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| To him the stateliest spake in answer; |
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| the warriors' leader his word-hoard unlocked:— |
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| "We are by kin of the clan of Geats, |
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| and Hygelac's own hearth-fellows we. |
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| To folk afar was my father known, |
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| noble atheling, Ecgtheow named. |
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| Full of winters, he fared away |
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| aged from earth; he is honored still |
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| through width of the world by wise men all. |
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| To thy lord and liege in loyal mood |
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| we hasten hither, to Healfdene's son, |
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| people-protector: be pleased to advise us! |
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| To that mighty-one come we on mickle errand, |
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| to the lord of the Danes; nor deem I right |
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| that aught be hidden. We hear—thou knowest |
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| if sooth it is—the saying of men, |
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| that amid the Scyldings a scathing monster, |
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| dark ill-doer, in dusky nights |
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| shows terrific his rage unmatched, |
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| hatred and murder. To Hrothgar I |
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| in greatness of soul would succor bring, |
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| so the Wise-and-Brave[1] may worst his foes,— |
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| if ever the end of ills is fated, |
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| of cruel contest, if cure shall follow, |
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| and the boiling care-waves cooler grow; |
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| else ever afterward anguish-days |
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| he shall suffer in sorrow while stands in place |
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| high on its hill that house unpeered!" |
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| Astride his steed, the strand-ward answered, |
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| clansman unquailing: "The keen-souled thane |
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| must be skilled to sever and sunder duly |
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| words and works, if he well intends. |
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| I gather, this band is graciously bent |
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| to the Scyldings' master. March, then, bearing |
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| weapons and weeds the way I show you. |
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| I will bid my men your boat meanwhile |
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| to guard for fear lest foemen come,— |
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| your new-tarred ship by shore of ocean |
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| faithfully watching till once again |
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| it waft o'er the waters those well-loved thanes, |
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| —winding-neck'd wood,—to Weders' bounds, |
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| heroes such as the hest of fate |
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| shall succor and save from the shock of war." |
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| They bent them to march,—the boat lay still, |
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| fettered by cable and fast at anchor, |
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| broad-bosomed ship.—Then shone the boars[2] |
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| over the cheek-guard; chased with gold, |
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| keen and gleaming, guard it kept |
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| o'er the man of war, as marched along |
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| heroes in haste, till the hall they saw, |
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| broad of gable and bright with gold: |
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| that was the fairest, 'mid folk of earth, |
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| of houses 'neath heaven, where Hrothgar lived, |
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| and the gleam of it lightened o'er lands afar. |
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| The sturdy shieldsman showed that bright |
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| burg-of-the-boldest; bade them go |
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| straightway thither; his steed then turned, |
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| hardy hero, and hailed them thus:— |
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| "Tis time that I fare from you. Father Almighty |
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| in grace and mercy guard you well, |
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| safe in your seekings. Seaward I go, |
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| 'gainst hostile warriors hold my watch." |
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|
