That work of much might with mickle of love
We framed with fighting, and frowardly ventur’d
The might of the uncouth; now I would that rather
Thou mightest have look’d on the very man there,
The foe in his fret-gear all worn unto falling.
There him in all haste with hard griping did I
On the slaughter-bed deem it to bind him indeed,
That he for my hand-grip should have to be lying
All busy for life: but his body fled off.
Him then, I might not (since would not the Maker)
From his wayfaring sunder, nor naught so well sought I
The life-foe; o’er-mickle of might was he yet,
The foeman afoot: but his hand has he left us,
A life-ward, a-warding the ways of his wending,
His arm and his shoulder therewith. Yet in nowise
That wretch of the grooms any solace hath got him,
Nor longer will live the loathly deed-doer,
Beswinked with sins; for the sore hath him now
In the grip of need grievous, in strait hold togather’d
With bonds that be baleful: there shall he abide,
That wight dyed with all evil-deeds, the doom mickle,
For what wise to him the bright Maker will write it.
Then a silenter man was the son there of Ecglaf
In the speech of the boasting of works of the battle,
After when every atheling by craft of the earl
Over the high roof had look’d on the hand there,
Yea, the fiend’s fingers before his own eyen,
Each one of the nail-steads most like unto steel,
Hand-spur of the heathen one; yea, the own claw
Uncouth of the war-wight. But each one there quoth it,
That no iron of the best, of the hardy of folk,
Would touch him at all, which e’er of the monster
The battle-hand bloody might bear away thence.
XVI. HROTHGAR GIVETH GIFTS TO BEOWULF.
Then was speedily bidden that Hart be withinward
By hand of man well adorn’d; was there a many
Of warriors and wives, who straightway that wine-house
The guest-house, bedight them: there gold-shotten shone
The webs over the walls, many wonders to look on
For men every one who on such things will stare.
Was that building the bright all broken about
All withinward, though fast in the bands of the iron;
Asunder the hinges rent, only the roof there
Was saved all sound, when the monster of evil
The guilty of crime-deeds had gat him to flight
Never hoping for life. Nay, lightly now may not
That matter be fled from, frame it whoso may frame it.
But by strife man shall win of the bearers of souls,
Of the children of men, compelled by need,
The abiders on earth, the place made all ready,
The stead where his body laid fast on his death-bed
Shall sleep after feast. Now time and place was it
When unto the hall went that Healfdene’s son,
And the King himself therein the feast should be sharing;
Never heard I of men-folk in fellowship more
About their wealth-giver so well themselves bearing.
Then bow’d unto bench there the abounders in riches
And were fain of their fill. Full fairly there took
A many of mead-cups the kin of those men,
The sturdy of heart in the hall high aloft,
Hrothgar and Hrothulf. Hart there withinward
Of friends was fulfilled; naught there that was guilesome
The folk of the Scyldings for yet awhile framed.
Gave then to Beowulf Healfdene’s bairn
A golden war-ensign, the victory’s guerdon,
A staff-banner fair-dight, a helm and a byrny:
The great jewel-sword a many men saw them
Bear forth to the hero. Then Beowulf took
The cup on the floor, and nowise of that fee-gift
Before the shaft-shooters the shame need he have.
Never heard I how friendlier four of the treasures,
All gear’d with the gold about, many men erewhile
On the ale-bench have given to others of men.
Round the roof of the helm, the burg of the head,
A wale wound with wires held ward from without-ward,
So that the file-leavings might not over fiercely,
Were they never so shower-hard, scathe the shield-bold,
When he ’gainst the angry in anger should get him.
Therewith bade the earls’ burg that eight of the horses
With cheek-plates adorned be led down the floor
In under the fences; on one thereof stood
A saddle all craft-bedeck’d, seemly with treasure.
That same was the war-seat of the high King full surely
Whenas that the sword-play that Healfdene’s son
Would work; never failed in front of the war
The wide-kenn’d one’s war-might, whereas fell the slain.
So to Beowulf thereon of either of both
The Ingwines’ high warder gave wielding to have,
Both the war-steeds and weapons, and bade him well brook them.
Thuswise and so manly the mighty of princes,
Hoard-warden of heroes, the battle-race paid
With mares and with gems, so as no man shall blame them,
E’en he who will say sooth aright as it is.
XVII. THEY FEAST IN HART. THE GLEEMAN SINGS OF FINN AND HENGEST.
Then the lord of the earl-folk to every and each one
Of them who with Beowulf the sea-ways had worn
Then and there on the mead-bench did handsel them treasure,
An heir-loom to wit; for him also he bade it
That a were-gild be paid, whom Grendel aforetime
By wickedness quell’d, as far more of them would he,
Save from them God all-witting the weird away wended,
And that man’s mood withal. But the Maker all wielded
Of the kindred of mankind, as yet now he doeth.
Therefore through-witting will be the best everywhere
And the forethought of mind. Many things must abide
Of lief and of loth, he who here a long while
In these days of the strife with the world shall be dealing.
There song was and sound all gather’d together
Of that Healfdene’s warrior and wielder of battle,
The wood of glee greeted, the lay wreaked often,
Whenas the hall-game the minstrel of Hrothgar
All down by the mead-bench tale must be making:
By Finn’s sons aforetime, when the fear gat them,
The hero of Half-Danes, Hnæf of the Scyldings,
On the slaughter-field Frisian needs must he fall.
Forsooth never Hildeburh needed to hery
The troth of the Eotens; she all unsinning
Was lorne of her lief ones in that play of the linden,
Her bairns and her brethren, by fate there they fell
Spear-wounded. That was the all-woeful of women.
Not unduly without cause the daughter of Hoc
Mourn’d the Maker’s own shaping, sithence came the morn
When she under the heavens that tide came to see,
Murder-bale of her kinsmen, where most had she erewhile?
Of world’s bliss. The war-tide took all men away
Of Finn’s thanes that were, save only a few;
E’en so that he might not on the field of the meeting
Hold Hengest a war-tide, or fight any whit,
Nor yet snatch away thence by war the woe-leavings
From the thane of the King; but terms now they bade him
That
for them other stead all for all should make room,
A hall and high settle, whereof the half-wielding
They with the Eotens’ bairns henceforth might hold,
And with fee-gifts moreover the son of Folkwalda
Each day of the days the Danes should beworthy;
The war-heap of Hengest with rings should he honour
Even so greatly with treasure of treasures,
Of gold all beplated, as he the kin Frisian
Down in the beer-hall duly should dight.
Troth then they struck there each of the two halves,
A peace-troth full fast. There Finn unto Hengest
Strongly, unstrifeful, with oath-swearing swore,
That he the woe-leaving by the doom of the wise ones
Should hold in ail honour, that never man henceforth
With word or with work the troth should be breaking,
Nor through craft of the guileful should undo it ever,
Though their ring-giver’s bane they must follow in rank
All lordless, e’en so need is it to be:
But if any of Frisians by over-bold speaking
The murderful hatred should call unto mind,
Then naught but the edge of the sword should avenge it.
Then done was the oath there, and gold of the golden
Heav’d up from the hoard. Of the bold Here-Scyldings
All yare on the bale was the best battle-warrior;
On the death-howe beholden was easily there
The sark stain’d with war-sweat, the all-golden swine,
The iron-hard boar; there was many an atheling
With wounds all outworn; some on slaughter-field welter’d.
But Hildeburh therewith on Hnæf’s bale she bade them
The own son of herself to set fast in the flame,
His bone-vats to burn up and lay on the bale there:
On his shoulder all woeful the woman lamented,
Sang songs of bewailing, as the warrior strode upward,
Wound up to the welkin that most of death-fires,
Before the howe howled; there molten the heads were,
The wound-gates burst open, there blood was out-springing
From foe-bites of the body; the flame swallow’d all,
The greediest of ghosts, of them that war gat him
Of either of folks; shaken off was their life-breath.
XVIII. THE ENDING OF THE TALE OF FINN.
Departed the warriors their wicks to visit
All forlorn of their friends now, Friesland to look on,
Their homes and their high burg. Hengest a while yet
Through the slaughter-dyed winter bode dwelling with Finn
And all without strife: he remember’d his homeland,
Though never he might o’er the mere be a-driving
The high prow be-ringed: with storm the holm welter’d,
Won war ’gainst the winds; winter locked the waves
With bondage of ice, till again came another
Of years into the garth, as yet it is ever,
And the days which the season to watch never cease,
The glory-bright weather; then gone was the winter,
And fair was the earth’s barm. Now hastened the exile.
The guest from the garths; he on getting of vengeance
Of harms thought more greatly than of the sea’s highway,
If he but a wrath-mote might yet be a-wending
Where the bairns of the Eotens might he still remember.
The ways of the world forwent he in nowise
Then, whenas Hunlafing the light of the battle,
The best of all bills, did into his breast,
Whereof mid the Eotens were the edges well knowen.
Withal to the bold-hearted Finn befell after
Sword-bales the deadly at his very own dwelling,
When the grim grip of war Guthlaf and Oslaf
After the sea-fare lamented with sorrow
And wyted him deal of their woes; nor then might he
In his breast hold his wavering heart. Was the hall dight
With the lives of slain foemen, and slain eke was Finn
The King ’midst of his court-men; and there the Queen, taken,
The shooters of the Scyldings ferry’d down to the sea-ships,
And the house-wares and chattels the earth-king had had,
E’en such as at Finn’s home there might they find,
Of collars and cunning gems. They on the sea-path
The all-lordly wife to the Danes straightly wended,
Led her home to their people. So sung was the lay,
The song of the gleeman; then again arose game,
The bench-voice wax’d brighter, gave forth the birlers
Wine of the wonder-vats. Then came forth Wealhtheow
Under gold ring a-going to where sat the two good ones,
The uncle and nephew, yet of kindred unsunder’d,
Each true to the other. Eke Unferth the spokesman
Sat at feet of the Scyldings’ lord; each of his heart trow’d
That of mickle mood was he, though he to his kinsmen
Were un-upright in edge-play. Spake the dame of the Scyldings:
Now take thou this cup, my lord of the kingly,
Bestower of treasures! Be thou in thy joyance,
Thou gold-friend of men! and speak to these Geat-folk
In mild words, as duly behoveth to do;
Be glad toward the Geat-folk, and mindful of gifts;
From anigh and from far peace hast thou as now.
To me one hath said it, that thou for a son wouldst
This warrior be holding. Lo! Hart now is cleansed,
The ring-hall bright-beaming. Have joy while thou mayest
In many a meed, and unto thy kinsmen
Leave folk and dominion, when forth thou must fare
To look on the Maker’s own making. I know now
My Hrothulf the gladsome, that he this young man
Will hold in all honour if thou now before him,
O friend of the Scyldings, shall fare from the world;
I ween that good-will yet this man will be yielding
To our offspring that after us be, if he mind him
Of all that which we two, for good-will and for worship,
Unto him erst a child yet have framed of kindness.
Then along by the bench did she turn, where her boys were,
Hrethric and Hrothmund, and the bairns of high warriors,
The young ones together; and there sat the good one,
Beowulf the Geat, betwixt the two brethren.
XIX. MORE GIFTS ARE GIVEN TO BEOWULF. THE BRISING COLLAR TOLD OF.
Borne to him then the cup was, and therewith friendly bidding
In words was put forth; and gold about wounden
All blithely they bade him bear; arm-gearings twain,
Rail and rings, the most greatest of fashion of neck-rings
Of them that on earth I have ever heard tell of:
Not one under heaven wrought better was heard of
Midst the hoard-gems of heroes, since bore away Hama
To the bright burg and brave the neck-gear of the Brisings,
The gem and the gem-chest: from the foeman’s guile fled he
Of Eormenric then, and chose rede everlasting.
That ring Hygelac had, e’en he of the Geat-folk,
The grandson of Swerting, the last time of all times
When he under the war-sign his treasure defended,
The slaughter-prey warded. Him weird bore away
Sithence he for pride-sake the war-woe abided,
The feud with the Frisians; the fretwork he flitted,
The gem-stones much worthy, all over the waves’ cup.
The King the full mighty cring’d under the shield;
Into grasp of the Franks the King’s life was gotten
With the gear of the breast
and the ring altogether;
It was worser war-wolves then reft gear from the slain
After the war-shearing; there the Geats’ war-folk
Held the house of the dead men. The Hall took the voices;
Spake out then Wealhtheow; before the host said she:
Brook thou this roundel, lief Beowulf, henceforth,
Dear youth, with all hail, and this rail be thou using,
These gems of folk-treasures, and thrive thou well ever;
Thy might then make manifest! Be to these lads here
Kind of lore, and for that will I look to thy guerdon.
Thou hast won by thy faring, that far and near henceforth,
Through wide time to come, men will give thee the worship,
As widely as ever the sea winds about
The windy land-walls. Be the while thou art living
An atheling wealthy, and well do I will thee
Of good of the treasures; be thou to my son
In deed ever friendly, and uphold thy joyance!
Lo! each of the earls here to the other is trusty,
And mild of his mood and to man-lord full faithful,
Kind friends all the thanes are, the folk ever yare.
Ye well drunk of folk-grooms, now do ye my biddings.
To her settle then far’d she; was the feast of the choicest,
The men drank the wine nothing wotting of weird,
The grim shaping of old, e’en as forth it had gone
To a many of earls; sithence came the even,
And Hrothgar departed to his chamber on high,
The rich to his rest; and aright the house warded
Earls untold of number, as oft did they erewhile.
The bench-boards they bar’d them, and there they spread over
With beds and with bolsters. Of the beer-skinkers one
Who fain was and fey bow’d adown to his floor-rest.
At their heads then they rested their rounds of the battle,
Their board-woods bright-shining. There on the bench was,
Over the atheling, easy to look on
The battle-steep war-helm, the byrny be-ringed,
The wood of the onset, all-glorious. Their wont was
That oft and oft were they all yare for the war-tide,
Both at home and in hosting, were it one were it either,
And for every such tide as their liege lord unto
The need were befallen: right good was that folk.
XX. GRENDEL’S DAM BREAKS INTO HART AND BEARS OFF AESCHERE.
So sank they to slumber; but one paid full sorely
For his rest of the even, as to them fell full often
Sithence that the gold-hall Grendel had guarded,
And won deed of unright, until that the end came
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