4 Meeting-place. “Destined” is, in view of the issue, to be understood as “expected,” — it had been sent on other capital errands before.
XXII
Beowulf spake, bairn of Ecgtheow: —
“Have mind, thou honored offspring of Healfdene,
1475 gold-friend of men, now I go on this quest,
sovran wise, what once was said:
if in thy cause it came that I
should lose my life, thou wouldst loyal bide
to me, though fallen, in father’s place!
1480 Be guardian, thou, to this group of my thanes,
my warrior-friends, if War should seize me;
and the goodly gifts thou gavest me,
Hrothgar beloved, to Hygelac send!1
Geatland’s king may ken by the gold,
1485 Hrethel’s son see, when he stares at the treasure,
that I got me a friend for goodness famed,
and joyed while I could in my jewel-bestower.
And let Unferth wield this wondrous sword,2
earl far-honored, this heirloom precious,
1490 hard of edge: with Hrunting I
seek doom of glory, or Death shall take me.”
After these words the Weder-Geat lord
boldly hastened, biding never
answer at all: and ocean floods
1495 closed o’er the hero. Long while3 of the day
fled ere he felt the floor of the sea.
Soon found the fiend who the flood-domain
sword-hungry held these hundred winters,
greedy and grim, that some guest from above,
1500 some man, was raiding her monster-realm.
She grasped out for him with grisly claws,4
and the warrior seized; yet scathed she not
his body hale; the breastplate hindered,
as she strove to shatter the sark of war,
1505 the linkéd harness, with loathsome hand.
Then bore this brine-wolf, when bottom she5 touched,
the lord of rings to the lair she haunted,
whiles vainly he strove, though his valor held,
weapon to wield against wondrous monsters
1510 that sore beset him; sea-beasts many
tried with fierce tusks to tear his mail,
and swarmed on the stranger. But soon he marked
he was now in some hall, he knew not which,
where water never could work him harm,
1515 nor through the roof could reach him ever
fangs of the flood. Firelight he saw,
beams of a blaze that brightly shone.
Then6 the warrior was ware of that wolf-of-the-deep,
mere-wife monstrous. For mighty stroke
1520 he swung his blade, and the blow withheld not.
Then sang on her head that seemly blade
its war-song wild. But the warrior found
the light-of-battle7 was loath to bite,
to harm the heart: its hard edge failed
1525 the noble at need, yet had known of old
strife hand to hand, and had helmets cloven,
doomed men’s fighting-gear. First time, this,
for the gleaming blade that its glory fell.
Firm still stood, nor failed in valor,
1530 heedful of high deeds, Hygelac’s kinsman;
flung away fretted sword, featly jewelled,
the angry earl; on earth it lay
steel-edged and stiff. His strength he trusted,
hand-gripe of might. So man shall do
1535 whenever in war he weens to earn him
lasting fame, nor fears for his life!
Seized then by shoulder,8 shrank not from combat,
the Geatish war-prince Grendel’s mother.
Flung then the fierce one, filled with wrath,
1540 his deadly foe, that she fell to ground.
Swift on her part she paid him back
with grisly grasp, and grappled with him.
Spent with struggle, stumbled the warrior,
fiercest of fighting-men, fell adown.
1545 On the hall-guest she hurled herself, hent her short sword,
broad and brown-edged,9 the bairn to avenge,
the sole-born son. — On his shoulder lay
braided breast-mail, barring death,
withstanding entrance of edge or blade.
1550 Life would have ended for Ecgtheow’s son,
under wide earth for that earl of Geats,
had his armor of war not aided him,
battle-net hard, and holy God
wielded the victory, wisest Maker.
1555 The Lord of Heaven allowed his cause;
and easily rose the earl erect.
Footnotes
1 “Discharge for me,” that is, “my two great obligations: care for my thanes, and the rendering to my lord of what I have won by my prowess,” — good Germanic ethics.
2 The sword which Hrothgar gave to Beowulf? Or Beowulf’s own sword which he brought with him?
3 “An hour of the day,” — Müllenhoff. Others translate: “the space of a whole day.”
4 In the saga of Orm and Grettir, it is a cat-monster with which the hero fights.
5 Or “he”?
6 Discrepancies here vex the higher critic; but they are simply somewhat exaggerated traits of structure and style. The course of the action is not “hopelessly confused.” Beowulf, overwhelmed by the first onset of Grendel’s mother, is dragged to her lair, and on the way is beset by monsters of every kind. Managing to extricate himself from the coil, he finds he is in a great arched hall, free of the water, and has only the mother of Grendel before him. He takes good heed of her and prepares his attack.
7 Kenning for “sword.” Hrunting is bewitched, laid under a spell of uselessness, along with all other swords. See note above to v. 1455.
8 Changed by many editions to “hair.” The two sentences here with “then” in each show well the dissected style of our old epic verse.
9 This brown of swords, evidently meaning burnished, bright, continues to be a favorite adjective in the popular ballads.
XXIII
‘Mid the battle-gear saw he a blade triumphant,
old-sword of Eotens, with edge of proof,
warriors’ heirloom, weapon unmatched,
1560 — save only ’twas more than other men
to bandy-of-battle could bear at all —
as the giants had wrought it, ready and keen.
Seized then its chain-hilt the Scyldings’ chieftain,
bold and battle-grim, brandished the sword,
1565 reckless of life, and so wrathfully smote
that it gripped her neck and grasped her hard,
her bone-rings breaking: the blade pierced through
that fated-one’s flesh: to floor she sank.
Bloody the blade: he was blithe of his deed.
1570 Then blazed forth light. ’Twas bright within
as when from the sky there shines unclouded
heaven’s candle. The hall he scanned.
By the wall then went he; his weapon raised
high by its hilts the Hygelac-thane,
1575 angry and eager. That edge was not useless
to the warrior now. He wished with speed
Grendel to guerdon for grim raids many,
for the war he waged on Western-Danes
oftener far than an only time,1
1580 when of Hrothgar’s hearth-companions
he slew in slumber, in sleep devoured,
fifteen men of the folk of Danes,
and as many others outward bore,
his horrible prey. Well paid for that
1585 the wrathful prince! For now prone he saw
Grendel stretched there, spent with war,
spoiled of life, so scathed had left him
Heorot’s battle. The body sprang far
when after death it endured the
blow,
1590 sword-stroke savage, that severed its head.
Soon,2 then, saw the sage companions
who waited with Hrothgar, watching the flood,
that the tossing waters turbid grew,
blood-stained the mere. Old men together,
1595 hoary-haired, of the hero spake;
the warrior would not, they weened, again,
proud of conquest, come to seek
their mighty master. To many it seemed
the wolf-of-the-waves had won his life.
1600 The ninth hour3 came. The noble Scyldings
left the headland; homeward went
the gold-friend of men.4 But the guests sat on,
stared at the surges, sick in heart,
and wished, yet weened not, their winsome lord
1605 again to see.
Now that sword began,
from blood of the fight, in battle-droppings,5
war-blade, to wane: ’twas a wondrous thing
that all of it melted as ice is wont
when frosty fetters the Father loosens,
1610 unwinds the wave-bonds, wielding all
seasons and times: the true God he!
Nor took from that dwelling the duke of the Geats
precious things, though a plenty he saw,
save only the head and that hilt withal
1615 blazoned with jewels: the blade had melted,
burned was the bright sword, her blood was so hot,
so poisoned the hell-sprite who perished within there.
Soon he was swimming who safe saw in combat
downfall of demons; up-dove through the flood.
1620 The clashing waters were cleanséd now,
waste of waves, where the wandering fiend
her life-days left and this lapsing world.
Swam then to strand the sailors’-refuge,
sturdy-in-spirit, of sea-booty glad,
1625 of burden brave he bore with him.
Went then to greet him, and God they thanked,
the thane-band choice of their chieftain blithe,
that safe and sound they could see him again.
Soon from the hardy one helmet and armor
1630 deftly they doffed: now drowsed the mere,
water ‘neath welkin, with war-blood stained.
Forth they fared by the footpaths thence,
merry at heart the highways measured,
well-known roads. Courageous men
1635 carried the head from the cliff by the sea,
an arduous task for all the band,
the firm in fight, since four were needed
on the shaft-of-slaughter6 strenuously
to bear to the gold-hall Grendel’s head.
1640 So presently to the palace there
foemen fearless, fourteen Geats,
marching came. Their master-of-clan
mighty amid them the meadow-ways trod.
Strode7 then within the sovran thane
1645 fearless in fight, of fame renowned,
hardy hero, Hrothgar to greet.
And next by the hair into hall was borne
Grendel’s head, where the henchmen were drinking,
an awe to clan and queen alike,
1650 a monster of marvel: the men looked on.
Footnotes
1 This belittling variation of the “many raids” just mentioned, the solemnity of the favorite litotes, give an enfeebled air to modem English. The ancient English had other views of poetical style than ours. — The long parenthesis, too, while Beowulf’s sword is uplifted over the dead Grendel, is not to present taste. — The cutting off of the head, as Gering suggests, is to prevent Grendel from visiting his old haunts as a ghost and stirring up new troubles. He could not be harmed by ordinary swords, as all were conjured; but this old giant blade of the monsters has no spell laid on it.
2 After the killing of the monster and Grendel’s decapitation.
3 Strictly this would be three o’clock in the afternoon; but the close of the day, perhaps the shorter northern day in winter, seems indicated. Gering translates “evening.”
4 Hrothgar.
5 The blade slowly dissolves in blood-stained drops like icicles.
6 Spear.
7 See note to v. 720.
XXIV
Beowulf spake, bairn of Ecgtheow: —
“Lo, now, this sea-booty, son of Healfdene,
Lord of Scyldings, we’ve lustily brought thee,
sign of glory; thou seest it here.
1655 Not lightly did I with my life escape!
In war under water this work I essayed
with endless effort; and even so
my strength had been lost had the Lord not shielded me.
Not a whit could I with Hrunting do
1660 in work of war, though the weapon is good;
yet a sword the Sovran of Men vouchsafed me
to spy on the wall there, in splendor hanging,
old, gigantic, — how oft He guides
the friendless wight! — and I fought with that brand,
1665 felling in fight, since fate was with me,
the house’s wardens. That war-sword then
all burned, bright blade, when the blood gushed o’er it,
battle-sweat hot; but the hilt I brought back
from my foes. So avenged I their fiendish deeds,
1670 death-fall of Danes, as was due and right.
And this is my hest, that in Heorot now
safe thou canst sleep with thy soldier band,
and every thane of all thy folk
both old and young; no evil fear,
1675 Scyldings’ lord, from that side again,
Then the golden hilt, for that gray-haired leader,
hoary hero, in hand was laid,
giant-wrought, old. So owned and enjoyed it
1680 after downfall of devils, the Danish lord,
wonder-smiths’ work, since the world was rid
of that grim-souled fiend, the foe of God,
murder-marked, and his mother as well.
Now it passed into power of the people’s king,
1685 best of all that the oceans bound
who have scattered their gold o’er Scandia’s isle.
Hrothgar spake — the hilt he viewed,
heirloom old, where was etched the rise
of that far-off fight when the floods o’erwhelmed,
1690 raging waves, the race of giants
(fearful their fate!), a folk estranged
from God Eternal: whence guerdon due
in that waste of waters the Wielder paid them.
So on the guard of shining gold
1696 in runic staves it was rightly said
for whom1 the serpent-traced sword was wrought,
best of blades, in bygone days,
and the hilt well wound. — The wise-one spake,
son of Healfdene; silent were all: —
1700 “Lo, so may he say who sooth and right
follows ‘mid folk, of far times mindful,
a land-warden old,2 that this earl belongs
to the better breed! So, borne aloft,
thy fame must fly, O friend my Beowulf,
1705 far and wide o’er folksteads many. Firmly thou shalt all maintain,3
mighty strength with mood of wisdom. Love of mine will I assure thee,
as, awhile ago, I promised; thou shalt prove a stay in future,
in far-off years, to folk of thine,
to the heroes a help. Was not Heremod4 thus
1710 to offspring of Ecgwela, Honor-Scyldings,
nor grew for their grace, but for grisly slaughter,
for doom of death to the Danishmen.
He slew, wrath-swollen, his shoulder-comrades,
companions at board! So he passed alone,
1715 chieftain haughty, from human cheer.
Though him the Maker with might endowed,
delights of power, and uplifted high
above all men, yet blood-fierce his mind,
his breast-hoard, grew; no bracelets gave he
1720 to Danes as was due; he endured all joyless
strain of struggle and stress of woe,
long feud with his folk. Here find thy lesson!
Of virtue advise thee! This verse5 I have said for thee,
wise from lapsed winters. Wondrous seems
1725 how to sons of men Almighty God
in the strength of His spirit sendeth wisdom,
estate, high station: He swayeth all things.
Whiles He letteth right lustily fare
the heart of the hero of high-born race, —
1730 in seat ancestral assigns him bliss,
his folk’s sure fortress in fee to hold,
puts in his power great parts of the earth,
empire so ample, that end of it
this wanter-of-wisdom weeneth none.
1735 So he waxes in wealth; nowise can harm him
illness or age; no evil cares
shadow his spirit; no sword-hate threatens
from ever an enemy: all the world
wends at his will; no worse he knoweth,
1740 till all within him obstinate pride
waxes and wakes while the warden slumbers,
the spirit’s sentry; sleep is too fast
which masters his might, and the murderer nears,
stealthily shooting the shafts from his bow!
Footnotes
1 Often the maker put his own name on what he made, and in verse: Ek Hlewagastiz Holtingaz horna tawido, runs the inscription on the famous golden horn; that is, “I, Hlewagast Holting, this horn have made,” — probably the oldest Germanic verse that is preserved.
2 That is, “whoever has as wide authority as I have and can remember so far back so many instances of heroism, may well say, as I say, that no better hero ever lived than Beowulf.”
3 The three verses are hypermetric in the original.