XXV
“UNDER harness his heart then is hit indeedby sharpest shafts; and no shelter availsfrom foul behest of the hellish fiend.{25a}Him seems too little what long he possessed.Greedy and grim, no golden ringshe gives for his pride; the promised futureforgets he and spurns, with all God has sent him,Wonder-Wielder, of wealth and fame.Yet in the end it ever comesthat the frame of the body fragile yields,fated falls; and there follows anotherwho 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 mightlasts now a while: but erelong it shall bethat 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 beamwax dull and darken: Death even theein 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 bravelyfrom mighty-ones many o’er middle-earth,from spear and sword, till it seemed for meno foe could be found under fold of the sky.Lo, sudden the shift! To me seated securecame grief for joy when Grendel beganto harry my home, the hellish foe;for those ruthless raids, unresting I sufferedheart-sorrow heavy. Heaven be thanked,Lord Eternal, for life extendedthat 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 treasureat dawn of day, be dealt between us!”Glad was the Geats’ lord, going betimesto seek his seat, as the Sage commanded.Afresh, as before, for the famed-in-battle,for the band of the hall, was a banquet dightnobly anew. The Night-Helm darkeneddusk 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-guestfrom far, a hall-thane heralded forth,who by custom courtly cared for allneeds of a thane as in those old dayswarrior-wanderers wont to have.So slumbered the stout-heart. Stately the hallrose gabled and gilt where the guest slept ontill a raven black the rapture-of-heaven{25b}blithe-heart boded. Bright came flyingshine after shadow. The swordsmen hastened,athelings all were eager homewardforth to fare; and far from thencethe great-hearted guest would guide his keel.Bade then the hardy-one Hrunting be broughtto 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 notedge of the blade: ’twas a big-hearted man!Now eager for parting and armed at pointwarriors waited, while went to his hostthat Darling of Danes. The doughty athelingto high-seat hastened and Hrothgar greeted.
XXVI
BEOWULF spake, bairn of Ecgtheow: --“Lo, we seafarers say our will,far-come men, that we fain would seekHygelac now. We here have foundhosts to our heart: thou hast harbored us well.If ever on earth I am able to win memore 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 seasthat 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 aidby word and by work, that well I may serve thee,wielding the war-wood to win thy triumphand lending thee might when thou lackest men.If thy Hrethric should come to court of Geats,a sovran’s son, he will surely therefind his friends. A far-off landeach man should visit who vaunts him brave.”Him then answering, Hrothgar spake: --“These words of thine the wisest Godsent to thy soul! No sager counselfrom 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 indeedif ever it hap that Hrethel’s heirby 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 findat all to choose for their chief and king,for hoard-guard of heroes, if hold thou wiltthy kinsman’s kingdom! Thy keen mind pleases methe 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 goldeach other greet o’er the gannet’s-bath,and the ringed-prow bear o’er rolling wavestokens of love. I trow my landfolktowards friend and foe are firmly joined,and honor they keep in the olden way.”To him in the hall, then, Healfdene’s songave treasures twelve, and the trust-of-earlsbade 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 tearsof the hoary-headed. Heavy with winters,he had chances twain, but he clung to this,{26a}--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 manburned in his blood. Then Beowulf strode,glad of his gold-gifts, the grass-plot o’er,warrior blithe. The wave-roamer boderiding at anchor, its owner awaiting.As they hastened onward, Hrothgar’s giftthey lauded at length. -- ’Twas a lord unpeered,every way blameless, till age had broken-- it spareth no mortal -- his splendid might.
XXVII
CAME now to ocean the ever-courageoushardy 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 wordsreached the guests as he rode to greet them;but “Welcome!” he called to that Weder clanas the sheen-mailed spoilers to ship marched on.Then on the strand, with steeds and treasureand armor their roomy and ring-dight shipwas heavily laden: high its mastrose over Hrothgar’s hoarded gems.A sword to the boat-guard Beowulf gave,mounted with gold; on the mead-bench sincehe 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;{27a}nor did wind over billows that wave-swimmer blowacross 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 companionsby the water had waited and watched afar.He bound to the beach the broad-bosomed shipwith anchor-bands, lest ocean-billowsthat trusty timber should tear away.Then Beowulf bade them bear the treasure,gold and jewels; no journey farwas it thence to go to the giver of rings,Hygelac Hrethling: at home he dweltby the sea-wall close, himself and clan.Haughty that house, a hero the king,high the hall, and Hygd{27b}right young,wise and wary, though winters fewin 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 dearthat 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 murderproclaimed and closed. No queenly wayfor woman to practise, though peerless she,that the weaver-of-peace{27c}from warrior dearby wrath and lying his life should reave!But Hemming’s kinsman hindered this. --For over their ale men also toldthat 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 hallo’er the fallow flood at her father’s biddingsafely 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 everfrom sea to sea, of the sons of earth,most excellent seemed. Hence Offa was praisedfor his fighting and feeing by far-off men,the spear-bold warrior; wisely he ruledover his empire. Eomer woke to him,help of heroes, Hemming’s kinsman,Grandson of Garmund, grim in war.
XXVIII
HASTENED the hardy one, henchmen with him,sandy strand of the sea to treadand widespread ways. The world’s great candle,sun shone from south. They strode alongwith sturdy steps to the spot they knewwhere the battle-king young, his burg within,slayer of Ongentheow, shared the rings,shelter-of-heroes. To HygelacBeowulf’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 lordhe 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 boreto the hands of the heroes. Hygelac thenhis comrade fairly with question pliedin the lofty hall, sore longing to knowwhat manner of sojourn the Sea-Geats made.“What came of thy quest, my kinsman Beowulf,when thy yearnings suddenly swept thee yonderbattle to seek o’er the briny sea,combat in Heorot? Hrothgar couldst thouaid at all, the honored chief,in his wide-known woes? With waves of caremy sad heart seethed; I sore mistrustedmy loved one’s venture: long I begged theeby no means to seek that slaughtering monster,but suffer the South-Danes to settle their feudthemselves with Grendel. Now God be thankedthat 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 manysorrows 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 racein fleshly fold! -- But first I wentHrothgar 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 neversuch merry men over mead in hallhave 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-companionsFreawaru name, when fretted goldshe 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 wisethe woman to wed so and ward off feud,store of slaughter. But seldom everwhen men are slain, does the murder-spear sinkbut briefest while, though the bride be fair!{28a}“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 glistenhard and ring-decked, Heathobard’s treasure,weapons that once they wielded fairuntil they lost at the linden-play{28b}liegeman leal and their lives as well.Then, over the ale, on this heirloom gazing,some ash-wielder old who has all in mindthat spear-death of men,{28c}-- he is stern of mood,heavy at heart, -- in the hero youngtests the temper and tries the souland war-hate wakens, with words like these: --Canst thou not, comrade, ken that swordwhich to the fray thy father carriedin his final feud, ’neath the fighting-mask,dearest of blades, when the Danish slew himand 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{28d}that rightfully ought to be owned by thee!_Thus he urges and eggs him all the timewith keenest words, till occasion offersthat Freawaru’s thane, for his father’s deed,after bite of brand in his blood must slumber,losing his life; but that liegeman fliesliving away, for the land he kens.And thus be broken on both their sidesoaths of the earls, when Ingeld’s breastwells with war-hate, and wife-love nowafter the care-billows cooler grows.“So{28e}I hold not high the Heathobards’ faithdue to the Danes, or their during loveand 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 jewelhad fled o’er far fields, that fierce sprite came,night-foe savage, to seek us outwhere 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 himturned 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{28f}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 thrustwith many another. He might not so,when I all angrily upright stood.’Twere long to relate how that land-destroyerI paid in kind for his cruel deeds;yet there, my prince, this people of thinegot fame by my fighting. He fled away,and a little space his life preserved;but there staid behind him his stronger handleft in Heorot; heartsick thenceon the floor of the ocean that outcast fell.Me for this struggle the Scyldings’-friendpaid in plenty with plates of gold,with many a treasure, when morn had comeand 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 chantedof sooth and sadness, or said arightlegends 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 fullwhen, wise with winters, he wailed their flight.Thus in the hall the whole of that dayat ease we feasted, till fell o’er earthanother night. Anon full readyin greed of vengeance, Grendel’s motherset forth all doleful. Dead was her sonthrough war-hate of Weders; now, woman monstrouswith 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 comradeburn with brands, on balefire laythe man they mourned. Under mountain streamshe had carried the corpse with cruel hands.For Hrothgar that was the heaviest sorrowof 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’ coilto play the hero and hazard my beingfor 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 hallher head I hewed with a hardy bladefrom 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.
XXIX
“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 alonecan find me favor. Few indeedhave 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 horseshe gave to the king. So should kinsmen be,not weave one another the net of wiles,or with deep-hid treachery death contrivefor neighbor and comrade. His nephew was everby 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 himsovran’s daughter: three steeds he added,slender and saddle-gay. Since such giftthe gem gleamed bright on the breast of the queen.Thus showed his strain the son of Ecgtheowas a man remarked for mighty deedsand acts of honor. At ale he slew notcomrade or kin; nor cruel his mood,though of sons of earth his strength was greatest,a glorious gift that God had sentthe splendid leader. Long was he spurned,and worthless by Geatish warriors held;him at mead the master-of-clansfailed 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{29a}bade bring within,hardy chieftain, Hrethel’s heirloomgarnished with gold: no Geat e’er knewin shape of a sword a statelier prize.The brand he laid in Beowulf’s lap;and of hides assigned him seven thousand,{29b}with house and high-seat. They held in commonland alike by their line of birth,inheritance, home: but higher the kingbecause of his rule o’er the realm itself.
Now further it fell with the flight of years,with harryings horrid, that Hygelac perished,{29c}and Heardred, too, by hewing of swordsunder the shield-wall slaughtered lay,when him at the van of his victor-folksought hardy heroes, Heatho-Scilfings,in arms o’erwhelming Hereric’s nephew.Then Beowulf came as king this broadrealm to wield; and he ruled it wellfifty winters,{29d}a wise old prince,warding his land, until One beganin 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 withinto the heathen hoard.{29e}In hand he tooka golden goblet, nor gave he it back,stole with it away, while the watcher slept,by thievish wiles: for the warden’s wrathprince and people must pay betimes!
XXX
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 sighttottered that guest, and terror seized him;yet the wretched fugitive rallied anonfrom 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 yorehad hurried all hence; and he aloneleft to live, the last of the clan,weeping his friends, yet wished to bidewarding 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 heirloomsand heaped hoard of heavy goldthat warden of rings. Few words he spake:“Now hold thou, earth, since heroes may not,what earls have owned! Lo, erst from theebrave men brought it! But battle-death seizedand 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 sleepwho could brighten and burnish the battle-mask;and those weeds of war that were wont to braveover bicker of shields the bite of steelrust with their bearer. The ringed mailfares not far with famous chieftain,at side of hero! No harp’s delight,no glee-wood’s gladness! No good hawk nowflies through the hall! Nor horses fleetstamp in the burgstead! Battle and deaththe flower of my race have reft away.”Mournful of mood, thus he moaned his woe,alone, for them all, and unblithe weptby day and by night, till death’s fell waveo’erwhelmed his heart. His hoard-of-blissthat old ill-doer open found,who, blazing at twilight the barrows haunteth,naked foe-dragon flying by nightfolded in fire: the folk of earthdread him sore. ’Tis his doom to seekhoard in the graves, and heathen goldto watch, many-wintered: nor wins he thereby!Powerful this plague-of-the-people thusheld the house of the hoard in earththree hundred winters; till One arousedwrath in his breast, to the ruler bearingthat costly cup, and the king imploredfor bond of peace. So the barrow was plundered,borne off was booty. His boon was grantedthat wretched man; and his ruler sawfirst 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 foundfootprint of foe who so far had gonein his hidden craft by the creature’s head. --So may the undoomed easily fleeevils and exile, if only he gainthe grace of The Wielder! -- That warden of goldo’er the ground went seeking, greedy to findthe man who wrought him such wrong in sleep.Savage and burning, the barrow he circledall 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 soonthat some one of mortals had searched his treasure,his lordly gold. The guardian waitedill-enduring till evening came;boiling with wrath was the barrow’s keeper,and fain with flame the foe to payfor the dear cup’s loss. -- Now day was fledas the worm had wished. By its wall no morewas it glad to bide, but burning flewfolded in flame: a fearful beginningfor sons of the soil; and soon it came,in the doom of their lord, to a dreadful end.
XXXI
THEN the baleful fiend its fire belched out,and bright homes burned. The blaze stood highall landsfolk frighting. No living thingwould that loathly one leave as aloft it flew.Wide was the dragon’s warring seen,its fiendish fury far and near,as the grim destroyer those Geatish peoplehated and hounded. To hidden lair,to its hoard it hastened at hint of dawn.Folk of the land it had lapped in flame,with bale and brand. In its barrow it trusted,its battling and bulwarks: that boast was vain!
To Beowulf then the bale was toldquickly and truly: the king’s own home,of buildings the best, in brand-waves melted,that gift-throne of Geats. To the good old mansad in heart, ’twas heaviest sorrow.The sage assumed that his sovran Godhe had angered, breaking ancient law,and embittered the Lord. His breast withinwith black thoughts welled, as his wont was never.The folk’s own fastness that fiery dragonwith flame had destroyed, and the stronghold allwashed by waves; but the warlike king,prince of the Weders, plotted vengeance.Warriors’-bulwark, he bade them workall of iron -- the earl’s commander --a war-shield wondrous: well he knewthat forest-wood against fire were worthless,linden could aid not. -- Atheling brave,he was fated to finish this fleeting life,{31a}his days on earth, and the dragon with him,though long it had watched o’er the wealth of the hoard! --Shame he reckoned it, sharer-of-rings,to follow the flyer-afar with a host,a broad-flung band; nor the battle feared he,nor deemed he dreadful the dragon’s warring,its vigor and valor: ventures desperatehe had passed a-plenty, and perils of war,contest-crash, since, conqueror proud,Hrothgar’s hall he had wholly purged,and in grapple had killed the kin of Grendel,loathsome breed! Not least was thatof hand-to-hand fights where Hygelac fell,when the ruler of Geats in rush of battle,lord of his folk, in the Frisian land,son of Hrethel, by sword-draughts died,by brands down-beaten. Thence Beowulf fledthrough strength of himself and his swimming power,though alone, and his arms were laden with thirtycoats of mail, when he came to the sea!Nor yet might Hetwaras{31b}haughtily boasttheir craft of contest, who carried against himshields to the fight: but few escapedfrom strife with the hero to seek their homes!Then swam over ocean Ecgtheow’s sonlonely and sorrowful, seeking his land,where Hygd made him offer of hoard and realm,rings and royal-seat, reckoning naughtthe strength of her son to save their kingdomfrom hostile hordes, after Hygelac’s death.No sooner for this could the stricken onesin any wise move that atheling’s mindover young Heardred’s head as lordand ruler of all the realm to be:yet the hero upheld him with helpful words,aided in honor, till, older grown,he wielded the Weder-Geats. -- Wandering exilessought him o’er seas, the sons of Ohtere,who had spurned the sway of the Scylfings’-helmet,the bravest and best that broke the rings,in Swedish land, of the sea-kings’ line,haughty hero.{31c}Hence Heardred’s end.For shelter he gave them, sword-death came,the blade’s fell blow, to bairn of Hygelac;but the son of Ongentheow sought againhouse and home when Heardred fell,leaving Beowulf lord of Geatsand gift-seat’s master. -- A good king he!
XXXII
THE fall of his lord he was fain to requitein after days; and to Eadgils he provedfriend to the friendless, and forces sentover the sea to the son of Ohtere,weapons and warriors: well repaid hethose care-paths cold when the king he slew.{32a}Thus safe through struggles the son of Ecgtheowhad passed a plenty, through perils dire,with daring deeds, till this day was comethat doomed him now with the dragon to strive.With comrades eleven the lord of Geatsswollen in rage went seeking the dragon.He had heard whence all the harm aroseand the killing of clansmen; that cup of priceon the lap of the lord had been laid by the finder.In the throng was this one thirteenth man,starter of all the strife and ill,care-laden captive; cringing thenceforced and reluctant, he led them ontill he came in ken of that cavern-hall,the barrow delved near billowy surges,flood of ocean. Within ’twas fullof wire-gold and jewels; a jealous warden,warrior trusty, the treasures held,lurked in his lair. Not light the taskof entrance for any of earth-born men!Sat on the headland the hero king,spake words of hail to his hearth-companions,gold-friend of Geats. All gloomy his soul,wavering, death-bound. Wyrd full nighstood ready to greet the gray-haired man,to seize his soul-hoard, sunder apartlife and body. Not long would bethe warrior’s spirit enwound with flesh.Beowulf spake, the bairn of Ecgtheow: --“Through store of struggles I strove in youth,mighty feuds; I mind them all.I was seven years old when the sovran of rings,friend-of-his-folk, from my father took me,had me, and held me, Hrethel the king,with food and fee, faithful in kinship.Ne’er, while I lived there, he loathlier found me,bairn in the burg, than his birthright sons,Herebeald and Haethcyn and Hygelac mine.For the eldest of these, by unmeet chance,by kinsman’s deed, was the death-bed strewn,when Haethcyn killed him with horny bow,his own dear liege laid low with an arrow,missed the mark and his mate shot down,one brother the other, with bloody shaft.A feeless fight,{32b}and a fearful sin,horror to Hrethel; yet, hard as it was,unavenged must the atheling die!Too awful it is for an aged manto bide and bear, that his bairn so youngrides on the gallows. A rime he makes,sorrow-song for his son there hangingas rapture of ravens; no rescue nowcan come from the old, disabled man!Still is he minded, as morning breaks,of the heir gone elsewhere;{32c}another he hopes nothe will bide to see his burg withinas ward for his wealth, now the one has founddoom of death that the deed incurred.Forlorn he looks on the lodge of his son,wine-hall waste and wind-swept chambersreft of revel. The rider sleepeth,the hero, far-hidden;{32d}no harp resounds,in the courts no wassail, as once was heard.
XXXIII
“THEN he goes to his chamber, a grief-song chantsalone for his lost. Too large all seems,homestead and house. So the helmet-of-Wedershid in his heart for Herebealdwaves of woe. No way could he taketo avenge on the slayer slaughter so foul;nor e’en could he harass that hero at allwith loathing deed, though he loved him not.And so for the sorrow his soul endured,men’s gladness he gave up and God’s light chose.Lands and cities he left his sons(as the wealthy do) when he went from earth.There was strife and struggle ’twixt Swede and Geato’er the width of waters; war arose,hard battle-horror, when Hrethel died,and Ongentheow’s offspring grewstrife-keen, bold, nor brooked o’er the seaspact of peace, but pushed their hoststo harass in hatred by Hreosnabeorh.Men of my folk for that feud had vengeance,for woful war (‘tis widely known),though one of them bought it with blood of his heart,a bargain hard: for Haethcyn provedfatal that fray, for the first-of-Geats.At morn, I heard, was the murderer killedby kinsman for kinsman,{33a}with clash of sword,when Ongentheow met Eofor there.Wide split the war-helm: wan he fell,hoary Scylfing; the hand that smote himof feud was mindful, nor flinched from the death-blow.-- “For all that he{33b}gave me, my gleaming swordrepaid him at war, -- such power I wielded, --for lordly treasure: with land he entrusted me,homestead and house. He had no needfrom Swedish realm, or from Spear-Dane folk,or from men of the Gifths, to get him help, --some warrior worse for wage to buy!Ever I fought in the front of all,sole to the fore; and so shall I fightwhile I bide in life and this blade shall lastthat early and late hath loyal provedsince for my doughtiness Daeghrefn fell,slain by my hand, the Hugas’ champion.Nor fared he thence to the Frisian kingwith the booty back, and breast-adornments;but, slain in struggle, that standard-bearerfell, atheling brave. Not with blade was he slain,but his bones were broken by brawny gripe,his heart-waves stilled. -- The sword-edge now,hard blade and my hand, for the hoard shall strive.”Beowulf spake, and a battle-vow madehis last of all: “I have lived through manywars in my youth; now once again,old folk-defender, feud will I seek,do doughty deeds, if the dark destroyerforth from his cavern come to fight me!”Then hailed he the helmeted heroes all,for the last time greeting his liegemen dear,comrades of war: “I should carry no weapon,no sword to the serpent, if sure I knewhow, with such enemy, else my vowsI could gain as I did in Grendel’s day.But fire in this fight I must fear me now,and poisonous breath; so I bring with mebreastplate and board.{33c}From the barrow’s keeperno footbreadth flee I. One fight shall endour war by the wall, as Wyrd allots,all mankind’s master. My mood is boldbut forbears to boast o’er this battling-flyer.-- Now abide by the barrow, ye breastplate-mailed,ye heroes in harness, which of us twainbetter from battle-rush bear his wounds.Wait ye the finish. The fight is not yours,nor meet for any but me aloneto measure might with this monster hereand play the hero. Hardily Ishall win that wealth, or war shall seize,cruel killing, your king and lord!”Up stood then with shield the sturdy champion,stayed by the strength of his single manhood,and hardy ’neath helmet his harness boreunder cleft of the cliffs: no coward’s path!Soon spied by the wall that warrior chief,survivor of many a victory-fieldwhere foemen fought with furious clashings,an arch of stone; and within, a streamthat broke from the barrow. The brooklet’s wavewas hot with fire. The hoard that wayhe never could hope unharmed to near,or endure those deeps,{33d}for the dragon’s flame.Then let from his breast, for he burst with rage,the Weder-Geat prince a word outgo;stormed the stark-heart; stern went ringingand clear his cry ’neath the cliff-rocks gray.The hoard-guard heard a human voice;his rage was enkindled. No respite nowfor pact of peace! The poison-breathof that foul worm first came forth from the cave,hot reek-of-fight: the rocks resounded.Stout by the stone-way his shield he raised,lord of the Geats, against the loathed-one;while with courage keen that coiled foecame seeking strife. The sturdy kinghad drawn his sword, not dull of edge,heirloom old; and each of the twofelt fear of his foe, though fierce their mood.Stoutly stood with his shield high-raisedthe warrior king, as the worm now coiledtogether amain: the mailed-one waited.Now, spire by spire, fast sped and glidedthat blazing serpent. The shield protected,soul and body a shorter whilefor the hero-king than his heart desired,could his will have wielded the welcome respitebut once in his life! But Wyrd denied it,and victory’s honors. -- His arm he liftedlord of the Geats, the grim foe smotewith atheling’s heirloom. Its edge was turnedbrown blade, on the bone, and bit more feeblythan its noble master had need of thenin his baleful stress. -- Then the barrow’s keeperwaxed full wild for that weighty blow,cast deadly flames; wide drove and farthose vicious fires. No victor’s glorythe Geats’ lord boasted; his brand had failed,naked in battle, as never it should,excellent iron! -- ’Twas no easy paththat Ecgtheow’s honored heir must treadover the plain to the place of the foe;for against his will he must win a homeelsewhere far, as must all men, leavingthis lapsing life! -- Not long it wasere those champions grimly closed again.The hoard-guard was heartened; high heaved his breastonce more; and by peril was pressed again,enfolded in flames, the folk-commander!Nor yet about him his band of comrades,sons of athelings, armed stoodwith warlike front: to the woods they bent them,their lives to save. But the soul of onewith care was cumbered. Kinship truecan never be marred in a noble mind!
XXXIV
WIGLAF his name was, Weohstan’s son,linden-thane loved, the lord of Scylfings,Aelfhere’s kinsman. His king he now sawwith heat under helmet hard oppressed.He minded the prizes his prince had given him,wealthy seat of the Waegmunding line,and folk-rights that his father ownedNot long he lingered. The linden yellow,his shield, he seized; the old sword he drew: --as heirloom of Eanmund earth-dwellers knew it,who was slain by the sword-edge, son of Ohtere,friendless exile, erst in fraykilled by Weohstan, who won for his kinbrown-bright helmet, breastplate ringed,old sword of Eotens, Onela’s gift,weeds of war of the warrior-thane,battle-gear brave: though a brother’s childhad been felled, the feud was unfelt by Onela.{34a}For winters this war-gear Weohstan kept,breastplate and board, till his bairn had grownearlship to earn as the old sire did:then he gave him, mid Geats, the gear of battle,portion huge, when he passed from life,fared aged forth. For the first time nowwith his leader-lord the liegeman youngwas bidden to share the shock of battle.Neither softened his soul, nor the sire’s bequestweakened in war.{34b}So the worm found outwhen once in fight the foes had met!Wiglaf spake, -- and his words were sage;sad in spirit, he said to his comrades: --“I remember the time, when mead we took,what promise we made to this prince of oursin the banquet-hall, to our breaker-of-rings,for gear of combat to give him requital,for hard-sword and helmet, if hap should bringstress of this sort! Himself who chose usfrom all his army to aid him now,urged us to glory, and gave these treasures,because he counted us keen with the spearand hardy ’neath helm, though this hero-workour leader hoped unhelped and aloneto finish for us, -- folk-defenderwho hath got him glory greater than all menfor daring deeds! Now the day is comethat our noble master has need of the mightof warriors stout. Let us stride alongthe hero to help while the heat is about himglowing and grim! For God is my witnessI am far more fain the fire should seizealong with my lord these limbs of mine!{34c}Unsuiting it seems our shields to bearhomeward hence, save here we essayto fell the foe and defend the lifeof the Weders’ lord. I wot ’twere shameon the law of our land if alone the kingout of Geatish warriors woe enduredand sank in the struggle! My sword and helmet,breastplate and board, for us both shall serve!”Through slaughter-reek strode he to succor his chieftain,his battle-helm bore, and brief words spake: --“Beowulf dearest, do all bravely,as in youthful days of yore thou vowedstthat while life should last thou wouldst let no wisethy glory droop! Now, great in deeds,atheling steadfast, with all thy strengthshield thy life! I will stand to help thee.”At the words the worm came once again,murderous monster mad with rage,with fire-billows flaming, its foes to seek,the hated men. In heat-waves burnedthat board{34d}to the boss, and the breastplate failedto shelter at all the spear-thane young.Yet quickly under his kinsman’s shieldwent eager the earl, since his own was nowall burned by the blaze. The bold king againhad mind of his glory: with might his glaivewas driven into the dragon’s head, --blow nerved by hate. But Naegling{34e}was shivered,broken in battle was Beowulf’s sword,old and gray. ’Twas granted him notthat ever the edge of iron at allcould help him at strife: too strong was his hand,so the tale is told, and he tried too farwith strength of stroke all swords he wielded,though sturdy their steel: they steaded him nought.Then for the third time thought on its feudthat folk-destroyer, fire-dread dragon,and rushed on the hero, where room allowed,battle-grim, burning; its bitter teethclosed on his neck, and covered himwith waves of blood from his breast that welled.