BEOWULF (800s) Part Two (Section 16 to 32) Translated by Francis B. Gummere (1910)

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 princess; 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.

XVI [1050-1124] ÐA gyt æghwylcum eorla drihten þara þe mid Beowulfe brimlade teah, on þære medubence maþðum gesealde, yrfelafe, ond þone ænne heht golde forgyldan, þone ðe Grendel ær mane acwealde,--- swa he hyra ma wolde, nefne him witig God wyrd forstode ond ðæs mannes mod. Metod eallum weold gumena cynnes, swa he nu git deð. Forþan bið andgit æghwær selest, ferhðes foreþanc. Fela sceal gebidan leofes ond laþes se þe longe her on ðyssum windagum worolde bruceð! Þær wæs sang ond sweg samod ætgædere fore Healfdenes hildewisan, gomenwudu greted, gid oft wrecen, ðonne healgamen Hroþgares scop æfter medobence mænan scolde, be Finnes eaferum, ða hie se fær begeat, hæleð Healf-Dena, Hnæf Scyldinga in Freswæle feallan scolde. Ne huru Hildeburh herian þorfte Eotena treowe; unsynnum wearð beloren leofum æt þam lindplegan bearnum ond broðrum; hie on gebyrd hruron gare wunde; þæt wæs geomuru ides! Nalles holinga Hoces dohtor meotodsceaft bemearn, syþðan morgen com, ða heo under swegle geseon meahte morþorbealo maga, þær heo ær mæste heold worolde wynne. Wig ealle fornam Finnes þegnas nemne feaum anum, þæt he ne mehte on þæm meðelstede wig Hengeste wiht gefeohtan, ne þa wealafe wige forþringan þeodnes ðegna; ac hig him geþingo budon, þæt hie him oðer flet eal gerymdon, healle ond heahsetl, þæt hie healfre geweald wið Eotena bearn agan moston, ond æt feohgyftum Folcwaldan sunu dogra gehwylce Dene weorþode, Hengestes heap hringum wenede efne swa swiðe sincgestreonum fættan goldes, swa he Fresena cyn on beorsele byldan wolde. Ða hie getruwedon on twa healfa fæste frioðuwære. Fin Hengeste elne unflitme aðum benemde, þæt he þa wealafe weotena dome arum heolde, þæt ðær ænig mon wordum ne worcum wære ne bræce, ne þurh inwitsearo æfre gemænden, ðeah hie hira beaggyfan banan folgedon ðeodenlease, þa him swa geþearfod wæs; gyf þonne Frysna hwylc frecnan spræce ðæs morþorhetes myndgiend wære, þonne hit sweordes ecg seðan scolde. --- Ad wæs geæfned, ond icge gold ahæfen of horde. Here-Scyldinga betst beadorinca wæs on bæl gearu. Æt þæm ade wæs eþgesyne swatfah syrce, swyn ealgylden, eofer irenheard, æþeling manig wundum awyrded; sume on wæle crungon! Het ða Hildeburh æt Hnæfes ade hire selfre sunu sweoloðe befæstan, banfatu bærnan, ond on bæl don eame on eaxle. Ides gnornode, geomrode giddum. Guðrinc astah. Wand to wolcnum wælfyra mæst, hlynode for hlawe; hafelan multon, bengeato burston, ðonne blod ætspranc, laðbite lices. Lig ealle forswealg, gæsta gifrost, þara ðe þær guð fornam bega folces; wæs hira blæd scacen.

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. Collecting 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 feminine 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.

XVII  [1125-1191] Gewiton him ða wigend wica neosian freondum befeallen, Frysland geseon, hamas ond heaburh. Hengest ða gyt wælfagne winter wunode mid Finne eal unhlitme; eard gemunde, þeah þe ne meahte on mere drifan hringedstefnan,--- holm storme weol, won wið winde, winter yþe beleac isgebinde, oþðæt oþer com gear in geardas,--- swa nu gyt deð, þa ðe syngales sele bewitiað, wuldortorhtan weder. Ða wæs winter scacen, fæger foldan bearm; fundode wrecca, gist of geardum; he to gyrnwræce swiðor þohte þonne to sælade, gif he torngemot þurhteon mihte, þæt he Eotena bearn inne gemunde. Swa he ne forwyrnde weorodrædende, þonne him Hunlafing hildeleoman, billa selest on bearm dyde; þæs wæron mid Eotenum ecge cuðe. Swylce ferðfrecan Fin eft begeat sweordbealo sliðen æt his selfes ham, siþðan grimne gripe Guðlaf ond Oslaf æfter sæsiðe, sorge mændon, ætwiton weana dæl; ne meahte wæfre mod forhabban in hreþre. Ða wæs heal roden feonda feorum, swilce Fin slægen, cyning on corþre, ond seo cwen numen. Sceotend Scyldinga to scypon feredon eal ingesteald eorðcyninges, swylce hie æt Finnes ham findan meahton sigla searogimma. Hie on sælade drihtlice wif to Denum feredon, læddon to leodum. Leoð wæs asungen, gleomannes gyd. Gamen eft astah, beorhtode bencsweg, byrelas sealdon win of wunderfatum. Þa cwom Wealhþeo forð gan under gyldnum beage þær þa godan twegen sæton suhtergefæderan; þa gyt wæs hiera sib ætgædere, æghwylc oðrum trywe. Swylce þær Unferþ þyle æt fotum sæt frean Scyldinga; gehwylc hiora his ferhþe treowde, þæt he hæfde mod micel, þeah þe he his magum nære arfæst æt ecga gelacum. Spræc ða ides Scyldinga: `Onfoh þissum fulle, freodrihten min, sinces brytta! þu on sælum wes, goldwine gumena, ond to Geatum spræc mildum wordum, swa sceal man don! Beo wið Geatas glæd, geofena gemyndig, nean ond feorran þu nu hafast. Me man sægde, þæt þu ðe for sunu wolde hererinc habban. Heorot is gefælsod, beahsele beorhta; bruc þenden þu mote manigra medo, ond þinum magum læf folc ond rice, þonne ðu forð scyle, metodsceaft seon. Ic minne can glædne Hroþulf, þæt he þa geogoðe wile arum healdan, gyf þu ær þonne he, wine Scildinga, worold oflætest; wene ic þæt he mid Gode gyldan wille uncran eaferan, gif he þæt eal gemon, hwæt wit to willan ond to worðmyndum umborwesendum ær arna gefremedon.' Hwearf þa bi bence, þær hyre byre wæron, Hreðric ond Hroðmund, ond hæleþa bearn, giogoð ætgædere; þær se goda sæt, Beowulf Geata, be þæm gebroðrum twæm.

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.

XVIII [1192-1250] Him wæs ful boren, ond freondlaþu wordum bewægned, ond wunden gold estum geeawed, earmreade twa, hrægl ond hringas, healsbeaga mæst þara þe ic on foldan gefrægen hæbbe. Nænigne ic under swegle selran hyrde hordmaðum hæleþa, syþðan Hama ætwæg to þære byrhtan byrig Brosinga mene, sigle ond sincfæt,--- searoniðas fleah Eormenrices, geceas ecne ræd. --- þone hring hæfde Higelac Geata, nefa Swertinges, nyhstan siðe, siðþan he under segne sinc ealgode, wælreaf werede; hyne wyrd fornam, syþðan he for wlenco wean ahsode, fæhðe to Frysum. He þa frætwe wæg, eorclanstanas ofer yða ful, rice þeoden; he under rande gecranc. Gehwearf þa in Francna fæþm feorh cyninges, breostgewædu, ond se beah somod; wyrsan wigfrecan wæl reafedon æfter guðsceare, Geata leode, hreawic heoldon.---  Heal swege onfeng. Wealhðeo maþelode, heo fore þæm werede spræc: `Bruc ðisses beages, Beowulf leofa, hyse, mid hæle, ond þisses hrægles neot, þeodgestreona, ond geþeoh tela, cen þec mid cræfte, ond þyssum cnyhtum wes lara liðe! Ic þe þæs lean geman. Hafast þu gefered, þæt ðe feor ond neah ealne wideferhþ weras ehtigað, efne swa side swa sæ bebugeð, windgeard, weallas. Wes þenden þu lifige, æþeling, eadig! Ic þe an tela sincgestreona. Beo þu suna minum dædum gedefe, dreamhealdende! Her is æghwylc eorl oþrum getrywe, modes milde, mandrihtne hold, þegnas syndon geþwære, þeod ealgearo, druncne dryhtguman doð swa ic bidde' Eode þa to setle. Þær wæs symbla cyst, druncon win weras. Wyrd ne cuþon, geosceaft grimme, swa hit agangen wearð eorla manegum, syþðan æfen cwom, ond him Hroþgar gewat to hofe sinum, rice to ræste. Reced weardode unrim eorla, swa hie oft ær dydon. Bencþelu beredon; hit geondbræded wearð beddum ond bolstrum. Beorscealca sum fus ond fæge fletræste gebeag. Setton him to heafdon hilderandas, bordwudu beorhtan; þær on bence wæs ofer æþelinge yþgesene heaþosteapa helm, hringed byrne, þrecwudu þrymlic. Wæs þeaw hyra, þæt hie oft wæron an wig gearwe, ge æt ham ge on herge, ge gehwæþer þara, efne swylce mæla, swylce hira mandryhtne þearf gesælde; wæs seo þeod tilu.

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.

XIX [1251-1320] Sigon þa to slæpe. Sum sare angeald æfenræste, swa him ful oft gelamp, siþðan goldsele Grendel warode, unriht æfnde, oþ þæt ende becwom, swylt æfter synnum. Þæt gesyne wearþ, widcuð werum, þætte wrecend þa gyt lifde æfter laþum, lange þrage, æfter guðceare; Grendles modor, ides aglæcwif yrmþe gemunde, se þe wæteregesan wunian scoldeld ,cea e streamas, siþðan Cain wearð to ecgbanan angan breþer, fæderenmæge; he þa fag gewat, morþre gemearcod mandream fleon, westen warode. Þanon woc fela geosceaftgasta; wæs þæra Grendel sum, heorowearh hetelic, se æt Heorote fand wæccendne wer wiges bidan; þær him aglæca ætgræpe wearð; hwæþre he gemunde mægenes strenge, gimfæste gife, ðe him God sealde, ond him to Anwaldan are gelyfde, frofre ond fultum; ðy he þone feond ofercwom, gehnægde helle gast. Þa he hean gewat, dreame bedæled deaþwic seon, mancynnes feond. Ond his modor þa gyt gifre ond galgmod gegan wolde sorhfulne sið, sunu deoð wrecan. Com þa to Heorote, ðær Hring-Dene geond þæt sæld swæfun. Þa ðær sona wearð edhwyrft eorlum, siþðan inne fealh Grendles modor. Wæs se gryre læssa efne swa micle, swa bið mægþa cræft, wiggryre wifes be wæpnedmen, þonne heoru bunden, hamere geþruen, sweord swate fah swin ofer helme ecgum dyhtig andweard scireð. Ða wæs on healle heardecg togen sweord ofer setlum, sidrand manig hafen handa fæst; helm ne gemunde, byrnan side, þa hine se broga angeat. Heo wæs on ofste, wolde ut þanon, feore beorgan, þa heo onfunden wæs; hraðe heo æþelinga anne hæfde fæste befangen, þa heo to fenne gang. Se wæs Hroþgare hæleþa leofost on gesiðes had be sæm tweonum, rice randwiga, þone ðe heo on ræste abreat, blædfæstne beorn. Næs Beowulf ðær, ac wæs oþer in ær geteohhod æfter maþðumgife mærum Geate. Hream wearð in Heorote; heo under heolfre genam cuþe folme; cearu wæs geniwod, geworden in wicun. Ne wæs þæt gewrixle til, þæt hie on ba healfa bicgan scoldon freonda feorum! Þa wæs frod cyning, har hilderinc on hreon mode, syðþan he aldorþegn unlyfigendne, þone deorestan deadne wisse. Hraþe wæs to bure Beowulf fetod, sigoreadig secg. Samod ærdæge eode eorla sum, æþele cempa self mid gesiðum þær se snotera bad, hwæþer him Alwalda æfre wille æfter weaspelle wyrpe gefremman. Gang ða æfter flore fyrdwyrðe man mid his handscale --- healwudu dynede --- þæt he þone wisan wordum nægde frean Ingwina, frægn gif him wære æfter neodlaðum niht getæse.

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.

XX [1321-1382] Hroðgar maþelode, helm Scyldinga: `Ne frin þu æfter sælum! Sorh is geniwod Denigea leodum. Dead is Æschere, Yrmenlafes yldra broþor, min runwita ond min rædbora, eaxlgestealla, ðonne we on orlege hafelan weredon, þonne hniton feþan, eoferas cnysedan. Swylc scolde eorl wesan. æþeling ærgod, swylc Æschere wæs! Wearð him on Heorote to handbanan wælgæst wæfre; ic ne wat hwæder atol æse wlanc eftsiðas teah, fylle gefægnod. Heo þa fæhðe wræc, þe þu gystran niht Grendel cwealdest þurh hæstne had heardum clammum, forþan he to lange leode mine wanode ond wyrde. He æt wige gecrang ealdres scyldig, ond nu oþer cwom mihtig manscaða, wolde hyre mæg wrecan, ge feor hafað fæhðe gestæled, þæs þe þincean mæg þegne monegum, se þe æfter sincgyfan on sefan greoteþ, --- hreþerbealo hearde; nu seo hand ligeð, se þe eow welhwylcra wilna dohte. Ic þæt londbuend, leode mine, selerædende secgan hyrde, þæt hie gesawon swylce twegen micle mearcstapan moras healdan, ellorgæstas. Ðæra oðer wæs, þæs þe hie gewislicost gewitan meahton, idese onlicnes; oðer earmsceapen on weres wæstmum wræclastas træd, næfne he wæs mara þonne ænig man oðer; þone on geardagum Grendel nemdon foldbuende; no hie fæder cunnon, hwæþer him ænig wæs ær acenned dyrnra gasta. Hie dygel lond warigeað wulfhleoþu, windige næssas, frecne fengelad, ðær fyrgenstream under næssa genipu niþer gewiteð, flod under foldan. Nis þæt feor heonon milgemearces, þæt se mere standeð; ofer þæm hongiað hrinde bearwas, wudu wyrtum fæst wæter oferhelmað. Þær mæg nihta gehwæm niðwundor seon, fyr on flode. No þæs frod leofað gumena bearna, þæt þone grund wite. Ðeah þe hæðstapa hundum geswenced, heorot hornum trum holtwudu sece, feorran geflymed, ær he feorh seleð, aldor on ofre, ær he in wille, hafelan beorgan; nis þæt heoru stow! Þonon yðgeblond up astigeð won to wolcnum, þonne wind styreþ, lað gewidru, oð þæt lyft drysmaþ, roderas reotað. Nu is se ræd gelang eft æt þe anum. Eard git ne const, frecne stowe, þær þu findan miht sinnigne secg; sec gif þu dyrre! Ic þe þa fæhðe feo leanige, ealdgestreonum, swa ic ær dyde, windnum golde, gyf þu on weg cymest.'

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.

XXI [1383-1472] Beowulf maþelode, bearn Ecgþeowes: `Ne sorga, snotor guma! Selre bið æghwæm, þæt he his freond wrece, þonne he fela murne. Ure æghwylc sceal ende gebidan worolde lifes; wyrce se þe mote domes ær deaþe; þæt bið drihtguman unlifgendum æfter selest. Aris, rices weard, uton hraþe feran. Grendles magan gang sceawigan. Ic hit þe gehate: no he on helm losaþ, ne on foldan fæþm, ne on fyrgenholt, ne on gyfenes grund, ga þær he wille! Ðys dogor þu geþyld hafa weana gehwylces, swa ic þe wene to.' Ahleop ða se gomela, Gode þancode, mihtigan Drihtne, þæs se man gespræc. Þa wæs Hroðgare hors gebæted, wicg wundenfeax. Wisa fengel geatolic gende; gumfeþa stop lindhæbbendra. Lastas wæron æfter waldswaþum wide gesyne, gang ofer grundas, swa gegnum for ofer myrcan mor, magoþegna bær þone selestan sawolleasne þara þe mid Hroðgare ham eahtode. Ofereode þa æþelinga bearn steap stanhliðo, stige nearwe, enge anpaðas, uncuð gelad, neowle næssas, nicorhusa fela; he feara sum beforan gengde wisra monna wong sceawian, oþ þæt he færinga fyrgenbeamas ofer harne stan hleonian funde, wynleasne wudu; wæter under stod dreorig ond gedrefed. Denum eallum wæs, winum Scyldinga weorce on mode to geþolianne, ðegne monegum, oncyð eorla gehwæm, syðþan Æscheres on þam holmclife hafelan metton. Flod blode weol --- folc to sægon --- , hatan heolfre. Horn stundum song fuslic fyrdleoð. Feþa eal gesæt. Gesawon ða æfter wætere wyrmcynnes fela, sellice sædracan sund cunnian, swylce on næshleoðum nicras licgean, ða on undernmæl oft bewitigað sorhfulne sið on seglrade, wyrmas ond wildeor. Hie on weg hruron bitere ond gebolgne; bearhtm ongeaton, guðhorn galan. Sumne Geata leod of flanbogan feores getwæfde, yðgewinnes, þæt him on aldre stod herestræl hearda; he on holme wæs sundes þe sænra, ðe hyne swylt fornam. Hræþe wearð on yðum mid eoferspreotum heorohocyhtum hearde genearwod, niða genæged, ond on næs togen, wundorlic wægbora; weras sceawedon gryrelicne gist. Gyrede hine Beowulf eorlgewædum, nalles for ealdre mearn; scolde herebyrne hondum gebroden, sid ond searofah, sund cunnian, seo ðe bancofan beorgan cuþe, þæt him hildegrap hreþre ne mihte, eorres inwitfeng aldre gesceþðan; ac se hwita helm hafelan werede, se þe meregrundas mengan scolde, secan sundgebland since geweorðad, befongen freawrasnum, swa hine fyrndagum worhte wæpna smið, wundrum teode, besette swinlicum, þæt hine syðþan no brond ne beadomecas bitan ne meahton. Næs þæt þonne mætost mægenfultuma, þæt him on ðearfe lah ðyle Hroðgares; wæs þæm hæftmece Hrunting nama; þæt wæs an foran ealdgestreona; ecg wæs iren, atertanum fah, ahyrded heaþoswate; næfre hit æt hilde ne swac manna ængum þara þe hit mid mundum bewand, se ðe gryresiðas gegan dorste, folcstede fara; næs þæt forma sið, þæt hit ellenweorc æfnan scolde. Huru ne gemunde mago Ecglafes eafoþes cræftig, þæt he ær gespræc wine druncen, þa he þæs wæpnes onlah selran sweordfrecan; selfa ne dorste under yða gewin aldre geneþan, drihtscype dreogan; þær he dome forleas, ellenmærðum. Ne wæs þæm oðrum swa, syðþan he hine to guðe gegyred hæfde.

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.

XXII [1473-1556] Beowulf maðelode, bearn Ecgþeowes: `Geþenc nu, se mæra maga Healfdenes, snottra fengel, nu ic eom siðes fus, goldwine gumena, hwæt wit geo spræcon, gif ic æt þearfe þinre scolde aldre linnan, þæt ðu me a wære forðgewitenum on fæder stæle. Wes þu mundbora minum magoþegnum hondgesellum, gif mec hild nime; swylce þu ða madmas, þe þu me sealdest, Hroðgar leofa, Higelace onsend. Mæg þonne on þæm golde ongitan Geata dryhten, geseon sunu Hrædles, þonne he on þæt sinc starað. þæt ic gumcystum godne funde beaga bryttan, breac þonne moste. Ond þu Unferð læt ealde lafe, wrætlic wægsweord widcuðne man heardecg habban; ic me mid Hruntinge dom gewyrce, oþðe mec deað nimeð!' Æfter þæm wordum Weder-Geata leod efste mid elne,--- nalas andsware bidan wolde; brimwylm onfeng hilderince. Ða wæs hwil dæges, ær he þone grundwong ongytan mehte. Sona þæt onfunde se ðe floda begong heorogifre beheold hund missera, grim ond grædig, þæt þær gumena sum ælwihta eard ufan cunnode. Grap þa togeanes, guðrinc gefeng atolan clommum; no þy ær in gescod halan lice; hring utan ymbbearh, þæt heo þone fyrdhom ðurhfon ne mihte, locene leoðosyrcan laþan fingrum. Bær þa seo brimwylf, þa heo to botme com, hringa þengel to hofe sinum, swa he ne mihte --- no he þæs modig wæs --- wæpna gewealdan, ac hine wundra þæs fela swencte on sunde, sædeor monig hildetuxum heresyrcan bræc, ehton aglæcan. Ða se eorl ongeat, þæt he in niðsele nathwylcum wæs, þær him nænig wæter wihte ne sceþede, ne him for hrofsele hrinan ne mehte færgripe flodes; fyrleoht geseah, blacne leoman beorhte scinan. Ongeat þa se goda grundwyrgenne, merewif mihtig; mægenræs forgeaf hildebille, hond sweng ne ofteah, þæt hire on hafelan hringmæl agol grædig guðleoð. Ða se gist onfand, þæt se beadoleoma bitan nolde, aldre sceþðan, ac seo ecg geswac ðeodne æt þearfe; ðolode ær fela hondgemota, helm oft gescær, fæges fyrdhrægl; ða wæs forma sið deorum madme, þæt his dom alæg. Eft wæs anræd, nalas elnes læt, mærða gemyndig mæg Hylaces: wearp ða wundenmæl wrættum gebunden yrre oretta, þæt hit on eorðan læg, stið ond stylecg; strenge getruwode, mundgripe mægenes. Swa sceal man don, þonne he æt guðe gegan þenceð longsumne lof; na ymb his lif cearað. Gefeng þa be eaxle --- nalas for fæhðe mearn --- Guð-Geata leod Grendles modor; brægd þa beadwe heard, þa he gebolgen wæs, feorhgeniðlan, þæt heo on flet gebeah. Heo him eft hraþe andlean forgeald grimman grapum ond him togeanes feng; oferwearp þa werigmod wigena strengest, feþecempa, þæt he on fylle wearð. Ofsæt þa þone selegyst, ond hyre seax geteah brad ond brunecg; wolde hire bearn wrecan, angan eaferan. Him on eaxle læg breostnet broden; þæt gebearh feore, wið ord ond wið ecge ingang forstod. Hæfde ða forsiðod sunu Ecgþeowes under gynne grund, Geata cempa, nemne him heaðobyrne helpe gefremede, herenet hearde, --- ond halig God geweold wigsigor; witig Drihten, rodera Rædend hit on ryht gesced yðelice, syþðan he eft astod.

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.

XXIII  [1557-1650] Geseah ða on searwum sigeeadig bil, eald sweord eotenisc ecgum þyhtig, wigena weorðmynd; þæt wæs wæpna cyst, --- buton hit wæs mare ðonne ænig mon oðer to beadulace ætberan meahte, God ond geatolic, giganta geweorc. He gefeng þa fetelhilt, freca Scyldinga hreoh ond heorogrim, hringmæl gebrægd aldres orwena, yrringa sloh, þæt hire wið halse heard grapode, banhringas bræc; bil eal ðurhwod fægne flæschoman; heo on flet gecrong, sweord wæs swatig, secg weorce gefeh. Lixte se leoma, leoht inne stod, efne swa of hefene hadre scineð rodores candel. He æfter recede wlat; hwearf þa be wealle, wæpen hafenade heard be hiltum Higelaces ðegn yrre ond anræd, --- næs seo ecg fracod hilderince, ac he hraþe wolde Grendle forgyldan guðræsa fela ðara þe he geworhte to West-Denum oftor micle ðonne on ænne sið, þonne he Hroðgares heorðgeneatas sloh on sweofote, slæpende fræt folces Denigea fyftyne men, ond oðer swylc ut offerede, laðlicu lac. He him þæs lean forgeald, reþe cempa, to ðæs þe he on ræste geseah guðwerigne Grendel licgan, aldorleasne, swa him ær gescod hild æt Heorote. Hra wide sprong, syþðan he æfter deaðe drepe þrowade, heorosweng heardne, ond hine þa heafde becearf. Sona þæt gesawon snottre ceorlas, þa ðe mid Hroðgare on holm wliton, þæt wæs yðgeblond eal gemenged, brim blode fah. Blondenfeaxe, gomele ymb godne ongeador spræcon, þæt hig þæs æðelinges eft ne wendon, þæt he sigehreðig secean come mærne þeoden; þa ðæs monige gewearð, þæt hine seo brimwylf abroten hæfde. Ða com non dæges. Næs ofgeafon hwate Scyldingas; gewat him ham þonon goldwine gumena. Gistas setan modes seoce ond on mere staredon; wiston ond ne wendon, þæt hie heora winedrihten selfne gesawon. ---  Þa þæt sweord ongan æfter heaþoswate hildegicelum, wigbil wanian; þæt wæs wundra sum, þæt hit eal gemealt ise gelicost, ðonne forstes bend Fæder onlæteð, onwindeð wælrapas, se geweald hafað sæla ond mæla; þæt is soð Metod. Ne nom he in þæm wicum, Weder-Geata leod, maðmæhta ma, þeh he þær monige geseah, buton þone hafelan ond þa hilt somod since fage; sweord ær gemealt, forbarn brodenmæl; wæs þæt blod to þæs hat, ættren ellorgæst, se þær inne swealt. Sona wæs on sunde se þe ær æt sæcce gebad wighryre wraðra, wæter up þurhdeaf; wæron yðgebland eal gefælsod, eacne eardas, þa se ellorgast oflet lifdagas ond þas lænan gesceaft. Com þa to lande lidmanna helm swiðmod swymman; sælace gefeah, mægenbyrþenne þara þe he him mid hæfde. Eoden him þa togeanes, Gode þancodon, ðryðlic þegna heap, þeodnes gefegon, þæs þe hi hyne gesundne geseon moston. Ða wæs of þæm hroran helm ond byrne lungre alysed. Lagu drusade, wæter under wolcnum, wældreore fag. Ferdon forð þonon feþelastum ferhþum fægne, foldweg mæton, cuþe stræte; cyningbalde men from þæm holmclife hafelan bæron earfoðlice heora æghwæþrum felamodigra; feower scoldon on þæm wælstenge weorcum geferian to þæm goldsele Grendles heafod, --- oþ ðæt semninga to sele comon frome fyrdhwate feowertyne Geata gongan; gumdryhten mid modig on gemonge meodowongas træd. Ða com in gan ealdor ðegna, dædcene mon dome gewurþad, hæle hildedeor, Hroðgar gretan. Þa wæs be feaxe on flet boren Grendles heafod, þær guman druncon, egeslic for eorlum ond þære idese mid, wliteseon wrætlic; weras on sawon.

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."

XXIV [1651-1744] Beowulf maþelode, bearn Ecgþeowes: `Hwæt, we þe þas sælac, sunu Healfdenes, leod Scyldinga, lustum brohton tires to tacne, þe þu her to locast. Ic þæt unsofte ealdre gedigde, wigge under wætere, weorc geneþde earfoðlice; ætrihte wæs guð getwæfed, nymðe mec God scylde. Ne meahte ic æt hilde mid Hruntinge wiht gewyrcan, þeah þæt wæpen duge; ac me geuðe ylda Waldend, þæt ic on wage geseah wlitig hangian ealdsweord eacen --- oftost wisode winigea leasum ---, þæt ic ðy wæpne gebræd. Ofsloh ða æt þære sæcce, þa me sæl ageald, huses hyrdas. Þa þæt hildebil forbarn brogdenmæl, swa þæt blod gesprang, hatost heaþoswata. Ic þæt hilt þanan feondum ætferede; fyrendæda wræc, deaðcwealm Denigea, swa hit gedefe wæs. Ic hit þe þonne gehate, þæt þu on Heorote most sorhleas swefan mid þinra secga gedryht, ond þegna gehwylc þinra leoda, duguðe ond iogoþe, þæt þu him ondrædan ne þearft, þeoden Scyldinga, on þa healfe, aldorbealu eorlum, swa þu ær dydest.' Ða wæs gylden hilt gamelum rince, harum hildfruman, on hand gyfen, enta ærgeweorc; hit on æht gehwearf æfter deofla hryre Denigea frean, wundorsmiþa geweorc; ond þa þas worold ofgeaf gromheort guma, Godes andsaca, morðres scyldig, ond his modor eac; on geweald gehwearf woroldcyninga ðæm selestan be sæm tweonum ðara þe on Scedenigge sceattas dælde. Hroðgar maðelode --- hylt sceawode, ealde lafe, on ðæm wæs or writen fyrngewinnes, syðþan flod ofsloh, gifen geotende giganta cyn, frecne geferdon; þæt wæs fremde þeod ecean Dryhtne; him þæs endelean þurh wæteres wylm Waldend sealde. Swa wæs on ðæm scennum sciran goldes þurh runstafas rihte gemearcod, geseted ond gesæd, hwam þæt sweord geworht, irena cyst ærest wære, wreoþenhilt ond wyrmfah. Ða se wisa spræc sunu Healfdenes --- swigedon ealle --- : `Þæt. la, mæg secgan se þe soð ond riht fremeð on folce, feor eal gemon, eald eðelweard, þæt ðes eorl wære geboren betera! Blæd is aræred geond widwegas, wine min Beowulf, ðin ofer þeoda gehwylce. Eal þu hit geþyldum healdest, mægen mid modes snyttrum. Ic þe sceal mine gelæstan freode, swa wit furðum spræcon. Ðu scealt to frofre weorþan eal langtwidig leodum þinum, hæleðum to helpe. Ne wearð Heremod swa eaforum Ecgwelan, Ar-Scyldingum; ne geweox he him to willan, ac to wælfealle ond to deaðcwalum Deniga leodum; breat bolgenmod beodgeneatas, eaxlgesteallan, oþ þæt he ana hwearf, mære þeoden, mondreamum from, ðeah þe hine mihtig God mægenes wynnum, eafeþum stepte, ofer ealle men forð gefremede. Hwæþere him on ferhþe greow breosthord blodreow; nallas beagas geaf Denum æfter dome; dreamleas gebad, þæt he þæs gewinnes weorc þrowade, leodbealo longsum. Ðu þe lær be þon, gumcyste ongit! Ic þis gid be þe awræc wintrum frod. Wundor is to secganne, hu mihtig God manna cynne þurh sidne sefan snyttru bryttað, eard ond eorlscipe; he ah ealra geweald. Hwilum he on lufan læteð hworfan monnes modgeþonc mæran cynnes, seleð him on eþle eorþan wynne to healdanne hleoburh wera, gedeð him swa gewealdene worolde dælas, side rice, þæt he his selfa ne mæg his unsnyttrum ende geþencean. Wunað he on wiste; no hine wiht dweleð adl ne yldo, ne him inwitsorh on sefan sweorceð, ne gesacu ohwær ecghete eoweð, ac him eal worold wendeð on willan; he þæt wyrse ne con --- , oð þæt him on innan oferhygda dæl weaxeð ond wridað; þonne se weard swefeð, sawele hyrde; bið se slæp to fæst, bisgum gebunden, bona swiðe neah, se þe of flanbogan fyrenum sceoteð.

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.

XXV [1745-1816] Þonne bið on hreþre under helm drepen biteran stræle --- him bebeorgan ne con --- , wom wundorbebodum wergan gastes; þinceð him to lytel, þæt he lange heold, gytsað gromhydig, nallas on gylp seleð fætte beagas, ond he þa forðgesceaft forgyteð ond forgymeð, þæs þe him ær God sealde, wuldres Waldend, weorðmynda dæl. Hit on ende stæf eft gelimpeð, þæt se lichoma læne gedreoseð, fæge gefealleð; fehð oþer to, se þe unmurnlice madmas dæleþ, eorles ærgestreon, egesan ne gymeð. Bebeorh þe ðone bealonið, Beowulf leofa, secg betsta, ond þe þæt selre geceos, ece rædas; oferhyda ne gym, mære cempa! Nu is þines mægnes blæd ane hwile; eft sona bið, þæt þec adl oððe ecg eafoþes getwæfeð, oððe fyres feng, oððe flodes wylm, oððe gripe meces, oððe gares fliht, oððe atol yldo; oððe eagena bearhtm forsiteð ond forsworceð; semninga bið, þæt ðec, dryhtguma, deað oferswyðeð. Swa ic Hring-Dena hund missera weold under wolcnum ond hig wigge beleac manigum mægþa geond þysne middangeard, æscum ond ecgum, þæt ic me ænigne under swegles begong gesacan ne tealde. Hwæt, me þæs on eþle edwenden cwom, gyrn æfter gomene, seoþðan Grendel wearð, ealdgewinna, ingenga min; ic þære socne singales wæg modceare micle. Þæs sig Metode þanc, ecean Dryhtne, þæs ðe ic on aldre gebad, þæt ic on þone hafelan heorodreorigne ofer eald gewin eagum starige! Ga nu to setle, symbelwynne dreoh wiggeweorþad; unc sceal worn fela maþma gemænra, siþðan morgen bið.' Geat wæs glædmod, geong sona to, setles neosan, swa se snottra heht. Þa wæs eft swa ær ellenrofum, fletsittendum fægere gereorded niowan stefne.--- Nihthelm geswearc deorc ofer dryhtgumum. Duguð eal aras; wolde blondenfeax beddes neosan, gamela Scylding. Geat unigmetes wel, rofne randwigan restan lyste; sona him seleþegn siðes wergum, feorrancundum, forð wisade, se for andrysnum ealle beweotede þegnes þearfe, swylce þy dogore heaþoliðende habban scoldon. Reste hine þa rumheort; reced hliuade geap ond goldfah; gæst inne swæf, oþ þæt hrefn blaca heofones wynne bliðheort bodode. Ða com beorht scacan scima ofer sceadwa; scaþan onetton, wæron æþelingas eft to leodum fuse to farenne; wolde feor þanon cuma collenferhð ceoles neosan. Heht þa se hearda Hrunting beran sunu Ecglafes, heht his sweord niman, leoflic iren; sægde him þæs leanes þanc, cwæð, he þone guðwine godne tealde, wigcræftigne, nales wordum log meces ecge; þæt wæs modig secg. --- Ond þa siðfrome, searwum gearwe wigend wæron; eode weorð Denum æþeling to yppan, þær se oþer wæs, hæle hildedeor Hroðgar grette.

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."

XXVI [1817-1887] Beowulf maþelode, bearn Ecgþeowes: `Nu we sæliðend secgan willað feorran cumene, þæt we fundiaþ Higelac secan. Wæron her tela, willum bewenede; þu us wel dohtest. Gif ic þonne on eorþan owihte mæg þinre modlufan maran tilian, gumena dryhten, ðonne ic gyt dyde, guðgeweorca, ic beo gearo sona. Gif ic þæt gefricge ofer floda begang, þæt þec ymbsittend egesan þywað, swa þec hetende hwilum dydon, ic ðe þusenda þegna bringe, hæleþa to helpe. Ic on Higelace wat, Geata dryhten, þeah ðe he geong sy, folces hyrde, þæt he mec fremman wile wordum ond weorcum, þæt ic þe wel herige ond þe to geoce garholt bere, mægenes fultum, þær ðe bið manna þearf. Gif him þonne Hreþric to hofum Geata geþingeð þeodnes bearn, he mæg þær fela freonda findan; feorcyþðe beoð selran gesohte þæm þe him selfa deah.' Hroðgar maþelode him on andsware: `Þe þa wordcwydas wigtig Drihten on sefan sende; ne hyrde ic snotorlicor on swa geongum feore guman þingian. Þu eart mægenes strang, ond on mode frod, wis wordcwida! Wen ic talige, gif þæt gegangeð, þæt ðe gar nymeð, hild heorugrimme, Hreþles eaferan, adl oþðe iren ealdor ðinne, folces hyrde, ond þu þin feorh hafast, þæt þe Sæ-Geatas selran næbben to geceosenne cyning ænigne, hordweard hæleþa, gyf þu healdan wylt maga rice. Me þin modsefa licað leng swa wel, leofa Beowulf. Hafast þu gefered, þæt þam folcum sceal, Geata leodum ond Gar-Denum sib gemæne, ond sacu restan, inwitniþas, þe hie ær drugon, wesan, þenden ic wealde widan rices, maþmas gemæne, manig oþerne godum gegrettan ofer ganotes bæð; sceal hringnaca ofer heafu bringan lac ond luftacen. Ic þa leode wat ge wið feond ge wið freond fæste geworhte, æghwæs untæle ealde wisan.' Ða git him eorla hleo inne gesealde, mago Healfdenes, maþmas twelfe; het hine mid þæm lacum leode swæse secean on gesyntum, snude eft cuman. Gecyste þa cyning æþelum god, þeoden Scyldinga ðegn betstan ond be healse genam; hruron him tearas blondenfeaxum. Him wæs bega wen ealdum infrodum, oþres swiðor, þæt hie seoððan no geseon moston, modige on meþle. Wæs him se man to þon leof, þæt he þone breostwylm forberan ne mehte; ac him on hreþre hygebendum fæst æfter deorum men dyrne langað beorn wið blode. Him Beowulf þanan, guðrinc goldwlanc græsmoldan træd since hremig; sægenga bad agendfrean, se þe on ancre rad. Þa wæs on gang gifu Hroðgares oft geæhted; þæt wæs an cyning æghwæs orleahtre, oþ þæt hine yldo benam mægenes wynnum, se þe oft manegum scod.

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."

XXVII  [1888-1962] Cwom þa to flode felamodigra, hægstealdra heap; hringnet bæron, locene leoðosyrcan. Landweard onfand eftsið eorla, swa he ær dyde; no he mid hearme of hliðes nosan gæstas grette, ac him togeanes rad, cwæð þæt wilcuman Wedera leodum scaþan scirhame to scipe foron. Þa wæs on sande sægeap naca hladen herewædum hringedstefna, mearum ond maðmum; mæst hlifade ofer Hroðgares hordgestreonum. He þæm batwearde bunden golde swurd gesealde, þæt he syðþan wæs on meodubence maþme þy weorþra, yrfelafe. Gewat him on naca drefan deop wæter, Dena land ofgeaf. Þa wæs be mæste merehrægla sum, segl sale fæst; sundwudu þunede; no þær wegflotan wind ofer yðum siðes getwæfde; sægenga for, fleat famigheals forð ofer yðe, bundenstefna ofer brimstreamas, þæt hie Geata clifu ongitan meahton, cuþe næssas; ceol up geþrang lyftgeswenced, on lande stod. Hraþe wæs æt holme hyðweard geara, se þe ær lange tid leofra manna fus æt faroðe feor wlatode; sælde to sande sidfæþme scip oncerbendum fæst, þy læs hym yþa ðrym wudu wynsuman forwrecan meahte. Het þa up beran æþelinga gestreon, frætwe ond fætgold; næs him feor þanon to gesecanne sinces bryttan, Higelac Hreþling, þær æt ham wunað selfa mid gesiðum sæwealle neah. Bold wæs betlic, bregorof cyning, heah on healle, Hygd swiðe geong, wis, welþungen, þeah ðe wintra lyt under burhlocan gebiden hæbbe, Hæreþes dohtor; næs hio hnah swa þeah, ne to gneað gifa Geata leodum, maþmgestreona. Modþryðo wæg, fremu folces cwen, firen' ondrysne; nænig þæt dorste deor geneþan swæsra gesiða, nefne sinfrea, þæt hire an dæges eagum starede; ac him wælbende weotode tealde handgewriþene; hraþe seoþðan wæs æfter mundgripe mece geþinged, þæt hit sceadenmæl scyran moste, cwealmbealu cyðan. Ne bið swylc cwenlic þeaw idese to efnanne, þeah ðe hio ænlicu sy, þætte freoðuwebbe feores onsæce æfter ligetorne leofne mannan. Huru þæt onhohsnode Hemminges mæg: ealodrincende oðer sædan, þæt hio leodbealewa læs gefremede, inwitniða, syððan ærest wearð gyfen goldhroden geongum cempan, æðelum diore, syððan hio Offan flet ofer fealone flod be fæder lare siðe gesohte; ðær hio syððan well in gumstole, gode mære, lifgesceafta lifigende breac, hiold heahlufan wið hæleþa brego, ealles moncynnes mine gefræge þone selestan bi sæm tweonum, eormencynnes; forðam Offa wæs geofum ond guðum, garcene man, wide geweorðod, wisdome heold eðel sinne;--- þonon Eomer woc hæleðum to helpe, Hemminges mæg, nefa Garmundes, niða cræftig.

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.    [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 neighbors 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.

XXVIII  [1963-2040] Gewat him ða se hearda mid his hondscole sylf æfter sande sæwong tredan, wide waroðas. Woruldcandel scan, sigel suðan fus. Hi sið drugon, elne geeodon, to ðæs ðe eorla hleo, bonan Ongenþeoes burgum in innan, geongne guðcyning godne gefrunon hringas dælan. Higelace wæs sið Beowulfes snude gecyðed, þæt ðær on worðig wigendra hleo, lindgestealla lifigende cwom, heaðolaces hal to hofe gongan. Hraðe wæs gerymed, swa se rica bebead. feðegestum flet innanweard. Gesæt þa wið sylfne se ða sæcce genæs, mæg wið mæge, syððan mandryhten þurh hleoðorcwyde holdne gegrette, meaglum wordum. Meoduscencum hwearf geond þæt healreced Hæreðes dohtor, lufode ða leode, liðwæge bær hæleðum to handa. Higelac ongan sinne geseldan in sele þam hean fægre fricgcean, hyne fyrwet bræc, hwylce Sæ-Geata siðas wæron: `Hu lomp eow on lade, leofa Biowulf, þa ðu færinga feorr gehogodest sæcce secean ofer sealt wæter, hilde to Hiorote? Ac ðu Hroðgare widcuðne wean wihte gebettest, mærum ðeodne? Ic ðæs modceare sorhwylmum seað, siðe ne truwode leofes mannes; ic ðe lange bæd, þæt ðu þone wælgæst wihte ne grette, lete Suð-Dene sylfe geweorðan guðe wið Grendel. Gode ic þanc secge, þæs ðe ic ðe gesundne geseon moste.' Biowulf maðelode, bearn Ecgðioes: `Þæt is undyrne, dryhten Higelac, micel gemeting, monegum fira, hwylc orleghwil uncer Grendles wearð on ðæm wange, þær he worna fela Sige-Scyldingum sorge gefremede, yrmðe to aldre; ic ðæt eall gewræc, swa begylpan ne þearf Grendeles maga ænig ofer eorðan uhthlem þone, se ðe lengest leofað laðan cynnes, facne bifongen.--- Ic ðær furðum cwom to ðam hringsele Hroðgar gretan; sona me se mæra mago Healfdenes, syððan he modsefan minne cuðe, wið his sylfes sunu setl getæhte. Weorod wæs on wynne; ne seah ic widan feorh under heofones hwealf healsittendra medudream maran. Hwilum mæru cwen, friðusibb folca flet eall geondhwearf, bædde byre geonge; oft hio beahwriðan secge sealde, ær hie to setle geong. Hwilum for duguðe dohtor Hroðgares eorlum on ende ealuwæge bær, þa ic Freaware fletsittende nemnan hyrde, þær hio nægledsinc hæleðum sealde. Sio gehaten is, geong goldhroden, gladum suna Frodan; hafað þæs geworden wine Scyldinga, rices hyrde, ond þæt ræd talað, þæt he mid ðy wife wælfæhða dæl, sæcca gesette. Oft seldan hwær æfter leodhryre lytle hwile bongar bugeð, þeah seo bryd duge! Mæg þæs þonne ofþyncan ðeodne Heaðo-Beardna ond þegna gehwam þara leoda, þonne he mid fæmnan on flett gæð, dryhtbearn Dena, duguða biwenede; on him gladiað gomelra lafe, heard ond hringmæl Heaða-Beardna gestreon, þenden hie ðam wæpnum wealdan moston, --- oð ðæt hie forlæddan to ðam lindplegan swæse gesiðas ond hyra sylfra feorh.

XXIX-XXX 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.     [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.

XXIX-XXX [2041-2144] Þonne cwið æt beore se ðe beah gesyhð, eald æscwiga, se ðe eall geman, garcwealm gumena --- him bið grim sefa --- , onginneð geomormod geongum cempan þurh hreðra gehygd higes cunnian, wigbealu weccean, ond þæt word acwyð: "Meaht ðu, min wine, mece gecnawan, þone þin fæder to gefeohte bær under heregriman hindeman siðe, dyre iren, þær hyne Dene slogon, weoldon wælstowe, syððan Wiðergyld læg, æfter hæleþa hryre, hwate Scyldungas? Nu her þara banena byre nathwylces frætwum hremig on flet gæð, morðres gylpeð, ond þone maðþum byreð, þone þe ðu mid rihte rædan sceoldest." Manað swa ond myndgað mæla gehwylce sarum wordum, oð ðæt sæl cymeð, þæt se fæmnan þegn fore fæder dædum æfter billes bite blodfag swefeð, ealdres scyldig; him se oðer þonan losað lifigende, con him land geare. Þonne bioð abrocene on ba healfe aðsweord eorla; syððan Ingelde weallað wælniðas, ond him wiflufan æfter cearwælmum colran weorðað. Þy ic Heaðo-Beardna hyldo ne telge, dryhtsibbe dæl Denum unfæcne, freondscipe fæstne. Ic sceal forð sprecan gen ymbe Grendel, þæt ðu geare cunne, sinces brytta, to hwan syððan wearð hondræs hæleða. Syððan heofones gim glad ofer grundas, gæst yrre cwom, eatol æfengrom user neosan, ðær we gesunde sæl weardodon. Þær wæs Hondscio hild onsæge, feorhbealu fægum; he fyrmest læg, gyrded cempa; him Grendel wearð, mærum maguþegne to muðbonan, leofes mannes lic eall forswealg. No ðy ær ut ða gen idelhende bona blodigtoð, bealewa gemyndig, of ðam goldsele gongan wolde; ac he mægnes rof min costode, grapode gearofolm. Glof hangode sid ond syllic, searobendum fæst; sio wæs orðoncum eall gegyrwed deofles cræftum ond dracan fellum. He mec þær on innan unsynnigne, dior dædfruma gedon wolde manigra sumne; hyt ne mihte swa, syððan ic on yrre uppriht astod. To lang ys to reccenne, hu ic ðam leodsceaðan yfla gehwylces ondlean forgeald; þær ic, þeoden min, þine leode weorðode weorcum. He on weg losade, lytle hwile lifwynna breac; hwæþre him sio swiðre swaðe weardade hand on Hiorte, ond he hean ðonan, modes geomor meregrund gefeoll. Me þone wælræs wine Scildunga fættan golde fela leanode, manegum maðmum, syððan mergen com, ond we to symble geseten hæfdon. Þær wæs gidd ond gleo; gomela Scilding, felafricgende feorran rehte; hwilum hildedeor hearpan wynne, gomenwudu grette, hwilum gyd awræc soð ond sarlic, hwilum syllic spell rehte æfter rihte rumheort cyning; hwilum eft ongan eldo gebunden, gomel guðwiga gioguðe cwiðan, hildestrengo; hreðer inne weoll, þonne he wintrum frod worn gemunde. Swa we þær inne andlangne dæg niode naman, oð ðæt niht becwom oðer to yldum. Þa wæs eft hraðe gearo gyrnwræce Grendeles modor, siðode sorhfull; sunu deað fornam, wighete Wedra. Wif unhyre hyre bearn gewræc, beorn acwealde ellenlice; þær wæs Æschere, frodan fyrnwitan feorh uðgenge. Noðer hy hine ne moston, syððan mergen cwom, deaðwerigne, Denia leode, bronde forbærnan, ne on b,el hladan, leofne mannan; hio þæt lic ætbær feondes fæðmum under firgenstream. Þæt wæs Hroðgare hreowa tornost þara þe leodfruman lange begeate. Þa se ðeoden mec ðine life healsode hreohmod, þæt ic on holma geþring eorlscipe efnde, ealdre geneðde, mærðo fremede; he me mede gehet. Ic ða ðæs wælmes, þe is wide cuð, grimne gryrelicne grundhyrde fond. Þær unc hwile wæs hand gemæne; holm heolfre weoll, ond ic heafde becearf in ðam guðsele Grendeles modor eacnum ecgum; unsofte þonan feorh oðferede; næs ic fæge þa gyt; ac me eorla hleo eft gesealde maðma menigeo, maga Healfdenes.

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 possession 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 propitiation to his master. The dragon discovers the loss and exacts fearful penalty from the people round about.

XXXI [2145-2220] Swa se ðeodkyning þeawum lyfde; nealles ic ðam leanum forloren hæfde, mægnes mede, ac he me maðmas geaf, sunu Healfdenes on minne sylfes dom; ða ic ðe, beorncyning, bringan wylle, estum geywan. Gen is eall æt ðe lissa gelong; ic lyt hafo heafodmaga nefne, Hygelac, ðec.' Het ða in beran eafor heafodsegn, heaðosteapne helm, hare byrnan, guðsweord geatolic, gyd æfter wræc: `Me ðis hildesceorp Hroðgar sealde, snotra fengel; sume worde het, þæt ic his ærest ðe est gesægde; cwæð þæt hyt hæfde Hiorogar cyning, leod Scyldunga lange hwile; no ðy ær suna sinum syllan wolde, hwatum Heorowearde, þeah he him hold wære, breostgewædu. Bruc ealles well!' Hyrde ic þæt þam frætwum feower mearas lungre, gelice last weardode, æppelfealuwe; he him est geteah meara ond maðma.--- Swa sceal mæg don, nealles inwitnet oðrum bregdon dyrnum cræfte, deað renian hondgesteallan. Hygelace wæs, niða heardum nefa swyðe hold, ond gehwæðer oðrum hroþra gemyndig. --- Hyrde ic þæt he ðone healsbeah Hygde gesealde, wrætlicne wundurmaððum, ðone þe him Wealhðeo geaf, ðeodnes dohtor, þrio wicg somod swancor ond sadolbeorht; hyre syððan wæs æfter beahðege breost geweorðod. Swa bealdode bearn Ecgðeowes, guma guðum cuð, godum dædum, dreah æfter dome; nealles druncne slog heorðgeneatas; næs him hreoh sefa, ac he mancynnes mæste cræfte ginfæstan gife, þe him God sealde, heold hildedeor. Hean wæs lange, swa hyne Geata bearn godne ne tealdon, ne hyne on medobence micles wyrðne drihten Wedera gedon wolde; swyðe wendon, þæt he sleac wære, æðeling unfrom. Edwenden cwom tireadigum menn torna gehwylces.--- Het ða eorla hleo in gefetian, heaðorof cyning Hreðles lafe golde gegyrede; næs mid Geatum ða sincmaðþum selra on sweordes had; þæt he on Biowulfes bearm alegde, ond him gesealde seofan þusendo, bold ond bregostol. Him wæs bam samod on ðam leodscipe lond gecynde, eard eðelriht, oðrum swiðor side rice þam ðær selra wæs. Eft þæt geiode ufaran dogrum hildehlæmmum, syððan Hygelac læg, ond Heardrede hildemeceas under bordhreoðan to bonan wurdon, ða hyne gesohtan on sigeþeode hearde hildfrecan, Heaðo-Scilfingas, niða genægdan nefan Hererices ---: syððan Beowulfe brade rice on hand gehwearf; he geheold tela fiftig wintra --- wæs ða frod cyning, eald eþelweard --- , oð ðæt an ongan deorcum nihtum draca ricsian, se ðe on heaum hæþe hord beweotode, stanbeorh steapne; stig under læg eldum uncuð. Þær on innan giong niðða nathwylc, se ðe neh gefealg hæðnum horde, hond wæge nam, sid, since fah; ne he þæt syððan bemað, þeah ðe he slæpende besyred wurde þeofes cræfte; þæt sie ðiod onfand, bigfolc beorna, þæt he gebolgen wæs.

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.

XXXII [2221-2331] Nealles mid gewealdum wyrmhord abræc, sylfes willum, se ðe him sare gesceod, ac for þreanedlan þeow nathwylces hæleða bearna heteswengeas fleah, ærnes þearfa, ond ðær inne fealh, secg synbysig. Sona mwatide þæt :::::ðam gyste gryrebroga stod; hwæðre earmsceapen . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . sceapen . . . . . . . þa hyne se fær begeat. Sincfæt . . . . . Þær wæs swylcra fela in ðam eorðhuse ærgestreona, swa hy on geardagum gumena nathwylc, eormenlafe æþelan cynnes, þanchycgende þær gehydde, deore maðmas. Ealle hie deað fornam ærran mælum, ond se an ða gen leoda duguðe, se ðær lengest hwearf, weard winegeomor, wende þæs ylcan, þæt he lytel fæc longgestreona brucan moste. Beorh eallgearo wunode on wonge wæteryðum neah, niwe be næsse, nearocræftum fæst; þær on innan bær eorlgestreona hringa hyrde hordwyrðne dæl, fættan goldes, fea worda cwæð: `Heald þu nuhruse ,, nu hæleð ne mostan, eorla æhte! Hwæt, hyt ær on ðe gode begeaton; guðdeað fornam, feorhbealo frecne, fyra gehwylcne leoda minra þara ðe þis lif ofgeaf, gesawon seledream. Nah, hwa sweord wege oððe feormie fæted wæge, dryncfæt deore; duguð ellor sceoc. Sceal se hearda helm hyrsted golde, fætum befeallen; feormynd swefað, þa ðe beadogriman bywan sceoldon; ge swylce seo herepad, sio æt hilde gebad ofer borda gebræc bite irena, brosnað æfter beorne. Ne mæg byrnan hring æfter wigfruman wide feran, hæleðum be healfe. Næs hearpan wyn, gomen gleobeames, ne god hafoc geond sæl swingeð, ne se swifta mearh burhstede beateð. Bealocwealm hafað fela feorhcynna forð onsended!' Swa giomormod giohðo mænde an æfter eallum, unbliðe hwearf dæges ond nihtes, oð ðæt deaðes wylm hran æt heortan. Hordwynne fond eald uhtsceaða opene standan, se ðe byrnende biorgas seceð, nacod niðdraca, nihtes fleogeð fyre befangen; hyne foldbuend swiðe ondrædað. He gesecean sceall hord on hrusan, þær he hæðen gold warað wintrum frod; ne byð him wihte ðy sel. Swa se ðeodsceaða þreo hund wintra heold on hrusan hordærna sum eacencræftig, oð ð æt hyne an abealch mon on mode; mandryhtne bær fæted wæge, frioðowære bæd hlaford sinne. Ða wæs hord rasod, onboren beaga hord, bene getiðad feasceaftum men; Frea sceawode fira fyrngeweorc forman siðe. --- Þa se wyrm onwoc, wroht wæs geniwad; stonc ða æfter stane, stearcheort onfand feondes fotlast; he to forð gestop dyrnan cræfte dracan heafde neah. Swa mæg unfæge eaðe gedigan wean ond wræcsið se ðe Waldendes hyldo gehealdeþ! Hordweard sohte georne æfter grunde, wolde guman findan, þone þe him on sweofote sare geteode; hat ond hreohmod hlæw oft ymbehwearf ealne utanweardne; ne ðær ænig mon on þære westenne, --- hwæðre wiges gefeh, beaduwe weorces; hwilum on beorh æthwearf, sincfæt sohte; he þæt sona onfand, ðæt hæfde gumena sum goldes gefandod, heahgestreona. Hordweard onbad earfoðlice, oð ðæt æfen cwom; wæs ða gebolgen beorges hyrde, wolde se laða lige forgyldan drincfæt dyre. Þa wæs dæg sceacen wyrme on willan; no on wealle læng, bidan wolde, ac mid bæle for, fyre gefysed. Wæs se fruma egeslic leodum on lande, swa hyt lungre wearð on hyra sincgifan sare geendod.

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