritage huge, that gold
|
||
of bygone men, was bound by a spell,[5]
|
||
so the treasure-hall could be touched by none
|
||
of human kind, -- save that Heaven's King,
|
||
God himself, might give whom he would,
|
||
Helper of Heroes, the hoard to open, --
|
||
even such a man as seemed to him meet.
|
||
|
||
[1] The line may mean: till Hrethelings stormed on the hedged shields, -- i.e.
|
||
the shield-wall or hedge of defensive war -- Hrethelings, of course, are Geats.
|
||
[2] Eofor, brother to Wulf Wonreding.
|
||
[3] Sc. "value in" hides and the weight of the gold.
|
||
[4] Not at all.
|
||
[5] Laid on it when it was put in the barrow. This spell, or in our days
|
||
the "curse," either prevented discovery or brought dire ills on the finder
|
||
and taker.
|
||
|
||
XLII
|
||
|
||
A PERILOUS path, it proved, he[1] trod
|
||
who heinously hid, that hall within,
|
||
wealth under wall! Its watcher had killed
|
||
one of a few,[2] and the feud was avenged
|
||
in woful fashion. Wondrous seems it,
|
||
what manner a man of might and valor
|
||
oft ends his life, when the earl no longer
|
||
in mead-hall may live with loving friends.
|
||
So Beowulf, when that barrow's warden
|
||
he sought, and the struggle; himself knew not
|
||
in what wise he should wend from the world at last.
|
||
For[3] princes potent, who placed the gold,
|
||
with a curse to doomsday covered it deep,
|
||
so that marked with sin the man should be,
|
||
hedged with horrors, in hell-bonds fast,
|
||
racked with plagues, who should rob their hoard.
|
||
Yet no greed for gold, but the grace of heaven,
|
||
ever the king had kept in view.[4]
|
||
Wiglaf spake, the son of Weohstan:--
|
||
"At the mandate of one, oft warriors many
|
||
sorrow must suffer; and so must we.
|
||
The people's-shepherd showed not aught
|
||
of care for our counsel, king beloved!
|
||
That guardian of gold he should grapple not, urged we,
|
||
but let him lie where he long had been
|
||
in his earth-hall waiting the end of the world,
|
||
the hest of heaven. -- This hoard is ours
|
||
but grievously gotten; too grim the fate
|
||
which thither carried our king and lord.
|
||
I was within there, and all I viewed,
|
||
the chambered treasure, when chance allowed me
|
||
(and my path was made in no pleasant wise)
|
||
under the earth-wall. Eager, I seized
|
||
such heap from the hoard as hands could bear
|
||
and hurriedly carried it hither back
|
||
to my liege and lord. Alive was he still,
|
||
still wielding his wits. The wise old man
|
||
spake much in his sorrow, and sent you greetings
|
||
and bade that ye build, when he breathed no more,
|
||
on the place of his balefire a barrow high,
|
||
memorial mighty. Of men was he
|
||
worthiest warrior wide earth o'er
|
||
the while he had joy of his jewels and burg.
|
||
Let us set out in haste now, the second time
|
||
to see and search this store of treasure,
|
||
these wall-hid wonders, -- the way I show you, --
|
||
where, gathered near, ye may gaze your fill
|
||
at broad-gold and rings. Let the bier, soon made,
|
||
be all in order when out we come,
|
||
our king and captain to carry thither
|
||
-- man beloved -- where long he shall bide
|
||
safe in the shelter of sovran God."
|
||
Then the bairn of Weohstan bade command,
|
||
hardy chief, to heroes many
|
||
that owned their homesteads, hither to bring
|
||
firewood from far -- o'er the folk they ruled --
|
||
for the famed-one's funeral. " Fire shall devour
|
||
and wan flames feed on the fearless warrior
|
||
who oft stood stout in the iron-shower,
|
||
when, sped from the string, a storm of arrows
|
||
shot o'er the shield-wall: the shaft held firm,
|
||
featly feathered, followed the barb."
|
||
And now the sage young son of Weohstan
|
||
seven chose of the chieftain's thanes,
|
||
the best he found that band within,
|
||
and went with these warriors, one of eight,
|
||
under hostile roof. In hand one bore
|
||
a lighted torch and led the way.
|
||
No lots they cast for keeping the hoard
|
||
when once the warriors saw it in hall,
|
||
altogether without a guardian,
|
||
lying there lost. And little they mourned
|
||
when they had hastily haled it out,
|
||
dear-bought treasure! The dragon they cast,
|
||
the worm, o'er the wall for the wave to take,
|
||
and surges swallowed that shepherd of gems.
|
||
Then the woven gold on a wain was laden --
|
||
countless quite! -- and the king was borne,
|
||
hoary hero, to Hrones-Ness.
|
||
|
||
[1] Probably the fugitive is meant who discovered the hoard. Ten Brink
|
||
and Gering assume that the dragon is meant. "Hid" may well mean here
|
||
"took while in hiding."
|
||
[2] That is "one and a few others." But Beowulf seems to be indicated.
|
||
[3] Ten Brink points out the strongly heathen character of this part of the
|
||
epic. Beowulf's end came, so the old tradition ran, from his unwitting
|
||
interference with spell-bound treasure.
|
||
[4] A hard saying, variously interpreted. In any case, it is the some-
|
||
what clumsy effort of the Christian poet to tone down the heathenism of
|
||
his material by an edifying observation.
|
||
|
||
XLIII
|
||
|
||
THEN fashioned for him the folk of Geats
|
||
firm on the earth a funeral-pile,
|
||
and hung it with helmets and harness of war
|
||
and breastplates bright, as the boon he asked;
|
||
and they laid amid it the mighty chieftain,
|
||
heroes mourning their master dear.
|
||
Then on the hill that hugest of balefires
|
||
the warriors wakened. Wood-smoke rose
|
||
black over blaze, and blent was the roar
|
||
of flame with weeping (the wind was still),
|
||
till the fire had broken the frame of bones,
|
||
hot at the heart. In heavy mood
|
||
their misery moaned they, their master's death.
|
||
Wailing her woe, the widow[1] old,
|
||
her hair upbound, for Beowulf's death
|
||
sung in her sorrow, and said full oft
|
||
she dreaded the doleful days to come,
|
||
deaths enow, and doom of battle,
|
||
and shame. -- The smoke by the sky was devoured.
|
||
The folk of the Weders fashioned there
|
||
on the headland a barrow broad and high,
|
||
by ocean-farers far descried:
|
||
in ten days' time their toil had raised it,
|
||
the battle-brave's beacon. Round brands of the pyre
|
||
a wall they built, the worthiest ever
|
||
that wit could prompt in their wisest men.
|
||
They placed in the barrow that precious booty,
|
||
the rounds and the rings they had reft erewhile,
|
||
hardy heroes, from hoard in cave, --
|
||
trusting the ground with treasure of earls,
|
||
gold in the earth, where ever it lies
|
||
useless to men as of yore it was.
|
||
Then about that barrow the battle-keen rode,
|
||
atheling-born, a band of twelve,
|
||
lament to make, to mourn their king,
|
||
chant their dirge, and their chieftain honor.
|
||
They praised his earlship, his acts of prowess
|
||
worthily witnessed: and well it is
|
||
that men their master-friend mightily laud,
|
||
heartily love, when hence he goes
|
||
from life in the body forlorn away.
|
||
|
||
Thus made their mourning the men of Geatland,
|
||
for their hero's passing his hearth-companions:
|
||
quoth that of all the kings of earth,
|
||
of men he was mildest and most beloved,
|
||
to his kin the kindest, keenest for praise.
|
||
|
||
[1] Nothing is said of Beowulf's wife in the poem, but Bugge surmises
|
||
that Beowulf finally accepted Hygd's offer of kingdom and hoard, and, as
|
||
was usual, took her into the bargain.
|
||
|
||
[End.]
|