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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=345976" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Beowulf (Episode 20)</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">HROTHGAR spake, helmet-of-Scyldings: --<br>&quot;Ask not of pleasure! Pain is renewed<br>to Danish folk. Dead is Aeschere,<br>of Yrmenlaf the elder brother,<br>my sage adviser and stay in council,<br>shoulder-comrade in stress of fight<br>when warriors clashed and we warded our heads,<br>hewed the helm-boars; hero famed<br>should be every earl as Aeschere was!<br>But here in Heorot a hand hath slain him<br>of wandering death-sprite. I wot not whither, <br>proud of the prey, her path she took,<br>fain of her fill. The feud she avenged<br>that yesternight, unyieldingly,<br>Grendel in grimmest grasp thou killedst, --<br>seeing how long these liegemen mine<br>he ruined and ravaged. Reft of life,<br>in arms he fell. Now another comes,<br>keen and cruel, her kin to avenge,<br>faring far in feud of blood:<br>so that many a thane shall think, who e'er<br>sorrows in soul for that sharer of rings,<br>this is hardest of heart-bales. The hand lies low<br>that once was willing each wish to please.<br>Land-dwellers here and liegemen mine,<br>who house by those parts, I have heard relate<br>that such a pair they have sometimes seen,<br>march-stalkers mighty the moorland haunting,<br>wandering spirits: one of them seemed,<br>so far as my folk could fairly judge,<br>of womankind; and one, accursed,<br>in man's guise trod the misery-track<br>of exile, though huger than human bulk.<br>Grendel in days long gone they named him,<br>folk of the land; his father they knew not,<br>nor any brood that was born to him<br>of treacherous spirits. Untrod is their home;<br>by wolf-cliffs haunt they and windy headlands,<br>fenways fearful, where flows the stream<br>from mountains gliding to gloom of the rocks,<br>underground flood. Not far is it hence<br>in measure of miles that the mere expands,<br>and o'er it the frost-bound forest hanging,<br>sturdily rooted, shadows the wave.<br>By night is a wonder weird to see,<br>fire on the waters. So wise lived none<br>of the sons of men, to search those depths!<br>Nay, though the heath-rover, harried by dogs,<br>the horn-proud hart, this holt should seek,<br>long distance driven, his dear life first<br>on the brink he yields ere he brave the plunge<br>to hide his head: 'tis no happy place!<br>Thence the welter of waters washes up<br>wan to welkin when winds bestir<br>evil storms, and air grows dusk,<br>and the heavens weep. Now is help once more<br>with thee alone! The land thou knowst not,<br>place of fear, where thou findest out<br>that sin-flecked being. Seek if thou dare!<br>I will reward thee, for waging this fight,<br>with ancient treasure, as erst I did,<br>with winding gold, if thou winnest back.&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Anonymous+Olde+English">Anonymous Olde English</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=345976" data-title="Beowulf (Episode 20) de Anonymous Olde English" data-description="HROTHGAR spake, helmet-of-Scyldings: --
&quot;Ask not of pleasure! Pain is renewed
to Danish folk. Dead is Aeschere,
of Yrmenlaf the elder brother,
my sage adviser and stay in council,
shoulder-comrade in stress of fight
when warriors clashed and ..."></div>
</div>
</div>