Beowulf by - (pdf ebook reader .txt) 📕

“Me this war-gear the wise old prince, Hrothgar, gave, and his hest he added, that its story be straightway said to thee. —

A while it was held by Heorogar king, for long time lord of the land of Scyldings; yet not to his son the sovran left it, to daring Heoroweard, — dear as he was to him, his harness of battle. — Well hold thou it all!”

And I heard that soon passed o’er the path of this treasure, all apple-fallow, four good steeds,

each like the others, arms and horses he gave to the king. So should kinsmen be, not weave one another the net of wiles, or with deep-hid treachery death contrive for neighbor and comrade. His nephew was ever by hardy Hygelac held full dear,

and each kept watch o’er the other’s weal.

I heard, too, the necklace to Hygd he presented, wonder-wrought treasure, which Wealhtheow gave him sovran’s daughter: three steeds he added, slender and saddle-gay. Since such gift the gem gleamed bright on the breast of the queen.

Thus showed his strain the son of Ecgtheow as a man remarked for mighty deeds

and acts of honor. At ale he slew not comrade or kin; nor cruel his mood,

though of sons of earth his strength was greatest, a glorious gift that God had sent

the splendid leader. Long was he spurned, and worthless by Geatish warriors held; him at mead the master-of-clans

failed full oft to favor at all.

Slack and shiftless the strong men deemed him, profitless prince; but payment came,

to the warrior honored, for all his woes. —

Then the bulwark-of-earls {29a} bade bring within, hardy chieftain, Hrethel’s heirloom

garnished with gold: no Geat e’er knew in shape of a sword a statelier prize.

The brand he laid in Beowulf’s lap;

and of hides assigned him seven thousand, {29b}

with house and high-seat. They held in common land alike by their line of birth,

inheritance, home: but higher the king because of his rule o’er the realm itself.

Now further it fell with the flight of years, with harryings horrid, that Hygelac perished, {29c}

and Heardred, too, by hewing of swords under the shield-wall slaughtered lay, when him at the van of his victor-folk sought hardy heroes, Heatho-Scilfings, in arms o’erwhelming Hereric’s nephew.

Then Beowulf came as king this broad

realm to wield; and he ruled it well

fifty winters, {29d} a wise old prince, warding his land, until One began

in the dark of night, a Dragon, to rage.

In the grave on the hill a hoard it guarded, in the stone-barrow steep. A strait path reached it, unknown to mortals. Some man, however, came by chance that cave within

to the heathen hoard. {29e} In hand he took a golden goblet, nor gave he it back, stole with it away, while the watcher slept, by thievish wiles: for the warden’s wrath prince and people must pay betimes!

THAT way he went with no will of his own, in danger of life, to the dragon’s hoard, but for pressure of peril, some prince’s thane.

He fled in fear the fatal scourge,

seeking shelter, a sinful man,

and entered in. At the awful sight

tottered that guest, and terror seized him; yet the wretched fugitive rallied anon from fright and fear ere he fled away, and took the cup from that treasure-hoard.

Of such besides there was store enough, heirlooms old, the earth below,

which some earl forgotten, in ancient years, left the last of his lofty race,

heedfully there had hidden away,

dearest treasure. For death of yore

had hurried all hence; and he alone

left to live, the last of the clan,

weeping his friends, yet wished to bide warding the treasure, his one delight, though brief his respite. The barrow, new-ready, to strand and sea-waves stood anear,

hard by the headland, hidden and closed; there laid within it his lordly heirlooms and heaped hoard of heavy gold

that warden of rings. Few words he spake: “Now hold thou, earth, since heroes may not, what earls have owned! Lo, erst from thee brave men brought it! But battle-death seized and cruel killing my clansmen all,

robbed them of life and a liegeman’s joys.

None have I left to lift the sword,

or to cleanse the carven cup of price, beaker bright. My brave are gone.

And the helmet hard, all haughty with gold, shall part from its plating. Polishers sleep who could brighten and burnish the battle-mask; and those weeds of war that were wont to brave over bicker of shields the bite of steel rust with their bearer. The ringed mail fares not far with famous chieftain,

at side of hero! No harp’s delight,

no glee-wood’s gladness! No good hawk now flies through the hall! Nor horses fleet stamp in the burgstead! Battle and death the flower of my race have reft away.”

Mournful of mood, thus he moaned his woe, alone, for them all, and unblithe wept by day and by night, till death’s fell wave o’erwhelmed his heart. His hoard-of-bliss that old ill-doer open found,

who, blazing at twilight the barrows haunteth, naked foe-dragon flying by night

folded in fire: the folk of earth

dread him sore. ‘Tis his doom to seek hoard in the graves, and heathen gold to watch, many-wintered: nor wins he thereby!

Powerful this plague-of-the-people thus held the house of the hoard in earth

three hundred winters; till One aroused wrath in his breast, to the ruler bearing that costly cup, and the king implored for bond of peace. So the barrow was plundered, borne off was booty. His boon was granted that wretched man; and his ruler saw

first time what was fashioned in far-off days.

When the dragon awoke, new woe was kindled.

O’er the stone he snuffed. The stark-heart found footprint of foe who so far had gone

in his hidden craft by the creature’s head. —

So may the undoomed easily flee

evils and exile, if only he gain

the grace of The Wielder! — That warden of gold o’er the ground went seeking, greedy to find the man who wrought him such wrong in sleep.

Savage and burning, the barrow he circled all without; nor was any there,

none in the waste…. Yet war he desired, was eager for battle. The barrow he entered, sought the cup, and discovered soon

that some one of mortals had searched his treasure, his lordly gold. The guardian waited

ill-enduring till evening came;

boiling with wrath was the barrow’s keeper, and fain with flame the foe to pay

for the dear cup’s loss. — Now day was fled as the worm had wished. By its wall no more was it glad to bide, but burning flew folded in flame: a fearful beginning for sons of the soil; and soon it came, in the doom of their lord, to a dreadful end.

THEN the baleful fiend its fire belched out, and bright homes burned. The blaze stood high all landsfolk frighting. No living thing would that loathly one leave as aloft it flew.

Wide was the dragon’s warring seen,

its fiendish fury far and near,

as the grim destroyer those Geatish people hated and hounded. To hidden lair,

to its hoard it hastened at hint of dawn.

Folk of the land it had lapped in flame, with bale and brand. In its barrow it trusted, its battling and bulwarks: that boast was vain!

To Beowulf then the bale was told

quickly and truly: the king’s own home, of buildings the best, in brand-waves melted, that gift-throne of Geats. To the good old man sad in heart, ‘twas heaviest sorrow.

The sage assumed that his sovran God

he had angered, breaking ancient law, and embittered the Lord. His breast within with black thoughts welled, as his wont was never.

The folk’s own fastness that fiery dragon with flame had destroyed, and the stronghold all washed by waves; but the warlike king, prince of the Weders, plotted vengeance.

Warriors’-bulwark, he bade them work

all of iron — the earl’s commander —

a war-shield wondrous: well he knew

that forest-wood against fire were worthless, linden could aid not. — Atheling brave, he was fated to finish this fleeting life, {31a}

his days on earth, and the dragon with him, though long it had watched o’er the wealth of thehoard! —

Shame he reckoned it, sharer-of-rings, to follow the flyer-afar with a host, a broad-flung band; nor the battle feared he, nor deemed he dreadful the dragon’s warring, its vigor and valor: ventures desperate he had passed a-plenty, and perils of war, contest-crash, since, conqueror proud, Hrothgar’s hall he had wholly purged, and in grapple had killed the kin of Grendel, loathsome breed! Not least was that

of hand-to-hand fights where Hygelac fell, when the ruler of Geats in rush of battle, lord of his folk, in the Frisian land, son of Hrethel, by sword-draughts died, by brands down-beaten. Thence Beowulf fled through strength of himself and his swimming power, though alone, and his arms were laden with thirty coats of mail, when he came to the sea!

Nor yet might Hetwaras {31b} haughtily boast their craft of contest, who carried against him shields to the fight: but few escaped from strife with the hero to seek their homes!

Then swam over ocean Ecgtheow’s son

lonely and sorrowful, seeking his land, where Hygd made him offer of hoard and realm, rings and royal-seat, reckoning naught the strength of her son to save their kingdom from hostile hordes, after Hygelac’s death.

No sooner for this could the stricken ones in any wise move that atheling’s mind over young Heardred’s head as lord

and ruler of all the realm to be:

yet the hero upheld him with helpful words, aided in honor, till, older grown,

he wielded the Weder-Geats. — Wandering exiles sought him o’er seas, the sons of Ohtere, who had spurned the sway of the Scylfings’-helmet, the bravest and best that broke the rings, in Swedish land, of the sea-kings’ line, haughty hero. {31c} Hence Heardred’s end.

For shelter he gave them, sword-death came, the blade’s fell blow, to bairn of Hygelac; but the son of Ongentheow sought again house and home when Heardred fell,

leaving Beowulf lord of Geats

and gift-seat’s master. — A good king he!

THE fall of his lord he was fain to requite in after days; and to Eadgils he proved friend to the friendless, and forces sent over the sea to the son of Ohtere,

weapons and warriors: well repaid he those care-paths cold when the king he slew. {32a}

Thus safe through struggles the son of Ecgtheow had passed a plenty, through perils dire, with daring deeds, till this day was come that doomed him now with the dragon to strive.

With comrades eleven the lord of Geats swollen in rage went seeking the dragon.

He had heard whence all the harm arose and the killing of clansmen; that cup of price on the lap of the lord had been laid by the finder.

In the throng was this one thirteenth man, starter of all the strife and ill,

care-laden captive; cringing thence

forced and reluctant, he led them on

till he came in ken of that cavern-hall, the barrow delved near billowy surges, flood of ocean. Within ‘twas full

of wire-gold and jewels; a jealous warden, warrior trusty, the treasures held,

lurked in his lair. Not light the task of entrance for any of earth-born men!

Sat on the headland the hero king,

spake words of hail to his hearth-companions, gold-friend of Geats. All gloomy his soul, wavering, death-bound. Wyrd full nigh stood ready to greet the gray-haired man, to seize his soul-hoard, sunder apart life and body. Not long would be

the warrior’s spirit enwound with flesh.

Beowulf spake, the bairn of Ecgtheow: —

“Through store of struggles I