Beowulf by - (pdf ebook reader .txt) 📕

Therefore is insight always best,

and forethought of mind. How much awaits him of lief and of loath, who long time here, through days of warfare this world endures!

Then song and music mingled sounds

in the presence of Healfdene’s head-of-armies {16c}

and harping was heard with the hero-lay as Hrothgar’s singer the hall-joy woke along the mead-seats, making his song of that sudden raid on the sons of Finn. {16d}

Healfdene’s hero, Hnaef the Scylding, was fated to fall in the Frisian slaughter. {16e}

Hildeburh needed not hold in value

her enemies’ honor! {16f} Innocent both were the loved ones she lost at the linden-play, bairn and brother, they bowed to fate, stricken by spears; ‘twas a sorrowful woman!

None doubted why the daughter of Hoc

bewailed her doom when dawning came,

and under the sky she saw them lying, kinsmen murdered, where most she had kenned of the sweets of the world! By war were swept, too, Finn’s own liegemen, and few were left; in the parleying-place {16g} he could ply no longer weapon, nor war could he wage on Hengest, and rescue his remnant by right of arms from the prince’s thane. A pact he offered: another dwelling the Danes should have, hall and high-seat, and half the power should fall to them in Frisian land;

and at the fee-gifts, Folcwald’s son

day by day the Danes should honor,

the folk of Hengest favor with rings, even as truly, with treasure and jewels, with fretted gold, as his Frisian kin he meant to honor in ale-hall there.

Pact of peace they plighted further

on both sides firmly. Finn to Hengest with oath, upon honor, openly promised that woful remnant, with wise-men’s aid, nobly to govern, so none of the guests by word or work should warp the treaty, {16h}

or with malice of mind bemoan themselves as forced to follow their fee-giver’s slayer, lordless men, as their lot ordained.

Should Frisian, moreover, with foeman’s taunt, that murderous hatred to mind recall, then edge of the sword must seal his doom.

Oaths were given, and ancient gold

heaped from hoard. — The hardy Scylding, battle-thane best, {16i} on his balefire lay.

All on the pyre were plain to see

the gory sark, the gilded swine-crest, boar of hard iron, and athelings many slain by the sword: at the slaughter they fell.

It was Hildeburh’s hest, at Hnaef’s own pyre the bairn of her body on brands to lay, his bones to burn, on the balefire placed, at his uncle’s side. In sorrowful dirges bewept them the woman: great wailing ascended.

Then wound up to welkin the wildest of death-fires, roared o’er the hillock: {16j} heads all were melted, gashes burst, and blood gushed out

from bites {16k} of the body. Balefire devoured, greediest spirit, those spared not by war out of either folk: their flower was gone.

THEN hastened those heroes their home to see, friendless, to find the Frisian land, houses and high burg. Hengest still

through the death-dyed winter dwelt with Finn, holding pact, yet of home he minded,

though powerless his ring-decked prow to drive over the waters, now waves rolled fierce lashed by the winds, or winter locked them in icy fetters. Then fared another

year to men’s dwellings, as yet they do, the sunbright skies, that their season ever duly await. Far off winter was driven; fair lay earth’s breast; and fain was the rover, the guest, to depart, though more gladly he pondered on wreaking his vengeance than roaming the deep, and how to hasten the hot encounter

where sons of the Frisians were sure to be.

So he escaped not the common doom,

when Hun with “Lafing,” the light-of-battle, best of blades, his bosom pierced:

its edge was famed with the Frisian earls.

On fierce-heart Finn there fell likewise, on himself at home, the horrid sword-death; for Guthlaf and Oslaf of grim attack

had sorrowing told, from sea-ways landed, mourning their woes. {17a} Finn’s wavering spirit bode not in breast. The burg was reddened with blood of foemen, and Finn was slain, king amid clansmen; the queen was taken.

To their ship the Scylding warriors bore all the chattels the chieftain owned, whatever they found in Finn’s domain

of gems and jewels. The gentle wife

o’er paths of the deep to the Danes they bore, led to her land.

The lay was finished,

the gleeman’s song. Then glad rose the revel; bench-joy brightened. Bearers draw

from their “wonder-vats” wine. Comes Wealhtheow forth, under gold-crown goes where the good pair sit, uncle and nephew, true each to the other one, kindred in amity. Unferth the spokesman at the Scylding lord’s feet sat: men had faith in his spirit, his keenness of courage, though kinsmen had found him unsure at the sword-play. The Scylding queen spoke: “Quaff of this cup, my king and lord, breaker of rings, and blithe be thou, gold-friend of men; to the Geats here speak such words of mildness as man should use.

Be glad with thy Geats; of those gifts be mindful, or near or far, which now thou hast.

Men say to me, as son thou wishest

yon hero to hold. Thy Heorot purged,

jewel-hall brightest, enjoy while thou canst, with many a largess; and leave to thy kin folk and realm when forth thou goest

to greet thy doom. For gracious I deem my Hrothulf, {17b} willing to hold and rule nobly our youths, if thou yield up first, prince of Scyldings, thy part in the world.

I ween with good he will well requite offspring of ours, when all he minds

that for him we did in his helpless days of gift and grace to gain him honor!”

Then she turned to the seat where her sons wereplaced, Hrethric and Hrothmund, with heroes’ bairns, young men together: the Geat, too, sat there, Beowulf brave, the brothers between.

A CUP she gave him, with kindly greeting and winsome words. Of wounden gold,

she offered, to honor him, arm-jewels twain, corselet and rings, and of collars the noblest that ever I knew the earth around.

Ne’er heard I so mighty, ‘neath heaven’s dome, a hoard-gem of heroes, since Hama bore to his bright-built burg the Brisings’ necklace, jewel and gem casket. — Jealousy fled he, Eormenric’s hate: chose help eternal.

Hygelac Geat, grandson of Swerting,

on the last of his raids this ring bore with him, under his banner the booty defending, the war-spoil warding; but Wyrd o’erwhelmed him what time, in his daring, dangers he sought, feud with Frisians. Fairest of gems

he bore with him over the beaker-of-waves, sovran strong: under shield he died.

Fell the corpse of the king into keeping of Franks, gear of the breast, and that gorgeous ring; weaker warriors won the spoil,

after gripe of battle, from Geatland’s lord, and held the death-field.

Din rose in hall.

Wealhtheow spake amid warriors, and said: —

“This jewel enjoy in thy jocund youth, Beowulf lov’d, these battle-weeds wear, a royal treasure, and richly thrive!

Preserve thy strength, and these striplings here counsel in kindness: requital be mine.

Hast done such deeds, that for days to come thou art famed among folk both far and near, so wide as washeth the wave of Ocean

his windy walls. Through the ways of life prosper, O prince! I pray for thee

rich possessions. To son of mine

be helpful in deed and uphold his joys!

Here every earl to the other is true, mild of mood, to the master loyal!

Thanes are friendly, the throng obedient, liegemen are revelling: list and obey!”

Went then to her place. — That was proudest of feasts; flowed wine for the warriors. Wyrd they knew not, destiny dire, and the doom to be seen by many an earl when eve should come, and Hrothgar homeward hasten away,

royal, to rest. The room was guarded

by an army of earls, as erst was done.

They bared the bench-boards; abroad they spread beds and bolsters. — One beer-carouser in danger of doom lay down in the hall. —

At their heads they set their shields of war, bucklers bright; on the bench were there over each atheling, easy to see,

the high battle-helmet, the haughty spear, the corselet of rings. ‘Twas their custom so ever to be for battle prepared,

at home, or harrying, which it were,

even as oft as evil threatened

their sovran king. — They were clansmen good.

THEN sank they to sleep. With sorrow one bought his rest of the evening, — as ofttime had happened when Grendel guarded that golden hall, evil wrought, till his end drew nigh, slaughter for sins. ‘Twas seen and told how an avenger survived the fiend,

as was learned afar. The livelong time after that grim fight, Grendel’s mother, monster of women, mourned her woe.

She was doomed to dwell in the dreary waters, cold sea-courses, since Cain cut down with edge of the sword his only brother, his father’s offspring: outlawed he fled, marked with murder, from men’s delights warded the wilds. — There woke from him such fate-sent ghosts as Grendel, who, war-wolf horrid, at Heorot found

a warrior watching and waiting the fray, with whom the grisly one grappled amain.

But the man remembered his mighty power, the glorious gift that God had sent him, in his Maker’s mercy put his trust

for comfort and help: so he conquered the foe, felled the fiend, who fled abject,

reft of joy, to the realms of death,

mankind’s foe. And his mother now,

gloomy and grim, would go that quest

of sorrow, the death of her son to avenge.

To Heorot came she, where helmeted Danes slept in the hall. Too soon came back old ills of the earls, when in she burst, the mother of Grendel. Less grim, though, that terror, e’en as terror of woman in war is less, might of maid, than of men in arms

when, hammer-forged, the falchion hard, sword gore-stained, through swine of the helm, crested, with keen blade carves amain.

Then was in hall the hard-edge drawn, the swords on the settles, {19a} and shields a-many firm held in hand: nor helmet minded nor harness of mail, whom that horror seized.

Haste was hers; she would hie afar

and save her life when the liegemen saw her.

Yet a single atheling up she seized

fast and firm, as she fled to the moor.

He was for Hrothgar of heroes the dearest, of trusty vassals betwixt the seas,

whom she killed on his couch, a clansman famous, in battle brave. — Nor was Beowulf there; another house had been held apart,

after giving of gold, for the Geat renowned. —

Uproar filled Heorot; the hand all had viewed, blood-flecked, she bore with her; bale was returned, dole in the dwellings: ‘twas dire exchange where Dane and Geat were doomed to give the lives of loved ones. Long-tried king, the hoary hero, at heart was sad

when he knew his noble no more lived, and dead indeed was his dearest thane.

To his bower was Beowulf brought in haste, dauntless victor. As daylight broke,

along with his earls the atheling lord, with his clansmen, came where the king abode waiting to see if the Wielder-of-All

would turn this tale of trouble and woe.

Strode o’er floor the famed-in-strife, with his hand-companions, — the hall resounded, —

wishing to greet the wise old king,

Ingwines’ lord; he asked if the night had passed in peace to the prince’s mind.

HROTHGAR spake, helmet-of-Scyldings: —

“Ask not of pleasure! Pain is renewed to Danish folk. Dead is Aeschere,

of Yrmenlaf the elder brother,

my sage adviser and stay in council,

shoulder-comrade in stress of fight

when warriors clashed and we warded our heads, hewed the helm-boars; hero famed

should be every earl as Aeschere was!

But here in