Beowulf

Lo! the Spear-Danes’ glory through splendid achievements The folk-kings’ former fame we have heard of, How princes displayed then their prowess-in-battle. Oft Scyld the Scefing from scathers in numbers From many a people their mead-benches tore. Since first he found him friendless and wretched, The earl had had terror: comfort he got for it, Waxed ’neath the welkin, world-honor gained, Till all his neighbors o’er sea were compelled to Bow to his bidding and bring him their tribute: An excellent atheling! After was borne him A son and heir, young in his dwelling, Whom God-Father sent to solace the people. He had marked the misery malice had caused them, That reaved of their rulers they wretched had erstwhile Long been afflicted. The Lord, in requital, Wielder of Glory, with world-honor blessed him. Famed was Beowulf, far spread the glory Of Scyld’s great son in the lands of the Danemen. So the carle that is young, by kindnesses rendered The friends of his father, with fees in abundance Must be able to earn that when age approacheth Eager companions aid him requitingly, When war assaults him serve him as liegemen: By praise-worthy actions must honor be got ’Mong all of the races. At the hour that was fated Scyld then departed to the All-Father’s keeping Warlike to wend him; away then they bare him To the flood of the current, his fond-loving comrades, As himself he had bidden, while the friend of the Scyldings Word-sway wielded, and the well-lovèd land-prince Long did rule them.

Hrothgar discoursed, helm of the Scyldings: “To defend our folk and to furnish assistance, Thou soughtest us hither, good friend Beowulf. The fiercest of feuds thy father engaged in, Heatholaf killed he in hand-to-hand conflict ’Mid Wilfingish warriors; then the Wederish people For fear of a feud were forced to disown him. Thence flying he fled to the folk of the South-Danes, The race of the Scyldings, o’er the roll of the waters; I had lately begun then to govern the Danemen, The hoard-seat of heroes held in my youth, Rich in its jewels: dead was Heregar, My kinsman and elder had earth-joys forsaken, Healfdene his bairn. He was better than I am! That feud thereafter for a fee I compounded; O’er the weltering waters to the Wilfings I sent Ornaments old; oaths did he swear me. It pains me in spirit to any to tell it, What grief in Heorot Grendel hath caused me, What horror unlooked-for, by hatred unceasing. Waned is my war-band, wasted my hall-troop; Weird hath offcast them to the clutches of Grendel. God can easily hinder the scather From deeds so direful. Oft drunken with beer O’er the ale-vessel promised warriors in armor They would willingly wait on the wassailing-benches A grapple with Grendel, with grimmest of edges. Then this mead-hall at morning with murder was reeking, The building was bloody at breaking of daylight, The bench-deals all flooded, dripping and bloodied, The folk-hall was gory: I had fewer retainers, Dear-beloved warriors, whom death had laid hold of.

Then Hrothgar departed, his earl-throng attending him, Folk-lord of Scyldings, forth from the building; The war-chieftain wished then Wealhtheow to look for, The queen for a bedmate. To keep away Grendel The Glory of Kings had given a hall-watch, As men heard recounted: for the king of the Danemen He did special service, gave the giant a watcher: And the prince of the Geatmen implicitly trusted His warlike strength and the Wielder’s protection. His armor of iron off him he did then, His helmet from his head, to his henchman committed His chased-handled chain-sword, choicest of weapons, And bade him bide with his battle-equipments. The good one then uttered words of defiance, Beowulf Geatman, ere his bed he upmounted: “I hold me no meaner in matters of prowess, In warlike achievements, than Grendel does himself; Hence I seek not with sword-edge to sooth him to slumber, Of life to bereave him, though well I am able. No battle-skill has he, that blows he should strike me, To shatter my shield, though sure he is mighty In strife and destruction; but struggling by night we Shall do without edges, dare he to look for Weaponless warfare, and wise-mooded Father The glory apportion, God ever-holy, On which hand soever to him seemeth proper.”

For no cause whatever would the earlmen’s defender Leave in life-joys the loathsome newcomer, He deemed his existence utterly useless To men under heaven. Many a noble Of Beowulf brandished his battle-sword old, Would guard the life of his lord and protector, The far-famous chieftain, if able to do so; While waging the warfare, this wist they but little, Brave battle-thanes, while his body intending To slit into slivers, and seeking his spirit: That the relentless foeman nor finest of weapons Of all on the earth, nor any of war-bills Was willing to injure; but weapons of victory Swords and suchlike he had sworn to dispense with. His death at that time must prove to be wretched, And the faraway spirit widely should journey Into enemies’ power. This plainly he saw then Who with mirth of mood malice no little Had wrought in the past on the race of the earthmen (To God he was hostile), that his body would fail him, But Higelac’s hardy henchman and kinsman Held him by the hand; hateful to other Was each one if living. A body-wound suffered The direful demon, damage incurable Was seen on his shoulder, his sinews were shivered, His body did burst. To Beowulf was given Glory in battle; Grendel from thenceward Must flee and hide him in the fen-cliffs and marshes, Sick unto death, his dwelling must look for Unwinsome and woeful; he wist the more fully The end of his earthly existence was nearing, His life-days’ limits. At last for the Danemen, When the slaughter was over, their wish was accomplished.