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| To Beowulf then the bale was told |
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| quickly and truly: the king's own home, |
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| of buildings the best, in brand-waves melted, |
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| that gift-throne of Geats. To the good old man |
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| sad in heart, 'twas heaviest sorrow. |
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| The sage assumed that his sovran God |
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| he had angered, breaking ancient law, |
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| and embittered the Lord. His breast within |
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| with black thoughts welled, as his wont was never. |
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| The folk's own fastness that fiery dragon |
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| with flame had destroyed, and the stronghold all |
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| washed by waves; but the warlike king, |
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| prince of the Weders, plotted vengeance. |
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| Warriors'-bulwark, he bade them work |
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| all of iron—the earl's commander— |
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| a war-shield wondrous: well he knew |
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| that forest-wood against fire were worthless, |
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| linden could aid not.—Atheling brave, |
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| he was fated to finish this fleeting life,[1] |
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| his days on earth, and the dragon with him, |
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| though long it had watched o'er the wealth of thehoard!— |
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| Shame he reckoned it, sharer-of-rings, |
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| to follow the flyer-afar with a host, |
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| a broad-flung band; nor the battle feared he, |
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| nor deemed he dreadful the dragon's warring, |
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| its vigor and valor: ventures desperate |
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| he had passed a-plenty, and perils of war, |
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| contest-crash, since, conqueror proud, |
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| Hrothgar's hall he had wholly purged, |
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| and in grapple had killed the kin of Grendel, |
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| loathsome breed! Not least was that |
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| of hand-to-hand fights where Hygelac fell, |
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| when the ruler of Geats in rush of battle, |
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| lord of his folk, in the Frisian land, |
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| son of Hrethel, by sword-draughts died, |
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| by brands down-beaten. Thence Beowulf fled |
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| through strength of himself and his swimming power, |
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| though alone, and his arms were laden with thirty |
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| coats of mail, when he came to the sea! |
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| Nor yet might Hetwaras[2] haughtily boast |
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| their craft of contest, who carried against him |
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| shields to the fight: but few escaped |
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| from strife with the hero to seek their homes! |
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| Then swam over ocean Ecgtheow's son |
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| lonely and sorrowful, seeking his land, |
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| where Hygd made him offer of hoard and realm, |
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| rings and royal-seat, reckoning naught |
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| the strength of her son to save their kingdom |
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| from hostile hordes, after Hygelac's death. |
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| No sooner for this could the stricken ones |
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| in any wise move that atheling's mind |
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| over young Heardred's head as lord |
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| and ruler of all the realm to be: |
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| yet the hero upheld him with helpful words, |
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| aided in honor, till, older grown, |
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| he wielded the Weder-Geats.—Wandering exiles |
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| sought him o'er seas, the sons of Ohtere, |
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| who had spurned the sway of the Scylfings'-helmet, |
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| the bravest and best that broke the rings, |
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| in Swedish land, of the sea-kings' line, |
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| haughty hero.[3] Hence Heardred's end. |
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| For shelter he gave them, sword-death came, |
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| the blade's fell blow, to bairn of Hygelac; |
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| but the son of Ongentheow sought again |
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| house and home when Heardred fell, |
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| leaving Beowulf lord of Geats |
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| and gift-seat's master.—A good king he! |
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|
