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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=345979" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Beowulf (Episode 24)</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">BEOWULF spake, bairn of Ecgtheow: --<br>&quot;Lo, now, this sea-booty, son of Healfdene,<br>Lord of Scyldings, we've lustily brought thee,<br>sign of glory; thou seest it here.<br>Not lightly did I with my life escape!<br>In war under water this work I essayed<br>with endless effort; and even so<br>my strength had been lost had the Lord not shielded me.<br>Not a whit could I with Hrunting do<br>in work of war, though the weapon is good;<br>yet a sword the Sovran of Men vouchsafed me<br>to spy on the wall there, in splendor hanging,<br>old, gigantic, -- how oft He guides<br>the friendless wight! -- and I fought with that brand,<br>felling in fight, since fate was with me,<br>the house's wardens. That war-sword then<br>all burned, bright blade, when the blood gushed o'er it,<br>battle-sweat hot; but the hilt I brought back<br>from my foes. So avenged I their fiendish deeds<br>death-fall of Danes, as was due and right.<br>And this is my hest, that in Heorot now<br>safe thou canst sleep with thy soldier band,<br>and every thane of all thy folk<br>both old and young; no evil fear,<br>Scyldings' lord, from that side again,<br>aught ill for thy earls, as erst thou must!&quot;<br>Then the golden hilt, for that gray-haired leader,<br>hoary hero, in hand was laid,<br>giant-wrought, old. So owned and enjoyed it<br>after downfall of devils, the Danish lord,<br>wonder-smiths' work, since the world was rid<br>of that grim-souled fiend, the foe of God,<br>murder-marked, and his mother as well.<br>Now it passed into power of the people's king,<br>best of all that the oceans bound<br>who have scattered their gold o'er Scandia's isle.<br>Hrothgar spake -- the hilt he viewed,<br>heirloom old, where was etched the rise<br>of that far-off fight when the floods o'erwhelmed,<br>raging waves, the race of giants<br>(fearful their fate!), a folk estranged<br>from God Eternal: whence guerdon due<br>in that waste of waters the Wielder paid them.<br>So on the guard of shining gold<br>in runic staves it was rightly said<br>for whom the serpent-traced sword was wrought,<br>best of blades, in bygone days,<br>and the hilt well wound. -- The wise-one spake,<br>son of Healfdene; silent were all: --<br>&quot;Lo, so may he say who sooth and right<br>follows 'mid folk, of far times mindful,<br>a land-warden old, that this earl belongs<br>to the better breed! So, borne aloft,<br>thy fame must fly, O friend my Beowulf,<br>far and wide o'er folksteads many. Firmly thou<br>shalt all maintain,<br>mighty strength with mood of wisdom. Love of<br>mine will I assure thee,<br>as, awhile ago, I promised; thou shalt prove a stay<br>in future,<br>in far-off years, to folk of thine,<br>to the heroes a help. Was not Heremod thus<br>to offspring of Ecgwela, Honor-Scyldings,<br>nor grew for their grace, but for grisly slaughter,<br>for doom of death to the Danishmen. <br>He slew, wrath-swollen, his shoulder-comrades,<br>companions at board! So he passed alone,<br>chieftain haughty, from human cheer.<br>Though him the Maker with might endowed,<br>delights of power, and uplifted high<br>above all men, yet blood-fierce his mind,<br>his breast-hoard, grew, no bracelets gave he<br>to Danes as was due; he endured all joyless<br>strain of struggle and stress of woe,<br>long feud with his folk. Here find thy lesson!<br>Of virtue advise thee! This verse I have said for thee,<br>wise from lapsed winters. Wondrous seems<br>how to sons of men Almighty God<br>in the strength of His spirit sendeth wisdom,<br>estate, high station: He swayeth all things.<br>Whiles He letteth right lustily fare<br>the heart of the hero of high-born race, --<br>in seat ancestral assigns him bliss,<br>his folk's sure fortress in fee to hold,<br>puts in his power great parts of the earth,<br>empire so ample, that end of it<br>this wanter-of-wisdom weeneth none.<br>So he waxes in wealth, nowise can harm him<br>illness or age; no evil cares<br>shadow his spirit; no sword-hate threatens<br>from ever an enemy: all the world<br>wends at his will, no worse he knoweth,<br>till all within him obstinate pride<br>waxes and wakes while the warden slumbers,<br>the spirit's sentry; sleep is too fast<br>which masters his might, and the murderer nears,<br>stealthily shooting the shafts from his bow!</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=345979" data-title="Beowulf (Episode 24) de Anonymous Olde English" data-description="BEOWULF spake, bairn of Ecgtheow: --
&quot;Lo, now, this sea-booty, son of Healfdene,
Lord of Scyldings, we've lustily brought thee,
sign of glory; thou seest it here.
Not lightly did I with my life escape!
In war under water this work I essayed
w..."></div>
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