XXXV
’TWAS now, men say, in his sovran’s needthat the earl made known his noble strain,craft and keenness and courage enduring.Heedless of harm, though his hand was burned,hardy-hearted, he helped his kinsman.A little lower the loathsome beasthe smote with sword; his steel drove inbright and burnished; that blaze beganto lose and lessen. At last the kingwielded his wits again, war-knife drew,a biting blade by his breastplate hanging,and the Weders’-helm smote that worm asunder,felled the foe, flung forth its life.So had they killed it, kinsmen both,athelings twain: thus an earl should bein danger’s day! -- Of deeds of valorthis conqueror’s-hour of the king was last,of his work in the world. The wound began,which that dragon-of-earth had erst inflicted,to swell and smart; and soon he foundin his breast was boiling, baleful and deep,pain of poison. The prince walked on,wise in his thought, to the wall of rock;then sat, and stared at the structure of giants,where arch of stone and steadfast columnupheld forever that hall in earth.Yet here must the hand of the henchman peerlesslave with water his winsome lord,the king and conqueror covered with blood,with struggle spent, and unspan his helmet.Beowulf spake in spite of his hurt,his mortal wound; full well he knewhis portion now was past and goneof earthly bliss, and all had fledof his file of days, and death was near:“I would fain bestow on son of minethis gear of war, were given me nowthat any heir should after me comeof my proper blood. This people I ruledfifty winters. No folk-king was there,none at all, of the neighboring clanswho war would wage me with ’warriors’-friends’{35a}and threat me with horrors. At home I bidedwhat fate might come, and I cared for mine own;feuds I sought not, nor falsely sworeever on oath. For all these things,though fatally wounded, fain am I!From the Ruler-of-Man no wrath shall seize me,when life from my frame must flee away,for killing of kinsmen! Now quickly goand gaze on that hoard ’neath the hoary rock,Wiglaf loved, now the worm lies low,sleeps, heart-sore, of his spoil bereaved.And fare in haste. I would fain beholdthe gorgeous heirlooms, golden store,have joy in the jewels and gems, lay downsoftlier for sight of this splendid hoardmy life and the lordship I long have held.”
XXXVI
I HAVE heard that swiftly the son of Weohstanat wish and word of his wounded king, --war-sick warrior, -- woven mail-coat,battle-sark, bore ’neath the barrow’s roof.Then the clansman keen, of conquest proud,passing the seat,{36a}saw store of jewelsand glistening gold the ground along;by the wall were marvels, and many a vesselin the den of the dragon, the dawn-flier old:unburnished bowls of bygone menreft of richness; rusty helmsof the olden age; and arm-rings manywondrously woven. -- Such wealth of gold,booty from barrow, can burden with prideeach human wight: let him hide it who will! --His glance too fell on a gold-wove bannerhigh o’er the hoard, of handiwork noblest,brilliantly broidered; so bright its gleam,all the earth-floor he easily sawand viewed all these vessels. No vestige nowwas seen of the serpent: the sword had ta’en him.Then, I heard, the hill of its hoard was reft,old work of giants, by one alone;he burdened his bosom with beakers and plateat his own good will, and the ensign took,brightest of beacons. -- The blade of his lord-- its edge was iron -- had injured deepone that guarded the golden hoardmany a year and its murder-firespread hot round the barrow in horror-billowsat midnight hour, till it met its doom.Hasted the herald, the hoard so spurred himhis track to retrace; he was troubled by doubt,high-souled hero, if haply he’d findalive, where he left him, the lord of Weders,weakening fast by the wall of the cave.So he carried the load. His lord and kinghe found all bleeding, famous chiefat the lapse of life. The liegeman againplashed him with water, till point of wordbroke through the breast-hoard. Beowulf spake,sage and sad, as he stared at the gold. --“For the gold and treasure, to God my thanks,to the Wielder-of-Wonders, with words I say,for what I behold, to Heaven’s Lord,for the grace that I give such gifts to my folkor ever the day of my death be run!Now I’ve bartered here for booty of treasurethe last of my life, so look ye wellto the needs of my land! No longer I tarry.A barrow bid ye the battle-fanned raisefor my ashes. ’Twill shine by the shore of the flood,to folk of mine memorial fairon Hrones Headland high uplifted,that ocean-wanderers oft may hailBeowulf’s Barrow, as back from farthey drive their keels o’er the darkling wave.”From his neck he unclasped the collar of gold,valorous king, to his vassal gave itwith bright-gold helmet, breastplate, and ring,to the youthful thane: bade him use them in joy.“Thou art end and remnant of all our racethe Waegmunding name. For Wyrd hath swept them,all my line, to the land of doom,earls in their glory: I after them go.”This word was the last which the wise old manharbored in heart ere hot death-wavesof balefire he chose. From his bosom fledhis soul to seek the saints’ reward.
XXXVII
IT was heavy hap for that hero youngon his lord beloved to look and find himlying on earth with life at end,sorrowful sight. But the slayer too,awful earth-dragon, empty of breath,lay felled in fight, nor, fain of its treasure,could the writhing monster rule it more.For edges of iron had ended its days,hard and battle-sharp, hammers’ leaving;{37a}and that flier-afar had fallen to groundhushed by its hurt, its hoard all near,no longer lusty aloft to whirlat midnight, making its merriment seen,proud of its prizes: prone it sankby the handiwork of the hero-king.Forsooth among folk but few achieve,-- though sturdy and strong, as stories tell me,and never so daring in deed of valor, --the perilous breath of a poison-foeto brave, and to rush on the ring-board hall,whenever his watch the warden keepsbold in the barrow. Beowulf paidthe price of death for that precious hoard;and each of the foes had found the endof this fleeting life.Befell erelongthat the laggards in war the wood had left,trothbreakers, cowards, ten together,fearing before to flourish a spearin the sore distress of their sovran lord.Now in their shame their shields they carried,armor of fight, where the old man lay;and they gazed on Wiglaf. Wearied he satat his sovran’s shoulder, shieldsman good,to wake him with water.{37b}Nowise it availed.Though well he wished it, in world no morecould he barrier life for that leader-of-battlesnor baffle the will of all-wielding God.Doom of the Lord was law o’er the deedsof every man, as it is to-day.Grim was the answer, easy to get,from the youth for those that had yielded to fear!Wiglaf spake, the son of Weohstan, --mournful he looked on those men unloved: --“Who sooth will speak, can say indeedthat the ruler who gave you golden ringsand the harness of war in which ye stand-- for he at ale-bench often-timesbestowed on hall-folk helm and breastplate,lord to liegemen, the likeliest gearwhich near of far he could find to give, --threw away and wasted these weeds of battle,on men who failed when the foemen came!Not at all could the king of his comrades-in-armsventure to vaunt, though the Victory-Wielder,God, gave him grace that he got revengesole with his sword in stress and need.To rescue his life, ’twas little that Icould serve him in struggle; yet shift I made(hopeless it seemed) to help my kinsman.Its strength ever waned, when with weapon I struckthat fatal foe, and the fire less stronglyflowed from its head. -- Too few the heroesin throe of contest that thronged to our king!Now gift of treasure and girding of sword,joy of the house and home-delightshall fail your folk; his freehold-landevery clansman within your kinshall lose and leave, when lords high-bornhear afar of that flight of yours,a fameless deed. Yea, death is betterfor liegemen all than a life of shame!”
XXXVIII
THAT battle-toil bade he at burg to announce,at the fort on the cliff, where, full of sorrow,all the morning earls had sat,daring shieldsmen, in doubt of twain:would they wail as dead, or welcome home,their lord beloved? Little{38a}kept backof the tidings new, but told them all,the herald that up the headland rode. --“Now the willing-giver to Weder folkin death-bed lies; the Lord of Geatson the slaughter-bed sleeps by the serpent’s deed!And beside him is stretched that slayer-of-menwith knife-wounds sick:{38b}no sword availedon the awesome thing in any wiseto work a wound. There Wiglaf sitteth,Weohstan’s bairn, by Beowulf’s side,the living earl by the other dead,and heavy of heart a head-watch{38c}keepso’er friend and foe. -- Now our folk may lookfor waging of war when once unhiddento Frisian and Frank the fall of the kingis spread afar. -- The strife beganwhen hot on the Hugas{38d}Hygelac felland fared with his fleet to the Frisian land.Him there the Hetwaras humbled in war,plied with such prowess their power o’erwhelmingthat the bold-in-battle bowed beneath itand fell in fight. To his friends no wisecould that earl give treasure! And ever sincethe Merowings’ favor has failed us wholly.Nor aught expect I of peace and faithfrom Swedish folk. ’Twas spread afarhow Ongentheow reft at RavenswoodHaethcyn Hrethling of hope and life,when the folk of Geats for the first time soughtin wanton pride the Warlike-Scylfings.Soon the sage old sire{38e}of Ohtere,ancient and awful, gave answering blow;the sea-king{38f}he slew, and his spouse redeemed,his good wife rescued, though robbed of her gold,mother of Ohtere and Onela.Then he followed his foes, who fled before himsore beset and stole their way,bereft of a ruler, to Ravenswood.
With his host he besieged there what swords had left,the weary and wounded; woes he threatenedthe whole night through to that hard-pressed throng:some with the morrow his sword should kill,some should go to the gallows-treefor rapture of ravens. But rescue camewith dawn of day for those desperate menwhen they heard the horn of Hygelac sound,tones of his trumpet; the trusty kinghad followed their trail with faithful band.
XXXIX
“THE bloody swath of Swedes and Geatsand the storm of their strife, were seen afar,how folk against folk the fight had wakened.The ancient king with his atheling bandsought his citadel, sorrowing much:Ongentheow earl went up to his burg.He had tested Hygelac’s hardihood,the proud one’s prowess, would prove it no longer,defied no more those fighting-wanderersnor hoped from the seamen to save his hoard,his bairn and his bride: so he bent him again,old, to his earth-walls. Yet after him camewith slaughter for Swedes the standards of Hygelaco’er peaceful plains in pride advancing,till Hrethelings fought in the fenced town.{39a}Then Ongentheow with edge of sword,the hoary-bearded, was held at bay,and the folk-king there was forced to sufferEofor’s anger. In ire, at the kingWulf Wonreding with weapon struck;and the chieftain’s blood, for that blow, in streamsflowed ’neath his hair. No fear felt he,stout old Scylfing, but straightway repaidin better bargain that bitter strokeand faced his foe with fell intent.Nor swift enough was the son of Wonredanswer to render the aged chief;too soon on his head the helm was cloven;blood-bedecked he bowed to earth,and fell adown; not doomed was he yet,and well he waxed, though the wound was sore.Then the hardy Hygelac-thane,{39b}when his brother fell, with broad brand smote,giants’ sword crashing through giants’-helmacross the shield-wall: sank the king,his folk’s old herdsman, fatally hurt.There were many to bind the brother’s woundsand lift him, fast as fate allowedhis people to wield the place-of-war.But Eofor took from Ongentheow,earl from other, the iron-breastplate,hard sword hilted, and helmet too,and the hoar-chief’s harness to Hygelac carried,who took the trappings, and truly promisedrich fee ’mid folk, -- and fulfilled it so.For that grim strife gave the Geatish lord,Hrethel’s offspring, when home he came,to Eofor and Wulf a wealth of treasure,Each of them had a hundred thousand{39c}in land and linked rings; nor at less price reckonedmid-earth men such mighty deeds!And to Eofor he gave his only daughterin pledge of grace, the pride of his home.
“Such is the feud, the foeman’s rage,death-hate of men: so I deem it surethat the Swedish folk will seek us homefor this fall of their friends, the fighting-Scylfings,when once they learn that our warrior leaderlifeless lies, who land and hoardever defended from all his foes,furthered his folk’s weal, finished his coursea hardy hero. -- Now haste is best,that we go to gaze on our Geatish lord,and bear the bountiful breaker-of-ringsto the funeral pyre. No fragments merelyshall burn with the warrior. Wealth of jewels,gold untold and gained in terror,treasure at last with his life obtained,all of that booty the brands shall take,fire shall eat it. No earl must carrymemorial jewel. No maiden fairshall wreathe her neck with noble ring:nay, sad in spirit and shorn of her gold,oft shall she pass o’er paths of exilenow our lord all laughter has laid aside,all mirth and revel. Many a spearmorning-cold shall be clasped amain,lifted aloft; nor shall lilt of harpthose warriors wake; but the wan-hued raven,fain o’er the fallen, his feast shall praiseand boast to the eagle how bravely he atewhen he and the wolf were wasting the slain.”
So he told his sorrowful tidings,and little{39d}he lied, the loyal manof word or of work. The warriors rose;sad, they climbed to the Cliff-of-Eagles,went, welling with tears, the wonder to view.Found on the sand there, stretched at rest,their lifeless lord, who had lavished ringsof old upon them. Ending-dayhad dawned on the doughty-one; death had seizedin woful slaughter the Weders’ king.There saw they, besides, the strangest being,loathsome, lying their leader near,prone on the field. The fiery dragon,fearful fiend, with flame was scorched.Reckoned by feet, it was fifty measuresin length as it lay. Aloft erewhileit had revelled by night, and anon come back,seeking its den; now in death’s sure clutchit had come to the end of its earth-hall joys.By it there stood the stoups and jars;dishes lay there, and dear-decked swordseaten with rust, as, on earth’s lap resting,a thousand winters they waited there.For all that heritage huge, that goldof bygone men, was bound by a spell,{39e}so the treasure-hall could be touched by noneof human kind, -- save that Heaven’s King,God himself, might give whom he would,Helper of Heroes, the hoard to open, --even such a man as seemed to him meet.
XL
A PERILOUS path, it proved, he{40a}trodwho heinously hid, that hall within,wealth under wall! Its watcher had killedone of a few,{40b}and the feud was avengedin woful fashion. Wondrous seems it,what manner a man of might and valoroft ends his life, when the earl no longerin mead-hall may live with loving friends.So Beowulf, when that barrow’s wardenhe sought, and the struggle; himself knew notin what wise he should wend from the world at last.For{40c}princes potent, who placed the gold,with a curse to doomsday covered it deep,so that marked with sin the man should be,hedged with horrors, in hell-bonds fast,racked with plagues, who should rob their hoard.Yet no greed for gold, but the grace of heaven,ever the king had kept in view.{40d}Wiglaf spake, the son of Weohstan: --“At the mandate of one, oft warriors manysorrow must suffer; and so must we.The people’s-shepherd showed not aughtof care for our counsel, king beloved!That guardian of gold he should grapple not, urged we,but let him lie where he long had beenin his earth-hall waiting the end of the world,the hest of heaven. -- This hoard is oursbut grievously gotten; too grim the fatewhich thither carried our king and lord.I was within there, and all I viewed,the chambered treasure, when chance allowed me(and my path was made in no pleasant wise)under the earth-wall. Eager, I seizedsuch heap from the hoard as hands could bearand hurriedly carried it hither backto my liege and lord. Alive was he still,still wielding his wits. The wise old manspake much in his sorrow, and sent you greetingsand bade that ye build, when he breathed no more,on the place of his balefire a barrow high,memorial mighty. Of men was heworthiest warrior wide earth o’erthe while he had joy of his jewels and burg.Let us set out in haste now, the second timeto see and search this store of treasure,these wall-hid wonders, -- the way I show you, --where, gathered near, ye may gaze your fillat broad-gold and rings. Let the bier, soon made,be all in order when out we come,our king and captain to carry thither-- man beloved -- where long he shall bidesafe in the shelter of sovran God.”Then the bairn of Weohstan bade command,hardy chief, to heroes manythat owned their homesteads, hither to bringfirewood from far -- o’er the folk they ruled --for the famed-one’s funeral. “ Fire shall devourand wan flames feed on the fearless warriorwho oft stood stout in the iron-shower,when, sped from the string, a storm of arrowsshot o’er the shield-wall: the shaft held firm,featly feathered, followed the barb.”And now the sage young son of Weohstanseven chose of the chieftain’s thanes,the best he found that band within,and went with these warriors, one of eight,under hostile roof. In hand one borea lighted torch and led the way.No lots they cast for keeping the hoardwhen once the warriors saw it in hall,altogether without a guardian,lying there lost. And little they mournedwhen they had hastily haled it out,dear-bought treasure! The dragon they cast,the worm, o’er the wall for the wave to take,and surges swallowed that shepherd of gems.Then the woven gold on a wain was laden --countless quite! -- and the king was borne,hoary hero, to Hrones-Ness.
XLI
THEN fashioned for him the folk of Geatsfirm on the earth a funeral-pile,and hung it with helmets and harness of warand breastplates bright, as the boon he asked;and they laid amid it the mighty chieftain,heroes mourning their master dear.Then on the hill that hugest of balefiresthe warriors wakened. Wood-smoke roseblack over blaze, and blent was the roarof flame with weeping (the wind was still),till the fire had broken the frame of bones,hot at the heart. In heavy moodtheir misery moaned they, their master’s death.Wailing her woe, the widow{41a}old,her hair upbound, for Beowulf’s deathsung in her sorrow, and said full oftshe dreaded the doleful days to come,deaths enow, and doom of battle,and shame. -- The smoke by the sky was devoured.The folk of the Weders fashioned thereon the headland a barrow broad and high,by ocean-farers far descried:in ten days’ time their toil had raised it,the battle-brave’s beacon. Round brands of the pyrea wall they built, the worthiest everthat wit could prompt in their wisest men.They placed in the barrow that precious booty,the rounds and the rings they had reft erewhile,hardy heroes, from hoard in cave, --trusting the ground with treasure of earls,gold in the earth, where ever it liesuseless to men as of yore it was.Then about that barrow the battle-keen rode,atheling-born, a band of twelve,lament to make, to mourn their king,chant their dirge, and their chieftain honor.They praised his earlship, his acts of prowessworthily witnessed: and well it isthat men their master-friend mightily laud,heartily love, when hence he goesfrom life in the body forlorn away.
Thus made their mourning the men of Geatland,for their hero’s passing his hearth-companions:quoth that of all the kings of earth,of men he was mildest and most beloved,to his kin the kindest, keenest for praise.
{0a}Not, of course, Beowulf the Great, hero of the epic.
{0b}Kenning for king or chieftain of a comitatus: he breaks off gold from the spiral rings -- often worn on the arm -- and so rewards his followers.
{1a}That is, “The Hart,” or “Stag,” so called from decorations in the gables that resembled the antlers of a deer. This hall has been carefully described in a pamphlet by Heyne. The building was rectangular, with opposite doors -- mainly west and east -- and a hearth in the middle of th single room. A row of pillars down each side, at some distance from the walls, made a space which was raised a little above the main floor, and was furnished with two rows of seats. On one side, usually south, was the high-seat midway between the doors. Opposite this, on the other raised space, was another seat of honor. At the banquet soon to be described, Hrothgar sat in the south or chief high-seat, and Beowulf opposite to him. The scene for a flying (see below, v.499) was thus very effectively set. Planks on trestles -- the “board” of later English literature -- formed the tables just in front of the long rows of seats, and were taken away after banquets, when the retainers were ready to stretch themselves out for sleep on the benches.
{1b}Fire was the usual end of these halls. See v. 781 below. One thinks of the splendid scene at the end of the Nibelungen, of the Nialssaga, of Saxo’s story of Amlethus, and many a less famous instance.
{1c}It is to be supposed that all hearers of this poem knew how Hrothgar’s hall was burnt, -- perhaps in the unsuccessful attack made on him by his son-in-law Ingeld.
{1d}A skilled minstrel. The Danes are heathens, as one is told presently; but this lay of beginnings is taken from Genesis.
{1e}A disturber of the border, one who sallies from his haunt in the fen and roams over the country near by. This probably pagan nuisance is now furnished with biblical credentials as a fiend or devil in good standing, so that all Christian Englishmen might read about him. “Grendel” may mean one who grinds and crushes.
{1f}Cain’s.
{1g}Giants.
{2a}The smaller buildings within the main enclosure but separate from the hall.
{2b}Grendel.
{2c}“Sorcerers-of-hell.”
{2d}Hrothgar, who is the “Scyldings’-friend” of 170.
{2e}That is, in formal or prescribed phrase.
{3a}Ship.
{3b}That is, since Beowulf selected his ship and led his men to the harbor.
{3c}One of the auxiliary names of the Geats.
{3d}Or: Not thus openly ever came warriors hither; yet...
{4a}Hrothgar.
{4b}Beowulf’s helmet has several boar-images on it; he is the “man of war”; and the boar-helmet guards him as typical representative of the marching party as a whole. The boar was sacred to Freyr, who was the favorite god of the Germanic tribes about the North Sea and the Baltic. Rude representations of warriors show the boar on the helmet quite as large as the helmet itself.
{5a}Either merely paved, the strata via of the Romans, or else thought of as a sort of mosaic, an extravagant touch like the reckless waste of gold on the walls and roofs of a hall.
{6a}The nicor, says Bugge, is a hippopotamus; a walrus, says Ten Brink. But that water-goblin who covers the space from Old Nick of jest to the Neckan and Nix of poetry and tale, is all one needs, and Nicor is a good name for him.
{6b}His own people, the Geats.
{6c}That is, cover it as with a face-cloth. “There will be no need of funeral rites.”
{6d}Personification of Battle.
{6e}The Germanic Vulcan.
{6f}This mighty power, whom the Christian poet can still revere, has here the general force of “Destiny.”
{7a}There is no irrelevance here. Hrothgar sees in Beowulf’s mission a heritage of duty, a return of the good offices which the Danish king rendered to Beowulf’s father in time of dire need.
{7b}Money, for wergild, or man-price.
{7c}Ecgtheow, Beowulf’s sire.
{8a}“Began the fight.”
{8b}Breca.
{9a}Murder.
{10a}Beowulf, -- the “one.”
{11a}That is, he was a “lost soul,” doomed to hell.
{12a}Kenning for Beowulf.
{13a}“Guarded the treasure.”
{13b}Sc. Heremod.
{13c}The singer has sung his lays, and the epic resumes its story. The time-relations are not altogether good in this long passage which describes the rejoicings of “the day after”; but the present shift from the riders on the road to the folk at the hall is not very violent, and is of a piece with the general style.
{14a}Unferth, Beowulf’s sometime opponent in the flyting.
{15a}There is no horrible inconsistency here such as the critics strive and cry about. In spite of the ruin that Grendel and Beowulf had made within the hall, the framework and roof held firm, and swift repairs made the interior habitable. Tapestries were hung on the walls, and willing hands prepared the banquet.
{15b}From its formal use in other places, this phrase, to take cup in hall, or “on the floor,” would seem to mean that Beowulf stood up to receive his gifts, drink to the donor, and say thanks.
{15c}Kenning for sword.
{15d}Hrothgar. He is also the “refuge of the friends of Ing,” below. Ing belongs to myth.
{15e}Horses are frequently led or ridden into the hall where folk sit at banquet: so in Chaucer’s Squire’s tale, in the ballad of King Estmere, and in the romances.
{16a}Man-price, wergild.
{16b}Beowulf’s.
{16c}Hrothgar.
{16d}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.
{16e}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.
{16f}The “enemies” must be the Frisians.
{16g}Battlefield. -- Hengest is the “prince’s thane,” companion of Hnaef. “Folcwald’s son” is Finn.
{16h}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.
{16i}Hnaef.
{16j}The high place chosen for the funeral: see description of Beowulf’s funeral-pile at the end of the poem.
{16k}Wounds.
{17a}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.
{17b}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.
{19a}They had laid their arms on the benches near where they slept.
{20a}He surmises presently where she is.
{20b}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.
{21a}Hrothgar is probably meant.
{21b}Meeting place.
{22a}Kenning for “sword.” Hrunting is bewitched, laid under a spell of uselessness, along with all other swords.
{22b}This brown of swords, evidently meaning burnished, bright, continues to be a favorite adjective in the popular ballads.
{23a}After the killing of the monster and Grendel’s decapitation.
{23b}Hrothgar.
{23c}The blade slowly dissolves in blood-stained drops like icicles.
{23d}Spear.
{24a}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.”
{25a}That is, he is now undefended by conscience from the temptations (shafts) of the devil.
{25b}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.
{26a}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.”
{27a}With the speed of the boat.
{27b}Queen to Hygelac. She is praised by contrast with the antitype, Thryth, just as Beowulf was praised by contrast with Heremod.
{27c}Kenning for “wife.”
{28a}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. Note:
{28b}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.
{28c}That is, their disastrous battle and the slaying of their king.
{28d}The sword.
{28e}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.
{28f}Not an actual glove, but a sort of bag.
{29a}Hygelac.
{29b}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.”
{29c}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.
{29d}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.
{29e}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.
{31a}Literally “loan-days,” days loaned to man.
{31b}Chattuarii, a tribe that dwelt along the Rhine, and took part in repelling the raid of (Hygelac) Chocilaicus.
{31c}Onla, son of Ongentheow, who pursues his two nephews Eanmund and Eadgils to Heardred’s court, where they have taken refuge after their unsuccessful rebellion. In the fighting Heardred is killed.
{32a}That is, Beowulf supports Eadgils against Onela, who is slain by Eadgils in revenge for the “care-paths” of exile into which Onela forced him.
{32b}That is, the king could claim no wergild, or man-price, from one son for the killing of the other.
{32c}Usual euphemism for death.
{32d}Sc. in the grave.
{33a}Eofor for Wulf. -- The immediate provocation for Eofor in killing “the hoary Scylfing,” Ongentheow, is that the latter has just struck Wulf down; but the king, Haethcyn, is also avenged by the blow. See the detailed description below.
{33b}Hygelac.
{33c}Shield.
{33d}The hollow passage.
{34a}That is, although Eanmund was brother’s son to Onela, the slaying of the former by Weohstan is not felt as cause of feud, and is rewarded by gift of the slain man’s weapons.
{34b}Both Wiglaf and the sword did their duty. -- The following is one of the classic passages for illustrating the comitatus as the most conspicuous Germanic institution, and its underlying sense of duty, based partly on the idea of loyalty and partly on the practical basis of benefits received and repaid.
{34c}Sc. “than to bide safely here,” -- a common figure of incomplete comparison.
{34d}Wiglaf’s wooden shield.
{34e}Gering would translate “kinsman of the nail,” as both are made of iron.
{35a}That is, swords.
{36a}Where Beowulf lay.
{37a}What had been left or made by the hammer; well-forged.
{37b}Trying to revive him.
{38a}Nothing.
{38b}Dead.
{38c}Death-watch, guard of honor, “lyke-wake.”
{38d}A name for the Franks.
{38e}Ongentheow.
{38f}Haethcyn.
{39a}The line may mean: till Hrethelings stormed on the hedged shields, -- i.e. the shield-wall or hedge of defensive war -- Hrethelings, of course, are Geats.
{39b}Eofor, brother to Wulf Wonreding.
{39c}Sc. “value in” hides and the weight of the gold.
{39d}Not at all.
{39e}Laid on it when it was put in the barrow. This spell, or in our days the “curse,” either prevented discovery or brought dire ills on the finder and taker.
{40a}Probably the fugitive is meant who discovered the hoard. Ten Brink and Gering assume that the dragon is meant. “Hid” may well mean here “took while in hiding.”
{40b}That is “one and a few others.” But Beowulf seems to be indicated.
{40c}Ten Brink points out the strongly heathen character of this part of the epic. Beowulf’s end came, so the old tradition ran, from his unwitting interference with spell-bound treasure.
{40d}A hard saying, variously interpreted. In any case, it is the somewhat clumsy effort of the Christian poet to tone down the heathenism of his material by an edifying observation.
{41a}Nothing is said of Beowulf’s wife in the poem, but Bugge surmises that Beowulf finally accepted Hygd’s offer of kingdom and hoard, and, as was usual, took her into the bargain.