And for Hrothgar straightway then was bitted a horse,1400A wave-maned steed: and the wise of the princesWent stately his ways; and stepp'd out the man-troop,The linden-board bearers. Now lightly the tracks wereAll through the woodland ways wide to be seen there,Her goings o'er ground; she had gotten her forthrightOver the mirk-moor: bore she of kindred thanesThe best that there was, all bare of his soul,Of them that with Hrothgar heeded the home.Overwent then that bairn of the athelingsSteep bents of the stones, and stridings full narrow,1410Strait paths nothing pass'd over, ways all uncouth,Sheer nesses to wit, many houses of nicors.He one of the few was going beforeOf the wise of the men the meadow to look on,Until suddenly there the trees of the mountainsOver the hoar-stone found he a-leaning,A wood without gladness: the water stood underDreary and troubled. Unto all the Danes was it,To the friends of the Scyldings, most grievous in moodTo many of thanes such a thing to be tholing,1420Sore evil to each one of earls, for of AeschereThe head did they find e'en there on the holm-cliff;The flood with gore welled (the folk looking on it),With hot blood. But whiles then the horn fell to singingA song of war eager. There sat down the band;They saw down the water a many of worm-kind,Sea-drakes seldom seen a-kenning the sound;Likewise on the ness-bents nicors a-lying,Who oft on the undern-tide wont are to hold themA course full of sorrow all over the sail-road.1430Now the worms and the wild-deer away did they speedBitter and wrath-swollen all as they heard it,The war-horn a-wailing: but one the Geats' wardenWith his bow of the shafts from his life-days there sunder'd,From his strife of the waves; so that stood in his life-partsThe hard arrow of war; and he in the holm wasThe slower in swimming as death away swept him.So swiftly in sea-waves with boar-spears forsoothSharp-hook'd and hard-press'd was he thereupon,Set on with fierce battle, and on to the ness tugg'd,1440The wondrous wave-bearer; and men were beholdingThe grisly guest, Beowulf therewith he gear'd himWith weed of the earls: nowise of life reck'd he:Needs must his war-byrny, braided by hands,Wide, many-colour'd by cunning, the sound seek,E'en that which his bone-coffer knew how to ward,So that the war-grip his heart ne'er a while,The foe-snatch of the wrathful his life ne'er should scathe;Therewith the white war-helm warded his head,E'en that which should mingle with ground of the mere,1450And seek the sound-welter, with treasure beworthy'd,All girt with the lordly chains, as in days gone byThe weapon-smith wrought it most wondrously done,Beset with the swine-shapes, so that sithenceThe brand or the battle-blades never might bite it.Nor forsooth was that littlest of all of his mainstays,Which to him in his need lent the spokesman of Hrothgar,E'en the battle-sword hafted that had to name Hrunting,That in fore days was one of the treasures of old,The edges of iron with the poison twigs o'er-stain'd,1460With battle-sweat harden'd; in the brunt never fail'd heAny one of the warriors whose hand wound about him,Who in grisly wayfarings durst ever to wend himTo the folk-stead of foemen. Not the first of times was itThat battle-work doughty it had to be doing.Forsooth naught remember'd that son there of Ecglaf,The crafty in mighty deeds, what ere he quothAll drunken with wine, when the weapon he lentTo a doughtier sword-wolf: himself naught he durst itUnder war of the waves there his life to adventure1470And warrior-ship work. So forwent he the glory,The fair fame of valour. Naught far'd so the otherSyth he to the war-tide had gear'd him to wend.XXIII. BEOWULF REACHETH THE MERE-BOTTOM IN A DAY’S WHILE, AND CONTENDS WITH GRENDEL’S DAM.Outthen spake Beowulf, Ecgtheow's bairn:Forsooth be thou mindful, O great son of Healfdene,O praise of the princes, now way-fain am I,O gold-friend of men, what we twain spake aforetime:If to me for thy need it might so befallThat I cease from my life-days, thou shouldest be everTo me, forth away wended, in the stead of a father.1480Do thou then bear in hand these thanes of my kindred,My hand-fellows, if so be battle shall have me;Those same treasures withal, which thou gavest me erst,O Hrothgar the lief, unto Hygelac send thou;By that gold then shall wot the lord of the Geat-folk,Shall Hrethel's son see, when he stares on the treasure,That I in fair man-deeds a good one have found me,A ring-giver; while I might, joy made I thereof.And let thou then Unferth the ancient loom have,The wave-sword adorned, that man kenned widely,1490The blade of hard edges; for I now with HruntingWill work me the glory, or else shall death get me.So after these words the Weder-Geats' chieftainWith might of heart hasten'd; nor for answer then would heAught tarry; the sea-welter straightway took hold onThe warrior of men: wore the while of a daytideOr ever the ground-plain might he set eyes on.Soon did she find, she who the flood-ringSword-ravening had held for an hundred of seasons,Greedy and grim, that there one man of grooms1500The abode of the alien-wights sought from above;Then toward him she grasp'd and gat hold on the warriorWith fell clutch, but no sooner she scathed withinwardThe hale body; rings from without-ward it warded,That she could in no wise the war-skin clutch through,The fast locked limb-sark, with fingers all loathly.So bare then that sea-wolf when she came unto bottomThe king of the rings to the court-hall adownIn such wise that he might not, though hard-moody was he,Be wielding of weapons. But a many of wonders1510In sea-swimming swink'd him, and many a sea-deerWith his war-tusks was breaking his sark of the battle;The fell wights him follow'd. 'Twas then the earl found itThat in foe-hall there was he, I wot not of which,Where never the water might scathe him a whit,Nor because of the roof-hall might reach to him thereThe fear-grip of the flood. Now fire-light he saw,The bleak beam forsooth all brightly a-shining.Then the good one, he saw the wolf of the ground,The mere-wife the mighty, and main onset made he1520With his battle-bill; never his hand withheld sword-swingSo that there on her head sang the ring-sword forsoothThe song of war greedy. But then found the guestThat the beam of the battle would bite not therewith,Or scathe life at all, but there failed the edgeThe king in his need. It had ere thol'd a manyOf meetings of hand; oft it sheared the helm,The host-rail of the fey one; and then was the first timeFor that treasure dear lov'd that its might lay a-low.But therewithal steadfast, naught sluggish of valour,1530All mindful of high deeds was Hygelac's kinsman.Cast then the wounden blade bound with the gem-stonesThe warrior all angry, that it lay on the earth there,Stiff-wrought and steel-edged. In strength now he trusted,The hard hand-grip of might and main; so shall a man doWhen he in the war-tide yet looketh to winningThe praise that is longsome, nor aught for life careth.Then fast by the shoulder, of the feud nothing recking,The lord of the War-Geats clutch'd Grendel's mother,Cast down the battle-hard, bollen with anger,1540That foe of the life, till she bow'd to the floor;But swiftly to him gave she back the hand-guerdonWith hand-graspings grim, and griped against him;Then mood-weary stumbled the strongest of warriors,The foot-kemp, until that adown there he fell.Then she sat on the hall-guest and tugg'd out her sax,The broad and brown-edged, to wreak her her son,Her offspring her own. But lay yet on his shoulderThe breast-net well braided, the berg of his life,That 'gainst point and 'gainst edge the entrance withstood.1550Gone amiss then forsooth had been Ecgtheow's sonUnderneath the wide ground there, the kemp of the Geats,Save to him his war-byrny had fram'd him a help,The hard host-net; and save that the Lord God the HolyHad wielded the war-gain, the Lord the All-wise;Save that the skies' Ruler had rightwisely doom'd itAll easily. Sithence he stood up again.XXIV. BEOWULF SLAYETH GRENDEL’S DAM, SMITETH OFF GRENDEL’S HEAD, AND COMETH BACK WITH HIS THANES TO HART.Midstthe war-gear he saw then a bill victory-wealthy,An old sword of eotens full doughty of edges,The worship of warriors. That was choice of all weapons,1560Save that more was it made than any man otherIn the battle-play ever might bear it afield,So goodly, all glorious, the work of the giants.Then the girdled hilt seiz'd he, the Wolf of the Scyldings,The rough and the sword-grim, and drew forth the ring-sword,Naught weening of life, and wrathful he smote thenSo that there on her halse the hard edge begripped,And brake through the bone-rings: the bill all through-wadedHer flesh-sheathing fey; cring'd she down on the floor;The sword was war-sweaty, the man in his work joy'd.1570The bright beam shone forth, the light stood withinward,E'en as down from the heavens' clear high aloft shinethThe sky's candle. He all along the house scanned;Then turn'd by the wall along, heav'd up his weaponHard by the hilts the Hygelac's thane there,Ireful one-reded; naught worthless the edge wasUnto the warrior; but rathely now would heTo Grendel make payment of many war-onsets,Of them that he wrought on the folk of the West DanesOftener by mickle than one time alone,1580Whenas he the hearthfellows of Hrothgar the KingSlew in their slumber and fretted them sleeping,Men fifteen to wit of the folk of the Danes,And e'en such another deal ferry'd off outward,Loathly prey. Now he paid him his guerdon therefor,The fierce champion; so well, that abed there he sawWhere Grendel war-weary was lying adownForlorn of his life, as him ere had scathedThe battle at Hart; sprang wide the body,Sithence after death he suffer'd the stroke,1590The hard swing of sword. Then he smote the head off him.Now soon were they seeing, those sage of the carles,E'en they who with Hrothgar gaz'd down on the holm,That the surge of the billows was blended about,The sea stain'd with blood. Therewith the hoar-blended,The old men, of the good one gat talking togetherThat they of the Atheling ween'd never eft-soonThat he, glad in his war-gain, should wend him a-seekingThe mighty king, since unto many it seemedThat him the mere-she-wolf had sunder'd and broken.1600Came then nones of the day, and the ness there they gave up,The Scyldings the brisk; and then busk'd him home thence-wardThe gold-friend of men. But the guests, there they satAll sick of their mood, and star'd on the mere;They wist not, they ween'd not if him their own friend-lordHimself they should see.Now that sword beganBecause of the war-sweat into icicles war-made,The war-bill, to wane: that was one of the wondersThat it melted away most like unto iceWhen the bond of the frost the Father lets loosen,1610Unwindeth the wave-ropes, e'en he that hath wieldingOf times and of seasons, who is the sooth Shaper.In those wicks there he took not, the Weder-Geats' champion,Of treasure-wealth more, though he saw there a many,Than the off-smitten head and the sword-hilts togetherWith treasure made shifting; for the sword-blade was molten,The sword broider'd was burn'd up, so hot was that blood,So poisonous the alien ghost there that had died.Now soon was a-swimming he who erst in the strife bodeThe war-onset of wrath ones; he div'd up through the water;1620And now were the wave-welters cleansed full well,Yea the dwellings full wide, where the ghost of elsewhitherLet go of his life-days and the waning of living.Came then unto land the helm of the ship-ladsSwimming stout-hearted, glad of his sea-spoil,The burden so mighty of that which he bore there.Yode then against him and gave thanks to GodThat fair heap of thanes, and were fain of their lord,For that hale and sound now they might see him with eyen;Then was from the bold one the helm and the byrny1630All speedily loosen'd. The lake now was laid,The water 'neath welkin with war-gore bestained.Forth then they far'd them alongst of the foot-tracks,Men fain of heart all, as they meted the earth-way,The street the well known; then those king-bold of menAway from the holm-cliff the head there they boreUneasily ever to each one that bore it,The full stout-heart of men: it was four of them needs mustOn the stake of the slaughter with strong toil there ferryUnto the gold-hall the head of that Grendel;1640Until forthright in haste came into that hall,Fierce, keen in the hosting, a fourteen of menOf the Geat-folk a-ganging; and with them their lord,The moody amidst of the throng, trod the mead-plains;Came then in a-wending the foreman of thanes,The man keen of his deeds all beworshipp'd of doom,The hero, the battle-deer, Hrothgar to greet.Then was by the fell borne in onto the floorGrendel's head, whereas men were a-drinking in hall,Aweful before the earls, yea and the woman.1650The sight wondrous to see the warriors there look'd on.XXV. CONVERSE OF HROTHGAR WITH BEOWULF.Spakeout then Beowulf, Ecgtheow's bairn:What! we the sea-spoils here to thee, son of Healfdene,High lord of the Scyldings, with lust have brought hitherFor a token of glory, e'en these thou beholdest.Now I all unsoftly with life I escaped,In war under the water dar'd I the workFull hard to be worked, and well-nigh there wasThe sundering of strife, save that me God had shielded.So it is that in battle naught might I with Hrunting1660One whit do the work, though the weapon be doughty;But to me then he granted, the Wielder of men,That on wall I beheld there all beauteous hangingAn ancient sword, might-endow'd (often he leadeth rightThe friendless of men); so forth drew I that weapon.In that onset I slew there, as hap then appaid me,The herd of the house; then that bill of the host,The broider'd sword, burn'd up, and that blood sprang forthThe hottest of battle-sweats; but the hilts thereof thenceforthFrom the foemen I ferry'd. I wreaked the foul deeds,1670The death-quelling of Danes, e'en as duly behoved.Now this I behote thee, that here in Hart mayst thouSleep sorrowless henceforth with the host of thy menAnd the thanes every one that are of thy peopleOf doughty and young; that for them need thou dread not,O high lord of Scyldings, on that behalf soothlyLife-bale for the earls as erst thou hast done.Then was the hilt golden to the ancient of warriors,The hoary of host-leaders, into hand given,The old work of giants; it turn'd to the owning,1680After fall of the Devils, of the lord of the Danes,That work of the wonder-smith, syth gave up the worldThe fierce-hearted groom, the foeman of God,The murder-beguilted, and there eke his mother;Unto the wielding of world-kings it turned,The best that there be betwixt of the sea-floodsOf them that in Scaney dealt out the scat.Now spake out Hrothgar, as he look'd on the hilts there,The old heir-loom whereon was writ the beginningOf the strife of the old time, whenas the flood slew,1690The ocean a-gushing, that kin of the giantsAs fiercely they fared. That was a folk alienTo the Lord everlasting; so to them a last guerdonThrough the welling of waters the Wielder did give.So was on the sword-guards all of the sheer goldBy dint of the rune-staves rightly bemarked,Set down and said for whom first was that sword wrought,And the choice of all irons erst had been done,Wreath-hilted and worm-adorn'd. Then spake the wise one,Healfdene's son, and all were gone silent:1700Lo that may he say, who the right and the soothfastAmid the folk frameth, and far back all remembers,The old country's warden, that as for this earl hereBorn better was he. Uprear'd is the fame-blastThrough wide ways far yonder, O Beowulf, friend mine,Of thee o'er all peoples. Thou hold'st all with patience,Thy might with mood-wisdom; I shall make thee my love good,As we twain at first spake it. For a comfort thou shalt beGranted long while and long unto thy people,For a help unto heroes. Naught such became Heremod1710To Ecgwela's offspring, the honourful Scyldings;For their welfare naught wax'd he, but for felling in slaughter,For the quelling of death to the folk of the Danes.Mood-swollen he brake there his board-fellows soothly,His shoulder-friends, until he sunder'd him lonely,That mighty of princes, from the mirth of all men-folk.Though him God the mighty in the joyance of might,In main strength, exalted high over all-men,And framed him forth, yet fast in his heart grewA breast-hoard blood-fierce; none of fair rings he gave1720To the Danes as due doom would. Unmerry he duredSo that yet of that strife the trouble he suffer'd.A folk-bale so longsome. By such do thou learn thee,Get thee hold of man-valour: this tale for thy teachingOld in winters I tell thee. 'Tis wonder to say it,How the high God almighty to the kindred of mankindThrough his mind the wide-fashion'd deals wisdom about,Home and earlship; he owneth the wielding of all.At whiles unto love he letteth to turnThe mood-thought of a man that Is mighty of kindred,1730And in his land giveth him joyance of earth,And to have and to hold the high ward-burg of men,And sets so 'neath his wielding the deals of the world,Dominion wide reaching, that he himself may notIn all his unwisdom of the ending bethink him.He wonneth well-faring, nothing him wastethSickness nor eld, nor the foe-sorrow to himDark in mind waxeth, nor strife any where,The edge-hate, appeareth; but all the world for himWends as he willeth, and the worse naught he wotteth.XXVI. MORE CONVERSE OF HROTHGAR AND BEOWULF: THE GEATS MAKE THEM READY FOR DEPARTURE.1740Untilthat within him a deal of o'erthink-ingWaxeth and groweth while sleepeth the warder,The soul's herdsman; that slumber too fast is forsooth,Fast bounden by troubles, the banesman all nigh,E'en he that from arrow-bow evilly shooteth.Then he in his heart under helm is besmittenWith a bitter shaft; not a whit then may he ward himFrom the wry wonder-biddings of the ghost the all-wicked.Too little he deems that which long he hath hold.Wrath-greedy he covets; nor e'en for boast-sake gives1750The rings fair beplated; and the forth-coming doomForgetteth, forheedeth, for that God gave him erewhile,The Wielder of glory, a deal of the worship.At the ending-stave then it after befallethThat the shell of his body sinks fleeting away,And falleth all fey; and another one fetcheth,E'en one that undolefully dealeth the treasure,The earl's gains of aforetime, and fear never heedeth.From the bale-envy ward thee, lief Beowulf, therefore,Thou best of all men, and choose thee the better,1760The redes everlasting; to o'erthinkirig turn not,O mighty of champions! for now thy might breathethFor a short while of time; but eft-soon it shall beThat sickness or edges from thy strength thee shall sunder,Or the hold of the fire, or the welling of floods,Or the grip of the sword-blade, or flight of the spear,Or eld the all-evil: or the beaming of eyenShall fail and shall dim: then shall it be forthrightThat thee, lordly man, the death over-masters.E'en so I the Ring-Danes for an hundred of seasons1770Did wield under the welkin and lock'd them by warFrom many a kindred the Middle-Garth overWith ash-spears and edges, in such wise that not everUnder the sky's run of my foemen I reckoned.What! to me in my land came a shifting of that,Came grief after game, sithence Grendel befell,My foeman of old, mine ingoer soothly.I from that onfall bore ever unceasingMickle mood-care; herefor be thanks to the Maker,To the Lord everlasting, that in life I abided,1780Yea, that I on that head all sword-gory there,Now the old strife is over, with eyen should stare.Go fare thou to settle, the feast-joyance dree thou,O war-worshipp'd! unto us twain yet there will beMickle treasure in common when come is the morning.Glad of mood then the Geat was, and speedy he gat himTo go see the settle, as the sage one commanded.Then was after as erst, that they of the might-fame,The floor-sitters, fairly the feasting bedight themAll newly. The helm of the night loured over1790Dark over the host-men. Uprose all the doughty,For he, the hoar-blended, would wend to his bed,That old man of the Scyldings. The Geat without measure,The mighty shield-warrior, now willed him rest.And soon now the hall-thane him of way-faring weary,From far away come, forth show'd him the road,E'en he who for courtesy cared for all thingsOf the needs of the thane, e'en such as on that dayThe farers o'er ocean would fainly have had.Rested then the wide-hearted; high up the house tower'd1800Wide-gaping all gold-dight; within slept the guest;Until the black raven, the blithe-hearted, bodedThe heavens' joy: then was come thither a-hasteningThe bright sun o'er the plains, and hastened the scathers,The athelings once more aback to their peopleAll fain to be faring; and far away thenceWould the comer high-hearted go visit his keel.Bade then the hard one Hrunting to bear,The Ecglaf's son bade to take him his sword,The iron well-lov'd; gave him thanks for the lending,1810Quoth he that the war-friend for worthy he told,Full of craft in the war; nor with word he aughtThe edge of the sword. Hah! the high-hearted warrior.So whenas all way-forward, yare in their war-gear,Were the warriors, the dear one then went to the Danes,To the high seat went the Atheling, whereas was the other;The battle-bold warrior gave greeting to Hrothgar.XXVII. BEOWULF BIDS HROTHGAR FAREWELL: THE GEATS FARE TO SHIP.Outthen spake Beowulf, Ecgtheow's bairn:As now we sea-farers have will to be saying,We from afar come, that now are we fainest1820Of seeking to Hygelac. Here well erst were weServ'd as our wills would, and well thine avail was.If I on the earth then, be it e'en but a little,Of the love of thy mood may yet more be an-earning,O lord of the men-folk, than heretofore might I,Of the works of the battle yare then soon shall I be.If I should be learning, I over the flood's run,That the sitters about thee beset thee with dread,Even thee hating as otherwhile did they;Then thousands to theeward of thanes shall I bring1830For the helping of heroes. Of Hygelac wot I,The lord of the Geat-folk, though he be but a youngling,That shepherd of folk, that me will he furtherBy words and by works, that well may I ward thee,And unto thine helping the spear-holt may bear,A main-staying mighty, whenas men thou art needing.And if therewith Hrethric in the courts of the Geat-house,The King's bairn, take hosting, then may he a manyOf friends find him soothly: far countries shall beBetter sought to by him who for himself is doughty.1840Out then spake Hrothgar in answer to himward:Thy word-saying soothly the Lord of all wisdomHath sent into thy mind; never heard I more sagelyIn a life that so young was a man word be laying;Strong of might and main art thou and sage of thy mood,Wise the words of thy framing. Tell I this for a weening,If it so come to pass that the spear yet shall take,Or the battle all sword-grim, the son of that Hrethel,Or sickness or iron thine Alderman have,Thy shepherd of folk, and thou fast to life hold thee,1850Then no better than thee may the Sea-Geats be havingTo choose for themselves, no one of the kings,Hoard-warden of heroes, if then thou wilt holdThy kinsman's own kingdom. Me liketh thy mood-heart,The longer the better, O Beowulf the lief;In such wise hast thou fared, that unto the folks now,The folk of the Geats and the Gar-Danes withal,In common shall peace be, and strife rest appeasedAnd the hatreds the doleful which erst they have dreed;Shall become, whiles I wield it, this wide realm of ours,1860Treasures common to either folk: many a one otherWith good things shall greet o'er the bath of the gannet;And the ring'd bark withal over sea shall be bringingThe gifts and love-tokens. The twain folks I knowToward foeman toward friend fast-fashion'd together,In every way blameless as in the old wise.Then the refuge of warriors, he gave him withal,Gave Healfdene's son of treasures yet twelve;And he bade him with those gifts to go his own peopleTo seek in all soundness, and swiftly come back.1870Then kissed the king, he of noble kin gotten,The lord of the Scyldings, that best of the thanes,By the halse then he took him; from him fell the tearsFrom the blended of hoar hair. Of both things was there hopingTo the old, the old wise one; yet most of the other,To wit, that they sithence each each might be seeing,The high-heart in council. To him so lief was heThat he his breast-welling might nowise forbear,But there in his bosom, bound fast in his heart-bonds,After that dear man a longing dim-hidden1880Burn'd against blood-tie. So Beowulf thenceforth,The gold-proud of warriors, trod the mould grassy,Exulting in gold-store. The sea-ganger bidedIts owning-lord whereas at anchor it rode.Then was there in going the gift of King HrothgarOft highly accounted; yea, that was a kingIn every wise blameless, till eld took from him eftsoonThe joyance of might, as it oft scathes a many.XXVIII. BEOWULF COMES BACK TO HIS LAND. OF THE TALE OF THRYTHO.Camea many to flood then all mighty of mood,Of the bachelors were they, and ring-nets they bore,1890The limb-sarks belocked. The land-warden notedThe earls' aback-faring, as erst he beheld them;Then nowise with harm from the nose of the cliffThe guests there he greeted, but rode unto themward,And quoth that full welcome to the folk of the WedersThe bright-coated warriors were wending to ship.Then was on the sand there the bark the wide-sidedWith war-weed beladen, the ring-stemm'd as she lay thereWith mares and with treasure; uptower'd the mastHigh over Hrothgar's wealth of the hoards.1900He then to the boat-warden handsel'd a gold-boundenSword, so that sithence was he on mead-benchWorthy'd the more for that very same wealth,The heirloom. Sithence in the ship he departedTo stir the deep water; the Dane-land he left.Then was by the mast there one of the sea-rails,A sail, with rope made fast; thunder'd the sound-wood.Not there the wave-floater did the wind o'er the billowsWaft off from its ways; the sea-wender fared,Floated the foamy-neck'd forth o'er the waves,1910The bounden-stemm'd over the streams of the sea;Till the cliffs of the Geats there they gat them to wit,The nesses well kenned. Throng'd up the keel thenDriven hard by the lift, and stood on the land.Then speedy at holm was the hythe-warden yare,E'en he who a long while after the lief menEager at stream's side far off had looked.To the sand thereon bound he the wide-fathom'd shipWith anchor-bands fast, lest from them the waves' mightThe wood that was winsome should drive thence awayward.1920Thereon bade he upbear the athelings' treasures,The fretwork and wrought gold. Not far from them thenceforthTo seek to the giver of treasures it was,E'en Hygelac, Hrethel's son, where at home wonnethHimself and his fellows hard by the sea-wall.Brave was the builded house, bold king the lord was,High were the walls, Hygd very young,Wise and well-thriven, though few of wintersUnder the burg-locks had she abided,The daughter of Hæreth; naught was she dastard;1930Nowise niggard of gifts to the folk of the Geats,Of wealth of the treasures. But wrath Thrytho bore,The folk-queen the fierce, wrought the crime-deed full fearful.No one there durst it, the bold one, to dare,Of the comrades beloved, save only her lord,That on her by day with eyen he stare,But if to him death-bonds predestin'd he count on,Hand-wreathed; thereafter all rathely it wasAfter the hand-grip the sword-blade appointed,That the cunning-wrought sword should show forth the deed,1940Make known the murder-bale. Naught is such queenlikeFor a woman to handle, though peerless she be,That a weaver of peace the life should waylay,For a shame that was lying, of a lief man of men;But the kinsman of Hemming, he hinder'd it surely.Yet the drinkers of ale otherwise said they;That folk-bales, which were lesser, she framed forsooth,Lesser enmity-malice, since thence erst she wasGiven gold-deck'd to the young one of champions,She the dear of her lineage, since Offa's floor1950Over the fallow flood by the lore of her fatherShe sought in her wayfaring. Well was she sithenceThere on the man-throne mighty with good;Her shaping of life well brooked she living;High love she held toward the lord of the heroes;Of all kindred of men by the hearsay of meThe best of all was he the twain seas beside,Of the measureless kindred; thereof Offa wasFor gifts and for war, the spear-keen of men,Full widely beworthy'd, with wisdom he held1960The land of his heritage. Thence awoke EomærFor a help unto heroes, the kinsman of Hemming,The grandson of Garmund, the crafty in war-strife.XXIX. BEOWULF TELLS HYGELAC OF HROTHGAR: ALSO OF FREAWARU HIS DAUGHTER.Wenthis ways then the hard one, and he with his hand-shoal,Himself over the sand the sea-plain a-treading,The warths wide away; shone the world's candle,The sun slop'd from the southward; so dreed they their journey,And went their ways stoutly unto where the earls' refuge,The banesman of Ongentheow all in his burgs there,The young king of war, the good, as they heard it.1970Was dealing the rings. Aright unto HygelacWas Beowulf's speeding made knowen full swiftly,That there into the house-place that hedge of the warriors,His mate of the linden-board, living was come,Hale from the battle-play home to him houseward.Then rathe was beroomed, as the rich one was bidding,For the guests a-foot going the floor all withinward.Then sat in the face of him he from the fight sav'd,Kinsman by kinsman, whenas his man-lordIn fair-sounding speech had greeted the faithful1980With mightyful words. With mead-skinking turnedThrough the high house adown the daughter of Hæreth:The people she loved: the wine-bucket bare sheTo the hands of the men. But now fell to HygelacHis very house-fellow in that hall the highTo question full fairly, for wit-lust to-brake him,Of what like were the journeys the Sea-Geats had wended:How befell you the sea-lode, O Beowulf lief,When thou on a sudden bethoughtst thee afarOver the salt water the strife to be seeking,1990The battle in Hart? or for Hrothgar forsoothThe wide-kenned woe some whit didst thou mend,For that mighty of lords? I therefore the mood-careIn woe-wellings seethed; trow'd not in the wendingOf thee the lief man. A long while did I pray theeThat thou the death-guest there should greet not a whit;Wouldst let those same South-Danes their own selves to settleThe war-tide with Grendel. Now to God say I thankThat thee, and thee sound, now may I see.Out then spake Beowulf, Ecgtheow's bairn:2000All undark it is, O Hygelac lord,That meeting the mighty, to a many of men;Of what like was the meeting of Grendel and meOn that field of the deed, where he many a dealFor the Victory-Scyldings of sorrow had framed,And misery for ever; but all that I awreaked,So that needeth not boast any kinsman of GrendelAny one upon earth of that uproar of dawn-dusk,Nay not who lives longest of that kindred the loathlyEncompass'd of fenland. Thither first did I come2010Unto that ring-hall Hrothgar to greet;Soon unto me the great Healfdene's son,So soon as my heart he was wotting forsooth.Right against his own son a settle there showed.All that throng was in joy, nor life-long saw I everUnder vault of the heavens amidst any hall-sittersMore mirth of the mead. There the mighty Queen whiles,Peace-sib of the folk, went all over the floor,To the young sons bade heart up; oft she there the ring-wreathGave unto a man ere to settle she wended.2020At whiles fore the doughty the daughter of HrothgarTo the earls at the end the ale-bucket bore;E'en she whom Freawaru the floor-sitters thereatHeard I to name; where she the nail'd treasureGave to the warriors. She was behight thenYoungling and gold-dight to the glad son of Froda.This hath seemed fair to the friend of the Scyldings,The herd of the realm, and good rede he accounts it,That he with that wife of death-feuds a dealAnd of strifes should allay. Oft unseldom eachwhere2030After a lord's fall e'en but for a littleBows down the bane-spear, though doughty the bride be.XXX. BEOWULF FOREBODES ILL FROM THE WEDDING OF FREAWARU: HE TELLS OF GRENDEL AND HIS DAM.Ill-likingthis may be to the lord of the Heathobards,And to each of the thanes of that same people.When he with fair bride on the floor of hall wendeth,That the Dane's noble bairn his doughty should wait on,As on him glisten there the heirlooms of the aged,Hard and with rings bedight, Heathobards' treasure,Whileas the weapons yet they might wield;Till astray did they lead there at the lind-play2040Their own fellows belov'd and their very own lives.For then saith at the beer, he who seeth the ring,An ancient ash-warrior who mindeth of allThe spear-death of men; grim is he of mind;Sad of mood he beginneth to tell the young champion.Through the thought of his heart his mind there to try,The war-bale to waken, and sayeth this word:Mayest thou, friend mine, wot of the war-sword,That which thy father bore in the fightUnder the war-mask e'en on the last time,2050That the dear iron, whereas the Danes slew him,Wielded the death-field, since Withergyld lay,After fall of the heroes, the keen-hearted Scyldings?Now here of those banesmen the son, whoseso he be,All merry in fretwork forth on floor fareth;Of the murder he boasteth, and that jewel he beareth,E'en that which of right thou shouldestarede.Thus he mindeth and maketh word every of times,With sore words he telleth, until the time comethThat the thane of the fair bride for the deeds of his father2060After bite of the bill sleepeth all blood-stain'd,All forfeit of life; but thenceforth the otherEscapeth alive; the land well he kenneth;Then will be broken on both sides forsoothThe oath-swearing of earls, whenas unto IngeldWell up the death-hatreds, and the wife-loves of himBecause of the care-wellings cooler become.Therefore the Heathobards' faith I account not,Their deal of the folk-peace, unguileful to Danes,Their fast-bounden friendship. Henceforth must I speak on2070Again about Grendel, that thou get well to know it,O treasure-out-dealer, how sithence betidedThe hand-race of heroes: sithence heaven's gemAll over the grounds glided, came the wroth guest,The dire night-angry one us to go look on,Whereas we all sound were warding the hall.There then for Handshoe was battle abiding,Life-bale to the fey; he first lay alow,The war-champion girded; unto him became Grendel,To the great thane of kindreds, a banesman of mouth,2080Of the man well-beloved the body he swallow'd;Nor the sooner therefor out empty-handedThe bloody-tooth'd banesman, of bales all bemindful,Out from that gold-hall yet would he get him;But he, mighty of main, made trial of me,And gripp'd ready-handed. His glove hung aloft,Wondrous and wide, in wily bands fast,With cunning wiles was it begeared forsooth,With crafts of the devils and fells of the dragons;He me withinwards there, me the unsinning,2090The doer of big deeds would do me to beAs one of the many; but naught so it might be,Sithence in mine anger upright I stood.'Tis over-long telling how I to the folkscatherFor each one of evils out paid the hand-gild.There I, O my lord king, them thy leal peopleWorthy'd with works: but away he gat loosedOut thence for a little while, brooked yet life-joys;But his right hand held ward of his track howsoever,High upon Hart-hall, and thence away humble2100He sad of his mood to the mere-ground fell downward.Me for that slaughter-race the friend of the ScyldingsWith gold that beplated was mickle deal paid,With a many of treasures, sithence came the morning,And we to the feast-tide had sat us adown;Song was and glee there; the elder of Scyldings,Asking of many things, told of things o'erpast;Whiles hath the battle-deer there the harp's joy,The wood of mirth greeted; whiles the lay said he
And for Hrothgar straightway then was bitted a horse,
A wave-maned steed: and the wise of the princes
Went stately his ways; and stepp'd out the man-troop,
The linden-board bearers. Now lightly the tracks were
All through the woodland ways wide to be seen there,
Her goings o'er ground; she had gotten her forthright
Over the mirk-moor: bore she of kindred thanes
The best that there was, all bare of his soul,
Of them that with Hrothgar heeded the home.
Overwent then that bairn of the athelings
Steep bents of the stones, and stridings full narrow,
Strait paths nothing pass'd over, ways all uncouth,
Sheer nesses to wit, many houses of nicors.
He one of the few was going before
Of the wise of the men the meadow to look on,
Until suddenly there the trees of the mountains
Over the hoar-stone found he a-leaning,
A wood without gladness: the water stood under
Dreary and troubled. Unto all the Danes was it,
To the friends of the Scyldings, most grievous in mood
To many of thanes such a thing to be tholing,
Sore evil to each one of earls, for of Aeschere
The head did they find e'en there on the holm-cliff;
The flood with gore welled (the folk looking on it),
With hot blood. But whiles then the horn fell to singing
A song of war eager. There sat down the band;
They saw down the water a many of worm-kind,
Sea-drakes seldom seen a-kenning the sound;
Likewise on the ness-bents nicors a-lying,
Who oft on the undern-tide wont are to hold them
A course full of sorrow all over the sail-road.
Now the worms and the wild-deer away did they speed
Bitter and wrath-swollen all as they heard it,
The war-horn a-wailing: but one the Geats' warden
With his bow of the shafts from his life-days there sunder'd,
From his strife of the waves; so that stood in his life-parts
The hard arrow of war; and he in the holm was
The slower in swimming as death away swept him.
So swiftly in sea-waves with boar-spears forsooth
Sharp-hook'd and hard-press'd was he thereupon,
Set on with fierce battle, and on to the ness tugg'd,
The wondrous wave-bearer; and men were beholding
The grisly guest, Beowulf therewith he gear'd him
With weed of the earls: nowise of life reck'd he:
Needs must his war-byrny, braided by hands,
Wide, many-colour'd by cunning, the sound seek,
E'en that which his bone-coffer knew how to ward,
So that the war-grip his heart ne'er a while,
The foe-snatch of the wrathful his life ne'er should scathe;
Therewith the white war-helm warded his head,
E'en that which should mingle with ground of the mere,
And seek the sound-welter, with treasure beworthy'd,
All girt with the lordly chains, as in days gone by
The weapon-smith wrought it most wondrously done,
Beset with the swine-shapes, so that sithence
The brand or the battle-blades never might bite it.
Nor forsooth was that littlest of all of his mainstays,
Which to him in his need lent the spokesman of Hrothgar,
E'en the battle-sword hafted that had to name Hrunting,
That in fore days was one of the treasures of old,
The edges of iron with the poison twigs o'er-stain'd,
With battle-sweat harden'd; in the brunt never fail'd he
Any one of the warriors whose hand wound about him,
Who in grisly wayfarings durst ever to wend him
To the folk-stead of foemen. Not the first of times was it
That battle-work doughty it had to be doing.
Forsooth naught remember'd that son there of Ecglaf,
The crafty in mighty deeds, what ere he quoth
All drunken with wine, when the weapon he lent
To a doughtier sword-wolf: himself naught he durst it
Under war of the waves there his life to adventure
And warrior-ship work. So forwent he the glory,
The fair fame of valour. Naught far'd so the other
Syth he to the war-tide had gear'd him to wend.
Outthen spake Beowulf, Ecgtheow's bairn:
Forsooth be thou mindful, O great son of Healfdene,
O praise of the princes, now way-fain am I,
O gold-friend of men, what we twain spake aforetime:
If to me for thy need it might so befall
That I cease from my life-days, thou shouldest be ever
To me, forth away wended, in the stead of a father.
Do thou then bear in hand these thanes of my kindred,
My hand-fellows, if so be battle shall have me;
Those same treasures withal, which thou gavest me erst,
O Hrothgar the lief, unto Hygelac send thou;
By that gold then shall wot the lord of the Geat-folk,
Shall Hrethel's son see, when he stares on the treasure,
That I in fair man-deeds a good one have found me,
A ring-giver; while I might, joy made I thereof.
And let thou then Unferth the ancient loom have,
The wave-sword adorned, that man kenned widely,
The blade of hard edges; for I now with Hrunting
Will work me the glory, or else shall death get me.
So after these words the Weder-Geats' chieftain
With might of heart hasten'd; nor for answer then would he
Aught tarry; the sea-welter straightway took hold on
The warrior of men: wore the while of a daytide
Or ever the ground-plain might he set eyes on.
Soon did she find, she who the flood-ring
Sword-ravening had held for an hundred of seasons,
Greedy and grim, that there one man of grooms
The abode of the alien-wights sought from above;
Then toward him she grasp'd and gat hold on the warrior
With fell clutch, but no sooner she scathed withinward
The hale body; rings from without-ward it warded,
That she could in no wise the war-skin clutch through,
The fast locked limb-sark, with fingers all loathly.
So bare then that sea-wolf when she came unto bottom
The king of the rings to the court-hall adown
In such wise that he might not, though hard-moody was he,
Be wielding of weapons. But a many of wonders
In sea-swimming swink'd him, and many a sea-deer
With his war-tusks was breaking his sark of the battle;
The fell wights him follow'd. 'Twas then the earl found it
That in foe-hall there was he, I wot not of which,
Where never the water might scathe him a whit,
Nor because of the roof-hall might reach to him there
The fear-grip of the flood. Now fire-light he saw,
The bleak beam forsooth all brightly a-shining.
Then the good one, he saw the wolf of the ground,
The mere-wife the mighty, and main onset made he
With his battle-bill; never his hand withheld sword-swing
So that there on her head sang the ring-sword forsooth
The song of war greedy. But then found the guest
That the beam of the battle would bite not therewith,
Or scathe life at all, but there failed the edge
The king in his need. It had ere thol'd a many
Of meetings of hand; oft it sheared the helm,
The host-rail of the fey one; and then was the first time
For that treasure dear lov'd that its might lay a-low.
But therewithal steadfast, naught sluggish of valour,
All mindful of high deeds was Hygelac's kinsman.
Cast then the wounden blade bound with the gem-stones
The warrior all angry, that it lay on the earth there,
Stiff-wrought and steel-edged. In strength now he trusted,
The hard hand-grip of might and main; so shall a man do
When he in the war-tide yet looketh to winning
The praise that is longsome, nor aught for life careth.
Then fast by the shoulder, of the feud nothing recking,
The lord of the War-Geats clutch'd Grendel's mother,
Cast down the battle-hard, bollen with anger,
That foe of the life, till she bow'd to the floor;
But swiftly to him gave she back the hand-guerdon
With hand-graspings grim, and griped against him;
Then mood-weary stumbled the strongest of warriors,
The foot-kemp, until that adown there he fell.
Then she sat on the hall-guest and tugg'd out her sax,
The broad and brown-edged, to wreak her her son,
Her offspring her own. But lay yet on his shoulder
The breast-net well braided, the berg of his life,
That 'gainst point and 'gainst edge the entrance withstood.
Gone amiss then forsooth had been Ecgtheow's son
Underneath the wide ground there, the kemp of the Geats,
Save to him his war-byrny had fram'd him a help,
The hard host-net; and save that the Lord God the Holy
Had wielded the war-gain, the Lord the All-wise;
Save that the skies' Ruler had rightwisely doom'd it
All easily. Sithence he stood up again.
Midstthe war-gear he saw then a bill victory-wealthy,
An old sword of eotens full doughty of edges,
The worship of warriors. That was choice of all weapons,
Save that more was it made than any man other
In the battle-play ever might bear it afield,
So goodly, all glorious, the work of the giants.
Then the girdled hilt seiz'd he, the Wolf of the Scyldings,
The rough and the sword-grim, and drew forth the ring-sword,
Naught weening of life, and wrathful he smote then
So that there on her halse the hard edge begripped,
And brake through the bone-rings: the bill all through-waded
Her flesh-sheathing fey; cring'd she down on the floor;
The sword was war-sweaty, the man in his work joy'd.
The bright beam shone forth, the light stood withinward,
E'en as down from the heavens' clear high aloft shineth
The sky's candle. He all along the house scanned;
Then turn'd by the wall along, heav'd up his weapon
Hard by the hilts the Hygelac's thane there,
Ireful one-reded; naught worthless the edge was
Unto the warrior; but rathely now would he
To Grendel make payment of many war-onsets,
Of them that he wrought on the folk of the West Danes
Oftener by mickle than one time alone,
Whenas he the hearthfellows of Hrothgar the King
Slew in their slumber and fretted them sleeping,
Men fifteen to wit of the folk of the Danes,
And e'en such another deal ferry'd off outward,
Loathly prey. Now he paid him his guerdon therefor,
The fierce champion; so well, that abed there he saw
Where Grendel war-weary was lying adown
Forlorn of his life, as him ere had scathed
The battle at Hart; sprang wide the body,
Sithence after death he suffer'd the stroke,
The hard swing of sword. Then he smote the head off him.
Now soon were they seeing, those sage of the carles,
E'en they who with Hrothgar gaz'd down on the holm,
That the surge of the billows was blended about,
The sea stain'd with blood. Therewith the hoar-blended,
The old men, of the good one gat talking together
That they of the Atheling ween'd never eft-soon
That he, glad in his war-gain, should wend him a-seeking
The mighty king, since unto many it seemed
That him the mere-she-wolf had sunder'd and broken.
Came then nones of the day, and the ness there they gave up,
The Scyldings the brisk; and then busk'd him home thence-ward
The gold-friend of men. But the guests, there they sat
All sick of their mood, and star'd on the mere;
They wist not, they ween'd not if him their own friend-lord
Himself they should see.
Now that sword began
Because of the war-sweat into icicles war-made,
The war-bill, to wane: that was one of the wonders
That it melted away most like unto ice
When the bond of the frost the Father lets loosen,
Unwindeth the wave-ropes, e'en he that hath wielding
Of times and of seasons, who is the sooth Shaper.
In those wicks there he took not, the Weder-Geats' champion,
Of treasure-wealth more, though he saw there a many,
Than the off-smitten head and the sword-hilts together
With treasure made shifting; for the sword-blade was molten,
The sword broider'd was burn'd up, so hot was that blood,
So poisonous the alien ghost there that had died.
Now soon was a-swimming he who erst in the strife bode
The war-onset of wrath ones; he div'd up through the water;
And now were the wave-welters cleansed full well,
Yea the dwellings full wide, where the ghost of elsewhither
Let go of his life-days and the waning of living.
Came then unto land the helm of the ship-lads
Swimming stout-hearted, glad of his sea-spoil,
The burden so mighty of that which he bore there.
Yode then against him and gave thanks to God
That fair heap of thanes, and were fain of their lord,
For that hale and sound now they might see him with eyen;
Then was from the bold one the helm and the byrny
All speedily loosen'd. The lake now was laid,
The water 'neath welkin with war-gore bestained.
Forth then they far'd them alongst of the foot-tracks,
Men fain of heart all, as they meted the earth-way,
The street the well known; then those king-bold of men
Away from the holm-cliff the head there they bore
Uneasily ever to each one that bore it,
The full stout-heart of men: it was four of them needs must
On the stake of the slaughter with strong toil there ferry
Unto the gold-hall the head of that Grendel;
Until forthright in haste came into that hall,
Fierce, keen in the hosting, a fourteen of men
Of the Geat-folk a-ganging; and with them their lord,
The moody amidst of the throng, trod the mead-plains;
Came then in a-wending the foreman of thanes,
The man keen of his deeds all beworshipp'd of doom,
The hero, the battle-deer, Hrothgar to greet.
Then was by the fell borne in onto the floor
Grendel's head, whereas men were a-drinking in hall,
Aweful before the earls, yea and the woman.
The sight wondrous to see the warriors there look'd on.
Spakeout then Beowulf, Ecgtheow's bairn:
What! we the sea-spoils here to thee, son of Healfdene,
High lord of the Scyldings, with lust have brought hither
For a token of glory, e'en these thou beholdest.
Now I all unsoftly with life I escaped,
In war under the water dar'd I the work
Full hard to be worked, and well-nigh there was
The sundering of strife, save that me God had shielded.
So it is that in battle naught might I with Hrunting
One whit do the work, though the weapon be doughty;
But to me then he granted, the Wielder of men,
That on wall I beheld there all beauteous hanging
An ancient sword, might-endow'd (often he leadeth right
The friendless of men); so forth drew I that weapon.
In that onset I slew there, as hap then appaid me,
The herd of the house; then that bill of the host,
The broider'd sword, burn'd up, and that blood sprang forth
The hottest of battle-sweats; but the hilts thereof thenceforth
From the foemen I ferry'd. I wreaked the foul deeds,
The death-quelling of Danes, e'en as duly behoved.
Now this I behote thee, that here in Hart mayst thou
Sleep sorrowless henceforth with the host of thy men
And the thanes every one that are of thy people
Of doughty and young; that for them need thou dread not,
O high lord of Scyldings, on that behalf soothly
Life-bale for the earls as erst thou hast done.
Then was the hilt golden to the ancient of warriors,
The hoary of host-leaders, into hand given,
The old work of giants; it turn'd to the owning,
After fall of the Devils, of the lord of the Danes,
That work of the wonder-smith, syth gave up the world
The fierce-hearted groom, the foeman of God,
The murder-beguilted, and there eke his mother;
Unto the wielding of world-kings it turned,
The best that there be betwixt of the sea-floods
Of them that in Scaney dealt out the scat.
Now spake out Hrothgar, as he look'd on the hilts there,
The old heir-loom whereon was writ the beginning
Of the strife of the old time, whenas the flood slew,
The ocean a-gushing, that kin of the giants
As fiercely they fared. That was a folk alien
To the Lord everlasting; so to them a last guerdon
Through the welling of waters the Wielder did give.
So was on the sword-guards all of the sheer gold
By dint of the rune-staves rightly bemarked,
Set down and said for whom first was that sword wrought,
And the choice of all irons erst had been done,
Wreath-hilted and worm-adorn'd. Then spake the wise one,
Healfdene's son, and all were gone silent:
Lo that may he say, who the right and the soothfast
Amid the folk frameth, and far back all remembers,
The old country's warden, that as for this earl here
Born better was he. Uprear'd is the fame-blast
Through wide ways far yonder, O Beowulf, friend mine,
Of thee o'er all peoples. Thou hold'st all with patience,
Thy might with mood-wisdom; I shall make thee my love good,
As we twain at first spake it. For a comfort thou shalt be
Granted long while and long unto thy people,
For a help unto heroes. Naught such became Heremod
To Ecgwela's offspring, the honourful Scyldings;
For their welfare naught wax'd he, but for felling in slaughter,
For the quelling of death to the folk of the Danes.
Mood-swollen he brake there his board-fellows soothly,
His shoulder-friends, until he sunder'd him lonely,
That mighty of princes, from the mirth of all men-folk.
Though him God the mighty in the joyance of might,
In main strength, exalted high over all-men,
And framed him forth, yet fast in his heart grew
A breast-hoard blood-fierce; none of fair rings he gave
To the Danes as due doom would. Unmerry he dured
So that yet of that strife the trouble he suffer'd.
A folk-bale so longsome. By such do thou learn thee,
Get thee hold of man-valour: this tale for thy teaching
Old in winters I tell thee. 'Tis wonder to say it,
How the high God almighty to the kindred of mankind
Through his mind the wide-fashion'd deals wisdom about,
Home and earlship; he owneth the wielding of all.
At whiles unto love he letteth to turn
The mood-thought of a man that Is mighty of kindred,
And in his land giveth him joyance of earth,
And to have and to hold the high ward-burg of men,
And sets so 'neath his wielding the deals of the world,
Dominion wide reaching, that he himself may not
In all his unwisdom of the ending bethink him.
He wonneth well-faring, nothing him wasteth
Sickness nor eld, nor the foe-sorrow to him
Dark in mind waxeth, nor strife any where,
The edge-hate, appeareth; but all the world for him
Wends as he willeth, and the worse naught he wotteth.
Untilthat within him a deal of o'erthink-ing
Waxeth and groweth while sleepeth the warder,
The soul's herdsman; that slumber too fast is forsooth,
Fast bounden by troubles, the banesman all nigh,
E'en he that from arrow-bow evilly shooteth.
Then he in his heart under helm is besmitten
With a bitter shaft; not a whit then may he ward him
From the wry wonder-biddings of the ghost the all-wicked.
Too little he deems that which long he hath hold.
Wrath-greedy he covets; nor e'en for boast-sake gives
The rings fair beplated; and the forth-coming doom
Forgetteth, forheedeth, for that God gave him erewhile,
The Wielder of glory, a deal of the worship.
At the ending-stave then it after befalleth
That the shell of his body sinks fleeting away,
And falleth all fey; and another one fetcheth,
E'en one that undolefully dealeth the treasure,
The earl's gains of aforetime, and fear never heedeth.
From the bale-envy ward thee, lief Beowulf, therefore,
Thou best of all men, and choose thee the better,
The redes everlasting; to o'erthinkirig turn not,
O mighty of champions! for now thy might breatheth
For a short while of time; but eft-soon it shall be
That sickness or edges from thy strength thee shall sunder,
Or the hold of the fire, or the welling of floods,
Or the grip of the sword-blade, or flight of the spear,
Or eld the all-evil: or the beaming of eyen
Shall fail and shall dim: then shall it be forthright
That thee, lordly man, the death over-masters.
E'en so I the Ring-Danes for an hundred of seasons
Did wield under the welkin and lock'd them by war
From many a kindred the Middle-Garth over
With ash-spears and edges, in such wise that not ever
Under the sky's run of my foemen I reckoned.
What! to me in my land came a shifting of that,
Came grief after game, sithence Grendel befell,
My foeman of old, mine ingoer soothly.
I from that onfall bore ever unceasing
Mickle mood-care; herefor be thanks to the Maker,
To the Lord everlasting, that in life I abided,
Yea, that I on that head all sword-gory there,
Now the old strife is over, with eyen should stare.
Go fare thou to settle, the feast-joyance dree thou,
O war-worshipp'd! unto us twain yet there will be
Mickle treasure in common when come is the morning.
Glad of mood then the Geat was, and speedy he gat him
To go see the settle, as the sage one commanded.
Then was after as erst, that they of the might-fame,
The floor-sitters, fairly the feasting bedight them
All newly. The helm of the night loured over
Dark over the host-men. Uprose all the doughty,
For he, the hoar-blended, would wend to his bed,
That old man of the Scyldings. The Geat without measure,
The mighty shield-warrior, now willed him rest.
And soon now the hall-thane him of way-faring weary,
From far away come, forth show'd him the road,
E'en he who for courtesy cared for all things
Of the needs of the thane, e'en such as on that day
The farers o'er ocean would fainly have had.
Rested then the wide-hearted; high up the house tower'd
Wide-gaping all gold-dight; within slept the guest;
Until the black raven, the blithe-hearted, boded
The heavens' joy: then was come thither a-hastening
The bright sun o'er the plains, and hastened the scathers,
The athelings once more aback to their people
All fain to be faring; and far away thence
Would the comer high-hearted go visit his keel.
Bade then the hard one Hrunting to bear,
The Ecglaf's son bade to take him his sword,
The iron well-lov'd; gave him thanks for the lending,
Quoth he that the war-friend for worthy he told,
Full of craft in the war; nor with word he aught
The edge of the sword. Hah! the high-hearted warrior.
So whenas all way-forward, yare in their war-gear,
Were the warriors, the dear one then went to the Danes,
To the high seat went the Atheling, whereas was the other;
The battle-bold warrior gave greeting to Hrothgar.
Outthen spake Beowulf, Ecgtheow's bairn:
As now we sea-farers have will to be saying,
We from afar come, that now are we fainest
Of seeking to Hygelac. Here well erst were we
Serv'd as our wills would, and well thine avail was.
If I on the earth then, be it e'en but a little,
Of the love of thy mood may yet more be an-earning,
O lord of the men-folk, than heretofore might I,
Of the works of the battle yare then soon shall I be.
If I should be learning, I over the flood's run,
That the sitters about thee beset thee with dread,
Even thee hating as otherwhile did they;
Then thousands to theeward of thanes shall I bring
For the helping of heroes. Of Hygelac wot I,
The lord of the Geat-folk, though he be but a youngling,
That shepherd of folk, that me will he further
By words and by works, that well may I ward thee,
And unto thine helping the spear-holt may bear,
A main-staying mighty, whenas men thou art needing.
And if therewith Hrethric in the courts of the Geat-house,
The King's bairn, take hosting, then may he a many
Of friends find him soothly: far countries shall be
Better sought to by him who for himself is doughty.
Out then spake Hrothgar in answer to himward:
Thy word-saying soothly the Lord of all wisdom
Hath sent into thy mind; never heard I more sagely
In a life that so young was a man word be laying;
Strong of might and main art thou and sage of thy mood,
Wise the words of thy framing. Tell I this for a weening,
If it so come to pass that the spear yet shall take,
Or the battle all sword-grim, the son of that Hrethel,
Or sickness or iron thine Alderman have,
Thy shepherd of folk, and thou fast to life hold thee,
Then no better than thee may the Sea-Geats be having
To choose for themselves, no one of the kings,
Hoard-warden of heroes, if then thou wilt hold
Thy kinsman's own kingdom. Me liketh thy mood-heart,
The longer the better, O Beowulf the lief;
In such wise hast thou fared, that unto the folks now,
The folk of the Geats and the Gar-Danes withal,
In common shall peace be, and strife rest appeased
And the hatreds the doleful which erst they have dreed;
Shall become, whiles I wield it, this wide realm of ours,
Treasures common to either folk: many a one other
With good things shall greet o'er the bath of the gannet;
And the ring'd bark withal over sea shall be bringing
The gifts and love-tokens. The twain folks I know
Toward foeman toward friend fast-fashion'd together,
In every way blameless as in the old wise.
Then the refuge of warriors, he gave him withal,
Gave Healfdene's son of treasures yet twelve;
And he bade him with those gifts to go his own people
To seek in all soundness, and swiftly come back.
Then kissed the king, he of noble kin gotten,
The lord of the Scyldings, that best of the thanes,
By the halse then he took him; from him fell the tears
From the blended of hoar hair. Of both things was there hoping
To the old, the old wise one; yet most of the other,
To wit, that they sithence each each might be seeing,
The high-heart in council. To him so lief was he
That he his breast-welling might nowise forbear,
But there in his bosom, bound fast in his heart-bonds,
After that dear man a longing dim-hidden
Burn'd against blood-tie. So Beowulf thenceforth,
The gold-proud of warriors, trod the mould grassy,
Exulting in gold-store. The sea-ganger bided
Its owning-lord whereas at anchor it rode.
Then was there in going the gift of King Hrothgar
Oft highly accounted; yea, that was a king
In every wise blameless, till eld took from him eftsoon
The joyance of might, as it oft scathes a many.
Camea many to flood then all mighty of mood,
Of the bachelors were they, and ring-nets they bore,
The limb-sarks belocked. The land-warden noted
The earls' aback-faring, as erst he beheld them;
Then nowise with harm from the nose of the cliff
The guests there he greeted, but rode unto themward,
And quoth that full welcome to the folk of the Weders
The bright-coated warriors were wending to ship.
Then was on the sand there the bark the wide-sided
With war-weed beladen, the ring-stemm'd as she lay there
With mares and with treasure; uptower'd the mast
High over Hrothgar's wealth of the hoards.
He then to the boat-warden handsel'd a gold-bounden
Sword, so that sithence was he on mead-bench
Worthy'd the more for that very same wealth,
The heirloom. Sithence in the ship he departed
To stir the deep water; the Dane-land he left.
Then was by the mast there one of the sea-rails,
A sail, with rope made fast; thunder'd the sound-wood.
Not there the wave-floater did the wind o'er the billows
Waft off from its ways; the sea-wender fared,
Floated the foamy-neck'd forth o'er the waves,
The bounden-stemm'd over the streams of the sea;
Till the cliffs of the Geats there they gat them to wit,
The nesses well kenned. Throng'd up the keel then
Driven hard by the lift, and stood on the land.
Then speedy at holm was the hythe-warden yare,
E'en he who a long while after the lief men
Eager at stream's side far off had looked.
To the sand thereon bound he the wide-fathom'd ship
With anchor-bands fast, lest from them the waves' might
The wood that was winsome should drive thence awayward.
Thereon bade he upbear the athelings' treasures,
The fretwork and wrought gold. Not far from them thenceforth
To seek to the giver of treasures it was,
E'en Hygelac, Hrethel's son, where at home wonneth
Himself and his fellows hard by the sea-wall.
Brave was the builded house, bold king the lord was,
High were the walls, Hygd very young,
Wise and well-thriven, though few of winters
Under the burg-locks had she abided,
The daughter of Hæreth; naught was she dastard;
Nowise niggard of gifts to the folk of the Geats,
Of wealth of the treasures. But wrath Thrytho bore,
The folk-queen the fierce, wrought the crime-deed full fearful.
No one there durst it, the bold one, to dare,
Of the comrades beloved, save only her lord,
That on her by day with eyen he stare,
But if to him death-bonds predestin'd he count on,
Hand-wreathed; thereafter all rathely it was
After the hand-grip the sword-blade appointed,
That the cunning-wrought sword should show forth the deed,
Make known the murder-bale. Naught is such queenlike
For a woman to handle, though peerless she be,
That a weaver of peace the life should waylay,
For a shame that was lying, of a lief man of men;
But the kinsman of Hemming, he hinder'd it surely.
Yet the drinkers of ale otherwise said they;
That folk-bales, which were lesser, she framed forsooth,
Lesser enmity-malice, since thence erst she was
Given gold-deck'd to the young one of champions,
She the dear of her lineage, since Offa's floor
Over the fallow flood by the lore of her father
She sought in her wayfaring. Well was she sithence
There on the man-throne mighty with good;
Her shaping of life well brooked she living;
High love she held toward the lord of the heroes;
Of all kindred of men by the hearsay of me
The best of all was he the twain seas beside,
Of the measureless kindred; thereof Offa was
For gifts and for war, the spear-keen of men,
Full widely beworthy'd, with wisdom he held
The land of his heritage. Thence awoke Eomær
For a help unto heroes, the kinsman of Hemming,
The grandson of Garmund, the crafty in war-strife.
Wenthis ways then the hard one, and he with his hand-shoal,
Himself over the sand the sea-plain a-treading,
The warths wide away; shone the world's candle,
The sun slop'd from the southward; so dreed they their journey,
And went their ways stoutly unto where the earls' refuge,
The banesman of Ongentheow all in his burgs there,
The young king of war, the good, as they heard it.
Was dealing the rings. Aright unto Hygelac
Was Beowulf's speeding made knowen full swiftly,
That there into the house-place that hedge of the warriors,
His mate of the linden-board, living was come,
Hale from the battle-play home to him houseward.
Then rathe was beroomed, as the rich one was bidding,
For the guests a-foot going the floor all withinward.
Then sat in the face of him he from the fight sav'd,
Kinsman by kinsman, whenas his man-lord
In fair-sounding speech had greeted the faithful
With mightyful words. With mead-skinking turned
Through the high house adown the daughter of Hæreth:
The people she loved: the wine-bucket bare she
To the hands of the men. But now fell to Hygelac
His very house-fellow in that hall the high
To question full fairly, for wit-lust to-brake him,
Of what like were the journeys the Sea-Geats had wended:
How befell you the sea-lode, O Beowulf lief,
When thou on a sudden bethoughtst thee afar
Over the salt water the strife to be seeking,
The battle in Hart? or for Hrothgar forsooth
The wide-kenned woe some whit didst thou mend,
For that mighty of lords? I therefore the mood-care
In woe-wellings seethed; trow'd not in the wending
Of thee the lief man. A long while did I pray thee
That thou the death-guest there should greet not a whit;
Wouldst let those same South-Danes their own selves to settle
The war-tide with Grendel. Now to God say I thank
That thee, and thee sound, now may I see.
Out then spake Beowulf, Ecgtheow's bairn:
All undark it is, O Hygelac lord,
That meeting the mighty, to a many of men;
Of what like was the meeting of Grendel and me
On that field of the deed, where he many a deal
For the Victory-Scyldings of sorrow had framed,
And misery for ever; but all that I awreaked,
So that needeth not boast any kinsman of Grendel
Any one upon earth of that uproar of dawn-dusk,
Nay not who lives longest of that kindred the loathly
Encompass'd of fenland. Thither first did I come
Unto that ring-hall Hrothgar to greet;
Soon unto me the great Healfdene's son,
So soon as my heart he was wotting forsooth.
Right against his own son a settle there showed.
All that throng was in joy, nor life-long saw I ever
Under vault of the heavens amidst any hall-sitters
More mirth of the mead. There the mighty Queen whiles,
Peace-sib of the folk, went all over the floor,
To the young sons bade heart up; oft she there the ring-wreath
Gave unto a man ere to settle she wended.
At whiles fore the doughty the daughter of Hrothgar
To the earls at the end the ale-bucket bore;
E'en she whom Freawaru the floor-sitters thereat
Heard I to name; where she the nail'd treasure
Gave to the warriors. She was behight then
Youngling and gold-dight to the glad son of Froda.
This hath seemed fair to the friend of the Scyldings,
The herd of the realm, and good rede he accounts it,
That he with that wife of death-feuds a deal
And of strifes should allay. Oft unseldom eachwhere
After a lord's fall e'en but for a little
Bows down the bane-spear, though doughty the bride be.
Ill-likingthis may be to the lord of the Heathobards,
And to each of the thanes of that same people.
When he with fair bride on the floor of hall wendeth,
That the Dane's noble bairn his doughty should wait on,
As on him glisten there the heirlooms of the aged,
Hard and with rings bedight, Heathobards' treasure,
Whileas the weapons yet they might wield;
Till astray did they lead there at the lind-play
Their own fellows belov'd and their very own lives.
For then saith at the beer, he who seeth the ring,
An ancient ash-warrior who mindeth of all
The spear-death of men; grim is he of mind;
Sad of mood he beginneth to tell the young champion.
Through the thought of his heart his mind there to try,
The war-bale to waken, and sayeth this word:
Mayest thou, friend mine, wot of the war-sword,
That which thy father bore in the fight
Under the war-mask e'en on the last time,
That the dear iron, whereas the Danes slew him,
Wielded the death-field, since Withergyld lay,
After fall of the heroes, the keen-hearted Scyldings?
Now here of those banesmen the son, whoseso he be,
All merry in fretwork forth on floor fareth;
Of the murder he boasteth, and that jewel he beareth,
E'en that which of right thou shouldestarede.
Thus he mindeth and maketh word every of times,
With sore words he telleth, until the time cometh
That the thane of the fair bride for the deeds of his father
After bite of the bill sleepeth all blood-stain'd,
All forfeit of life; but thenceforth the other
Escapeth alive; the land well he kenneth;
Then will be broken on both sides forsooth
The oath-swearing of earls, whenas unto Ingeld
Well up the death-hatreds, and the wife-loves of him
Because of the care-wellings cooler become.
Therefore the Heathobards' faith I account not,
Their deal of the folk-peace, unguileful to Danes,
Their fast-bounden friendship. Henceforth must I speak on
Again about Grendel, that thou get well to know it,
O treasure-out-dealer, how sithence betided
The hand-race of heroes: sithence heaven's gem
All over the grounds glided, came the wroth guest,
The dire night-angry one us to go look on,
Whereas we all sound were warding the hall.
There then for Handshoe was battle abiding,
Life-bale to the fey; he first lay alow,
The war-champion girded; unto him became Grendel,
To the great thane of kindreds, a banesman of mouth,
Of the man well-beloved the body he swallow'd;
Nor the sooner therefor out empty-handed
The bloody-tooth'd banesman, of bales all bemindful,
Out from that gold-hall yet would he get him;
But he, mighty of main, made trial of me,
And gripp'd ready-handed. His glove hung aloft,
Wondrous and wide, in wily bands fast,
With cunning wiles was it begeared forsooth,
With crafts of the devils and fells of the dragons;
He me withinwards there, me the unsinning,
The doer of big deeds would do me to be
As one of the many; but naught so it might be,
Sithence in mine anger upright I stood.
'Tis over-long telling how I to the folkscather
For each one of evils out paid the hand-gild.
There I, O my lord king, them thy leal people
Worthy'd with works: but away he gat loosed
Out thence for a little while, brooked yet life-joys;
But his right hand held ward of his track howsoever,
High upon Hart-hall, and thence away humble
He sad of his mood to the mere-ground fell downward.
Me for that slaughter-race the friend of the Scyldings
With gold that beplated was mickle deal paid,
With a many of treasures, sithence came the morning,
And we to the feast-tide had sat us adown;
Song was and glee there; the elder of Scyldings,
Asking of many things, told of things o'erpast;
Whiles hath the battle-deer there the harp's joy,
The wood of mirth greeted; whiles the lay said he