The Dragon Megapack

by Wildside Press

So Wulfgar spake forth to his lord the well-friendly:

  Hither are ferry’d now, come from afar off

  O’er the field of the ocean, a folk of the Geats;

  These men of the battle e’en Beowulf name they

  Their elder and chiefest, and to thee are they bidding

  That they, O dear lord, with thee may be dealing

  In word against word. Now win them no naysay

  Of thy speech again-given, O Hrothgar the glad-man:

  For they in their war-gear, methinketh, be worthy

  Of good deeming of earls; and forsooth naught but doughty

  Is he who hath led o’er the warriors hither.

  VII. BEOWULF SPEAKETH WITH HROTHGAR, AND TELLETH HOW HE WILL MEET GRENDEL.

  Word then gave out Hrothgar the helm of the Scyldings:

  I knew him in sooth when he was but a youngling,

  And his father, the old man, was Ecgtheow hight;

  Unto whom at his home gave Hrethel the Geat-lord

  His one only daughter; and now hath his offspring

  All hardy come hither a lief lord to seek him.

  For that word they spake then, the sea-faring men,

  E’en they who the gift-seat for the Geat-folk had ferry’d,

  Brought thither for thanks, that of thirty of menfolk

  The craft of might hath he within his own handgrip,

  That war-strong of men. Now him holy God

  For kind help hath sent off here even to us,

  We men of the West Danes, as now I have weening,

  ‘Gainst the terror of Grendel. So I to that good one

  For his mighty mood-daring shall the dear treasure bid.

  Haste now and be speedy, and bid them in straightway,

  The kindred-band gather’d together, to see us,

  And in words say thou eke that they be well comen

  To the folk of the Danes. To the door of the hall then

  Went Wulfgar, and words withinward he flitted:

  He bade me to say you, my lord of fair battle,

  The elder of East-Danes, that he your blood knoweth,

  And that unto him are ye the sea-surges over,

  Ye lads hardy-hearted, well come to land hither;

  And now may ye wend you all in war-raiment

  Under the battle-mask Hrothgar to see.

  But here let your battle-boards yet be abiding,

  With your war-weed and slaughter-shafts, issue of words.

  Then rose up the rich one, much warriors around him,

  Chosen heap of the thanes, but there some abided

  The war-gear to hold, as the wight one was bidding.

  Swift went they together, as the warrior there led them,

  Under Hart’s roof: went the stout-hearted,

  The hardy neath helm, till he stood by the high-seat.

  Then Beowulf spake out, on him shone the byrny,

  His war-net besown by the wiles of the smith:

  Hail to thee, Hrothgar! I am of Hygelac

  Kinsman and folk-thane; fair deeds have I many

  Begun in my youth-tide, and this matter of Grendel

  On the turf of mine own land undarkly I knew.

  ‘Tis the seafarers’ say that standeth this hall,

  The best house forsooth, for each one of warriors

  All idle and useless, after the even-light

  Under the heaven-loft hidden becometh.

  Then lightly they learn’d me, my people, this lore,

  E’en the best that there be of the wise of the churls,

  O Hrothgar the kingly, that thee should I seek to,

  Whereas of the might of my craft were they cunning;

  For they saw me when came I from out of my wargear,

  Blood-stain’d from the foe whenas five had I bounden,

  Quell’d the kin of the eotens, and in the wave slain

  The nicors by night-tide: strait need then I bore,

  Wreak’d the grief of the Weders, the woe they had gotten;

  I ground down the wrathful; and now against Grendel

  I here with the dread one alone shall be dooming,

  In Thing with the giant. I now then with thee,

  O lord of the bright Danes, will fall to my bidding,

  O berg of Scyldings, and bid thee one boon,

  Which, O refuge of warriors, gainsay me not now,

  Since, O free friend of folks, from afar have I come,

  That I alone, I and my band of the earls,

  This hard heap of men, may cleanse Hart of ill.

  This eke have I heard say, that he, the fell monster,

  In his wan-heed recks nothing of weapons of war;

  Forgo I this therefore (if so be that Hygelac

  Will still be my man-lord, and he blithe of mood)

  To bear the sword with me, or bear the broad shield,

  Yellow-round to the battle; but with naught save the hand-grip

  With the foe shall I grapple, and grope for the life

  The loathly with loathly. There he shall believe

  In the doom of the Lord whom death then shall take.

  Now ween I that he, if he may wield matters,

  E’en there in the war-hall the folk of the Geats

  Shall eat up unafear’d, as oft he hath done it

  With the might of the Hrethmen: no need for thee therefore

  My head to be hiding; for me will he have

  With gore all bestain’d, if the death of men get me;

  He will bear off my bloody corpse minded to taste it;

  Unmournfully then will the Lone-goer eat it,

  Will blood-mark the moor-ways; for the meat of my body

  Naught needest thou henceforth in any wise grieve thee.

  But send thou to Hygelac, if the war have me,

  The best of all war-shrouds that now my breast wardeth,

  The goodliest of railings, the good gift of Hrethel,

  The hand-work of Weland. Weird wends as she willeth.

  VIII. HROTHGAR ANSWERETH BEOWULF AND BIDDETH HIM SIT TO THE FEAST.

  Spake out then Hrothgar the helm of the Scyldings:

  Thou Beowulf, friend mine, for battle that wardeth

  And for help that is kindly hast sought to us hither.

  Fought down thy father the most of all feuds;

  To Heatholaf was he forsooth for a hand-bane

  Amidst of the Wylfings. The folk of the Weders

  Him for the war-dread that while might not hold.

  So thence did he seek to the folk of the South-Danes

  O’er the waves’ wallow, to the Scyldings be-worshipped.

  Then first was I wielding the weal of the Dane-folk,

  That time was I holding in youth-tide the gem-rich

  Hoard-burg of the heroes. Dead then was Heorogar,

  Mine elder of brethren; unliving was he,

  The Healfdene’s bairn that was better than I.

  That feud then thereafter with fee did I settle;

  I sent to the Wylfing folk over the waters’ back

  Treasures of old time; he swore the oaths to me.

  Sorrow is in my mind that needs must I say it

  To any of grooms, of Grendel what hath he

  Of shaming in Hart, and he with his hate-wiles

  Of sudden harms framed; the host of my hall-floor,

  The war-heap, is waned; Weird swept them away

  Into horror of Grendel. It is God now that may lightly

  The scather the doltish from deeds thrust aside.

  Full oft have they boasted with beer well bedrunken,

  My men of the battle all over the ale-stoup,

  That they in the beer-hall would yet be abiding

  The onset of Grendel with the terror of edges.

  But then was this mead-hall in the tide of the morning,

  This warrior-hall, gore-stain’d when day at last gleamed,

  All the boards of the benches with blood besteam’d over,

  The hall
laid with sword-gore: of lieges less had I

  Of dear and of doughty, for them death had gotten.

  Now sit thou to feast and unbind thy mood freely,

  Thy war-fame unto men as the mind of thee whetteth.

  Then was for the Geat-folk and them all together

  There in the beer-hall a bench bedight roomsome,

  There the stout-hearted hied them to sitting

  Proud in their might: a thane minded the service,

  Who in hand upbare an ale-stoup adorned,

  Skinked the sheer mead; whiles sang the shaper

  Clear out in Hart-hall; joy was of warriors,

  Men doughty no little of Danes and of Weders.

  IX. UNFERTH CONTENDETH IN WORDS WITH BEOWULF.

  Spake out then Unferth that bairn was of Ecglaf,

  And he sat at the feet of the lord of the Scyldings,

  He unbound the battle-rune; was Beowulf’s faring,

  Of him the proud mere-farer, mickle unliking,

  Whereas he begrudg’d it of any man other

  That he glories more mighty the middle-garth over

  Should hold under heaven than he himself held:

  Art thou that Beowulf who won strife with Breca

  On the wide sea contending in swimming,

  When ye two for pride’s sake search’d out the floods

  And for a dolt’s cry into deep water

  Thrust both your life-days? No man the twain of you,

  Lief or loth were he, might lay wyte to stay you

  Your sorrowful journey, when on the sea row’d ye;

  Then when the ocean-stream ye with your arms deck’d,

  Meted the mere-streets, there your hands brandish’d!

  O’er the Spearman ye glided; the sea with waves welter’d,

  The surge of the winter. Ye twain in the waves’ might

  For a seven nights swink’d. He outdid thee in swimming,

  And the more was his might; but him in the morn-tide

  To the Heatho-Remes’ land the holm bore ashore.

  And thence away sought he to his dear land and lovely,

  The lief to his people sought the land of the Brondings,

  The fair burg peace-warding, where he the folk owned,

  The burg and the gold rings. What to theeward he boasted,

  Beanstan’s son, for thee soothly he brought it about.

  Now ween I for thee things worser than erewhile,

  Though thou in the war-race wert everywhere doughty,

  In the grim war, if thou herein Grendel darest

  Night-long for a while of time nigh to abide.

  Then Beowulf spake out, the Ecgtheow’s bairn:

  What! thou no few of things, O Unferth my friend,

  And thou drunken with beer, about Breca hast spoken,

  Saidest out of his journey; so the sooth now I tell:

  To wit, that the more might ever I owned,

  Hard wearing on wave more than any man else.

  We twain then, we quoth it, while yet we were younglings,

  And we boasted between us, the twain of us being yet

  In our youth-days, that we out onto the Spearman

  Our lives would adventure; and e’en so we wrought It.

  We had a sword naked, when on the sound row’d we,

  Hard in hand, as we twain against the whale-fishes

  Had mind to be warding us. No whit from me

  In the waves of the sea-flood afar might he float

  The hastier in holm, nor would I from him hie me.

  Then we two together, we were in the sea

  For a five nights, till us twain the flood drave asunder,

  The weltering of waves. Then the coldest of weathers

  In the dusking of night and the wind from the northward

  Battle-grim turn’d against us, rough grown were the billows.

  Of the mere-fishes then was the mood all up-stirred;

  There me ’gainst the loathly the body-sark mine,

  The hard and the hand-lock’d, was framing me help,

  My battle-rail braided, it lay on my breast

  Gear’d graithly with gold. But me to the ground tugg’d

  A foe and fiend-scather; fast he had me In hold

  That grim one in grip: yet to me was it given.

  That the wretch there, the monster, with point might I reach,

  With my bill of the battle, and the war-race off bore

  The mighty mere-beast through the hand that was mine.

  X. BEOWULF MAKES AN END OF HIS TALE OF THE SWIMMING. WEALHTHEOW, HROTHGAR’S QUEEN, GREETS HIM; AND HROTHGAR DELIVERS TO HIM THE WARDING OF THE HALL.

  Thus oft and oft over the doers of evil

  They threatened me hard; thane-service I did them

  With the dear sword of mine, as forsooth it was meet,

  That nowise of their fill did they win them the joy

  The evil fordoers in swallowing me down,

  Sitting round at the feast nigh the ground of the sea.

  Yea rather, a morning-tide, mangled by sword-edge

  Along the waves’ leaving up there did they lie

  Lull’d asleep with the sword, so that never sithence

  About the deep floods for the farers o’er ocean

  The way have they letted. Came the light from the eastward,

  The bright beacon of God, and grew the seas calm,

  So that the sea-nesses now might I look on,

  The windy walls. Thuswise Weird oft will be saving

  The earl that is unfey, when his valour availeth.

  Whatever, it happ’d me that I with the sword slew

  Nicors nine. Never heard I of fighting a night-tide

  ‘Neath the vault of the heavens was harder than that,

  Nor yet on the sea-streams of woefuller wight.

  Whatever, forth won I with life from the foes’ clutch

  All of wayfaring weary. But me the sea upbore,

  The flood downlong the tide with the weltering of waters,

  All onto the Finnland. No whit of thee ever

  Mid such strife of the battle-gear have I heard say,

  Such terrors of bills. Nor never yet Breca

  In the play of the battle, nor both you, nor either,

  So dearly the deeds have framed forsooth

  With the bright flashing swords; though of this naught I boast me.

  But thou of thy brethren the banesman becamest,

  Yea thine head-kin forsooth, for which in hell shalt thou

  Dree weird of damnation, though doughty thy wit be;

  For unto thee say I forsooth, son of Ecglaf,

  That so many deeds never Grendel had done,

  That monster the loathly, against thine own lord,

  The shaming in Hart-hall, if suchwise thy mind were,

  And thy soul e’en as battle-fierce, such as thou sayest.

  But he, he hath fram’d it that the feud he may heed not,

  The fearful edge-onset that is of thy folk,

  Nor sore need be fearful of the Victory-Scyldings.

  The need-pledges taketh he, no man he spareth

  Of the folk of the Danes, driveth war as he lusteth,

  Slayeth and feasteth unweening of strife

  With them of the Spear-Danes. But I, I shall show it,

  The Geats’ wightness and might ere the time weareth old,

  Shall bide him in war-tide. Then let him go who may go

  High-hearted to mead, sithence when the morn-light

  O’er the children of men of the second day hence,

  The sun clad in heaven’s air, shines from the southward.

  Then merry of heart was the meter of treasures,

  The hoary-man’d war-renown’d, help now he trow’d in;

  The lord of the Bright-Danes on Beowulf hearken’d,

  The folk-shepherd knew him, his fast-ready mind.

  There was laughter of heroes, and high the din rang

  And winsome the wo
rds were. Went Wealhtheow forth,

  The Queen she of Hrothgar, of courtesies mindful,

  The gold-array’d greeted the grooms in the hall,

  The free and frank woman the beaker there wended,

  And first to the East-Dane-folk’s fatherland’s warder,

  And bade him be blithe at the drinking of beer,

  To his people beloved, and lustily took he

  The feast and the hall-cup, that victory-fam’d King.

  Then round about went she, the Dame of the Helmings,

  And to doughty and youngsome, each deal of the folk there,

  Gave cups of the treasure, till now it betid

  That to Beowulf duly the Queen the ring-dighted,

  Of mind high uplifted, the mead-beaker bare.

  Then she greeted the Geat-lord, and gave God the thank,

  She, the wisefast In words, that the will had wax’d in her

  In one man of the earls to have trusting and troth

  For comfort from crimes. But the cup then he took,

  The slaughter-fierce warrior, from Wealhtheow the Queen.

  And then rim’d he the word, making ready for war,

  And Beowulf spake forth, the Ecgtheow’s bairn:

  E’en that in mind had I when up on holm strode I,

  And in sea-boat sat down with a band of my men,

  That for once and for all the will of your people

  Would I set me to work, or on slaughter-field cringe

  Fast in grip of the fiend; yea and now shall I frame

  The valour of earl-folk, or else be abiding

  The day of mine end, here down in the mead-hall.

  To the wife those his words well liking they were,

  The big word of the Geat; and the gold-adorn’d wended,

  The frank and free Queen to sit by her lord.

  And thereafter within the high hall was as erst

  The proud word outspoken and bliss on the people,

  Was the sound of the victory-folk, till on a sudden

  The Healfdene’s son would now be a-seeking

  His rest of the even: wotted he for the Evil

  Within the high hall was the Hild-play bedight,

  Sithence that the sun-light no more should they see,

  When night should be darkening, and down over all

  The shapes of the shadow-helms should be a-striding

  Wan under the welkin. Uprose then all war-folk;

  Then greeted the glad-minded one man the other,

  Hrothgar to Beowulf, bidding him hail,

  And the wine-hall to wield, and withal quoth the word:

  Never to any man erst have I given,

  Since the hand and the shield’s round aloft might I heave,

  This high hall of the Dane-folk, save now unto thee.

  Have now and hold the best of all houses,