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Beowulf
VII
HROTHGAR spake, the Scyldings'-helmet: -- "For fight defensive,
Friend my Beowulf, to succor and save, thou hast sought us here. Thy
father's combat {7a} a feud enkindled when Heatholaf with hand he slew
among the Wylfings; his Weder kin for horror of fighting feared to
hold him. Fleeing, he sought our South-Dane folk, over surge of ocean
the Honor-Scyldings, when first I was ruling the folk of Danes,
wielded, youthful, this widespread realm, this hoard-hold of heroes.
Heorogar was dead, my elder brother, had breathed his last,
Healfdene's bairn: he was better than I! Straightway the feud with
fee {7b} I settled, to the Wylfings sent, o'er watery ridges,
treasures olden: oaths he {7c} swore me. Sore is my soul to say to
any of the race of man what ruth for me in Heorot Grendel with hate
hath wrought, what sudden harryings. Hall-folk fail me, my warriors
wane; for Wyrd hath swept them into Grendel's grasp. But God is able
this deadly foe from his deeds to turn! Boasted full oft, as my beer
they drank, earls o'er the ale-cup, armed men, that they would bide in
the beer-hall here, Grendel's attack with terror of blades. Then was
this mead-house at morning tide dyed with gore, when the daylight
broke, all the boards of the benches blood-besprinkled, gory the hall:
I had heroes the less, doughty dear-ones that death had reft. -- But
sit to the banquet, unbind thy words, hardy hero, as heart shall
prompt thee."
Gathered together, the Geatish men in the banquet-hall on bench
assigned, sturdy-spirited, sat them down, hardy-hearted. A henchman
attended, carried the carven cup in hand, served the clear mead. Oft
minstrels sang blithe in Heorot. Heroes revelled, no dearth of
warriors, Weder and Dane.
VIII
UNFERTH spake, the son of Ecglaf, who sat at the feet of the
Scyldings' lord, unbound the battle-runes. {8a} -- Beowulf's quest,
sturdy seafarer's, sorely galled him; ever he envied that other men
should more achieve in middle-earth of fame under heaven than he
himself. -- "Art thou that Beowulf, Breca's rival, who emulous swam on
the open sea, when for pride the pair of you proved the floods, and
wantonly dared in waters deep to risk your lives? No living man, or
lief or loath, from your labor dire could you dissuade, from swimming
the main. Ocean-tides with your arms ye covered, with strenuous hands
the sea-streets measured, swam o'er the waters. Winter's storm rolled
the rough waves. In realm of sea a sennight strove ye. In swimming he
topped thee, had more of main! Him at morning-tide billows bore to the
Battling Reamas, whence he hied to his home so dear beloved of his
liegemen, to land of Brondings, fastness fair, where his folk he
ruled, town and treasure. In triumph o'er thee Beanstan's bairn {8b}
his boast achieved. So ween I for thee a worse adventure -- though in
buffet of battle thou brave hast been, in struggle grim, -- if
Grendel's approach thou darst await through the watch of night!"
Beowulf spake, bairn of Ecgtheow: -- "What a deal hast uttered, dear
my Unferth, drunken with beer, of Breca now, told of his triumph!
Truth I claim it, that I had more of might in the sea than any man
else, more ocean-endurance. We twain had talked, in time of youth, and
made our boast, -- we were merely boys, striplings still, -- to stake
our lives far at sea: and so we performed it. Naked swords, as we
swam along, we held in hand, with hope to guard us against the whales.
Not a whit from me could he float afar o'er the flood of waves, haste
o'er the billows; nor him I abandoned. Together we twain on the tides
abode five nights full till the flood divided us, churning waves and
chillest weather, darkling night, and the northern wind ruthless
rushed on us: rough was the surge. Now the wrath of the sea-fish rose
apace; yet me 'gainst the monsters my mailed coat, hard and
hand-linked, help afforded, -- battle-sark braided my breast to ward,
garnished with gold. There grasped me firm and haled me to bottom the
hated foe, with grimmest gripe. 'Twas granted me, though, to pierce
the monster with point of sword, with blade of battle: huge beast of
the sea was whelmed by the hurly through hand of mine.
IX
ME thus often the evil monsters thronging threatened. With thrust of
my sword, the darling, I dealt them due return! Nowise had they bliss
from their booty then to devour their victim, vengeful creatures,
seated to banquet at bottom of sea; but at break of day, by my brand
sore hurt, on the edge of ocean up they lay, put to sleep by the
sword. And since, by them on the fathomless sea-ways sailor-folk are
never molested. -- Light from east, came bright God's beacon; the
billows sank, so that I saw the sea-cliffs high, windy walls. For Wyrd
oft saveth earl undoomed if he doughty be! And so it came that I
killed with my sword nine of the nicors. Of night-fought battles ne'er
heard I a harder 'neath heaven's dome, nor adrift on the deep a more
desolate man! Yet I came unharmed from that hostile clutch, though
spent with swimming. The sea upbore me, flood of the tide, on Finnish
land, the welling waters. No wise of thee have I heard men tell such
terror of falchions, bitter battle. Breca ne'er yet, not one of you
pair, in the play of war such daring deed has done at all with bloody
brand, -- I boast not of it! -- though thou wast the bane {9a} of thy
brethren dear, thy closest kin, whence curse of hell awaits thee, well
as thy wit may serve! For I say in sooth, thou son of Ecglaf, never
had Grendel these grim deeds wrought, monster dire, on thy master
dear, in Heorot such havoc, if heart of thine were as battle-bold as
thy boast is loud! But he has found no feud will happen; from
sword-clash dread of your Danish clan he vaunts him safe, from the
Victor-Scyldings. He forces pledges, favors none of the land of Danes,
but lustily murders, fights and feasts, nor feud he dreads from
Spear-Dane men. But speedily now shall I prove him the prowess and
pride of the Geats, shall bid him battle. Blithe to mead go he that
listeth, when light of dawn this morrow morning o'er men of earth,
ether-robed sun from the south shall beam!" Joyous then was the
Jewel-giver, hoar-haired, war-brave; help awaited the Bright-Danes'
prince, from Beowulf hearing, folk's good shepherd, such firm resolve.
Then was laughter of liegemen loud resounding with winsome words. Came
Wealhtheow forth, queen of Hrothgar, heedful of courtesy, gold-decked,
greeting the guests in hall; and the high-born lady handed the cup
first to the East-Danes' heir and warden, bade him be blithe at the
beer-carouse, the land's beloved one. Lustily took he banquet and
beaker, battle-famed king.
Through the hall then went the Helmings' Lady, to younger and older
everywhere carried the cup, till come the moment when the ring-graced
queen, the royal-hearted, to Beowulf bore the beaker of mead. She
greeted the Geats' lord, God she thanked, in wisdom's words, that her
will was granted, that at last on a hero her hope could lean for
comfort in terrors. The cup he took, hardy-in-war, from Wealhtheow's
hand, and answer uttered the eager-for-combat. Beowulf spake, bairn of
Ecgtheow: -- "This was my thought, when my thanes and I bent to the
ocean and entered our boat, that I would work the will of your people
fully, or fighting fall in death, in fiend's gripe fast. I am firm to
do an earl's brave deed, or end the days of this life of mine in the
mead-hall here." Well these words to the woman seemed, Beowulf's
battle-boast. -- Bright with gold the stately dame by her spouse sat
down. Again, as erst, began in hall warriors' wassail and words of
power, the proud-band's revel, till presently the son of Healfdene
hastened to seek rest for the night; he knew there waited fight for
the fiend in that festal hall, when the sheen of the sun they saw no
more, and dusk of night sank darkling nigh, and shadowy shapes came
striding on, wan under welkin. The warriors rose. Man to man, he made
harangue, Hrothgar to Beowulf, bade him hail, let him wield the wine
hall: a word he added: -- "Never to any man erst I trusted, since I
could heave up hand and shield, this noble Dane-Hall, till now to
thee. Have now and hold this house unpeered; remember thy glory; thy
might declare; watch for the foe! No wish shall fail thee if thou
bidest the battle with bold-won life."
X
THEN Hrothgar went with his hero-train, defence-of-Scyldings, forth
from hall; fain would the war-lord Wealhtheow seek, couch of his
queen. The King-of-Glory against this Grendel a guard had set, so
heroes heard, a hall-defender, who warded the monarch and watched for
the monster. In truth, the Geats' prince gladly trusted his mettle,
his might, the mercy of God! Cast off then his corselet of iron,
helmet from head; to his henchman gave, -- choicest of weapons, -- the
well-chased sword, bidding him guard the gear of battle. Spake then
his Vaunt the valiant man, Beowulf Geat, ere the bed be sought: --
"Of force in fight no feebler I count me, in grim war-deeds, than
Grendel deems him. Not with the sword, then, to sleep of death his
life will I give, though it lie in my power. No skill is his to strike
against me, my shield to hew though he hardy be, bold in battle; we
both, this night, shall spurn the sword, if he seek me here,
unweaponed, for war. Let wisest God, sacred Lord, on which side soever
doom decree as he deemeth right." Reclined then the chieftain, and
cheek-pillows held the head of the earl, while all about him seamen
hardy on hall-beds sank. None of them thought that thence their steps
to the folk and fastness that fostered them, to the land they loved,
would lead them back! Full well they wist that on warriors many
battle-death seized, in the banquet-hall, of Danish clan. But comfort
and help, war-weal weaving, to Weder folk the Master gave, that, by
might of one, over their enemy all prevailed, by single strength. In
sooth 'tis told that highest God o'er human kind hath wielded ever! --
Thro' wan night striding, came the walker-in-shadow. Warriors slept
whose hest was to guard the gabled hall, -- all save one. 'Twas widely
known that against God's will the ghostly ravager him {10a} could not
hurl to haunts of darkness; wakeful, ready, with warrior's wrath, bold
he bided the battle's issue.
XI
THEN from the moorland, by misty crags, with God's wrath laden,
Grendel came. The monster was minded of mankind now sundry to seize in
the stately house. Under welkin he walked, till the wine-palace there,
gold-hall of men, he gladly discerned, flashing with fretwork. Not
first time, this, that he the home of Hrothgar sought, -- yet ne'er in
his life-day, late or early, such hardy heroes, such hall-thanes,
found! To the house the warrior walked apace, parted from peace; {11a}
the portal opended, though with forged bolts fast, when his fists had
struck it, and baleful he burst in his blatant rage, the house's
mouth. All hastily, then, o'er fair-paved floor the fiend trod on,
ireful he strode; there streamed from his eyes fearful flashes, like
flame to see.
He spied in hall the hero-band, kin and clansmen clustered asleep,
hardy liegemen. Then laughed his heart; for the monster was minded,
ere morn should dawn, savage, to sever the soul of each, life from
body, since lusty banquet waited his will! But Wyrd forbade him to
seize any more of men on earth after that evening. Eagerly watched
Hygelac's kinsman his cursed foe, how he would fare in fell attack.
Not that the monster was minded to pause! Straightway he seized a
sleeping warrior for the first, and tore him fiercely asunder, the
bone-frame bit, drank blood in streams, swallowed him piecemeal:
swiftly thus the lifeless corse was clear devoured, e'en feet and
hands. Then farther he hied; for the hardy hero with hand he grasped,
felt for the foe with fiendish claw, for the hero reclining, -- who
clutched it boldly, prompt to answer, propped on his arm. Soon then
saw that shepherd-of-evils that never he met in this middle-world, in
the ways of earth, another wight with heavier hand-gripe; at heart he
feared, sorrowed in soul, -- none the sooner escaped! Fain would he
flee, his fastness seek, the den of devils: no doings now such as oft
he had done in days of old! Then bethought him the hardy Hygelac-thane
of his boast at evening: up he bounded, grasped firm his foe, whose
fingers cracked. The fiend made off, but the earl close followed. The
monster meant -- if he might at all -- to fling himself free, and far
away fly to the fens, -- knew his fingers' power in the gripe of the
grim one. Gruesome march to Heorot this monster of harm had made! Din
filled the room; the Danes were bereft, castle-dwellers and clansmen
all, earls, of their ale. Angry were both those savage hall-guards:
the house resounded. Wonder it was the wine-hall firm in the strain of
their struggle stood, to earth the fair house fell not; too fast it
was within and without by its iron bands craftily clamped; though
there crashed from sill many a mead-bench -- men have told me -- gay
with gold, where the grim foes wrestled. So well had weened the wisest
Scyldings that not ever at all might any man that bone-decked, brave
house break asunder, crush by craft, -- unless clasp of fire in smoke
engulfed it. -- Again uprose din redoubled. Danes of the North with
fear and frenzy were filled, each one, who from the wall that wailing
heard, God's foe sounding his grisly song, cry of the conquered,
clamorous pain from captive of hell. Too closely held him he who of
men in might was strongest in that same day of this our life.
XII
NOT in any wise would the earls'-defence {12a} suffer that
slaughterous stranger to live, useless deeming his days and years to
men on earth. Now many an earl of Beowulf brandished blade ancestral,
fain the life of their lord to shield, their praised prince, if power
were theirs; never they knew, -- as they neared the foe, hardy-hearted
heroes of war, aiming their swords on every side the accursed to kill,
-- no keenest blade, no farest of falchions fashioned on earth, could
harm or hurt that hideous fiend! He was safe, by his spells, from
sword of battle, from edge of iron. Yet his end and parting on that
same day of this our life woful should be, and his wandering soul far
off flit to the fiends' domain. Soon he found, who in former days,
harmful in heart and hated of God, on many a man such murder wrought,
that the frame of his body failed him now. For him the keen-souled
kinsman of Hygelac held in hand; hateful alive was each to other. The
outlaw dire took mortal hurt; a mighty wound showed on his shoulder,
and sinews cracked, and the bone-frame burst. To Beowulf now the glory
was given, and Grendel thence death-sick his den in the dark moor
sought, noisome abode: he knew too well that here was the last of
life, an end of his days on earth. -- To all the Danes by that bloody
battle the boon had come. From ravage had rescued the roving stranger
Hrothgar's hall; the hardy and wise one had purged it anew. His
night-work pleased him, his deed and its honor. To Eastern Danes had
the valiant Geat his vaunt made good, all their sorrow and ills
assuaged, their bale of battle borne so long, and all the dole they
erst endured pain a-plenty. -- 'Twas proof of this, when the
hardy-in-fight a hand laid down, arm and shoulder, -- all, indeed, of
Grendel's gripe, -- 'neath the gabled roof.