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| This heard in his home Hygelac's thane, |
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| great among Geats, of Grendel's doings. |
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| He was the mightiest man of valor |
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| in that same day of this our life, |
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| stalwart and stately. A stout wave-walker |
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| he bade make ready. Yon battle-king, said he, |
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| far o'er the swan-road he fain would seek, |
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| the noble monarch who needed men! |
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| The prince's journey by prudent folk |
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| was little blamed, though they loved him dear; |
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| they whetted the hero, and hailed good omens. |
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| And now the bold one from bands of Geats |
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| comrades chose, the keenest of warriors |
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| e'er he could find; with fourteen men |
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| the sea-wood[1] he sought, and, sailor proved, |
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| led them on to the land's confines. |
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| Time had now flown;[2] afloat was the ship, |
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| boat under bluff. On board they climbed, |
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| warriors ready; waves were churning |
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| sea with sand; the sailors bore |
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| on the breast of the bark their bright array, |
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| their mail and weapons: the men pushed off, |
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| on its willing way, the well-braced craft. |
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| Then moved o'er the waters by might of the wind |
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| that bark like a bird with breast of foam, |
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| till in season due, on the second day, |
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| the curved prow such course had run |
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| that sailors now could see the land, |
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| sea-cliffs shining, steep high hills, |
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| headlands broad. Their haven was found, |
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| their journey ended. Up then quickly |
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| the Weders'[3] clansmen climbed ashore, |
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| anchored their sea-wood, with armor clashing |
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| and gear of battle: God they thanked |
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| or passing in peace o'er the paths of the sea. |
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| Now saw from the cliff a Scylding clansman, |
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| a warden that watched the water-side, |
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| how they bore o'er the gangway glittering shields, |
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| war-gear in readiness; wonder seized him |
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| to know what manner of men they were. |
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| Straight to the strand his steed he rode, |
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| Hrothgar's henchman; with hand of might |
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| he shook his spear, and spake in parley. |
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| "Who are ye, then, ye armed men, |
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| mailed folk, that yon mighty vessel |
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| have urged thus over the ocean ways, |
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| here o'er the waters? A warden I, |
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| sentinel set o'er the sea-march here, |
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| lest any foe to the folk of Danes |
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| with harrying fleet should harm the land. |
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| No aliens ever at ease thus bore them, |
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| linden-wielders:[4] yet word-of-leave |
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| clearly ye lack from clansmen here, |
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| my folk's agreement.—A greater ne'er saw I |
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| of warriors in world than is one of you,— |
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| yon hero in harness! No henchman he |
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| worthied by weapons, if witness his features, |
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| his peerless presence! I pray you, though, tell |
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| your folk and home, lest hence ye fare |
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| suspect to wander your way as spies |
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| in Danish land. Now, dwellers afar, |
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| ocean-travellers, take from me |
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| simple advice: the sooner the better |
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| I hear of the country whence ye came." |
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