|
|
| STONE-BRIGHT the street:[1] it showed the way |
|
|
| to the crowd of clansmen. Corselets glistened |
|
|
| hand-forged, hard; on their harness bright |
|
|
| the steel ring sang, as they strode along |
|
|
| in mail of battle, and marched to the hall. |
|
|
| There, weary of ocean, the wall along |
|
|
| they set their bucklers, their broad shields, down, |
|
|
| and bowed them to bench: the breastplates clanged, |
|
|
| war-gear of men; their weapons stacked, |
|
|
| spears of the seafarers stood together, |
|
|
| gray-tipped ash: that iron band |
|
|
| was worthily weaponed!—A warrior proud |
|
|
| asked of the heroes their home and kin. |
|
|
| "Whence, now, bear ye burnished shields, |
|
|
| harness gray and helmets grim, |
|
|
| spears in multitude? Messenger, I, |
|
|
| Hrothgar's herald! Heroes so many |
|
|
| ne'er met I as strangers of mood so strong. |
|
|
| 'Tis plain that for prowess, not plunged into exile, |
|
|
| for high-hearted valor, Hrothgar ye seek!" |
|
|
| Him the sturdy-in-war bespake with words, |
|
|
| proud earl of the Weders answer made, |
|
|
| hardy 'neath helmet:—"Hygelac's, we, |
|
|
| fellows at board; I am Beowulf named. |
|
|
| I am seeking to say to the son of Healfdene |
|
|
| this mission of mine, to thy master-lord, |
|
|
| the doughty prince, if he deign at all |
|
|
| grace that we greet him, the good one, now." |
|
|
| Wulfgar spake, the Wendles' chieftain, |
|
|
| whose might of mind to many was known, |
|
|
| his courage and counsel: "The king of Danes, |
|
|
| the Scyldings' friend, I fain will tell, |
|
|
| the Breaker-of-Rings, as the boon thou askest, |
|
|
| the famed prince, of thy faring hither, |
|
|
| and, swiftly after, such answer bring |
|
|
| as the doughty monarch may deign to give." |
|
|
| Hied then in haste to where Hrothgar sat |
|
|
| white-haired and old, his earls about him, |
|
|
| till the stout thane stood at the shoulder there |
|
|
| of the Danish king: good courtier he! |
|
|
| Wulfgar spake to his winsome lord:— |
|
|
| "Hither have fared to thee far-come men |
|
|
| o'er the paths of ocean, people of Geatland; |
|
|
| and the stateliest there by his sturdy band |
|
|
| is Beowulf named. This boon they seek, |
|
|
| that they, my master, may with thee |
|
|
| have speech at will: nor spurn their prayer |
|
|
| to give them hearing, gracious Hrothgar! |
|
|
| In weeds of the warrior worthy they, |
|
|
| methinks, of our liking; their leader most surely, |
|
|
| a hero that hither his henchmen has led." |
|
|
