The Dragon Megapack

by Wildside Press

  Mind thee of fame, show the might of thy valour!

  Wake the wroth one: no lack shall there be to thy willing

  If that wight work thou win and life therewithal.

  XI. NOW IS BEOWULF LEFT IN THE HALL ALONE WITH HIS MEN.

  Then wended him Hrothgar with the band of his warriors,

  The high-ward of the Scyldings from out of the hall,

  For then would the war-lord go seek unto Wealhtheow

  The Queen for a bed-mate. The glory of king-folk

  Against Grendel had set, as men have heard say,

  A hall-ward who held him a service apart

  In the house of the Dane-lord, for eoten-ward held he.

  Forsooth he, the Geat-lord, full gladly he trowed

  In the might of his mood and the grace of the Maker.

  Therewith he did off him his byrny of iron

  And the helm from his head, and his dighted sword gave,

  The best of all irons, to the thane that abode him,

  And bade him to hold that harness of battle.

  Bespake then the good one, a big word he gave out,

  Beowulf the Geat, ere on the bed strode he:

  Nowise in war I deem me more lowly

  In the works of the battle than Grendel, I ween;

  So not with the sword shall I lull him to slumber,

  Or take his life thuswise, though to me were it easy;

  Of that good wise he wots not, to get the stroke on me,

  To hew on my shield, for as stark as he shall be

  In the works of the foeman. So we twain a night-tide

  Shall forgo the sword, if he dare yet to seek

  The war without weapons. Sithence the wise God,

  The Lord that is holy, on which hand soever

  The glory may doom as due to him seemeth.

  Bowed down then the war-deer, the cheek-bolster took

  The face of the earl; and about him a many

  Of sea-warriors bold to their hall-slumber bow’d them;

  No one of them thought that thence away should he

  Seek ever again to his home the beloved,

  His folk or his free burg, where erst he was fed;

  For of men had they learn’d that o’er mickle a many

  In that wine-hall aforetime the fell death had gotten

  Of the folk of the Danes; but the Lord to them gave it,

  To the folk of the Weders, the web of war-speeding,

  Help fair and good comfort, e’en so that their foeman

  Through the craft of one man all they overcame,

  By the self-might of one. So is manifest truth

  That God the Almighty the kindred of men

  Hath wielded wide ever. Now by wan night there came,

  There strode in the shade-goer; slept there the shooters,

  They who that horn-house should be a-holding,

  All men but one man: to men was that known,

  That them indeed might not, since will’d not the Maker,

  The scather unceasing drag off ’neath the shadow;

  But he ever watching in wrath ’gainst the wroth one

  Mood-swollen abided the battle-mote ever.

  XII. GRENDEL COMETH INTO HART: OF THE STRIFE BETWIXT HIM AND BEOWULF.

  Came then from the moor-land, all under the mist-bents,

  Grendel a-going there, bearing God’s anger.

  The scather the ill one was minded of mankind

  To have one in his toils from the high hall aloft.

  ‘Neath the welkin he waded, to the place whence the wine-house,

  The gold-hall of men, most yarely he wist

  With gold-plates fair coloured; nor was it the first time

  That he unto Hrothgar’s high home had betook him.

  Never he in his life-days, either erst or thereafter,

  Of warriors more hardy or hall-thanes had found.

  Came then to the house the wight on his ways,

  Of all joys bereft; and soon sprang the door open,

  With fire-bands made fast, when with hand he had touch’d it;

  Brake the bale-heedy, he with wrath bollen,

  The mouth of the house there, and early thereafter

  On the shiny-fleck’d floor thereof trod forth the fiend;

  On went he then mood-wroth, and out from his eyes stood

  Likest to fire-flame light full unfair.

  In the high house beheld he a many of warriors,

  A host of men sib all sleeping together,

  Of man-warriors a heap; then laugh’d out his mood;

  In mind deem’d he to sunder, or ever came day,

  The monster, the fell one, from each of the men there

  The life from the body; for befell him a boding

  Of fulfilment of feeding: but weird now it was not

  That he any more of mankind thenceforward

  Should eat, that night over. Huge evil beheld then

  The Hygelac’s kinsman, and how the foul scather

  All with his fear-grips would fare there before him;

  How never the monster was minded to tarry,

  For speedily gat he, and at the first stour,

  A warrior a-sleeping, and unaware slit him,

  Bit his bone-coffer, drank blood a-streaming,

  Great gobbets swallow’d in; thenceforth soon had he

  Of the unliving one every whit eaten

  To hands and feet even: then forth strode he nigher,

  And took hold with his hand upon him the highhearted.

  The warrior a-resting; reach’d out to himwards

  The fiend with his hand, gat fast on him rathely

  With thought of all evil, and besat him his arm.

  Then swiftly was finding the herdsman of fouldeeds

  That forsooth he had met not in Middle-garth ever,

  In the parts of the earth, in any man else

  A hand-grip more mighty; then wax’d he of mood

  Heart-fearful, but none the more outward might he;

  Hence-eager his heart was to the darkness to hie him,

  And the devil-dray seek: not there was his service

  E’en such as he found in his life-days before.

  Then to heart laid the good one, the Hygelac’s kinsman,

  His speech of the even-tide; uplong he stood

  And fast with him grappled, till bursted his fingers.

  The eoten was out-fain, but on strode the earl.

  The mighty fiend minded was, whereso he might,

  To wind him about more widely away thence,

  And flee fenwards; he found then the might of his fingers

  In the grip of the fierce one; sorry faring was that

  Which he, the harm-scather, had taken to Hart.

  The warrior-hall dinn’d now; unto all Danes there waxed,

  To the castle-abiders, to each of the keen ones,

  To all earls, as an ale-dearth. Now angry were both

  Of the fierce mighty warriors, far rang out the hall-house;

  Then mickle the wonder it was that the wine-hall

  Withstood the two war-deer, nor welter’d to earth

  The fair earthly dwelling; but all fast was it builded

  Within and without with the banding of iron

  By crafty thought smithy’d. But there from the sill bow’d

  Fell many a mead-bench, by hearsay of mine,

  With gold well adorned, where strove they the wrothful.

  Hereof never ween’d they, the wise of the Scyldings,

  That ever with might should any of men

  The excellent, bone-dight, break into pieces,

  Or unlock with cunning, save the light fire’s embracing

  In smoke should it swallow. So uprose the roar

  New and enough; now fell on the North-Danes

  Ill fear and the terror, on each and on all men,

  Of them who from wall-top hearken’d the weeping,

  Even God’s foeman singing the fear-lay, />
  The triumphless song, and the wound-bewailing

  Of the thrall of the Hell; for there now fast held him

  He who of men of main was the mightiest

  In that day which is told of, the day of this life.

  XIII. BEOWULF HATH THE VICTORY: GRENDEL IS HURT DEADLY AND LEAVETH HAND AND ARM IN THE HALL.

  Naught would the earls’ help for anything thenceforth

  That murder-comer yet quick let loose of,

  Nor his life-days forsooth to any of folk

  Told he for useful. Out then drew full many

  Of Beowult’s earls the heir-loom of old days,

  For their lord and their master’s fair life would hey ward,

  That mighty of princes, if so might they do it.

  For this did they know not when they the strife dreed,

  Those hardy-minded men of the battle,

  And on every half there thought to be hewing,

  And search out his soul, that the ceaseless scather

  Not any on earth of the choice of all irons,

  Not one of the war-bills, would greet home for ever.

  For he had forsworn him from victory-weapons,

  And each one of edges. But his sundering of soul

  In the days that we tell of, the day of this life,

  Should be weary and woeful, the ghost wending elsewhere

  To the wielding of fiends to wend him afar.

  Then found he out this, he who mickle erst made

  Out of mirth of his mood unto children of men

  And had fram’d many crimes, he the foeman of God,

  That the body of him would not bide to avail him,

  But the hardy of mood, even Hygelac’s kinsman,

  Had him fast by the hand: now was each to the other

  All loathly while living: his body-sore bided

  The monster: was manifest now on his shoulder

  The unceasing wound, sprang the sinews asunder,

  The bone-lockers bursted. To Beowulf now

  Was the battle-fame given; should Grendel thenceforth

  Flee life-sick awayward and under the fen-bents

  Seek his unmerry stead: now wist he more surely

  That ended his life was, and gone over for ever,

  His day-tale told out. But was for all Dane-folk

  After that slaughter-race all their will done.

  Then had he cleans’d for them, he the far-comer,

  Wise and stout-hearted, the high hall of Hrothgar,

  And say’d it from war. So the night-work he joy’d in

  And his doughty deed done. Yea, but he for the East-Danes

  That lord of the Geat-folk his boast’s end had gotten,

  Withal their woes bygone all had he booted,

  And the sorrow hate-fashion’d that afore they had dreed,

  And the hard need and bitter that erst they must bear,

  The sorrow unlittle. Sithence was clear token

  When the deer of the battle laid down there the hand

  The arm and the shoulder, and all there together

  Of the grip of that Grendel ’neath the great roof upbuilded.

  XIV. THE DANES REJOICE; THEY GO TO LOOK ON THE SLOT OF GRENDEL, AND COME BACK TO HART, AND ON THE WAY MAKE MERRY WITH RACING AND THE TELLING OF TALES.

  There was then on the morning, as I have heard tell it,

  Round the gift-hall a many of men of the warriors:

  Were faring folk-leaders from far and from near

  O’er the wide-away roads the wonder to look on,

  The track of the loathly: his life-sundering nowise

  Was deem’d for a sorrow to any of men there

  Who gaz’d on the track of the gloryless wight;

  How he all a-weary of mood thence awayward,

  Brought to naught in the battle, to the mere of the nicors,

  Now fey and forth-fleeing, his life-steps had flitted.

  There all in the blood was the sea-brim a-welling,

  The dread swing of the waves was washing all mingled

  With hot blood; with the gore of the sword was it welling;

  The death-doom’d had dyed it, sithence he unmerry

  In his fen-hold had laid down the last of his life,

  His soul of the heathen, and hell gat hold on him.

  Thence back again far’d they those fellows of old,

  With many a young one, from their wayfaring merry,

  Full proud from the mere-side on mares there a-riding

  The warriors on white steeds. There then was of Beowulf

  Set forth the might mighty; oft quoth it a many

  That nor northward nor southward beside the twin sea-floods,

  Over all the huge earth’s face now never another,

  Never under the heaven’s breadth, was there a better,

  Nor of wielders of war-shields a worthier of kingship;

  But neither their friendly lord blam’d they one whit,

  Hrothgar the glad, for good of kings was he.

  There whiles the warriors far-famed let leap

  Their fair fallow horses and fare into flyting

  Where unto them the earth-ways for fair-fashion’d seemed,

  Through their choiceness well kenned; and whiles a king’s thane,

  A warrior vaunt-laden, of lays grown bemindful,

  E’en he who all many of tales of the old days

  A multitude minded, found other words also

  Sooth-bounden, and boldly the man thus began

  E’en Beowulf’s wayfare well wisely to stir,

  With good speed to set forth the spells well areded

  And to shift about words. And well of all told he

  That he of Sigemund erst had heard say,

  Of the deeds of his might; and many things uncouth:

  Of the strife of the Wælsing and his wide wayfarings,

  Of those that men’s children not well yet they wist,

  The feud and the crimes, save Fitela with him;

  Somewhat of such things yet would he say,

  The eme to the nephew; e’en as they aye were

  In all strife soever fellows full needful;

  And full many had they of the kin of the eotens

  Laid low with the sword. And to Sigemund upsprang

  After his death-day fair doom unlittle

  Sithence that the war-hard the Worm there had quelled,

  The herd of the hoard; he under the hoar stone,

  The bairn of the Atheling, all alone dar’d it,

  That wight deed of deeds; with him Fitela was not.

  But howe’er, his hap was that the sword so through-waded

  The Worm the all-wondrous, that in the wall stood

  The iron dear-wrought: and the drake died the murder.

  There had the warrior so won by wightness,

  That he of the ring-hoard the use might be having

  All at his own will. The sea-boat he loaded,

  And into the ship’s barm bore the bright fretwork

  Wæls’ son. In the hotness the Worm was to-molten.

  Now he of all wanderers was widely the greatest

  Through the peoples of man-kind, the warder of warriors,

  By mighty deeds; erst then and early he throve.

  Now sithence the warfare of Heremod waned,

  His might and his valour, amidst of the eotens

  To the wielding of foemen straight was he betrayed,

  And speedily sent forth: by the surges of sorrow

  O’er-long was he lam’d, became he to his lieges,

  To all of the athelings, a life-care thenceforward.

  Withal oft bemoaned in times that were older

  The ways of that stout heart many a carle of the wisest.

  Who trow’d in him boldly for booting of bales,

  And had look’d that the king’s bairn should ever be thriving,

  His father’s own lordship should take, hold the folk,

  The hoard and the ward
-burg, and realm of the heroes,

  The own land of the Scyldings. To all men was Beowulf,

  The Hygelac’s kinsman to the kindred of menfolk,

  More fair unto friends; but on Heremod crime fell.

  So whiles the men flyting the fallow street there

  With their mares were they meting. There then was the morn-light

  Thrust forth and hasten’d; went many a warrior

  All hardy of heart to the high hall aloft

  The rare wonder to see; and the King’s self withal

  From the bride-bower wended, the warder of ring-hoards,

  All glorious he trod and a mickle troop had he,

  He for choice ways beknown; and his Queen therewithal

  Meted the mead-path with a meyny of maidens.

  XV. KING HROTHGAR AND HIS THANES LOOK ON THE ARM OF GRENDEL. CONVERSE BETWIXT HROTHGAR AND BEOWULF CONCERNING THE BATTLE.

  Out then spake Hrothgar; for he to the hall went,

  By the staple a-standing the steep roof he saw

  Shining fair with the gold, and the hand there of Grendel:

  For this sight that I see to the All-wielder thanks

  Befall now forthwith, for foul evil I bided,

  All griefs from this Grendel; but God, glory’s Herder,

  Wonder on wonder ever can work.

  Unyore was it then when I for myself

  Might ween never more, wide all through my life-days,

  Of the booting of woes; when all blood-besprinkled

  The best of all houses stood sword-gory here;

  Wide then had the woe thrust off each of the wise

  Of them that were looking that never life-long

  That land-work of the folk they might ward from the loathly,

  From ill wights and devils. But now hath a warrior

  Through the might of the Lord a deed made thereunto

  Which we, and all we together, in nowise

  By wisdom might work. What! well might be saying

  That maid whosoever this son brought to birth

  According to man’s kind, if yet she be living,

  That the Maker of old time to her was all-gracious

  In the bearing of bairns. O Beowulf, I now

  Thee best of all men as a son unto me

  Will love in my heart, and hold thou henceforward

  Our kinship new-made now; nor to thee shall be lacking

  As to longings of world-goods whereof I have wielding;

  Full oft I for lesser things guerdon have given,

  The worship of hoards, to a warrior was weaker,

  A worser in strife. Now thyself for thyself

  By deeds hast thou fram’d it that liveth thy fair fame

  For ever and ever. So may the All-wielder

  With good pay thee ever, as erst he hath done it.

  Then Beowulf spake out, the Ecgtheow’s bairn: