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| HASTENED the hardy one, henchmen with him, |
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| sandy strand of the sea to tread |
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| and widespread ways. The world's great candle, |
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| sun shone from south. They strode along |
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| with sturdy steps to the spot they knew |
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| where the battle-king young, his burg within, |
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| slayer of Ongentheow, shared the rings, |
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| shelter-of-heroes. To Hygelac |
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| Beowulf's coming was quickly told,— |
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| that there in the court the clansmen's refuge, |
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| the shield-companion sound and alive, |
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| hale from the hero-play homeward strode. |
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| With haste in the hall, by highest order, |
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| room for the rovers was readily made. |
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| By his sovran he sat, come safe from battle, |
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| kinsman by kinsman. His kindly lord |
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| he first had greeted in gracious form, |
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| with manly words. The mead dispensing, |
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| came through the high hall Haereth's daughter, |
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| winsome to warriors, wine-cup bore |
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| to the hands of the heroes. Hygelac then |
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| his comrade fairly with question plied |
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| in the lofty hall, sore longing to know |
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| what manner of sojourn the Sea-Geats made. |
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| "What came of thy quest, my kinsman Beowulf, |
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| when thy yearnings suddenly swept thee yonder |
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| battle to seek o'er the briny sea, |
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| combat in Heorot? Hrothgar couldst thou |
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| aid at all, the honored chief, |
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| in his wide-known woes? With waves of care |
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| my sad heart seethed; I sore mistrusted |
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| my loved one's venture: long I begged thee |
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| by no means to seek that slaughtering monster, |
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| but suffer the South-Danes to settle their feud |
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| themselves with Grendel. Now God be thanked |
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| that safe and sound I can see thee now!" |
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| Beowulf spake, the bairn of Ecgtheow:— |
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| "'Tis known and unhidden, Hygelac Lord, |
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| to many men, that meeting of ours, |
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| struggle grim between Grendel and me, |
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| which we fought on the field where full too many |
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| sorrows he wrought for the Scylding-Victors, |
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| evils unending. These all I avenged. |
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| No boast can be from breed of Grendel, |
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| any on earth, for that uproar at dawn, |
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| from the longest-lived of the loathsome race |
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| in fleshly fold!—But first I went |
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| Hrothgar to greet in the hall of gifts, |
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| where Healfdene's kinsman high-renowned, |
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| soon as my purpose was plain to him, |
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| assigned me a seat by his son and heir. |
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|
| The liegemen were lusty; my life-days never |
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|
| such merry men over mead in hall |
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|
| have I heard under heaven! The high-born queen, |
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|
| people's peace-bringer, passed through the hall, |
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| cheered the young clansmen, clasps of gold, |
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| ere she sought her seat, to sundry gave. |
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| Oft to the heroes Hrothgar's daughter, |
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| to earls in turn, the ale-cup tendered,— |
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| she whom I heard these hall-companions |
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| Freawaru name, when fretted gold |
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| she proffered the warriors. Promised is she, |
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| gold-decked maid, to the glad son of Froda. |
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|
| Sage this seems to the Scylding's-friend, |
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| kingdom's-keeper: he counts it wise |
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|
| the woman to wed so and ward off feud, |
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| store of slaughter. But seldom ever |
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| when men are slain, does the murder-spear sink |
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| but briefest while, though the bride be fair![1] |
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| "Nor haply will like it the Heathobard lord, |
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| and as little each of his liegemen all, |
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| when a thane of the Danes, in that doughty throng, |
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| goes with the lady along their hall, |
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| and on him the old-time heirlooms glisten |
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| hard and ring-decked, Heathobard's treasure, |
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|
| weapons that once they wielded fair |
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| until they lost at the linden-play[2] |
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| liegeman leal and their lives as well. |
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|
| Then, over the ale, on this heirloom gazing, |
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|
| some ash-wielder old who has all in mind |
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|
| that spear-death of men,[3]—he is stern of mood, |
|
|
| heavy at heart,—in the hero young |
|
|
| tests the temper and tries the soul |
|
|
| and war-hate wakens, with words like these:— |
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|
| Canst thou not, comrade, ken that sword |
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|
| which to the fray thy father carried |
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|
| in his final feud, 'neath the fighting-mask, |
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|
| dearest of blades, when the Danish slew him |
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|
| and wielded the war-place on Withergild's fall, |
|
|
| after havoc of heroes, those hardy Scyldings? |
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|
| Now, the son of a certain slaughtering Dane, |
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|
| proud of his treasure, paces this hall, |
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|
| joys in the killing, and carries the jewel[4] |
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|
| that rightfully ought to be owned by thee!_ |
|
|
| Thus he urges and eggs him all the time |
|
|
| with keenest words, till occasion offers |
|
|
| that Freawaru's thane, for his father's deed, |
|
|
| after bite of brand in his blood must slumber, |
|
|
| losing his life; but that liegeman flies |
|
|
| living away, for the land he kens. |
|
|
| And thus be broken on both their sides |
|
|
| oaths of the earls, when Ingeld's breast |
|
|
| wells with war-hate, and wife-love now |
|
|
| after the care-billows cooler grows. |
|
|
| "So[5] I hold not high the Heathobards' faith |
|
|
| due to the Danes, or their during love |
|
|
| and pact of peace.—But I pass from that, |
|
|
| turning to Grendel, O giver-of-treasure, |
|
|
| and saying in full how the fight resulted, |
|
|
| hand-fray of heroes. When heaven's jewel |
|
|
| had fled o'er far fields, that fierce sprite came, |
|
|
| night-foe savage, to seek us out |
|
|
| where safe and sound we sentried the hall. |
|
|
| To Hondscio then was that harassing deadly, |
|
|
| his fall there was fated. He first was slain, |
|
|
| girded warrior. Grendel on him |
|
|
| turned murderous mouth, on our mighty kinsman, |
|
|
| and all of the brave man's body devoured. |
|
|
| Yet none the earlier, empty-handed, |
|
|
| would the bloody-toothed murderer, mindful of bale, |
|
|
| outward go from the gold-decked hall: |
|
|
| but me he attacked in his terror of might, |
|
|
| with greedy hand grasped me. A glove hung by him[6] |
|
|
| wide and wondrous, wound with bands; |
|
|
| and in artful wise it all was wrought, |
|
|
| by devilish craft, of dragon-skins. |
|
|
| Me therein, an innocent man, |
|
|
| the fiendish foe was fain to thrust |
|
|
| with many another. He might not so, |
|
|
| when I all angrily upright stood. |
|
|
| 'Twere long to relate how that land-destroyer |
|
|
| I paid in kind for his cruel deeds; |
|
|
| yet there, my prince, this people of thine |
|
|
| got fame by my fighting. He fled away, |
|
|
| and a little space his life preserved; |
|
|
| but there staid behind him his stronger hand |
|
|
| left in Heorot; heartsick thence |
|
|
| on the floor of the ocean that outcast fell. |
|
|
| Me for this struggle the Scyldings'-friend |
|
|
| paid in plenty with plates of gold, |
|
|
| with many a treasure, when morn had come |
|
|
| and we all at the banquet-board sat down. |
|
|
| Then was song and glee. The gray-haired Scylding, |
|
|
| much tested, told of the times of yore. |
|
|
| Whiles the hero his harp bestirred, |
|
|
| wood-of-delight; now lays he chanted |
|
|
| of sooth and sadness, or said aright |
|
|
| legends of wonder, the wide-hearted king; |
|
|
| or for years of his youth he would yearn at times, |
|
|
| for strength of old struggles, now stricken with age, |
|
|
| hoary hero: his heart surged full |
|
|
| when, wise with winters, he wailed their flight. |
|
|
| Thus in the hall the whole of that day |
|
|
| at ease we feasted, till fell o'er earth |
|
|
| another night. Anon full ready |
|
|
| in greed of vengeance, Grendel's mother |
|
|
| set forth all doleful. Dead was her son |
|
|
| through war-hate of Weders; now, woman monstrous |
|
|
| with fury fell a foeman she slew, |
|
|
| avenged her offspring. From Aeschere old, |
|
|
| loyal councillor, life was gone; |
|
|
| nor might they e'en, when morning broke, |
|
|
| those Danish people, their death-done comrade |
|
|
| burn with brands, on balefire lay |
|
|
| the man they mourned. Under mountain stream |
|
|
| she had carried the corpse with cruel hands. |
|
|
| For Hrothgar that was the heaviest sorrow |
|
|
| of all that had laden the lord of his folk. |
|
|
| The leader then, by thy life, besought me |
|
|
| (sad was his soul) in the sea-waves' coil |
|
|
| to play the hero and hazard my being |
|
|
| for glory of prowess: my guerdon he pledged. |
|
|
| I then in the waters—'tis widely known— |
|
|
| that sea-floor-guardian savage found. |
|
|
| Hand-to-hand there a while we struggled; |
|
|
| billows welled blood; in the briny hall |
|
|
| her head I hewed with a hardy blade |
|
|
| from Grendel's mother,—and gained my life, |
|
|
| though not without danger. My doom was not yet. |
|
|
| Then the haven-of-heroes, Healfdene's son, |
|
|
| gave me in guerdon great gifts of price. |
|
|
