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| ME thus often the evil monsters |
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| thronging threatened. With thrust of my sword, |
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| the darling, I dealt them due return! |
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| Nowise had they bliss from their booty then |
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| to devour their victim, vengeful creatures, |
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| seated to banquet at bottom of sea; |
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| but at break of day, by my brand sore hurt, |
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| on the edge of ocean up they lay, |
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| put to sleep by the sword. And since, by them |
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| on the fathomless sea-ways sailor-folk |
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| are never molested.—Light from east, |
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| came bright God's beacon; the billows sank, |
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| so that I saw the sea-cliffs high, |
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| windy walls. For Wyrd oft saveth |
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| earl undoomed if he doughty be! |
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| And so it came that I killed with my sword |
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| nine of the nicors. Of night-fought battles |
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| ne'er heard I a harder 'neath heaven's dome, |
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| nor adrift on the deep a more desolate man! |
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| Yet I came unharmed from that hostile clutch, |
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| though spent with swimming. The sea upbore me, |
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| flood of the tide, on Finnish land, |
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| the welling waters. No wise of thee |
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| have I heard men tell such terror of falchions, |
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| bitter battle. Breca ne'er yet, |
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| not one of you pair, in the play of war |
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| such daring deed has done at all |
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| with bloody brand,—I boast not of it!— |
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| though thou wast the bane[1] of thy brethren dear, |
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| thy closest kin, whence curse of hell |
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| awaits thee, well as thy wit may serve! |
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| For I say in sooth, thou son of Ecglaf, |
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| never had Grendel these grim deeds wrought, |
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| monster dire, on thy master dear, |
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| in Heorot such havoc, if heart of thine |
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| were as battle-bold as thy boast is loud! |
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| But he has found no feud will happen; |
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| from sword-clash dread of your Danish clan |
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| he vaunts him safe, from the Victor-Scyldings. |
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| He forces pledges, favors none |
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| of the land of Danes, but lustily murders, |
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| fights and feasts, nor feud he dreads |
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| from Spear-Dane men. But speedily now |
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| shall I prove him the prowess and pride of the Geats, |
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| shall bid him battle. Blithe to mead |
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| go he that listeth, when light of dawn |
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| this morrow morning o'er men of earth, |
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| ether-robed sun from the south shall beam!" |
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|
| Joyous then was the Jewel-giver, |
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| hoar-haired, war-brave; help awaited |
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| the Bright-Danes' prince, from Beowulf hearing, |
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| folk's good shepherd, such firm resolve. |
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| Then was laughter of liegemen loud resounding |
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| with winsome words. Came Wealhtheow forth, |
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| queen of Hrothgar, heedful of courtesy, |
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| gold-decked, greeting the guests in hall; |
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| and the high-born lady handed the cup |
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| first to the East-Danes' heir and warden, |
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| bade him be blithe at the beer-carouse, |
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| the land's beloved one. Lustily took he |
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| banquet and beaker, battle-famed king. |
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| Through the hall then went the Helmings' Lady, |
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| to younger and older everywhere |
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| carried the cup, till come the moment |
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| when the ring-graced queen, the royal-hearted, |
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| to Beowulf bore the beaker of mead. |
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| She greeted the Geats' lord, God she thanked, |
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| in wisdom's words, that her will was granted, |
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| that at last on a hero her hope could lean |
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| for comfort in terrors. The cup he took, |
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| hardy-in-war, from Wealhtheow's hand, |
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| and answer uttered the eager-for-combat. |
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| Beowulf spake, bairn of Ecgtheow:— |
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| "This was my thought, when my thanes and I |
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| bent to the ocean and entered our boat, |
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| that I would work the will of your people |
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| fully, or fighting fall in death, |
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| in fiend's gripe fast. I am firm to do |
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| an earl's brave deed, or end the days |
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| of this life of mine in the mead-hall here." |
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|
| Well these words to the woman seemed, |
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|
| Beowulf's battle-boast.—Bright with gold |
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|
| the stately dame by her spouse sat down. |
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| Again, as erst, began in hall |
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| warriors' wassail and words of power, |
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| the proud-band's revel, till presently |
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|
| the son of Healfdene hastened to seek |
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| rest for the night; he knew there waited |
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| fight for the fiend in that festal hall, |
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| when the sheen of the sun they saw no more, |
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| and dusk of night sank darkling nigh, |
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|
| and shadowy shapes came striding on, |
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| wan under welkin. The warriors rose. |
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| Man to man, he made harangue, |
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|
| Hrothgar to Beowulf, bade him hail, |
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| let him wield the wine hall: a word he added:— |
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| "Never to any man erst I trusted, |
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| since I could heave up hand and shield, |
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|
| this noble Dane-Hall, till now to thee. |
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| Have now and hold this house unpeered; |
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|
| remember thy glory; thy might declare; |
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| watch for the foe! No wish shall fail thee |
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| if thou bidest the battle with bold-won life." |
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|
