BEOWULF (800s) Part One (Prelude to Section 15) Translated by Francis B. Gummere (1910)

PRELUDE OF THE FOUNDER OF THE DANISH HOUSE

LO, praise of the prowess of people-kings of spear-armed Danes, in days long sped, we have heard, and what honor the athelings won! Oft Scyld the Scefing from squadroned foes, from many a tribe, the mead-bench tore, awing the earls. Since erst he lay friendless, a foundling, fate repaid him: for he waxed under welkin, in wealth he throve, till before him the folk, both far and near, who house by the whale-path, heard his mandate, gave him gifts: a good king he! To him an heir was afterward born, a son in his halls, whom heaven sent to favor the folk, feeling their woe that erst they had lacked an earl for leader so long a while; the Lord endowed him, the Wielder of Wonder, with world's renown. Famed was this Beowulf:[1] far flew the boast of him, son of Scyld, in the Scandian lands. So becomes it a youth to quit him well with his father's friends, by fee and gift, that to aid him, aged, in after days, come warriors willing, should war draw nigh, liegemen loyal: by lauded deeds shall an earl have honor in every clan. Forth he fared at the fated moment, sturdy Scyld to the shelter of God. Then they bore him over to ocean's billow, loving clansmen, as late he charged them, while wielded words the winsome Scyld, the leader beloved who long had ruled.... In the roadstead rocked a ring-dight vessel, ice-flecked, outbound, atheling's barge: there laid they down their darling lord on the breast of the boat, the breaker-of-rings,[2] by the mast the mighty one. Many a treasure fetched from far was freighted with him. No ship have I known so nobly dight with weapons of war and weeds of battle, with breastplate and blade: on his bosom lay a heaped hoard that hence should go far o'er the flood with him floating away. No less these loaded the lordly gifts, thanes' huge treasure, than those had done who in former time forth had sent him sole on the seas, a suckling child. High o'er his head they hoist the standard, a gold-wove banner; let billows take him, gave him to ocean. Grave were their spirits, mournful their mood. No man is able to say in sooth, no son of the halls, no hero 'neath heaven, -- who harbored that freight!     [1] Not, of course, Beowulf the Great, hero of the epic.     [2] Kenning for king or chieftain of a comitatus: he breaks off gold from the spiral rings -- often worn on the arm -- and so rewards his followers.

[1-53] HWÆT, WE GAR-DEna in geardagum, þeodcyninga þrym gefrunon, hu ða æþelingas ellen fremedon! oft Scyld Scefing sceaþena þreatum, monegum mægþum meodosetla ofteah, egsode eorlas, syððanærest wearð feasceaft funden; he þæs frofre gebad, weox under wolcnum weorðmyndum þah, oð þæt him æghwylc ymbsittendra ofer hronrade hyran scolde, gomban gyldan; þæt wæs god cyning! Ðæm eafera wæs æfter cenned geong in geardum, þone God sende folce to frofre; fyrenðearfe ongeat, þe hie ær drugon aldorlease lange hwile; him þæs Liffrea, wuldres Wealdend woroldare forgeaf, Beowulf wæs breme --- blæd wide sprang--- Scyldes eafera Scedelandum in. Swa sceal geong guma gode gewyrcean, fromum feohgiftumon fæder bearme, þæt hine on ylde eft gewunigen wilgesiþas, þonne wig cume, leode gelæsten; lofdædum sceal in mægþa gehwære man geþeon. Him ða Scyld gewat to gescæphwile felahror feran on Frean wære; hi hyne þa ætbæron to brimes faroðe, swæse gesiþas, swa he selfa bæd, þendenwordum weold wine Scyldinga--- leof landfruma lange ahte. Þær æt hyðe stod hringedstefna isig ond utfus, æþelingesfær; aledon þa leofne þeoden, beaga bryttan on bearm scipes, mærne be mæste. Þær wæs madma fela of feorwegum frætwa gelæded; ne hyrde ic cymlicor ceol gegyrwan hildewæpnum ond heaðowædum, billum ond byrnum;him on bearme læg madma mænigo, þa him mid scoldon on flodes æht feor gewitan. Nalæs hi hine læssan lacum teodan, þeodgestreonum, þon þa dydon, þe hine æt frumsceafte forð onsendon ænne ofer yðe umborwesende. Þa gyt hie him asetton segen gyldenne heah ofer heafod, leton holm beran, geafon on garsecg; him wæs geomor sefa, murnende mod. Men ne cunnon secgan to soðe, selerædende, hæleð under heofenum, hwa þæm hlæste onfeng.

I Now Beowulf bode in the burg of the Scyldings, leader beloved, and long he ruled in fame with all folk, since his father had gone away from the world, till awoke an heir, haughty Healfdene, who held through life, sage and sturdy, the Scyldings glad. Then, one after one, there woke to him, to the chieftain of clansmen, children four: Heorogar, then Hrothgar, then Halga brave; and I heard that -- was --'s queen, the Heathoscylfing's helpmate dear. To Hrothgar was given such glory of war, such honor of combat, that all his kin obeyed him gladly till great grew his band of youthful comrades. It came in his mind to bid his henchmen a hall uprear, a master mead-house, mightier far than ever was seen by the sons of earth, and within it, then, to old and young he would all allot that the Lord had sent him, save only the land and the lives of his men. Wide, I heard, was the work commanded, for many a tribe this mid-earth round, to fashion the folkstead. It fell, as he ordered, in rapid achievement that ready it stood there, of halls the noblest: Heorot[1] he named it whose message had might in many a land. Not reckless of promise, the rings he dealt, treasure at banquet: there towered the hall, high, gabled wide, the hot surge waiting of furious flame.[2] Nor far was that day when father and son-in-law stood in feud for warfare and hatred that woke again.[3]     With envy and anger an evil spirit endured the dole in his dark abode, that he heard each day the din of revel high in the hall: there harps rang out, clear song of the singer. He sang who knew[4] tales of the early time of man, how the Almighty made the earth, fairest fields enfolded by water, set, triumphant, sun and moon for a light to lighten the land-dwellers, and braided bright the breast of earth with limbs and leaves, made life for all of mortal beings that breathe and move.     So lived the clansmen in cheer and revel a winsome life, till one began to fashion evils, that field of hell. Grendel this monster grim was called, march-riever[5] mighty, in moorland living, in fen and fastness; fief of the giants the hapless wight a while had kept since the Creator his exile doomed. On kin of Cain was the killing avenged by sovran God for slaughtered Abel. Ill fared his feud,[6] and far was he driven, for the slaughter's sake, from sight of men. Of Cain awoke all that woful breed, Etins[7] and elves and evil-spirits, as well as the giants that warred with God weary while: but their wage was paid them!     [1] That is, "The Hart," or "Stag," so called from decorations in the gables that resembled the antlers of a deer. This hall has been carefully described in a pamphlet by Heyne. The building was rectangular, with opposite doors -- mainly west and east -- and a hearth in the middle of the single room. A row of pillars down each side, at some distance from the walls, made a space which was raised a little above the main floor, and was furnished with two rows of seats. On one side, usually south, was the high-seat midway between the doors. Opposite this, on the other raised space, was another seat of honor. At the banquet soon to be described, Hrothgar sat in the south or chief high-seat, and Beowulf opposite to him. The scene for a flying (see below, v.499) was thus very effectively set. Planks on trestles -- the "board" of later English literature -- formed the tables just in front of the long rows of seats, and were taken away after banquets, when the retainers were ready to stretch themselves out for sleep on the benches.     [2] Fire was the usual end of these halls. See v. 781 below. One thinks of the splendid scene at the end of the Nibelungen, of the Nialssaga, of Saxo's story of Amlethus, and many a less famous instance.     [3] It is to be supposed that all hearers of this poem knew how Hrothgar's hall was burnt, -- perhaps in the unsuccessful attack made on him by his son-in-law Ingeld.     [4] A skilled minstrel. The Danes are heathens, as one is told presently; but this lay of beginnings is taken from Genesis.     [5] A disturber of the border, one who sallies from his haunt in the fen and roams over the country near by. This probably pagan nuisance is now furnished with biblical credentials as a fiend or devil in good standing, so that all Christian Englishmen might read about him. "Grendel" may mean one who grinds and crushes.     [6] Cain's.     [7] Giants.

I  [54-114] Ða wæs on burgum Beowulf Scyldinga, leof leodcyning longe þrage folcum gefræge --- fæder ellor hwearf, aldor of earde--- , oþ þæt him eft onwoc heah Healfdene; heold þenden lifde gamol ond guðreouw glæde Scyldingas. Ðæm feower bearn forðgerimed in worold wocun, weoroda ræswan, Heorogar ond Hroðgar ond Halga til, hyrde ic þæt . . . . . . wæs Onelan cwen, Heaðo-Scilfingas healsgebedda. Þa wæs Hroðgare heresped gyfen, wiges weorðmynd, þæt him his winemgas georne hyrdon, oðð þæt seo geogoð geweox, magodriht micel. Him on mod bearn, þæt healreced hatan wolde, medoærn micel men gewyrcean þonne yldo bearn æfre gefrunon, ond þær on innan eall gedælan geongum ond ealdum, swylc him God sealde buton folcscare ond feorum gumena. Ða ic wide gefrægn weorc gebannan manigre mægþe geond þisne middangeard, folcstede frætwan. Him on fyrste gelomp, ædre mid yldum, þæt hit wearð ealgearo, healærna mæst; scop him Heort naman se þe his wordes geweald wide hæfde. He beot ne aleh, beagas dælde, sinc æt symle. Sele hlifade, heah ond horngeap; heaðowylma bad, laðan liges; ne wæs hit lenge þa gen, þæt se ecghete aþumsweorum, æfter wælniðe wæcnan scolde. Ða se ellengæst earfoðlice þrage geþolode, se þe in þystrum bad, þæt he dogora gehwam dream gehyrde hludne in healle; þær wæs hearpan sweg, swutol sang scopes. Sægde se þe cuþe frumsceaft fira feorran reccan, cwæð þæt se Ælmihtiga eorðan worhte, wlitebeorhtne wang, swa wæter bebugeð, gesette sigehreþig sunnan ond monan leoman to leohte landbuendum, ond gefrætwade foldan sceatas leomum ond leafum, lif eac gesceop rynna gehwylcum þara ðe cwice hwyrfaþ.--- Swa þa drihtguman dreamum lifdon, eadiglice, oð ðæt an ongan fyrene fremman feond on helle; wæs se grimma gæst Grendel haten, mære mearcstapa, se þe moras heold, fen ond fæsten; fifelcynnes eard wonsæli wer weardode hwile, siþðan him Scyppend forscrifen hæfde in Caines cynne--- þone cwealm gewræc ece Drihten, þæs þe he Abel slog; ne gefeah he þære fæhðe, ac hehine feor forwræc, Metod for þy mane mancynne fram. Þanon untydras ealle on wocon, eotenas ond ylfe ond orcneas, swylce gigantas, þa wið Gode wunnon lange þrage; he him ðæs lean forgeald.

II WENT he forth to find at fall of night that haughty house, and heed wherever the Ring-Danes, outrevelled, to rest had gone. Found within it the atheling band asleep after feasting and fearless of sorrow, of human hardship. Unhallowed wight, grim and greedy, he grasped betimes, wrathful, reckless, from resting-places, thirty of the thanes, and thence he rushed fain of his fell spoil, faring homeward, laden with slaughter, his lair to seek. Then at the dawning, as day was breaking, the might of Grendel to men was known; then after wassail was wail uplifted, loud moan in the morn. The mighty chief, atheling excellent, unblithe sat, labored in woe for the loss of his thanes, when once had been traced the trail of the fiend, spirit accurst: too cruel that sorrow, too long, too loathsome. Not late the respite; with night returning, anew began ruthless murder; he recked no whit, firm in his guilt, of the feud and crime. They were easy to find who elsewhere sought in room remote their rest at night, bed in the bowers,[1] when that bale was shown, was seen in sooth, with surest token, -- the hall-thane's[2] hate. Such held themselves far and fast who the fiend outran! Thus ruled unrighteous and raged his fill one against all; until empty stood that lordly building, and long it bode so. Twelve years' tide the trouble he bore, sovran of Scyldings, sorrows in plenty, boundless cares. There came unhidden tidings true to the tribes of men, in sorrowful songs, how ceaselessly Grendel harassed Hrothgar, what hate he bore him, what murder and massacre, many a year, feud unfading, -- refused consent to deal with any of Daneland's earls, make pact of peace, or compound for gold: still less did the wise men ween to get great fee for the feud from his fiendish hands. But the evil one ambushed old and young death-shadow dark, and dogged them still, lured, or lurked in the livelong night of misty moorlands: men may say not where the haunts of these Hell-Runes[3] be. Such heaping of horrors the hater of men, lonely roamer, wrought unceasing, harassings heavy. O'er Heorot he lorded, gold-bright hall, in gloomy nights; and ne'er could the prince[4] approach his throne, -- 'twas judgment of God, -- or have joy in his hall. Sore was the sorrow to Scyldings'-friend, heart-rending misery. Many nobles sat assembled, and searched out counsel how it were best for bold-hearted men against harassing terror to try their hand. Whiles they vowed in their heathen fanes altar-offerings, asked with words[5] that the slayer-of-souls would succor give them for the pain of their people. Their practice this, their heathen hope; 'twas Hell they thought of in mood of their mind. Almighty they knew not, Doomsman of Deeds and dreadful Lord, nor Heaven's-Helmet heeded they ever, Wielder-of-Wonder. -- Woe for that man who in harm and hatred hales his soul to fiery embraces; -- nor favor nor change awaits he ever. But well for him that after death-day may draw to his Lord, and friendship find in the Father's arms!     [1] The smaller buildings within the main enclosure but separate from the hall.     [2] Grendel.     [3] "Sorcerers-of-hell."     [4] Hrothgar, who is the "Scyldings'-friend" of 170.     [5] That is, in formal or prescribed phrase.

II  [115-189] Gewat ða neosian, syþðan niht becom, hean huses, hu hit Hring-Dene æfter beorþege gebun hæfdon. Fand þa ðær inne æþelinga gedriht swefan æfter symble; sorge ne cuðon, wonsceaft wera. Wiht unhælo, grim ond grædig, gearo sona wæs, reoc ond reþe, ond on ræste genam þritig þegna; þanon eft gewat huðe hremig to ham faran, mid þære wælfylle wica neosan. Ða wæs on uhtan mid ærdæge Grendles guðcræft gumum undyrne; þa wæs æfter wiste wop up ahafen, micel morgensweg. Mære þeoden, æþeling ærgod, unbliðe sæt, þolode ðryðswyð þegnsorge dreah, syðþan hie þæs laðan last sceawedon, wergan gastes; wæs þæt gewin to strang, lað ond longsum! Næs hit lengra fyrst, ac ymb ane niht eft gefremede morðbeala mare, ond no mearn fore, fæhðe ond fyrene; wæs to fæst on þam. Þa wæs eaðfynde þe him elles hwær gerumlicor ræste sohte, bed æfter burum, ða him gebeacnod wæs, gesægd soðlice sweotolan tacne healðegnes hete; heold hyne syðþan fyr ond fæstor se þæm feonde ætwand. Swa rixode ond wið rihte wan, ana wið eallum, oð þæt idel stod husa selest. Wæs seo hwil micel; twelf wintra tid torn geþolode wine Scyldinga, weana gehwelcne, sidra sorga; forðam secgum wearð ylda bearnum, undyrne cuð gyddum geomore, þætte Grendel wan hwile wið Hroþgar, heteniðas wæg, fyrene ond fæhðefela missera, singale sæce; sibbe ne wolde wið manna hwone mægenes Deniga, feorhbealo feorran, fea þingian, ne þær nænig witena wenan þorfte beorhtre bote to banan folmum; ac se æglæca ehtende wæs, deorc deaþscua, duguþe ond geogoþe, seomade ond syrede; sinnihte heold mistige moras; men ne cunnon, hwyder helrunan hwyrftum scriþað. Swa fela fyrena feond mancynnes, atol angengea, oft gefremede, herdra hynða; Heorot eardode, sincfage sel sweartum nihtum;--- no he þone gifstol gretan moste, maþðum for Metode, ne his myne wisse.--- Þæt wæs wræc micel wine Scyldinga, modes brecða. Monig oft gesæt rice to rune; ræd eahtedon, hwæt swiðferhðum selest wære wið færgyrum to gefremmanne. Hwilum hie geheton æt hærgtrafum wigweorþunga, wordum bædon, þæt him gastbona geoce gefremede wið þeodþreaum. Swylc wæs þeaw hyra, hæþenra hyht; helle gemundon in modsefan, Metod hie ne cuþon, dæda Demend, ne wiston hie Drihten God, ne hie huru heofena Helm herian ne cuþon, Wuldres Waldend. Wa bið þæm ðe sceal þurh sliðne nið sawle bescufan in fyres fæþm, frofre ne wenan, wihte gewendan! Wel bið þæm þe mot æfter deaðdæge Drihten secean ond to Fæder fæþmum freoðo wilnian!

III THUS seethed unceasing the son of Healfdene with the woe of these days; not wisest men assuaged his sorrow; too sore the anguish, loathly and long, that lay on his folk, most baneful of burdens and bales of the night.     This heard in his home Hygelac's thane, great among Geats, of Grendel's doings. He was the mightiest man of valor in that same day of this our life, stalwart and stately. A stout wave-walker he bade make ready. Yon battle-king, said he, far o'er the swan-road he fain would seek, the noble monarch who needed men! The prince's journey by prudent folk was little blamed, though they loved him dear; they whetted the hero, and hailed good omens. And now the bold one from bands of Geats comrades chose, the keenest of warriors e'er he could find; with fourteen men the sea-wood[1] he sought, and, sailor proved, led them on to the land's confines.     Time had now flown;[2] afloat was the ship, boat under bluff. On board they climbed, warriors ready; waves were churning sea with sand; the sailors bore on the breast of the bark their bright array, their mail and weapons: the men pushed off, on its willing way, the well-braced craft. Then moved o'er the waters by might of the wind that bark like a bird with breast of foam, till in season due, on the second day, the curved prow such course had run that sailors now could see the land, sea-cliffs shining, steep high hills, headlands broad. Their haven was found, their journey ended. Up then quickly the Weders'[3] clansmen climbed ashore, anchored their sea-wood, with armor clashing and gear of battle: God they thanked for passing in peace o'er the paths of the sea.     Now saw from the cliff a Scylding clansman, a warden that watched the water-side, how they bore o'er the gangway glittering shields, war-gear in readiness; wonder seized him to know what manner of men they were. Straight to the strand his steed he rode, Hrothgar's henchman; with hand of might he shook his spear, and spake in parley. "Who are ye, then, ye armed men, mailed folk, that yon mighty vessel have urged thus over the ocean ways, here o'er the waters? A warden I, sentinel set o'er the sea-march here, lest any foe to the folk of Danes with harrying fleet should harm the land. No aliens ever at ease thus bore them, linden-wielders:[4] yet word-of-leave clearly ye lack from clansmen here, my folk's agreement. -- A greater ne'er saw I of warriors in world than is one of you, -- yon hero in harness! No henchman he worthied by weapons, if witness his features, his peerless presence! I pray you, though, tell your folk and home, lest hence ye fare suspect to wander your way as spies in Danish land. Now, dwellers afar, ocean-travellers, take from me simple advice: the sooner the better I hear of the country whence ye came."     [1] Ship.     [2] That is, since Beowulf selected his ship and led his men to the harbor.     [3] One of the auxiliary names of the Geats.     [4] Or: Not thus openly ever came warriors hither; yet...

III [190-257] Swa ða mælceare maga Healfdenes singala seað; ne mihte snotor hæleð wean onwendan; wæs þæt gewin to swyð, laþ ond longsum, þe on ða leode becom, nydwracu niþgrim, nihtbealwa mæst. Þæt fram ham gefrægn Higelaces þegn, god mid Geatum, Grendles dæda; se wæs moncynnes mægenes strengest on þæm dæge þysses lifes, æþele ond eacen. Het him yðlidan godne gegyrwan; cwæð, he guðcyning ofer swanrade secean wolde, mærne þeoden, þa him wæs manna þearf. Ðone siðfæt him snotere ceorlas lythwon logon, þeah he him leof wære; hwetton higerofne, hæl sceawedon. Hæfde se goda Geata leoda cempan gecorone þara þe he cenoste findan mihte; fiftyna sum sundwudu sohte, secg wisade, lagucræftig mon landgemyrcu. Fyrst forð gewat; flota wæs on yðum, bat under beorge. Beornas gearwe on stefn stigon,--- streamas wundon, sund wið sande; secgas bæron on bearm nacanbeorhte frætwe, guðsearo geatolic; guman ut scufon, weras on wilsið, wudu bundenne. Gewat þa ofer wægholm winde gefysed flota famiheals fugle gelicost, oð þæt ymb antid oþres dogores wundenstefna gewaden hæfde, þæt ða liðende land ge sawon, brimclifu blican, beorgas steape, side sænæssas; þa wæssund liden, eoletes æt ende. Þanon up hraðe Wedera leode on wang stigon, sæwudu sældon,--- syrcan hyrsedon, guðgewædo; Gode þancedon þæs þe him yþlade eaðe wurdon. Ða of wealle geseah weard Scildinga, se þe holmclifu healdan scolde, beran ofer bolcan beorhte randas, fyrdsearu fuslicu; hine fyrwyt bræc modgehygdum, hwæt þa men wæron. Gewat him þa to waroðe wicge ridan þegn Hroðgares, þrymmum cwehte mægenwudu mundum, meþelwordum frægn: 'Hwæt syndon ge searohæbbendra, byrnum werede, þe þus brontne ceol ofer lagustræte lædan cwomon, hider ofer holmas? Hwæt, ic hwile wæs endesæta, ægwearde heold, þe on land Dena laðra nænig mid scipherge sceðþan ne meahte. No her cuðlicor cuman ongunnon lindhæbbende, ne ge leafnesword guðfremmendra gearwe ne wisson, maga gemedu. Næfre ic maran geseah eorla ofer, eorþan ðonne is eower sum, secg on searwum; nis þæt seldguma, wæpnum geweorðad, næfne him his wlite leoge, ænlic ansyn. Nu ic eower sceal frumcyn witan, ær ge fyr heonan, leassceaweras, on land Dena furþur feran. Nu ge feorbuend, mereliðende, minne gehyrað anfealdne geþoht: ofost is selest to gecyðanne, hwanan eowre cyme syndon.'

IV To him the stateliest spake in answer; the warriors' leader his word-hoard unlocked:-- "We are by kin of the clan of Geats, and Hygelac's own hearth-fellows we. To folk afar was my father known, noble atheling, Ecgtheow named. Full of winters, he fared away aged from earth; he is honored still through width of the world by wise men all. To thy lord and liege in loyal mood we hasten hither, to Healfdene's son, people-protector: be pleased to advise us! To that mighty-one come we on mickle errand, to the lord of the Danes; nor deem I right that aught be hidden. We hear -- thou knowest if sooth it is -- the saying of men, that amid the Scyldings a scathing monster, dark ill-doer, in dusky nights shows terrific his rage unmatched, hatred and murder. To Hrothgar I in greatness of soul would succor bring, so the Wise-and-Brave[1] may worst his foes, -- if ever the end of ills is fated, of cruel contest, if cure shall follow, and the boiling care-waves cooler grow; else ever afterward anguish-days he shall suffer in sorrow while stands in place high on its hill that house unpeered!" Astride his steed, the strand-ward answered, clansman unquailing: "The keen-souled thane must be skilled to sever and sunder duly words and works, if he well intends. I gather, this band is graciously bent to the Scyldings' master. March, then, bearing weapons and weeds the way I show you. I will bid my men your boat meanwhile to guard for fear lest foemen come, -- your new-tarred ship by shore of ocean faithfully watching till once again it waft o'er the waters those well-loved thanes, -- winding-neck'd wood, -- to Weders' bounds, heroes such as the hest of fate shall succor and save from the shock of war." They bent them to march, -- the boat lay still, fettered by cable and fast at anchor, broad-bosomed ship. -- Then shone the boars[2] over the cheek-guard; chased with gold, keen and gleaming, guard it kept o'er the man of war, as marched along heroes in haste, till the hall they saw, broad of gable and bright with gold: that was the fairest, 'mid folk of earth, of houses 'neath heaven, where Hrothgar lived, and the gleam of it lightened o'er lands afar. The sturdy shieldsman showed that bright burg-of-the-boldest; bade them go straightway thither; his steed then turned, hardy hero, and hailed them thus:-- "Tis time that I fare from you. Father Almighty in grace and mercy guard you well, safe in your seekings. Seaward I go, 'gainst hostile warriors hold my watch."     [1] Hrothgar.     [2] Beowulf's helmet has several boar-images on it; he is the "man of war"; and the boar-helmet guards him as typical representative of the marching party as a whole. The boar was sacred to Freyr, who was the favorite god of the Germanic tribes about the North Sea and the Baltic. Rude representations of warriors show the boar on the helmet quite as large as the helmet itself.

IV [258-319] Him se yldesta andswarode, werodes wisa, wordhord onleac: `We synt gumcynnes Geata leode ond Higelaces heorðgeneatas. Wæs min fæder folcum gecyþed, æþele ordfruma, Ecgþeow haten; gebad wintra worn, ær he on weg hwurfe, gamol of geardum; hine gearwe geman witenawelhwylc wide geond eorþan. We þurh holdne hige hlaford þinne, sunu Healfdenes secean cwomon, leodgebyrgean; wes þu us larena god! Habbað we to þæm mæran micel ærende Deniga frean; ne sceal þær dyrne sum wesan, þæs ic wene. Þu wast, gif hit is swa we soþlice secgan hyrdon, þæt mid Scyldingum sceaðona ic nat hwylc, deogol dædhata deorcum nihtum eaweð þurh egsan uncuðne nið, hynðu ond hrafyl . Ic þæs Hroðgar mæg þurh rumne sefan ræd gelæran, hu he frod ond god feond oferswyðeþ--- gyf him edwenden æfre scolde bealuwa bisigu bot eft cuman---, ond þa cearwylmas colran wurðaþ; oððe a syþðan earfoðþrage, þreanyd þolað, þenden þær wunað on heahstede husa selest.' Weard maþelode, ðær on wicge sæt, ombeht unforht: `Æghwæþres sceal scearp scyldwiga gescad witan, worda ond worca, se þe wel þenceð. Ic þæt gehyre, þæt þis is hold weorod frean Scyldinga. Gewitaþ forð beran wæpen ond gewædu, iceow wisige; swylce ic maguþegnas mine hate wið feonda gehwone flotan eowerne, niwtyrwydne nacan on sande arum healdan, oþ ðæt eft byreð ofer lagustreamas leofne mannan wudu wundenhals to Wedermearce, godfremmendra swylcum gifeþe bið þæt þone hilderæs hal gedigeð.' Gewiton him þa feran,--- flota stille bad, seomode on sale sidfæþmed scip, oa ancre fæst. Eoforlic scionon ofer hleorbergan gehroden golde, fah ond fyrheard,--- ferhwearde heold guþmod grimmon. Guman onetton, sigon ætsomne, oþ þæt hy sæl timbred geatolic ond goldfah ongyton mihton; þæt wæs foremærost foldbuendum receda under roderum, on þæm se rica bad; lixte se leoma ofer landa fela. Him þa hildedeor hof modigra torht getæhte, þæt hie him to mihton gegnum gangan; guðbeorna sum wicg gewende, word æfter cwæð: `Mæl is me to feran; Fæder alwalda mid arstafum eowic gehealde siða gesunde! Ic to sæ wille, wið wrað werod wearde healdan.'

V STONE-BRIGHT the street:[1] it showed the way to the crowd of clansmen. Corselets glistened hand-forged, hard; on their harness bright the steel ring sang, as they strode along in mail of battle, and marched to the hall. There, weary of ocean, the wall along they set their bucklers, their broad shields, down, and bowed them to bench: the breastplates clanged, war-gear of men; their weapons stacked, spears of the seafarers stood together, gray-tipped ash: that iron band was worthily weaponed! -- A warrior proud asked of the heroes their home and kin. "Whence, now, bear ye burnished shields, harness gray and helmets grim, spears in multitude? Messenger, I, Hrothgar's herald! Heroes so many ne'er met I as strangers of mood so strong. 'Tis plain that for prowess, not plunged into exile, for high-hearted valor, Hrothgar ye seek!" Him the sturdy-in-war bespake with words, proud earl of the Weders answer made, hardy 'neath helmet:--"Hygelac's, we, fellows at board; I am Beowulf named. I am seeking to say to the son of Healfdene this mission of mine, to thy master-lord, the doughty prince, if he deign at all grace that we greet him, the good one, now." Wulfgar spake, the Wendles' chieftain, whose might of mind to many was known, 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.

V [320-369] Stræt wæs stanfah, stig wisode gumum ætgædere. Guðbyrnescan heard hondlocen, hringiren scir song in searwum, þa hie to sele furðum in hyra gryregeatwum gangan cwomon. Setton sæme þe side scyldas, rondas regnhearde wið þæs recedes weal; bugon þa to bence,--- byrnan hringdon, guðsearo gumena; garas stodon, sæmanna searo, samod ætgædere, æscholt ufan græg; wæs se irenþreat wæpnum gewurþad.  Þa ðær wlonc hæleð oretmecgas æfter æþelum frægn: `Hwanon ferigeað ge fætte scyldas, græge syrcan ond grimhelmas, heresceafta heap? Ic eom Hroðgares ar ond ombiht. Ne seah ic elþeodige þus manige men modiglicran. Wen' ic þæt ge for wlenco, nalles for wræcsiðum, ac for higeþrymmum Hroðgar sohton.' Himþa ellenrof andswarode, wlanc Wedera leod, word æfter spræc heard under helme: `We synt Higelaces beodgeneatas; Beowulf is min nama. Wille ic asecgan sunu Healfdenes, mærum þeodne, min ærende, aldre þinum, gif he us geunnan wile, þæt we hine swa godne gretan moton.' Wulfgar maþelode --- þæt wæs Wendla leod, wæs his modsefa manegumgecyðed, wig ond wisdom--- : `Ic þæs wineDeniga, frean Scildinga frinan wille, beaga bryttan, swa þu bena eart, þeoden mærne, ymb þinne sið, ond þe þa andsware ædre gecyðan, ðe me se goda agifan þenceð.' Hwearf þa hrædlice þær Hroðgar sæt eald ond anhar mid his eorla gedriht; eode ellenrof, þæt he for eaxlum gestod Deniga frean; cuþe he duguðe þeaw. Wulfgar maðelode to his winedrihtne: `Her syndon geferede, feorran cumene ofer geofenes begang Geata leode; þone yldestan oretmecgas Beowulf nemnað. Hy benan synt, þæt hie, þeoden min,wið þe moton wordum wrixlan; no ðu him wearne geteoh ðinra gegncwida, glædman Hroðar! Hy on wiggetawum wyrðe þinceað eorla geæhtlan; huru se aldor deah, se þæm heaðorincum hider wisade.'

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."

VI  [370-454] Hroðgar maþelode, helm Scyldinga: 'Ic hine cuðe cnihtwesende; wæs his ealdfæder Ecgþeo haten, ðæm to ham forgeaf Hreþel Geata angan dohtor; is his eaforan nu heard her cumen, sohte holdne wine. Ðonne sægdon þæt sæliþende, þa ðe gifsceattas Geata fyredon þyder to þance, þæt he þritiges manna mægencræft on his mundgripe heaþorof hæbbe. Hine halig God for arstafum us onsende, to West-Denum, þæs ic wen hæbbe. wið Grendles gryre. Ic þæm godan sceal for his modþræce madmas beodan. Beo ðu on ofeste, hat in gan seon sibbegedriht samod ætgædere, gesaga him eac wordum. þæt hie sint wil cuman Deniga leodum.'  Þa to dura eode widcuð hæleð, word inne abead; `Eow het secgan sigedrihten min, aldor East-Dena, þæt he eoweræþelu can, ond ge him syndon ofer sæwylmas heardhicgende hider wilcuman. Nu ge moton gangan in eowrum guðgetawum under heregriman Hroðgar geseon; lætað hildebord her onbidan, wudu wælsceaftas worda geþinges.' Aras þa se rica, ymb hine rinc manig, þryðlic þegna heap ; sume þær bidon, heaðoreaf heoldon, swa him se hearda bebead. Snyredon ætsomne, þa secg wisode, under Heorotes hrof; heaþorinc eode, heard under helme, þæt he on heorðe gestod, Beowulf ma ---ode ðelon him byrne scan, searonet seowed smiþes orþancum--- : `Wæs þu, Hroðgar, hal! Ic eom Higelaces mæg ond magoðegn; hæbbe ic mærða fela ongunnen on geogoþe. Me wearð Grendles þing on minre eþeltyrf undyrne cuð; secgað sæliðend, þæt þæs sele stande, reced selesta rinca gehwylcum idel ond unnyt, siððan æfenleoht under heofenes hador beholen weorþeð. Þa me þæt gelærdon leode mine, þa selestan, snotere ceorlas, þeoden Hroðgar, þæt ic þe sohte, forþan hie mægenes cræft minne cuþon; selfe ofersawon, ða ic of searwum cwom, fah from feondum, þær ic fife geband, yðde eotena cyn, ond on yðum slog niceras nihtes, nearoþearfe dreah, wræc Wedera nið --- wean ahsodon---, forgrandgramum; ond nu wið Grendel sceal, wið þam aglæcan ana gehegan ðing wið þyrse. Ic þe nu ða, brego Beorht-Dena, biddan wille, eodor Scyldinga, anre bene, þæt ðu me ne forwyrne, wigendra hleo, freowine folca, nu ic þus feorran com, þæt ic mote ana ond minra eorla gedryht, þes hearda heap, Heorot fæl sian. Hæbbe ic eac geahsod, þæt se æglæca for his wonhydum wæpna ne recceð; ic þæt þonne forhicge, swa me Higelac sie, min mondrihten, modes bliðe, þæt ic sweord bere oþðe sidne scyld, geolorand to guþe, ac ic mid grape sceal fon wið feonde ond ymb feorh sacan, lað wið laþum; ðær gelyfan sceal Dryhtnes dome se þe hine deað nimeð. Wen' ic þæt he wille, gif he wealdan mot, in þæm guðsele Geotena leode etan unforhte, swa he oft dyde, mægen Hreðmanna. Na ðu minne þearft hafalan hydan, ac he me habban wile dreore fahne, gif mec deað nimeð; byreð blodig wæl, byrgean þenceð, eteð angenga unmurnlice, mearcað morhopu; no ðu ymb mines ne þearft lices feorme leng sorgian. Onsend Higelace, gif mec hild nime, beaduscruda betst, þæt mine breost wereð, hrægla selest; þæt is Hrædlan laf, Welandes geweorc. Gæð a wyrd swa hio scel!

 

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 rendered to Beowulf's father in time of dire need.     [2] Money, for wergild, or man-price.     [3] Ecgtheow, Beowulf's sire.

VII  [455-498] Hroðgar maþelode, helm Scyldinga: `For gewyrhtum þu, wine min Beowulf, ond for arstafum usic sohtest. Gesloh þin fæder fæhðe mæste; wearþ he Heaþolafe to handbonan mid Wilfingum; ða hine Wedera cyn for herebrogan habban ne mihte. Þanon he gesohte Suð-Dena folc ofer yða gewealc, Ar-Scyldinga; ða ic furþum weold folce Deniga ond on geogoðe heold ginne rice, hordburh hæleþa; ða wæs Heregar dead, min yldra mæg unlifigende, bearn Healfdenes; se wæs betera ðonne ic! Siððan þa fæhðe feo þingode; sende ic Wylfingum ofer wæteres hrycg ealde madmas; he me aþas swor. Sorh is me to secganne on sefan minum gumena ængum, hwæt me Grendel hafað hynðo on Heorote mid his heteþancum, færniða gefremed; is min fletwerod, wigheap gewanod; hie wyrd forsweop on Grendles gryre. God eaþe mæg þone dolsceaðan dæda getwæfan! Ful oft gebeotedon beore druncne ofer ealowæge oretmecgas, þæt hie in beorsele bidan woldon Grendles guþe mid gryrum ecga. Ðonne wæs þeos medoheal on morgentid, drihtsele dreorfah, þonne dæg lixte, eal bencþelu blode bestymed, heall heorudreore; ahte ic holdra þy læs, deorre duguðe, þe þa deað fornam. Site nu to symle ond onsæl meoto, sigehreð secgum, Swa þin sefa hwette.' Þa wæs Geatmæcgum geador ætsomne on beorsele benc gerymed; þær swiðferhþe sittan eodon, þryðum dealle. Þegn nytte beheold, se þe on handa bær hroden ealowæge, scencte scir wered. Scop hwilum sang hador on Heorote. Þær wæs hæleða dream, duguð unlytel Dena ond Wedera.

 

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.

VIII [499-558] Unferð maþelode, Ecglafes bearn, þe æt fotum sæt frean Scyldinga, onband beadurune--- wæs him Beowulfes sið, modges merefaran, micel æfþunca, forþon þe he ne uþe, þæt ænig oðer man æfre mærða þon ma middangeardes gehede under heofenum þonne he sylfa--- : `Eart þu se Beowulf, se þe wið Brecan wunne, on sidne sæ ymb sund flite, ðær git for wlence wada cunnedon ond for dolgilpe on deop wæter aldrum neþdon? Ne inc ænig mon, ne leof ne lað, belean mihte sorhfullne sið, þa git on sund reon; þær git eagorstream earmum þehton, mæton merestræta, mundum brugdon, glidon ofer garsecg; geofon yþum weol, wintrys wylmum. Git on wæteres æht, seofon niht swuncon; he þe æt sunde oferflat, hæfde mare mægen. Þa hine on morgentid on Heaðo-Ræmes holm up ætbær; ðonon he gesohte swæsne eþel, leof his leodum, lond Brondinga, freoðoburh fægere, þær he folc ahte, burh ond beagas. Beot eal wið þe sunu Beanstanes soðe gelæste. Ðonne wene ic to þe wyrsan geþingea, ðeah þu heaðoræsa gehwær dohte, grimre guðe, gif þu Grendles dearst nihtlongne fyrst nean bidan.' Beowulf maþelode, bearn Ecgþeowes: `Hwæt, þu worn fela, wine min Unferð, beore druncen ymb Brecan spræce, sædgest from his siðe! Soð ic talige, þæt ic merestrengo maran ahte, earfeþo on yþum, ðonne ænig oþer man. Wit þæt gecwædon cnihtwesende ond gebeotedon --- wæron begen þa git on geogoðfeore--- þæt wit on garsecg ut aldrum neðdon, ond þæt geæfndon swa. Hæfdon swurd nacod, þa wit on sund reon, heard on handa; wit unc wið hronfixas werian þohton. No he wiht fram me flodyþum feor fleotan meahte, hraþor on holme; no ic fram him wolde. Ða wit ætsomne on sæ wæron fif nihta fyrst, oþ þæt unc flod todraf, wado weallende, wedera cealdost, nipende niht, ond norþanwind heaðogrim ondhwearf; hreo wæron yþa. wæs merefixa mod onhrered; þær me wið laðum licsyrce min heard hondlocen, helpe gefremede, beadohrægl broden, on breostum læg golde gegyrwed. Me to grunde teah fah feondscaða, fæste hæfde grim on grape; hwæþre me gyfeþe wearð, þæt ic aglæcan orde geræhte, hildebille; heaþoræs fornam mihtig meredeor þurh mine hand.

 

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.

IX [559-661] Swa mec gelome laðgeteonan þreatedon þearle. Ic him þenode deoran sweorde, swa hit gedefe wæs. Næs hie ðære fylle gefean hæfdon, manfordædlan, þæt hie me þegon, symbel ymbsæton sægrunde neah; ac on mergenne mecum wunde be yðlafe uppe lægon, sweordum aswefede, þæt syðþan na ymb brontne ford brimliðende lade ne letton. Leoht eastan com, beorht beacen Godes; brimu swaþredon, þæt ic sænæssas geseon mihte, windige weallas. Wyrd oft nereð unfægne eorl, þonne his ellen deah! Hwæþere me gesælde, þæt ic mid sweorde ofsloh niceras nigene. No ic on niht gefrægn under heofones hwealf heardran feohtan, ne on egstreamum earmran mannon; hwæþere ic fara feng feore gedigde siþes werig. Ða mec sæ oþbær, flod æfter faroðe on Finna land, wadu weallendu. No ic wiht fram þe swylcra searoniða secgan hyrde, billa brogan. Breca næfre git æt heaðolace, ne gehwæþer incer, swa deorlice, dæd gefremede fagum sweordum --- no ic þæs fela gylpe--- , þeah ðu þinum broðrum to banan wurde, heafodmægum; þæs þu in helle scealt werhðo dreogan, þeah þin wit duge. Secge ic þe to soðe, sunu Ecglafes, þæt næfre Grendel swa fela gryra gefremede, atol æglæca, ealdre þinum, hynðo on Heorote, gif þin hige wære, sefa swa searogrim, swa þu self talast; ac he hafað onfunden, þæt he þa fæhðe ne þearf, atole ecgþræce eower leode swiðe onsittan, Sige-Scyldinga; nymeð nydbade, nænegum arað leode Deniga, ac he lust wigeð, swefeð ond snedeþ, secce ne weneþ to Gar-Denum. Ac ic him Geata sceal eafoð ond ellen ungeara nu, guþe gebeodan. Gæþ eft se þe mot to medo modig, siþþan morgenleoht ofer ylda bearn oþres dogores, sunne sweglwered suþan scineð!' Þa wæs on salum sinces brytta, gamolfeax ond guðrof; geoce gelyfde brego Beorht-Dena, gehyrde on Beowulfe folces hyrde fæstrædne geþoht. Ðær wæs hæleþa hleahtor, hlyn swynsode, word wæron wynsume. Eode Wealhþeow forð, cwen Hroðgares, cynna gemyndig, grette goldhroden guman on healle, ond þa freolic wif ful gesealde ærest East-Dena eþelwearde, bæd hine bliðne æt þære beorþege, leodum leofne; he on lust geþeah symbel ond seleful, sigerof kyning. Ymbeode þa ides Helminga duguþe ond geogoþe dæl æghwylcne, sincfato sealde, oþ þæt sæl alamp þæt hio Beowulfe, beaghroden cwen mode geþungen medoful ætbær; grette Geata leod, Gode þancode wisfæst wordum þæs ðe hire se willa gelamp, þæt heo on ænigne eorl gelyfde fyrena frofre. He þæt ful geþeah, wælreow wiga, æt Wealhþeon, ond þa gyddode guþe gefysed, Beowulf maþelode, bearn Ecgþeowes: `Ic þæt hogode, þa ic on holm gestah, sæbat gesæt mid minra secga gedriht, þæt ic anunga eowra leoda willan geworhte, oþðe on wæl crunge feondgrapum fæst. Ic gefremman sceal eorlic ellen, oþðe endedæg on þisse meoduhealle minne gebidan!' Ðam wife þa word wel licodon, gilpcwide Geates; eode goldhroden, freolicu folccwen to hire frean sittan. Þa wæs eft swa ær inne on healle þryðword sprecen, ðeod on sælum, sigefolca sweg, oþ þæt semninga sunu Healfdenes secean wolde æfenræste; wiste þæm ahlæcan to þæm heahsele hilde geþinged, siððan hie sunnan leoht geseon meahton, oð þe nipende niht ofer ealle, scaduhelma gesceapu scriðan cwoman wan under wolcnum. Werod eall aras. Gegrette þa guma oþerne, Hroðgar Beowulf, ond him hæl abead, winærnes geweald, ond þæt word acwæð: `Næfre ic ænegum men ær alyfde, siþðan ic hond ond rond hebban mihte, ðryþærn Dena buton þe nu ða. Hafa nu ond geheald husa selest, gemyne mærþo, mægenellen cyð, waca wiþ wraþum! Ne bið þe wilna gad, gif þu þæt ellenweorc aldre gedigest.'

 

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."

X [662-709] Ða him Hroþgar gewat mid his hæleþa gedryht, eodur Scyldinga ut of healle; wolde wigfruma Wealhþeo secan, cwen to gebeddan. Hæfde Kyningwuldor Grendle togeanes, swa guman gefrungon, seleweard aseted; sundornytte behold ymb aldor Dena, eotonweard' abead. Huru Geata leod georne truwode modgan mægnes, Metodes hyldo.--- Ða he him of dyde iserbyrnan, helm of hafelan, sealde his hyrsted sweord, irena cyst ombihtþegne, ond gehealdan het hildegeatwe. Gespræc þa se goda gylpworda sum, Beowulf Geata, ær he on bed stige: `No ic me an herewæsmun hnagran talige guþgeweorca, þonne Grendel hine; forþan ic hine sweorde swebban nelle, aldre beneotan, þeah ic eal mæge; nat he þara goda, þæt he me ongean slea, rand geheawe, þeah ðe he rof sie niþgeweorca; ac wit on niht sculon secge ofersittan, gif he gesecean dear wig ofer wæpen, ond sithatðan witig God on swa hwæthatere hond halig Dryhten mærðo deme, swa him gemet þince.' Hylde hine þa heaþodeor, hleorbolster onfeng eorles andwlitan, ond hine ymb monig snellic særinc selereste gebeah. Nænig heora þohte, þæt he þanon scolde eft eardlufan æfre gesecan, folc oþðe freoburh, þær he afeded wæs; ac hie hæfdon gefrunen, þæt hie ær to fela micles in þæm winsele wældeað fornam, Denigea leode. Ac him Dryhten forgeaf wigspeda gewiofu, Wedera leodum. frofor ond fultum, þæt hie feond heora ðurh anes cræft ealle ofercomon, selfes mihtum. Soð is gecyþed, þæt mihtig God manna cynnes weold wideferhð. Com on wanre niht scriðan sceadugenga. Sceotend swæfon, þa þæt hornreced healdan scoldon, ealle buton anum. Þæt wæs yldum cuþ, þæt hie ne moste, þa Metod nolde, se scynscaþa under sceadu bregdan;--- ac he wæccende wraþum on andan bad bolgenmod beadwa geþinges.

 

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.

XI  [710-790] Ða com of more under misthleoþum Grendel gongan, Godes yrre bær; mynte se manscaða manna cynnes sumne besyrwan in sele þam hean. Wod under wolcnum to þæs þe he winreced, goldsele gumena gearwost wisse fættum fahne. Ne wæs þæt forma sið, þæt he Hroþgares ham gesohte; næfre he on aldordagum ær ne siþðan heardran hæle, healðegnas fand! Com þa to recede rinc siðian dreamum bedæled. Duru sona onarn fyrbendum fæst, syþðan he hire folmum æthran; onbræd þa bealohydig, ða he gebolgen wæs, recedes muþan. Raþe æfter þon on fagne flor feond treddode, eode yrremod; him of eagum stod ligge gelicost leoht unfæger. Geseah he in recede rinca manige, swefan sibbegedriht samod ætgædere, magorinca heap. Þa his mod ahlog; mynte þæt he gedælde, ær þon dæg cwome, atol aglæca, anra gehwylces lif wið lice, þa him alumpen wæs wistfylle wen. Ne wæs þæt wyrd þa gen, þæt he ma moste manna cynnes ðicgean ofer þa niht. Þryðswyð beheold mæg Higelaces, hu se manscaða under færgripum gefaran wolde. Ne þæt se aglæca yldan þohte, ac he gefeng hraðe forman siðe slæpendne rinc, slat unwearnum, bat banlocan, blod edrum dranc, synsnædum swealh; sona hæfde unlyfigendes eal gefeormod, fet ond folma. Forð near ætstop, nam þa mid handa higeþihtigne rinc on ræste, ræhte ongean feond mid folme; he onfeng hraþe inwitþancum ond wið earm gesæt. Sona þæt onfunde fyrena hyrde, þæt he ne mette middangeardes, eorþan sceata on elran men mundgripe maran; he on mode wearð forht on ferhðe; no þy ær fram meahte. Hyge wæs him hinfus, wolde on heolster fleon, secan deofla gedræg; ne wæs his drohtoð þær swylce he on ealderdagum ær gemette. Gemunde þa se goda, mæg Higelaces, æfenspræce, uplang astod ond him fæste wiðfeng; fingras burston; eoten wæs utweard; eorl furþur stop. Mynte se mæra, þær he meahte swa, widre gewindan ond on weg þanon fleon on fenhopu; wiste his fingra geweald on grames grapum. Þæt wæs geocor sið, þæt se hearmscaþa to Heorute ateah! Dryhtsele dynede; Denum eallum wearð, ceasterbuendum, cenra gehwylcum, eorlum ealuscerwen. Yrre wæron begen, reþe renweardas. Reced hlynsode. Þa wæs wundor micel, þæt se winsele wiðhæfde heaþodeorum, þæt he on hrusan ne feol, fæger foldbold; ac he þæs fæste wæs innan ond utan irenbendum searoþoncum besmiþod. Þær fram sylle abeag medubenc monig mine gefræge golde geregnad, þær þa graman wunnon. Þæs ne wendon ær witan Scyldinga, þæt hit a mid gemete manna ænig betlic ond banfag tobrecan meahte, listum tolucan, nymþe liges fæþm swulge on swaþule. Sweg up astag niwe geneahhe: Norð-Denum stod atelic egesa, anra gehwylcum þara þe of wealle wop gehyrdon, gryreleoð galan Godes andsacan, sigeleasne sang, sar wanigean helle hæfton. Heold hine fæste se þe manna wæs mægene strengest on þæm dæge þysses lifes.

 

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·     [1] Kenning for Beowulf.

XII  [791-836] Nolde eorla hleo ænige þinga þone cwealmcuman cwicne forlætan, ne his lifdagas leoda ænigum nytte tealde. Þær genehost brægd eorl Beowulfes ealde lafe, wolde freadrihtnes feorh ealgian, mæres þeodnes, ðær hie meahton swa. Hie þæt ne wiston, þa hie gewin drugon, heardhicgende hildemecgas, ond on healfa gehwone heawan þohton, sawle secan: þone synscaðan ænig ofer eorþan irenna cyst, guðbilla nan, gretan nolde; ac he sigewæpnum forsworen hæfde, ecga gehwylcre. Scolde his aldorgedal on ðæm dæge þysses lifes earmlic wurðan, ond se ellorgast on feonda geweald feor siðian.--- Ða þæt onfunde se þe fela æror modes myrðe manna cynne, fyrene gefremede --- he wæs fag wið God--- , þæt him se lichoma læstan nolde, ac hine se modega mæg Hygelaces hæfde be honda; wæs gehwæþer oðrum lifigende lað. Licsar gebad atol æglæca; him on eaxle wearð syndolh sweotol, seonowe onsprungon, burston banlocan. Beowulfe wearð guðhreð gyfeþe; scolde Grendel þonan feorhseoc fleon under fenhleoðu, secean wynleas wic; wiste þe geornor þæt his aldres wæs ende gegongen, dogera dægrim. Denum eallum wearð æfter þam wælræse willa gelumpen. Hæfde þa gefælsod se þe ær feorran com, snotor ond swyðferhð, sele Hroðgares,genered wið niðe. Nihtweorce gefeh, ellenmærþum. Hæfde East-Denum Geatmecga leod gilp gelæsted, swylce oncyþðe ealle gebette, inwidsorge, þe hie ær drugon ond for þreanydum þolian scoldon, torn unlytel. Þæt wæs tacen sweotol, syþðan hildedeor hond alegde, earm ond eaxle --- þær wæs eal geador Grendles grape--- under geapne hrof.837-849

 

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.

XIII [837-924] Ða wæs on morgen mine gefræge ymb þa gifhealle guðrinc monig; ferdon folctogan feorran ond nean geond widwegas wundor sceawian, laþes lastas. No his lifgedal sarlic þuhte secga ænegum þara þe tirleases trode sceawode, hu he werigmod on weg þanon, niða ofercumen, on nicera mere fæge ond geflymed feorhlastas bær. Ðær wæs on blode brim weallende, atol yða geswing eal gemenged haton heolfre, heorodreore weol; deaðfæge deog, siððan dreama leas in fenfreoðo feorh alegde, hæþene sawle; þær him hel onfeng. Þanon eft gewiton ealdgesiðas swylce geong manig of gomenwaþe, fram mere modge mearum ridan, beornas on blancum. Ðær wæs Beowulfes mærðo mæned; monig oft gecwæð, þætte suð ne norð be sæm tweonum ofer eormengrund oþer nænig under swegles begong selra nære rondhæbbendra, rices wyrðra. --- Ne hie huru winedrihten wiht ne logon, glædne Hroðgar, ac þæt wæs god cyning. --- Hwilum heaþorofe hleapan leton, on geflit faran fealwe mearas, ðær him foldwegas fægere þuhton, cystum cuðe. Hwilum cyninges þegn, guma gilphlæden, gidda gemyndig, se ðe ealfela ealdgesegena worn gemunde, word oþer fand soðe gebunden; secg eft ongan sið Beowulfes snyttrum styrian, ond on sped wrecan spel gerade, wordum wrixlan; welhwylc gecwæð, þæt he fram Sigemundes secgan hyrde ellendædum, uncuþes fela, Wælsinges gewin, wide siðas, þara þe gumena bearn gearwe ne wiston, fæhðe ond fyrena, buton Fitela mid hine, þonne he swulces hwæt secgan wolde, eam his nefan, swa hie a wæron æt niða gehwam nydgesteallan; hæfdon ealfela eotena cynnes sweordum gesæged. Sigemunde gesprong æfter deaðdæge dom unlytel, syþðan wiges heard wyrm acwealde, hordes hyrde; he under harne stan, æþelinges bearn ana geneðde frecne dæde, ne wæs him Fitela mid; hwæþre him gesælde, ðæt þæt swurd þurhwod wrætlicne wyrm, þæt hit on wealle ætstod, dryhtlic iren; draca morðre swealt. Hæfde aglæca elne gegongen, þæt he beahhordes brucan moste selfes dome; sæbat gehleod, bær on bearm scipes beorhte frætwa, Wælses eafera; wyrm hat gemealt. Se wæs wreccena wide mærost ofer werþeode, wigendra hleo, ellendædum --- he þæs ær onðah--- , siððan Heremodes hild sweðrode, eafoð ond ellen. He mid Eotenum wearð, on feonda geweald forð forlacen, snude forsended. Hine sorhwylmas lemede to lange; he his leodum wearð, eallum æþellingum to aldorceare; swylce oft bemearn ærran mælum swiðferhþes sið snotor ceorl monig, se þe him bealwa to bote gelyfde, þæt þæt ðeodnes bearn geþeon scolde, fæderæþelum onfon, folc gehealdan, hord ond hleoburh, hæleþa rice, eþel Scyldinga. He þær eallum wearð, mæg Higelaces manna cynne, freondum gefægra; hine fyren onwod. Hwilum flitende fealwe stræte mearum mæton. Ða wæs morgenleoht scofen ond scynded. Eode scealc monig swiðhicgende to sele þam hean searowundor seon; swylce self cyning of brydbure, beahhorda weard, tryddode tirfæst getrume micle, cystum gecyþed, ond his cwen mid him medostigge mæt mægþa hose.

 

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.

XIV [925-990] Hroðgar maþelode --- he to healle geong, stod on stapole, geseah steapne hrof golde fahne ond Grendles hond --- : `Ðisse ansyne Alwealdan þanc lungre gelimpe! Fela ic laþes gebad, grynna æt Grendle; a mæg God wyrcan wunder æfter wundre, wuldres Hyrde. Ðæt wæs ungeara, þæt ic ænigra me weana ne wende to widan feore bote gebidan, þonne blode fah husa selest heorodreorig stod, --- wea widscofen witena gehwylcum ðara þe ne wendon, þæt hie wideferhð leoda landgeweorc laþum beweredon scuccum ond scinnum. Nu scealc hafað þurh Drihtnes miht dæd gefremede, ðe we ealle ær ne meahton snyttrum besyrwan. Hwæt, þæt secgan mæg efne swa hwylc mægþa swa ðone magan cende æfter gumcynnum, gyf heo gyt lyfað, þæt hyre Ealdmetod este wære bearngebyrdo. Nu ic, Beowulf, þec, secg betsta, me for sunu wylle freogan on ferhþe; heald forð tela niwe sibbe. Ne bið þe nænigra gad worolde wilna, þe ic geweald hæbbe. Ful oft ic for læssan lean teohhode, hordweorþunge hnahran rince, sæmran æt sæcce. Þu þe self hafast dædum gefremed, þæt þin dom lyfað awa to aldre. Alwalda þec gode forgylde, swa he nu gyt dyde!' Beowulf maþelode, bearn Ecgþeowes: `We þæt ellenweorc estum miclum, feohtan fremedon, frecne geneðdon eafoð uncuþes. Uþe ic swiþor, þæt ðu hine selfne geseon moste, feond on frætewum fylwerigne! Ic hine hrædlice heardan clammum on wælbedde wriþan þohte, þæt he for mundgripe minum scolde licgean lifbysig, butan his lic swice; ic hine ne mihte, þa Metod nolde, ganges getwæman, no ic him þæs georne ætfealh, feorhgeniðlan; wæs to foremihtig feond on feþe. Hwæþere he his folme forlet to lifwraþe last weardian, earm ond eaxle; no þær ænige swa þeah feasceaft guma frofre gebohte; no þy leng leofað laðgeteona synnum geswenced, ac hyne sar hafað in nidgripe nearwe befongen, balwon bendum; ðær abidan sceal maga mane fah miclan domes, hu him scir Metod scrifan wille.' Ða wæs swigra secg, sunu Ecglafes, on gylpspræce guðgeweorca, siþðan æþelingas eorles cræfte ofer heanne hrof hand sceawedon, feondes fingras; foran æghwylc wæs, stiðra nægla gehwylc style gelicost, hæþenes handsporu hilderinces eglu unheoru; æghwylc gecwæð, þæt him heardra nan hrinan wolde iren ærgod, þæt ðæs ahlæcan blodge beadufolme onberan wolde.

 

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.

XV [991-1049] Ða wæs haten hreþe Heort innanweard folmum gefrætwod; fela þæra wæs, wera ond wifa, þe þæt winreced, gestsele gyredon. Goldfag scinon web æfter wagum, wundorsiona fela secga gehwylcum þara þe on swylc starað. Wæs þæt beorhte bold tobrocen swiðe eal inneweard irenbendum fæst, heorras tohlidene; hrof ana genæs ealles ansund, þe se aglæca fyrendædum fag on fleam gewand, aldres orwena. No þæt yðe byð to befleonne --- fremme se þe wille --- , ac gesacan sceal sawlberendra, nyde genydde, niþða bearna, grundbuendra gearwe stowe, þær his lichoma legerbedde fæst swefeþ æfter symle. Þa wæs sæl ond mæl, þæt to healle gang Healfdenes sunu; wolde self cyning symbel þicgan, Ne gefrægen ic þa mægþa maran weorode ymb hyra sincgyfan sel gebæran. Bugon þa to bence blædagande, fylle gefægon; fægere geþægon medoful manig magas þara swiðhicgende on sele þam hean, Hroðgar ond Hroþulf. Heorot innan wæs freondum afylled; nalles facenstafas Þeod-Scyldingas þenden fremedon. --- Forgeaf þa Beowulfe bearn Healfdenes segen gyldenne sigores to leane, hroden hildecumbor, helm ond byrnan; mære maðþumsweord manige gesawon beforan beorn beran. Beowulf geþah ful on flette; no he þære feohgyfte for sceotendum scamigan ðorfte, --- ne gefrægn ic freondlicor feower madmas golde gegyrede gummanna fela in ealobence oðrum gesellan. Ymb þæs helmes hrof heafodbeorge wirum bewunden walu utan heold, þæt him fela laf frecne ne meahte scurheard sceþðan, þonne scyldfreca ongean gramum gangan scolde. Heht ða eorla hleo eahta mearas fætedhleore on flet teon, in under eoderas; þara anum stod sadol searwum fah, since gewurþad; þæt wæs hildesetl heahcyninges, ðonne sweorda gelac sunu Healfdenes efnan wolde, --- næfre on ore læg widcuþes wig, ðonne walu feollon. Ond ða Beowulfe bega gehwæþres eodor Ingwina onweald geteah, wicga ond wæpna; het hine wel brucan. Swa manlice mære þeoden, hordweard hæleþa heaþoræsas geald mearum ond madmum, swa hy næfre man lyhð, se þe secgan wile soð æfter rihte.1050-1052

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