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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=354405" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Beowulf</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">LO, praise of the prowess of people-kings<br>of spear-armed Danes, in days long sped,<br>we have heard, and what honor the athelings won!<br>Oft Scyld the Scefing from squadroned foes,<br>from many a tribe, the mead-bench tore,<br>awing the earls. Since erst he lay<br>friendless, a foundling, fate repaid him:<br>for he waxed under welkin, in wealth he throve,<br>till before him the folk, both far and near,<br>who house by the whale-path, heard his mandate,<br>gave him gifts: a good king he!<br>To him an heir was afterward born,<br>a son in his halls, whom heaven sent<br>to favor the folk, feeling their woe<br>that erst they had lacked an earl for leader<br>so long a while; the Lord endowed him,<br>the Wielder of Wonder, with world's renown.<br>Famed was this Beowulf: far flew the boast of him,<br>son of Scyld, in the Scandian lands.<br>So becomes it a youth to quit him well<br>with his father's friends, by fee and gift,<br>that to aid him, aged, in after days,<br>come warriors willing, should war draw nigh,<br>liegemen loyal: by lauded deeds<br>shall an earl have honor in every clan.<br>Forth he fared at the fated moment,<br>sturdy Scyld to the shelter of God.<br>Then they bore him over to ocean's billow,<br>loving clansmen, as late he charged them,<br>while wielded words the winsome Scyld,<br>the leader beloved who long had ruled….<br>In the roadstead rocked a ring-dight vessel,<br>ice-flecked, outbound, atheling's barge:<br>there laid they down their darling lord<br>on the breast of the boat, the breaker-of-rings, <br>by the mast the mighty one. Many a treasure<br>fetched from far was freighted with him.<br>No ship have I known so nobly dight<br>with weapons of war and weeds of battle,<br>with breastplate and blade: on his bosom lay<br>a heaped hoard that hence should go<br>far o'er the flood with him floating away.<br>No less these loaded the lordly gifts,<br>thanes' huge treasure, than those had done<br>who in former time forth had sent him<br>sole on the seas, a suckling child.<br>High o'er his head they hoist the standard,<br>a gold-wove banner; let billows take him,<br>gave him to ocean. Grave were their spirits,<br>mournful their mood. No man is able<br>to say in sooth, no son of the halls,<br>no hero 'neath heaven, - who harbored that freight! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I<br>Now Beowulf bode in the burg of the Scyldings,<br>leader beloved, and long he ruled<br>in fame with all folk, since his father had gone<br>away from the world, till awoke an heir,<br>haughty Healfdene, who held through life,<br>sage and sturdy, the Scyldings glad.<br>Then, one after one, there woke to him,<br>to the chieftain of clansmen, children four:<br>Heorogar, then Hrothgar, then Halga brave;<br>and I heard that - was -'s queen,<br>the Heathoscylfing's helpmate dear.<br>To Hrothgar was given such glory of war,<br>such honor of combat, that all his kin<br>obeyed him gladly till great grew his band<br>of youthful comrades. It came in his mind<br>to bid his henchmen a hall uprear,<br>a master mead-house, mightier far<br>than ever was seen by the sons of earth,<br>and within it, then, to old and young<br>he would all allot that the Lord had sent him,<br>save only the land and the lives of his men.<br>Wide, I heard, was the work commanded,<br>for many a tribe this mid-earth round,<br>to fashion the folkstead. It fell, as he ordered,<br>in rapid achievement that ready it stood there,<br>of halls the noblest: Heorot [1] he named it<br>whose message had might in many a land.<br>Not reckless of promise, the rings he dealt,<br>treasure at banquet: there towered the hall,<br>high, gabled wide, the hot surge waiting<br>of furious flame. [2] Nor far was that day<br>when father and son-in-law stood in feud<br>for warfare and hatred that woke again. <br>With envy and anger an evil spirit<br>endured the dole in his dark abode,<br>that he heard each day the din of revel<br>high in the hall: there harps rang out,<br>clear song of the singer. He sang who knew <br>tales of the early time of man,<br>how the Almighty made the earth,<br>fairest fields enfolded by water,<br>set, triumphant, sun and moon<br>for a light to lighten the land-dwellers,<br>and braided bright the breast of earth<br>with limbs and leaves, made life for all<br>of mortal beings that breathe and move.<br>So lived the clansmen in cheer and revel<br>a winsome life, till one began<br>to fashion evils, that field of hell.<br>Grendel this monster grim was called,<br>march-riever [5] mighty, in moorland living,<br>in fen and fastness; fief of the giants<br>the hapless wight a while had kept<br>since the Creator his exile doomed.<br>On kin of Cain was the killing avenged<br>by sovran God for slaughtered Abel.<br>Ill fared his feud, [6] and far was he driven,<br>for the slaughter's sake, from sight of men.<br>Of Cain awoke all that woful breed,<br>Etins [7] and elves and evil-spirits,<br>as well as the giants that warred with God<br>weary while: but their wage was paid them! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">II<br>WENT he forth to find at fall of night<br>that haughty house, and heed wherever<br>the Ring-Danes, outrevelled, to rest had gone.<br>Found within it the atheling band<br>asleep after feasting and fearless of sorrow,<br>of human hardship. Unhallowed wight,<br>grim and greedy, he grasped betimes,<br>wrathful, reckless, from resting-places,<br>thirty of the thanes, and thence he rushed<br>fain of his fell spoil, faring homeward,<br>laden with slaughter, his lair to seek.<br>Then at the dawning, as day was breaking,<br>the might of Grendel to men was known;<br>then after wassail was wail uplifted,<br>loud moan in the morn. The mighty chief,<br>atheling excellent, unblithe sat,<br>labored in woe for the loss of his thanes,<br>when once had been traced the trail of the fiend,<br>spirit accurst: too cruel that sorrow,<br>too long, too loathsome. Not late the respite;<br>with night returning, anew began<br>ruthless murder; he recked no whit,<br>firm in his guilt, of the feud and crime.<br>They were easy to find who elsewhere sought<br>in room remote their rest at night,<br>bed in the bowers, [1] when that bale was shown,<br>was seen in sooth, with surest token, -<br>the hall-thane's [2] hate. Such held themselves<br>far and fast who the fiend outran!<br>Thus ruled unrighteous and raged his fill<br>one against all; until empty stood<br>that lordly building, and long it bode so.<br>Twelve years' tide the trouble he bore,<br>sovran of Scyldings, sorrows in plenty,<br>boundless cares. There came unhidden<br>tidings true to the tribes of men,<br>in sorrowful songs, how ceaselessly Grendel<br>harassed Hrothgar, what hate he bore him,<br>what murder and massacre, many a year,<br>feud unfading, - refused consent<br>to deal with any of Daneland's earls,<br>make pact of peace, or compound for gold:<br>still less did the wise men ween to get<br>great fee for the feud from his fiendish hands.<br>But the evil one ambushed old and young<br>death-shadow dark, and dogged them still,<br>lured, or lurked in the livelong night<br>of misty moorlands: men may say not<br>where the haunts of these Hell-Runes be.<br>Such heaping of horrors the hater of men,<br>lonely roamer, wrought unceasing,<br>harassings heavy. O'er Heorot he lorded,<br>gold-bright hall, in gloomy nights;<br>and ne'er could the prince [4] approach his throne,<br>- 'twas judgment of God, - or have joy in his hall.<br>Sore was the sorrow to Scyldings'-friend,<br>heart-rending misery. Many nobles<br>sat assembled, and searched out counsel<br>how it were best for bold-hearted men<br>against harassing terror to try their hand.<br>Whiles they vowed in their heathen fanes<br>altar-offerings, asked with words [5]<br>that the slayer-of-souls would succor give them<br>for the pain of their people. Their practice this,<br>their heathen hope; 'twas Hell they thought of<br>in mood of their mind. Almighty they knew not,<br>Doomsman of Deeds and dreadful Lord,<br>nor Heaven's-Helmet heeded they ever,<br>Wielder-of-Wonder. - Woe for that man<br>who in harm and hatred hales his soul<br>to fiery embraces; - nor favor nor change<br>awaits he ever. But well for him<br>that after death-day may draw to his Lord,<br>and friendship find in the Father's arms! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">III<br>THUS seethed unceasing the son of Healfdene<br>with the woe of these days; not wisest men<br>assuaged his sorrow; too sore the anguish,<br>loathly and long, that lay on his folk,<br>most baneful of burdens and bales of the night. <br>This heard in his home Hygelac's thane,<br>great among Geats, of Grendel's doings.<br>He was the mightiest man of valor<br>in that same day of this our life,<br>stalwart and stately. A stout wave-walker<br>he bade make ready. Yon battle-king, said he,<br>far o'er the swan-road he fain would seek,<br>the noble monarch who needed men!<br>The prince's journey by prudent folk<br>was little blamed, though they loved him dear;<br>they whetted the hero, and hailed good omens.<br>And now the bold one from bands of Geats<br>comrades chose, the keenest of warriors<br>e'er he could find; with fourteen men<br>the sea-wood [1] he sought, and, sailor proved,<br>led them on to the land's confines.<br>Time had now flown; [2] afloat was the ship,<br>boat under bluff. On board they climbed,<br>warriors ready; waves were churning<br>sea with sand; the sailors bore<br>on the breast of the bark their bright array,<br>their mail and weapons: the men pushed off,<br>on its willing way, the well-braced craft.<br>Then moved o'er the waters by might of the wind<br>that bark like a bird with breast of foam,<br>till in season due, on the second day,<br>the curved prow such course had run<br>that sailors now could see the land,<br>sea-cliffs shining, steep high hills,<br>headlands broad. Their haven was found,<br>their journey ended. Up then quickly<br>the Weders' [3] clansmen climbed ashore,<br>anchored their sea-wood, with armor clashing<br>and gear of battle: God they thanked<br>for passing in peace o'er the paths of the sea.<br>Now saw from the cliff a Scylding clansman,<br>a warden that watched the water-side,<br>how they bore o'er the gangway glittering shields,<br>war-gear in readiness; wonder seized him<br>to know what manner of men they were.<br>Straight to the strand his steed he rode,<br>Hrothgar's henchman; with hand of might<br>he shook his spear, and spake in parley.<br>'Who are ye, then, ye armed men,<br>mailed folk, that yon mighty vessel<br>have urged thus over the ocean ways,<br>here o'er the waters? A warden I,<br>sentinel set o'er the sea-march here,<br>lest any foe to the folk of Danes<br>with harrying fleet should harm the land.<br>No aliens ever at ease thus bore them,<br>linden-wielders: [4] yet word-of-leave<br>clearly ye lack from clansmen here,<br>my folk's agreement. - A greater ne'er saw I<br>of warriors in world than is one of you, -<br>yon hero in harness! No henchman he<br>worthied by weapons, if witness his features,<br>his peerless presence! I pray you, though, tell<br>your folk and home, lest hence ye fare<br>suspect to wander your way as spies<br>in Danish land. Now, dwellers afar,<br>ocean-travellers, take from me<br>simple advice: the sooner the better<br>I hear of the country whence ye came.' </div><div style="margin:10px 0">IV<br>To him the stateliest spake in answer;<br>the warriors' leader his word-hoard unlocked:-<br>'We are by kin of the clan of Geats,<br>and Hygelac's own hearth-fellows we.<br>To folk afar was my father known,<br>noble atheling, Ecgtheow named.<br>Full of winters, he fared away<br>aged from earth; he is honored still<br>through width of the world by wise men all.<br>To thy lord and liege in loyal mood<br>we hasten hither, to Healfdene's son,<br>people-protector: be pleased to advise us!<br>To that mighty-one come we on mickle errand,<br>to the lord of the Danes; nor deem I right<br>that aught be hidden. We hear - thou knowest<br>if sooth it is - the saying of men,<br>that amid the Scyldings a scathing monster,<br>dark ill-doer, in dusky nights<br>shows terrific his rage unmatched,<br>hatred and murder. To Hrothgar I<br>in greatness of soul would succor bring,<br>so the Wise-and-Brave [1] may worst his foes, -<br>if ever the end of ills is fated,<br>of cruel contest, if cure shall follow,<br>and the boiling care-waves cooler grow;<br>else ever afterward anguish-days<br>he shall suffer in sorrow while stands in place<br>high on its hill that house unpeered!'<br>Astride his steed, the strand-ward answered,<br>clansman unquailing: 'The keen-souled thane<br>must be skilled to sever and sunder duly<br>words and works, if he well intends.<br>I gather, this band is graciously bent<br>to the Scyldings' master. March, then, bearing<br>weapons and weeds the way I show you.<br>I will bid my men your boat meanwhile<br>to guard for fear lest foemen come, -<br>your new-tarred ship by shore of ocean<br>faithfully watching till once again<br>it waft o'er the waters those well-loved thanes,<br>- winding-neck'd wood, - to Weders' bounds,<br>heroes such as the hest of fate<br>shall succor and save from the shock of war.'<br>They bent them to march, - the boat lay still,<br>fettered by cable and fast at anchor,<br>broad-bosomed ship. - Then shone the boars <br>over the cheek-guard; chased with gold,<br>keen and gleaming, guard it kept<br>o'er the man of war, as marched along<br>heroes in haste, till the hall they saw,<br>broad of gable and bright with gold:<br>that was the fairest, 'mid folk of earth,<br>of houses 'neath heaven, where Hrothgar lived,<br>and the gleam of it lightened o'er lands afar.<br>The sturdy shieldsman showed that bright<br>burg-of-the-boldest; bade them go<br>straightway thither; his steed then turned,<br>hardy hero, and hailed them thus:-<br>'Tis time that I fare from you. Father Almighty<br>in grace and mercy guard you well,<br>safe in your seekings. Seaward I go,<br>'gainst hostile warriors hold my watch.' </div><div style="margin:10px 0">V<br>STONE-BRIGHT the street: it showed the way<br>to the crowd of clansmen. Corselets glistened<br>hand-forged, hard; on their harness bright<br>the steel ring sang, as they strode along<br>in mail of battle, and marched to the hall.<br>There, weary of ocean, the wall along<br>they set their bucklers, their broad shields, down,<br>and bowed them to bench: the breastplates clanged,<br>war-gear of men; their weapons stacked,<br>spears of the seafarers stood together,<br>gray-tipped ash: that iron band<br>was worthily weaponed! - A warrior proud<br>asked of the heroes their home and kin.<br>'Whence, now, bear ye burnished shields,<br>harness gray and helmets grim,<br>spears in multitude? Messenger, I,<br>Hrothgar's herald! Heroes so many<br>ne'er met I as strangers of mood so strong.<br>'Tis plain that for prowess, not plunged into exile,<br>for high-hearted valor, Hrothgar ye seek!'<br>Him the sturdy-in-war bespake with words,<br>proud earl of the Weders answer made,<br>hardy 'neath helmet:-'Hygelac's, we,<br>fellows at board; I am Beowulf named.<br>I am seeking to say to the son of Healfdene<br>this mission of mine, to thy master-lord,<br>the doughty prince, if he deign at all<br>grace that we greet him, the good one, now.'<br>Wulfgar spake, the Wendles' chieftain,<br>whose might of mind to many was known,<br>his courage and counsel: 'The king of Danes,<br>the Scyldings' friend, I fain will tell,<br>the Breaker-of-Rings, as the boon thou askest,<br>the famed prince, of thy faring hither,<br>and, swiftly after, such answer bring<br>as the doughty monarch may deign to give.'<br>Hied then in haste to where Hrothgar sat<br>white-haired and old, his earls about him,<br>till the stout thane stood at the shoulder there<br>of the Danish king: good courtier he!<br>Wulfgar spake to his winsome lord:-<br>'Hither have fared to thee far-come men<br>o'er the paths of ocean, people of Geatland;<br>and the stateliest there by his sturdy band<br>is Beowulf named. This boon they seek,<br>that they, my master, may with thee<br>have speech at will: nor spurn their prayer<br>to give them hearing, gracious Hrothgar!<br>In weeds of the warrior worthy they,<br>methinks, of our liking; their leader most surely,<br>a hero that hither his henchmen has led.' </div><div style="margin:10px 0">VI<br>HROTHGAR answered, helmet of Scyldings:-<br>'I knew him of yore in his youthful days;<br>his aged father was Ecgtheow named,<br>to whom, at home, gave Hrethel the Geat<br>his only daughter. Their offspring bold<br>fares hither to seek the steadfast friend.<br>And seamen, too, have said me this, -<br>who carried my gifts to the Geatish court,<br>thither for thanks, - he has thirty men's<br>heft of grasp in the gripe of his hand,<br>the bold-in-battle. Blessed God<br>out of his mercy this man hath sent<br>to Danes of the West, as I ween indeed,<br>against horror of Grendel. I hope to give<br>the good youth gold for his gallant thought.<br>Be thou in haste, and bid them hither,<br>clan of kinsmen, to come before me;<br>and add this word, - they are welcome guests<br>to folk of the Danes.'<br>[To the door of the hall<br>Wulfgar went] and the word declared:-<br>'To you this message my master sends,<br>East-Danes' king, that your kin he knows,<br>hardy heroes, and hails you all<br>welcome hither o'er waves of the sea!<br>Ye may wend your way in war-attire,<br>and under helmets Hrothgar greet;<br>but let here the battle-shields bide your parley,<br>and wooden war-shafts wait its end.'<br>Uprose the mighty one, ringed with his men,<br>brave band of thanes: some bode without,<br>battle-gear guarding, as bade the chief.<br>Then hied that troop where the herald led them,<br>under Heorot's roof: [the hero strode,]<br>hardy 'neath helm, till the hearth he neared.<br>Beowulf spake, - his breastplate gleamed,<br>war-net woven by wit of the smith:-<br>'Thou Hrothgar, hail! Hygelac's I,<br>kinsman and follower. Fame a plenty<br>have I gained in youth! These Grendel-deeds<br>I heard in my home-land heralded clear.<br>Seafarers say how stands this hall,<br>of buildings best, for your band of thanes<br>empty and idle, when evening sun<br>in the harbor of heaven is hidden away.<br>So my vassals advised me well, -<br>brave and wise, the best of men, -<br>O sovran Hrothgar, to seek thee here,<br>for my nerve and my might they knew full well.<br>Themselves had seen me from slaughter come<br>blood-flecked from foes, where five I bound,<br>and that wild brood worsted. I' the waves I slew<br>nicors [1] by night, in need and peril<br>avenging the Weders, [2] whose woe they sought, -<br>crushing the grim ones. Grendel now,<br>monster cruel, be mine to quell<br>in single battle! So, from thee,<br>thou sovran of the Shining-Danes,<br>Scyldings'-bulwark, a boon I seek, -<br>and, Friend-of-the-folk, refuse it not,<br>O Warriors'-shield, now I've wandered far, -<br>that I alone with my liegemen here,<br>this hardy band, may Heorot purge!<br>More I hear, that the monster dire,<br>in his wanton mood, of weapons recks not;<br>hence shall I scorn - so Hygelac stay,<br>king of my kindred, kind to me! -<br>brand or buckler to bear in the fight,<br>gold-colored targe: but with gripe alone<br>must I front the fiend and fight for life,<br>foe against foe. Then faith be his<br>in the doom of the Lord whom death shall take.<br>Fain, I ween, if the fight he win,<br>in this hall of gold my Geatish band<br>will he fearless eat, - as oft before, -<br>my noblest thanes. Nor need'st thou then<br>to hide my head; [3] for his shall I be,<br>dyed in gore, if death must take me;<br>and my blood-covered body he'll bear as prey,<br>ruthless devour it, the roamer-lonely,<br>with my life-blood redden his lair in the fen:<br>no further for me need'st food prepare!<br>To Hygelac send, if Hild [4] should take me,<br>best of war-weeds, warding my breast,<br>armor excellent, heirloom of Hrethel<br>and work of Wayland. [5] Fares Wyrd as she must.' </div><div style="margin:10px 0">VII<br>HROTHGAR spake, the Scyldings'-helmet:-<br>'For fight defensive, Friend my Beowulf,<br>to succor and save, thou hast sought us here.<br>Thy father's combat [1] a feud enkindled<br>when Heatholaf with hand he slew<br>among the Wylfings; his Weder kin<br>for horror of fighting feared to hold him.<br>Fleeing, he sought our South-Dane folk,<br>over surge of ocean the Honor-Scyldings,<br>when first I was ruling the folk of Danes,<br>wielded, youthful, this widespread realm,<br>this hoard-hold of heroes. Heorogar was dead,<br>my elder brother, had breathed his last,<br>Healfdene's bairn: he was better than I!<br>Straightway the feud with fee [2] I settled,<br>to the Wylfings sent, o'er watery ridges,<br>treasures olden: oaths he [3] swore me.<br>Sore is my soul to say to any<br>of the race of man what ruth for me<br>in Heorot Grendel with hate hath wrought,<br>what sudden harryings. Hall-folk fail me,<br>my warriors wane; for Wyrd hath swept them<br>into Grendel's grasp. But God is able<br>this deadly foe from his deeds to turn!<br>Boasted full oft, as my beer they drank,<br>earls o'er the ale-cup, armed men,<br>that they would bide in the beer-hall here,<br>Grendel's attack with terror of blades.<br>Then was this mead-house at morning tide<br>dyed with gore, when the daylight broke,<br>all the boards of the benches blood-besprinkled,<br>gory the hall: I had heroes the less,<br>doughty dear-ones that death had reft.<br>- But sit to the banquet, unbind thy words,<br>hardy hero, as heart shall prompt thee.' <br>Gathered together, the Geatish men<br>in the banquet-hall on bench assigned,<br>sturdy-spirited, sat them down,<br>hardy-hearted. A henchman attended,<br>carried the carven cup in hand,<br>served the clear mead. Oft minstrels sang<br>blithe in Heorot. Heroes revelled,<br>no dearth of warriors, Weder and Dane. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">VIII<br>UNFERTH spake, the son of Ecglaf,<br>who sat at the feet of the Scyldings' lord,<br>unbound the battle-runes. - Beowulf's quest,<br>sturdy seafarer's, sorely galled him;<br>ever he envied that other men<br>should more achieve in middle-earth<br>of fame under heaven than he himself. -<br>'Art thou that Beowulf, Breca's rival,<br>who emulous swam on the open sea,<br>when for pride the pair of you proved the floods,<br>and wantonly dared in waters deep<br>to risk your lives? No living man,<br>or lief or loath, from your labor dire<br>could you dissuade, from swimming the main.<br>Ocean-tides with your arms ye covered,<br>with strenuous hands the sea-streets measured,<br>swam o'er the waters. Winter's storm<br>rolled the rough waves. In realm of sea<br>a sennight strove ye. In swimming he topped thee,<br>had more of main! Him at morning-tide<br>billows bore to the Battling Reamas,<br>whence he hied to his home so dear<br>beloved of his liegemen, to land of Brondings,<br>fastness fair, where his folk he ruled,<br>town and treasure. In triumph o'er thee<br>Beanstan's bairn [2] his boast achieved.<br>So ween I for thee a worse adventure<br>- though in buffet of battle thou brave hast been,<br>in struggle grim, - if Grendel's approach<br>thou darst await through the watch of night!' <br>Beowulf spake, bairn of Ecgtheow:-<br>'What a deal hast uttered, dear my Unferth,<br>drunken with beer, of Breca now,<br>told of his triumph! Truth I claim it,<br>that I had more of might in the sea<br>than any man else, more ocean-endurance.<br>We twain had talked, in time of youth,<br>and made our boast, - we were merely boys,<br>striplings still, - to stake our lives<br>far at sea: and so we performed it.<br>Naked swords, as we swam along,<br>we held in hand, with hope to guard us<br>against the whales. Not a whit from me<br>could he float afar o'er the flood of waves,<br>haste o'er the billows; nor him I abandoned.<br>Together we twain on the tides abode<br>five nights full till the flood divided us,<br>churning waves and chillest weather,<br>darkling night, and the northern wind<br>ruthless rushed on us: rough was the surge.<br>Now the wrath of the sea-fish rose apace;<br>yet me 'gainst the monsters my mailed coat,<br>hard and hand-linked, help afforded, -<br>battle-sark braided my breast to ward,<br>garnished with gold. There grasped me firm<br>and haled me to bottom the hated foe,<br>with grimmest gripe. 'Twas granted me, though,<br>to pierce the monster with point of sword,<br>with blade of battle: huge beast of the sea<br>was whelmed by the hurly through hand of mine. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">IX<br>ME thus often the evil monsters<br>thronging threatened. With thrust of my sword,<br>the darling, I dealt them due return!<br>Nowise had they bliss from their booty then<br>to devour their victim, vengeful creatures,<br>seated to banquet at bottom of sea;<br>but at break of day, by my brand sore hurt,<br>on the edge of ocean up they lay,<br>put to sleep by the sword. And since, by them<br>on the fathomless sea-ways sailor-folk<br>are never molested. - Light from east,<br>came bright God's beacon; the billows sank,<br>so that I saw the sea-cliffs high,<br>windy walls. For Wyrd oft saveth<br>earl undoomed if he doughty be!<br>And so it came that I killed with my sword<br>nine of the nicors. Of night-fought battles<br>ne'er heard I a harder 'neath heaven's dome,<br>nor adrift on the deep a more desolate man!<br>Yet I came unharmed from that hostile clutch,<br>though spent with swimming. The sea upbore me,<br>flood of the tide, on Finnish land,<br>the welling waters. No wise of thee<br>have I heard men tell such terror of falchions,<br>bitter battle. Breca ne'er yet,<br>not one of you pair, in the play of war<br>such daring deed has done at all<br>with bloody brand, - I boast not of it! -<br>though thou wast the bane [1] of thy brethren dear,<br>thy closest kin, whence curse of hell<br>awaits thee, well as thy wit may serve!<br>For I say in sooth, thou son of Ecglaf,<br>never had Grendel these grim deeds wrought,<br>monster dire, on thy master dear,<br>in Heorot such havoc, if heart of thine<br>were as battle-bold as thy boast is loud!<br>But he has found no feud will happen;<br>from sword-clash dread of your Danish clan<br>he vaunts him safe, from the Victor-Scyldings.<br>He forces pledges, favors none<br>of the land of Danes, but lustily murders,<br>fights and feasts, nor feud he dreads<br>from Spear-Dane men. But speedily now<br>shall I prove him the prowess and pride of the Geats,<br>shall bid him battle. Blithe to mead<br>go he that listeth, when light of dawn<br>this morrow morning o'er men of earth,<br>ether-robed sun from the south shall beam!'<br>Joyous then was the Jewel-giver,<br>hoar-haired, war-brave; help awaited<br>the Bright-Danes' prince, from Beowulf hearing,<br>folk's good shepherd, such firm resolve.<br>Then was laughter of liegemen loud resounding<br>with winsome words. Came Wealhtheow forth,<br>queen of Hrothgar, heedful of courtesy,<br>gold-decked, greeting the guests in hall;<br>and the high-born lady handed the cup<br>first to the East-Danes' heir and warden,<br>bade him be blithe at the beer-carouse,<br>the land's beloved one. Lustily took he<br>banquet and beaker, battle-famed king.<br>Through the hall then went the Helmings' Lady,<br>to younger and older everywhere<br>carried the cup, till come the moment<br>when the ring-graced queen, the royal-hearted,<br>to Beowulf bore the beaker of mead.<br>She greeted the Geats' lord, God she thanked,<br>in wisdom's words, that her will was granted,<br>that at last on a hero her hope could lean<br>for comfort in terrors. The cup he took,<br>hardy-in-war, from Wealhtheow's hand,<br>and answer uttered the eager-for-combat.<br>Beowulf spake, bairn of Ecgtheow:-<br>'This was my thought, when my thanes and I<br>bent to the ocean and entered our boat,<br>that I would work the will of your people<br>fully, or fighting fall in death,<br>in fiend's gripe fast. I am firm to do<br>an earl's brave deed, or end the days<br>of this life of mine in the mead-hall here.'<br>Well these words to the woman seemed,<br>Beowulf's battle-boast. - Bright with gold<br>the stately dame by her spouse sat down.<br>Again, as erst, began in hall<br>warriors' wassail and words of power,<br>the proud-band's revel, till presently<br>the son of Healfdene hastened to seek<br>rest for the night; he knew there waited<br>fight for the fiend in that festal hall,<br>when the sheen of the sun they saw no more,<br>and dusk of night sank darkling nigh,<br>and shadowy shapes came striding on,<br>wan under welkin. The warriors rose.<br>Man to man, he made harangue,<br>Hrothgar to Beowulf, bade him hail,<br>let him wield the wine hall: a word he added:-<br>'Never to any man erst I trusted,<br>since I could heave up hand and shield,<br>this noble Dane-Hall, till now to thee.<br>Have now and hold this house unpeered;<br>remember thy glory; thy might declare;<br>watch for the foe! No wish shall fail thee<br>if thou bidest the battle with bold-won life.' </div><div style="margin:10px 0">X<br>THEN Hrothgar went with his hero-train,<br>defence-of-Scyldings, forth from hall;<br>fain would the war-lord Wealhtheow seek,<br>couch of his queen. The King-of-Glory<br>against this Grendel a guard had set,<br>so heroes heard, a hall-defender,<br>who warded the monarch and watched for the monster.<br>In truth, the Geats' prince gladly trusted<br>his mettle, his might, the mercy of God!<br>Cast off then his corselet of iron,<br>helmet from head; to his henchman gave, -<br>choicest of weapons, - the well-chased sword,<br>bidding him guard the gear of battle.<br>Spake then his Vaunt the valiant man,<br>Beowulf Geat, ere the bed be sought:-<br>'Of force in fight no feebler I count me,<br>in grim war-deeds, than Grendel deems him.<br>Not with the sword, then, to sleep of death<br>his life will I give, though it lie in my power.<br>No skill is his to strike against me,<br>my shield to hew though he hardy be,<br>bold in battle; we both, this night,<br>shall spurn the sword, if he seek me here,<br>unweaponed, for war. Let wisest God,<br>sacred Lord, on which side soever<br>doom decree as he deemeth right.'<br>Reclined then the chieftain, and cheek-pillows held<br>the head of the earl, while all about him<br>seamen hardy on hall-beds sank.<br>None of them thought that thence their steps<br>to the folk and fastness that fostered them,<br>to the land they loved, would lead them back!<br>Full well they wist that on warriors many<br>battle-death seized, in the banquet-hall,<br>of Danish clan. But comfort and help,<br>war-weal weaving, to Weder folk<br>the Master gave, that, by might of one,<br>over their enemy all prevailed,<br>by single strength. In sooth 'tis told<br>that highest God o'er human kind<br>hath wielded ever! - Thro' wan night striding,<br>came the walker-in-shadow. Warriors slept<br>whose hest was to guard the gabled hall, -<br>all save one. 'Twas widely known<br>that against God's will the ghostly ravager<br>him [1] could not hurl to haunts of darkness;<br>wakeful, ready, with warrior's wrath,<br>bold he bided the battle's issue. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">XI<br>THEN from the moorland, by misty crags,<br>with God's wrath laden, Grendel came.<br>The monster was minded of mankind now<br>sundry to seize in the stately house.<br>Under welkin he walked, till the wine-palace there,<br>gold-hall of men, he gladly discerned,<br>flashing with fretwork. Not first time, this,<br>that he the home of Hrothgar sought, -<br>yet ne'er in his life-day, late or early,<br>such hardy heroes, such hall-thanes, found!<br>To the house the warrior walked apace,<br>parted from peace; [1] the portal opended,<br>though with forged bolts fast, when his fists had<br>struck it,<br>and baleful he burst in his blatant rage,<br>the house's mouth. All hastily, then,<br>o'er fair-paved floor the fiend trod on,<br>ireful he strode; there streamed from his eyes<br>fearful flashes, like flame to see.<br>He spied in hall the hero-band,<br>kin and clansmen clustered asleep,<br>hardy liegemen. Then laughed his heart;<br>for the monster was minded, ere morn should dawn,<br>savage, to sever the soul of each,<br>life from body, since lusty banquet<br>waited his will! But Wyrd forbade him<br>to seize any more of men on earth<br>after that evening. Eagerly watched<br>Hygelac's kinsman his cursed foe,<br>how he would fare in fell attack.<br>Not that the monster was minded to pause!<br>Straightway he seized a sleeping warrior<br>for the first, and tore him fiercely asunder,<br>the bone-frame bit, drank blood in streams,<br>swallowed him piecemeal: swiftly thus<br>the lifeless corse was clear devoured,<br>e'en feet and hands. Then farther he hied;<br>for the hardy hero with hand he grasped,<br>felt for the foe with fiendish claw,<br>for the hero reclining, - who clutched it boldly,<br>prompt to answer, propped on his arm.<br>Soon then saw that shepherd-of-evils<br>that never he met in this middle-world,<br>in the ways of earth, another wight<br>with heavier hand-gripe; at heart he feared,<br>sorrowed in soul, - none the sooner escaped!<br>Fain would he flee, his fastness seek,<br>the den of devils: no doings now<br>such as oft he had done in days of old!<br>Then bethought him the hardy Hygelac-thane<br>of his boast at evening: up he bounded,<br>grasped firm his foe, whose fingers cracked.<br>The fiend made off, but the earl close followed.<br>The monster meant - if he might at all -<br>to fling himself free, and far away<br>fly to the fens, - knew his fingers' power<br>in the gripe of the grim one. Gruesome march<br>to Heorot this monster of harm had made!<br>Din filled the room; the Danes were bereft,<br>castle-dwellers and clansmen all,<br>earls, of their ale. Angry were both<br>those savage hall-guards: the house resounded.<br>Wonder it was the wine-hall firm<br>in the strain of their struggle stood, to earth<br>the fair house fell not; too fast it was<br>within and without by its iron bands<br>craftily clamped; though there crashed from sill<br>many a mead-bench - men have told me -<br>gay with gold, where the grim foes wrestled.<br>So well had weened the wisest Scyldings<br>that not ever at all might any man<br>that bone-decked, brave house break asunder,<br>crush by craft, - unless clasp of fire<br>in smoke engulfed it. - Again uprose<br>din redoubled. Danes of the North<br>with fear and frenzy were filled, each one,<br>who from the wall that wailing heard,<br>God's foe sounding his grisly song,<br>cry of the conquered, clamorous pain<br>from captive of hell. Too closely held him<br>he who of men in might was strongest<br>in that same day of this our life. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">XII<br>NOT in any wise would the earls'-defence [1]<br>suffer that slaughterous stranger to live,<br>useless deeming his days and years<br>to men on earth. Now many an earl<br>of Beowulf brandished blade ancestral,<br>fain the life of their lord to shield,<br>their praised prince, if power were theirs;<br>never they knew, - as they neared the foe,<br>hardy-hearted heroes of war,<br>aiming their swords on every side<br>the accursed to kill, - no keenest blade,<br>no farest of falchions fashioned on earth,<br>could harm or hurt that hideous fiend!<br>He was safe, by his spells, from sword of battle,<br>from edge of iron. Yet his end and parting<br>on that same day of this our life<br>woful should be, and his wandering soul<br>far off flit to the fiends' domain.<br>Soon he found, who in former days,<br>harmful in heart and hated of God,<br>on many a man such murder wrought,<br>that the frame of his body failed him now.<br>For him the keen-souled kinsman of Hygelac<br>held in hand; hateful alive<br>was each to other. The outlaw dire<br>took mortal hurt; a mighty wound<br>showed on his shoulder, and sinews cracked,<br>and the bone-frame burst. To Beowulf now<br>the glory was given, and Grendel thence<br>death-sick his den in the dark moor sought,<br>noisome abode: he knew too well<br>that here was the last of life, an end<br>of his days on earth. - To all the Danes<br>by that bloody battle the boon had come.<br>From ravage had rescued the roving stranger<br>Hrothgar's hall; the hardy and wise one<br>had purged it anew. His night-work pleased him,<br>his deed and its honor. To Eastern Danes<br>had the valiant Geat his vaunt made good,<br>all their sorrow and ills assuaged,<br>their bale of battle borne so long,<br>and all the dole they erst endured<br>pain a-plenty. - 'Twas proof of this,<br>when the hardy-in-fight a hand laid down,<br>arm and shoulder, - all, indeed,<br>of Grendel's gripe, - 'neath the gabled roof· </div><div style="margin:10px 0">XIII<br>MANY at morning, as men have told me,<br>warriors gathered the gift-hall round,<br>folk-leaders faring from far and near,<br>o'er wide-stretched ways, the wonder to view,<br>trace of the traitor. Not troublous seemed<br>the enemy's end to any man<br>who saw by the gait of the graceless foe<br>how the weary-hearted, away from thence,<br>baffled in battle and banned, his steps<br>death-marked dragged to the devils' mere.<br>Bloody the billows were boiling there,<br>turbid the tide of tumbling waves<br>horribly seething, with sword-blood hot,<br>by that doomed one dyed, who in den of the moor<br>laid forlorn his life adown,<br>his heathen soul,-and hell received it.<br>Home then rode the hoary clansmen<br>from that merry journey, and many a youth,<br>on horses white, the hardy warriors,<br>back from the mere. Then Beowulf's glory<br>eager they echoed, and all averred<br>that from sea to sea, or south or north,<br>there was no other in earth's domain,<br>under vault of heaven, more valiant found,<br>of warriors none more worthy to rule!<br>(On their lord beloved they laid no slight,<br>gracious Hrothgar: a good king he!)<br>From time to time, the tried-in-battle<br>their gray steeds set to gallop amain,<br>and ran a race when the road seemed fair.<br>From time to time, a thane of the king,<br>who had made many vaunts, and was mindful of verses,<br>stored with sagas and songs of old,<br>bound word to word in well-knit rime,<br>welded his lay; this warrior soon<br>of Beowulf's quest right cleverly sang,<br>and artfully added an excellent tale,<br>in well-ranged words, of the warlike deeds<br>he had heard in saga of Sigemund.<br>Strange the story: he said it all, -<br>the Waelsing's wanderings wide, his struggles,<br>which never were told to tribes of men,<br>the feuds and the frauds, save to Fitela only,<br>when of these doings he deigned to speak,<br>uncle to nephew; as ever the twain<br>stood side by side in stress of war,<br>and multitude of the monster kind<br>they had felled with their swords. Of Sigemund<br>grew,<br>when he passed from life, no little praise;<br>for the doughty-in-combat a dragon killed<br>that herded the hoard: [1] under hoary rock<br>the atheling dared the deed alone<br>fearful quest, nor was Fitela there.<br>Yet so it befell, his falchion pierced<br>that wondrous worm, - on the wall it struck,<br>best blade; the dragon died in its blood.<br>Thus had the dread-one by daring achieved<br>over the ring-hoard to rule at will,<br>himself to pleasure; a sea-boat he loaded,<br>and bore on its bosom the beaming gold,<br>son of Waels; the worm was consumed.<br>He had of all heroes the highest renown<br>among races of men, this refuge-of-warriors,<br>for deeds of daring that decked his name<br>since the hand and heart of Heremod<br>grew slack in battle. He, swiftly banished<br>to mingle with monsters at mercy of foes,<br>to death was betrayed; for torrents of sorrow<br>had lamed him too long; a load of care<br>to earls and athelings all he proved.<br>Oft indeed, in earlier days,<br>for the warrior's wayfaring wise men mourned,<br>who had hoped of him help from harm and bale,<br>and had thought their sovran's son would thrive,<br>follow his father, his folk protect,<br>the hoard and the stronghold, heroes' land,<br>home of Scyldings. - But here, thanes said,<br>the kinsman of Hygelac kinder seemed<br>to all: the other [2] was urged to crime!<br>And afresh to the race, [3] the fallow roads<br>by swift steeds measured! The morning sun<br>was climbing higher. Clansmen hastened<br>to the high-built hall, those hardy-minded,<br>the wonder to witness. Warden of treasure,<br>crowned with glory, the king himself,<br>with stately band from the bride-bower strode;<br>and with him the queen and her crowd of maidens<br>measured the path to the mead-house fair. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">XIV<br>HROTHGAR spake, - to the hall he went,<br>stood by the steps, the steep roof saw,<br>garnished with gold, and Grendel's hand:-<br>'For the sight I see to the Sovran Ruler<br>be speedy thanks! A throng of sorrows<br>I have borne from Grendel; but God still works<br>wonder on wonder, the Warden-of-Glory.<br>It was but now that I never more<br>for woes that weighed on me waited help<br>long as I lived, when, laved in blood,<br>stood sword-gore-stained this stateliest house, -<br>widespread woe for wise men all,<br>who had no hope to hinder ever<br>foes infernal and fiendish sprites<br>from havoc in hall. This hero now,<br>by the Wielder's might, a work has done<br>that not all of us erst could ever do<br>by wile and wisdom. Lo, well can she say<br>whoso of women this warrior bore<br>among sons of men, if still she liveth,<br>that the God of the ages was good to her<br>in the birth of her bairn. Now, Beowulf, thee,<br>of heroes best, I shall heartily love<br>as mine own, my son; preserve thou ever<br>this kinship new: thou shalt never lack<br>wealth of the world that I wield as mine!<br>Full oft for less have I largess showered,<br>my precious hoard, on a punier man,<br>less stout in struggle. Thyself hast now<br>fulfilled such deeds, that thy fame shall endure<br>through all the ages. As ever he did,<br>well may the Wielder reward thee still!'<br>Beowulf spake, bairn of Ecgtheow:-<br>'This work of war most willingly<br>we have fought, this fight, and fearlessly dared<br>force of the foe. Fain, too, were I<br>hadst thou but seen himself, what time<br>the fiend in his trappings tottered to fall!<br>Swiftly, I thought, in strongest gripe<br>on his bed of death to bind him down,<br>that he in the hent of this hand of mine<br>should breathe his last: but he broke away.<br>Him I might not - the Maker willed not -<br>hinder from flight, and firm enough hold<br>the life-destroyer: too sturdy was he,<br>the ruthless, in running! For rescue, however,<br>he left behind him his hand in pledge,<br>arm and shoulder; nor aught of help<br>could the cursed one thus procure at all.<br>None the longer liveth he, loathsome fiend,<br>sunk in his sins, but sorrow holds him<br>tightly grasped in gripe of anguish,<br>in baleful bonds, where bide he must,<br>evil outlaw, such awful doom<br>as the Mighty Maker shall mete him out.' <br>More silent seemed the son of Ecglaf [1]<br>in boastful speech of his battle-deeds,<br>since athelings all, through the earl's great prowess,<br>beheld that hand, on the high roof gazing,<br>foeman's fingers, - the forepart of each<br>of the sturdy nails to steel was likest, -<br>heathen's 'hand-spear,' hostile warrior's<br>claw uncanny. 'Twas clear, they said,<br>that him no blade of the brave could touch,<br>how keen soever, or cut away<br>that battle-hand bloody from baneful foe. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">XV<br>THERE was hurry and hest in Heorot now<br>for hands to bedeck it, and dense was the throng<br>of men and women the wine-hall to cleanse,<br>the guest-room to garnish. Gold-gay shone the hangings<br>that were wove on the wall, and wonders many<br>to delight each mortal that looks upon them.<br>Though braced within by iron bands,<br>that building bright was broken sorely; [1]<br>rent were its hinges; the roof alone<br>held safe and sound, when, seared with crime,<br>the fiendish foe his flight essayed,<br>of life despairing. - No light thing that,<br>the flight for safety, - essay it who will!<br>Forced of fate, he shall find his way<br>to the refuge ready for race of man,<br>for soul-possessors, and sons of earth;<br>and there his body on bed of death<br>shall rest after revel.<br>Arrived was the hour<br>when to hall proceeded Healfdene's son:<br>the king himself would sit to banquet.<br>Ne'er heard I of host in haughtier throng<br>more graciously gathered round giver-of-rings!<br>Bowed then to bench those bearers-of-glory,<br>fain of the feasting. Featly received<br>many a mead-cup the mighty-in-spirit,<br>kinsmen who sat in the sumptuous hall,<br>Hrothgar and Hrothulf. Heorot now<br>was filled with friends; the folk of Scyldings<br>ne'er yet had tried the traitor's deed.<br>To Beowulf gave the bairn of Healfdene<br>a gold-wove banner, guerdon of triumph,<br>broidered battle-flag, breastplate and helmet;<br>and a splendid sword was seen of many<br>borne to the brave one. Beowulf took<br>cup in hall: for such costly gifts<br>he suffered no shame in that soldier throng.<br>For I heard of few heroes, in heartier mood,<br>with four such gifts, so fashioned with gold,<br>on the ale-bench honoring others thus!<br>O'er the roof of the helmet high, a ridge,<br>wound with wires, kept ward o'er the head,<br>lest the relict-of-files should fierce invade,<br>sharp in the strife, when that shielded hero<br>should go to grapple against his foes.<br>Then the earls'-defence on the floor bade lead<br>coursers eight, with carven head-gear,<br>adown the hall: one horse was decked<br>with a saddle all shining and set in jewels;<br>'twas the battle-seat of the best of kings,<br>when to play of swords the son of Healfdene<br>was fain to fare. Ne'er failed his valor<br>in the crush of combat when corpses fell.<br>To Beowulf over them both then gave<br>the refuge-of-Ingwines right and power,<br>o'er war-steeds and weapons: wished him joy of them.<br>Manfully thus the mighty prince,<br>hoard-guard for heroes, that hard fight repaid<br>with steeds and treasures contemned by none<br>who is willing to say the sooth aright. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">XVI<br>AND the lord of earls, to each that came<br>with Beowulf over the briny ways,<br>an heirloom there at the ale-bench gave,<br>precious gift; and the price [] bade pay<br>in gold for him whom Grendel erst<br>murdered, - and fain of them more had killed,<br>had not wisest God their Wyrd averted,<br>and the man's brave mood. The Maker then<br>ruled human kind, as here and now.<br>Therefore is insight always best,<br>and forethought of mind. How much awaits him<br>of lief and of loath, who long time here,<br>through days of warfare this world endures! <br>Then song and music mingled sounds<br>in the presence of Healfdene's head-of-armies <br>and harping was heard with the hero-lay<br>as Hrothgar's singer the hall-joy woke<br>along the mead-seats, making his song<br>of that sudden raid on the sons of Finn. <br>Healfdene's hero, Hnaef the Scylding,<br>was fated to fall in the Frisian slaughter. <br>Hildeburh needed not hold in value<br>her enemies' honor! [6] Innocent both<br>were the loved ones she lost at the linden-play,<br>bairn and brother, they bowed to fate,<br>stricken by spears; 'twas a sorrowful woman!<br>None doubted why the daughter of Hoc<br>bewailed her doom when dawning came,<br>and under the sky she saw them lying,<br>kinsmen murdered, where most she had kenned<br>of the sweets of the world! By war were swept, too,<br>Finn's own liegemen, and few were left;<br>in the parleying-place he could ply no longer<br>weapon, nor war could he wage on Hengest,<br>and rescue his remnant by right of arms<br>from the prince's thane. A pact he offered:<br>another dwelling the Danes should have,<br>hall and high-seat, and half the power<br>should fall to them in Frisian land;<br>and at the fee-gifts, Folcwald's son<br>day by day the Danes should honor,<br>the folk of Hengest favor with rings,<br>even as truly, with treasure and jewels,<br>with fretted gold, as his Frisian kin<br>he meant to honor in ale-hall there.<br>Pact of peace they plighted further<br>on both sides firmly. Finn to Hengest<br>with oath, upon honor, openly promised<br>that woful remnant, with wise-men's aid,<br>nobly to govern, so none of the guests<br>by word or work should warp the treaty, <br>or with malice of mind bemoan themselves<br>as forced to follow their fee-giver's slayer,<br>lordless men, as their lot ordained.<br>Should Frisian, moreover, with foeman's taunt,<br>that murderous hatred to mind recall,<br>then edge of the sword must seal his doom.<br>Oaths were given, and ancient gold<br>heaped from hoard. - The hardy Scylding,<br>battle-thane best, [9] on his balefire lay.<br>All on the pyre were plain to see<br>the gory sark, the gilded swine-crest,<br>boar of hard iron, and athelings many<br>slain by the sword: at the slaughter they fell.<br>It was Hildeburh's hest, at Hnaef's own pyre<br>the bairn of her body on brands to lay,<br>his bones to burn, on the balefire placed,<br>at his uncle's side. In sorrowful dirges<br>bewept them the woman: great wailing ascended.<br>Then wound up to welkin the wildest of death-fires,<br>roared o'er the hillock: [10] heads all were melted,<br>gashes burst, and blood gushed out<br>from bites [11] of the body. Balefire devoured,<br>greediest spirit, those spared not by war<br>out of either folk: their flower was gone. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">XVII<br>THEN hastened those heroes their home to see,<br>friendless, to find the Frisian land,<br>houses and high burg. Hengest still<br>through the death-dyed winter dwelt with Finn,<br>holding pact, yet of home he minded,<br>though powerless his ring-decked prow to drive<br>over the waters, now waves rolled fierce<br>lashed by the winds, or winter locked them<br>in icy fetters. Then fared another<br>year to men's dwellings, as yet they do,<br>the sunbright skies, that their season ever<br>duly await. Far off winter was driven;<br>fair lay earth's breast; and fain was the rover,<br>the guest, to depart, though more gladly he pondered<br>on wreaking his vengeance than roaming the deep,<br>and how to hasten the hot encounter<br>where sons of the Frisians were sure to be.<br>So he escaped not the common doom,<br>when Hun with 'Lafing,' the light-of-battle,<br>best of blades, his bosom pierced:<br>its edge was famed with the Frisian earls.<br>On fierce-heart Finn there fell likewise,<br>on himself at home, the horrid sword-death;<br>for Guthlaf and Oslaf of grim attack<br>had sorrowing told, from sea-ways landed,<br>mourning their woes. [1] Finn's wavering spirit<br>bode not in breast. The burg was reddened<br>with blood of foemen, and Finn was slain,<br>king amid clansmen; the queen was taken.<br>To their ship the Scylding warriors bore<br>all the chattels the chieftain owned,<br>whatever they found in Finn's domain<br>of gems and jewels. The gentle wife<br>o'er paths of the deep to the Danes they bore,<br>led to her land.<br>The lay was finished,<br>the gleeman's song. Then glad rose the revel;<br>bench-joy brightened. Bearers draw<br>from their 'wonder-vats' wine. Comes Wealhtheow forth,<br>under gold-crown goes where the good pair sit,<br>uncle and nephew, true each to the other one,<br>kindred in amity. Unferth the spokesman<br>at the Scylding lord's feet sat: men had faith in his Spirit,<br>his keenness of courage, though kinsmen had found him<br>unsure at the sword-play. The Scylding queen spoke:<br>'Quaff of this cup, my king and lord,<br>breaker of rings, and blithe be thou,<br>gold-friend of men; to the Geats here speak<br>such words of mildness as man should use.<br>Be glad with thy Geats; of those gifts be mindful,<br>or near or far, which now thou hast.<br>Men say to me, as son thou wishest<br>yon hero to hold. Thy Heorot purged,<br>jewel-hall brightest, enjoy while thou canst,<br>with many a largess; and leave to thy kin<br>folk and realm when forth thou goest<br>to greet thy doom. For gracious I deem<br>my Hrothulf, [2] willing to hold and rule<br>nobly our youths, if thou yield up first,<br>prince of Scyldings, thy part in the world.<br>I ween with good he will well requite<br>offspring of ours, when all he minds<br>that for him we did in his helpless days<br>of gift and grace to gain him honor!'<br>Then she turned to the seat where her sons were placed,<br>Hrethric and Hrothmund, with heroes' bairns,<br>young men together: the Geat, too, sat there,<br>Beowulf brave, the brothers between. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">XVIII<br>A CUP she gave him, with kindly greeting<br>and winsome words. Of wounden gold,<br>she offered, to honor him, arm-jewels twain,<br>corselet and rings, and of collars the noblest<br>that ever I knew the earth around.<br>Ne'er heard I so mighty, 'neath heaven's dome,<br>a hoard-gem of heroes, since Hama bore<br>to his bright-built burg the Brisings' necklace,<br>jewel and gem casket. - Jealousy fled he,<br>Eormenric's hate: chose help eternal.<br>Hygelac Geat, grandson of Swerting,<br>on the last of his raids this ring bore with him,<br>under his banner the booty defending,<br>the war-spoil warding; but Wyrd o'erwhelmed him<br>what time, in his daring, dangers he sought,<br>feud with Frisians. Fairest of gems<br>he bore with him over the beaker-of-waves,<br>sovran strong: under shield he died.<br>Fell the corpse of the king into keeping of Franks,<br>gear of the breast, and that gorgeous ring;<br>weaker warriors won the spoil,<br>after gripe of battle, from Geatland's lord,<br>and held the death-field.<br>Din rose in hall.<br>Wealhtheow spake amid warriors, and said:-<br>'This jewel enjoy in thy jocund youth,<br>Beowulf lov'd, these battle-weeds wear,<br>a royal treasure, and richly thrive!<br>Preserve thy strength, and these striplings here<br>counsel in kindness: requital be mine.<br>Hast done such deeds, that for days to come<br>thou art famed among folk both far and near,<br>so wide as washeth the wave of Ocean<br>his windy walls. Through the ways of life<br>prosper, O prince! I pray for thee<br>rich possessions. To son of mine<br>be helpful in deed and uphold his joys!<br>Here every earl to the other is true,<br>mild of mood, to the master loyal!<br>Thanes are friendly, the throng obedient,<br>liegemen are revelling: list and obey!'<br>Went then to her place.-That was proudest of feasts;<br>flowed wine for the warriors. Wyrd they knew not,<br>destiny dire, and the doom to be seen<br>by many an earl when eve should come,<br>and Hrothgar homeward hasten away,<br>royal, to rest. The room was guarded<br>by an army of earls, as erst was done.<br>They bared the bench-boards; abroad they spread<br>beds and bolsters. - One beer-carouser<br>in danger of doom lay down in the hall. -<br>At their heads they set their shields of war,<br>bucklers bright; on the bench were there<br>over each atheling, easy to see,<br>the high battle-helmet, the haughty spear,<br>the corselet of rings. 'Twas their custom so<br>ever to be for battle prepared,<br>at home, or harrying, which it were,<br>even as oft as evil threatened<br>their sovran king. - They were clansmen good. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">XIX<br>THEN sank they to sleep. With sorrow one bought<br>his rest of the evening, - as ofttime had happened<br>when Grendel guarded that golden hall,<br>evil wrought, till his end drew nigh,<br>slaughter for sins. 'Twas seen and told<br>how an avenger survived the fiend,<br>as was learned afar. The livelong time<br>after that grim fight, Grendel's mother,<br>monster of women, mourned her woe.<br>She was doomed to dwell in the dreary waters,<br>cold sea-courses, since Cain cut down<br>with edge of the sword his only brother,<br>his father's offspring: outlawed he fled,<br>marked with murder, from men's delights<br>warded the wilds. - There woke from him<br>such fate-sent ghosts as Grendel, who,<br>war-wolf horrid, at Heorot found<br>a warrior watching and waiting the fray,<br>with whom the grisly one grappled amain.<br>But the man remembered his mighty power,<br>the glorious gift that God had sent him,<br>in his Maker's mercy put his trust<br>for comfort and help: so he conquered the foe,<br>felled the fiend, who fled abject,<br>reft of joy, to the realms of death,<br>mankind's foe. And his mother now,<br>gloomy and grim, would go that quest<br>of sorrow, the death of her son to avenge.<br>To Heorot came she, where helmeted Danes<br>slept in the hall. Too soon came back<br>old ills of the earls, when in she burst,<br>the mother of Grendel. Less grim, though, that terror,<br>e'en as terror of woman in war is less,<br>might of maid, than of men in arms<br>when, hammer-forged, the falchion hard,<br>sword gore-stained, through swine of the helm,<br>crested, with keen blade carves amain.<br>Then was in hall the hard-edge drawn,<br>the swords on the settles, [1] and shields a-many<br>firm held in hand: nor helmet minded<br>nor harness of mail, whom that horror seized.<br>Haste was hers; she would hie afar<br>and save her life when the liegemen saw her.<br>Yet a single atheling up she seized<br>fast and firm, as she fled to the moor.<br>He was for Hrothgar of heroes the dearest,<br>of trusty vassals betwixt the seas,<br>whom she killed on his couch, a clansman famous,<br>in battle brave. - Nor was Beowulf there;<br>another house had been held apart,<br>after giving of gold, for the Geat renowned. -<br>Uproar filled Heorot; the hand all had viewed,<br>blood-flecked, she bore with her; bale was returned,<br>dole in the dwellings: 'twas dire exchange<br>where Dane and Geat were doomed to give<br>the lives of loved ones. Long-tried king,<br>the hoary hero, at heart was sad<br>when he knew his noble no more lived,<br>and dead indeed was his dearest thane.<br>To his bower was Beowulf brought in haste,<br>dauntless victor. As daylight broke,<br>along with his earls the atheling lord,<br>with his clansmen, came where the king abode<br>waiting to see if the Wielder-of-All<br>would turn this tale of trouble and woe.<br>Strode o'er floor the famed-in-strife,<br>with his hand-companions, - the hall resounded, -<br>wishing to greet the wise old king,<br>Ingwines' lord; he asked if the night<br>had passed in peace to the prince's mind. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">XX<br>HROTHGAR spake, helmet-of-Scyldings:-<br>'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 [2] 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.' </div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXI<br>BEOWULF spake, bairn of Ecgtheow:<br>'Sorrow not, sage! It beseems us better<br>friends to avenge than fruitlessly mourn them.<br>Each of us all must his end abide<br>in the ways of the world; so win who may<br>glory ere death! When his days are told,<br>that is the warrior's worthiest doom.<br>Rise, O realm-warder! Ride we anon,<br>and mark the trail of the mother of Grendel.<br>No harbor shall hide her - heed my promise! -<br>enfolding of field or forested mountain<br>or floor of the flood, let her flee where she will!<br>But thou this day endure in patience,<br>as I ween thou wilt, thy woes each one.'<br>Leaped up the graybeard: God he thanked,<br>mighty Lord, for the man's brave words.<br>For Hrothgar soon a horse was saddled<br>wave-maned steed. The sovran wise<br>stately rode on; his shield-armed men<br>followed in force. The footprints led<br>along the woodland, widely seen,<br>a path o'er the plain, where she passed, and trod<br>the murky moor; of men-at-arms<br>she bore the bravest and best one, dead,<br>him who with Hrothgar the homestead ruled.<br>On then went the atheling-born<br>o'er stone-cliffs steep and strait defiles,<br>narrow passes and unknown ways,<br>headlands sheer, and the haunts of the Nicors.<br>Foremost he [1] fared, a few at his side<br>of the wiser men, the ways to scan,<br>till he found in a flash the forested hill<br>hanging over the hoary rock,<br>a woful wood: the waves below<br>were dyed in blood. The Danish men<br>had sorrow of soul, and for Scyldings all,<br>for many a hero, 'twas hard to bear,<br>ill for earls, when Aeschere's head<br>they found by the flood on the foreland there.<br>Waves were welling, the warriors saw,<br>hot with blood; but the horn sang oft<br>battle-song bold. The band sat down,<br>and watched on the water worm-like things,<br>sea-dragons strange that sounded the deep,<br>and nicors that lay on the ledge of the ness -<br>such as oft essay at hour of morn<br>on the road-of-sails their ruthless quest, -<br>and sea-snakes and monsters. These started away,<br>swollen and savage that song to hear,<br>that war-horn's blast. The warden of Geats,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Charles+Baudelaire">Charles Baudelaire</a><div class=q>
<img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share">
<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=354405" data-title="Beowulf de Charles Baudelaire" data-description="LO, praise of the prowess of people-kings
of spear-armed Danes, in days long sped,
we have heard, and what honor the athelings won!
Oft Scyld the Scefing from squadroned foes,
from many a tribe, the mead-bench tore,
awing the earls. Since erst he ..."></div>
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