hār hilde-rinc tō Hrones-næsse.
Him ðā gegiredan Gēata lēode
ād on eorðan unwāclīcne,
helmum behongen, hilde-bordum,
3140
beorhtum byrnum, swā hē bēna wæs;
ālegdon ðā tōmiddes mǣrne þēoden
hæleð hīofende, hlāford lēofne.
Ongunnon þā on beorge bǣl-fȳra mǣst
wīgend weccan: wudu-rēc āstāh
sweart ofer swioðole, swōgende lēg,
wōpe bewunden —wind-blond gelæg—
oðþæt hē ðā bān-hūs gebrocen hæfde,
hāt on hreðre. Higum unrōte
mōd-ceare mǣndon, mon-dryhtnes cwealm;
3150
swylce giōmor-gyd Gēatisc mēowle
. . . . . . . . . . . . bunden-heorde
song sorg-cearig. Sǣde geneahhe,
þæt hīo hyre here-geongas hearde ondrēde
wæl-fylla worn, werudes egesan,
hȳnðo ond hæft-nȳd. Heofon rēce swealg.
Geworhton ðā Wedra lēode
hlēo on hōe, sē wæs hēah ond brād,
wēg-līðendum wīde gesȳne,
ond betimbredon on tȳn dagum
3160
beadu-rōfes bēcn; bronda lāfe
wealle beworhton, swā hyt weorðlīcost
fore-snotre men findan mihton.
Hī on beorg dydon bēg ond siglu,
eall swylce hyrsta, swylce on horde ǣr
nīð-hēdige men genumen hæfdon;
forlēton eorla gestrēon eorðan healdan,
gold on grēote, þǣr hit nū gēn lifað
eldum swā unnyt, swa hit ǣror wæs.
Þā ymbe hlǣw riodan hilde-dēore,
3170
æþelinga bearn, ealra twelfe,
woldon ceare cwīðan, kyning mǣnan,
word-gyd wrecan ond ymb wer sprecan:
eahtodan eorlscipe ond his elle-weorc;
duguðum dēmdon, swā hit gedēfe bið
þæt mon his wine-dryhten wordum herge,
ferhðum frēoge, þonne hē forð scile
of līc-haman lǣded weorðan.
Swā begnornodon Gēata lēode
hlāfordes hryre, heorð-genēatas;
3180
cwǣdon þæt hē wǣre wyruld-cyninga,
manna mildust ond mon-ðwǣrust,
lēodum līðost ond lof-geornost.
Translation
So. The Spear-Danes in days gone by
and the kings who ruled them had courage and greatness.
We have heard of those princes’ heroic campaigns.
The Danes have legends about their warrior kings. The most famous was Shield Sheafson, who founded the ruling house
There was Shield Sheafson, scourge of many tribes,
a wrecker of mead-benches, rampaging among foes.
A foundling to start with, he would flourish later on
as his powers waxed and his worth was proved.
In the end each clan on the outlying coasts
10 beyond the whale-road had to yield to him
and begin to pay tribute. That was one good king.
Afterwards a boy-child was born to Shield,
a cub in the yard, a comfort sent
by God to that nation. He knew what they had tholed,
the long times and troubles they’d come through
without a leader; so the Lord of Life,
the glorious Almighty, made this man renowned.
Shield had fathered a famous son:
Beow’s name was known through the north.
20 And a young prince must be prudent like that,
giving freely while his father lives
so that afterwards in age when fighting starts
steadfast companions will stand by him
and hold the line. Behaviour that’s admired
is the path to power among people everywhere.
Shield’s funeral
Shield was still thriving when his time came
and he crossed over into the Lord’s keeping.
His warrior band did what he bade them
when he laid down the law among the Danes:
30 they shouldered him out to the sea’s flood,
the chief they revered who had long ruled them.
A ring-whorled prow rode in the harbour,
ice-clad, outbound, a craft for a prince.
They stretched their beloved lord in his boat,
laid out by the mast, amidships,
the great ring-giver. Far-fetched treasures
were piled upon him, and precious gear.
I never heard before of a ship so well furbished
with battle tackle, bladed weapons
40 and coats of mail. The massed treasure
was loaded on top of him: it would travel far
on out into the ocean’s sway.
They decked his body no less bountifully
with offerings than those first ones did
who cast him away when he was a child
and launched him alone out over the waves.
And they set a gold standard up
high above his head and let him drift
to wind and tide, bewailing him
50 and mourning their loss. No man can tell,
no wise man in hall or weathered veteran
knows for certain who salvaged that load.
Then it fell to Beow to keep the forts.
Shield’s heirs: his son Beow succeeded by Halfdane, Halfdane by Hrothgar
He was well regarded and ruled the Danes
for a long time after his father took leave
of his life on earth. And then his heir,
the great Halfdane, held sway
for as long as he lived, their elder and warlord.
He was four times a father, this fighter prince:
60 one by one they entered the world,
Heorogar, Hrothgar, the good Halga
and a daughter, I have heard, who was Onela’s queen,
a balm in bed to the battle-scarred Swede.
King Hrothgar builds Heorot Hall
The fortunes of war favoured Hrothgar.
Friends and kinsmen flocked to his ranks,
young followers, a force that grew
to be a mighty army. So his mind turned
to hall-building: he handed down orders
for men to work on a great mead-hall
70 meant to be a wonder of the world forever;
it would be his throne-room and there he would dispense
his God-given goods to young and old—
but not the common land or people’s lives.
Far and wide through the world, I have heard,
orders for work to adorn that wallstead
were sent to many peoples. And soon it stood there,
finished and ready, in full view,
the hall of halls. Heorot was the name
he had settled on it, whose utterance was law.
80 Nor did he renege, but doled out rings
and torques at the table. The hall towered,
its gables wide and high and awaiting
a barbarous burning. That doom abided,
but in time it would come: the killer instinct
unleashed among in-laws, the blood-lust rampant.
Heorot is threatened
Then a powerful demon, a prowler through the dark,
nursed a hard grievance. It harrowed him
to hear the din of the loud banquet
every day in the hall, the harp being struck
90 and the clear song of a skilled poet
telling with mastery of man’s beginnings,
how the Almighty had made the earth
a gleaming plain girdled with waters;
in His splendour He set the sun and the moon
to be earth’s lamplight, lanterns for men,
&
nbsp; and filled the broad lap of the world
with branches and leaves; and quickened life
in every other thing that moved.
Grendel, a monster descended from “Cain’s clan,” begins to prowl
So times were pleasant for the people there
100 until finally one, a fiend out of hell,
began to work his evil in the world.
Grendel was the name of this grim demon
haunting the marches, marauding round the heath
and the desolate fens; he had dwelt for a time
in misery among the banished monsters,
Cain’s clan, whom the Creator had outlawed
and condemned as outcasts. For the killing of Abel
the Eternal Lord had exacted a price:
Cain got no good from committing that murder
110 because the Almighty made him anathema
and out of the curse of his exile there sprang
ogres and elves and evil phantoms
and the giants too who strove with God
time and again until He gave them their reward.
Grendel attacks Heorot
So, after nightfall, Grendel set out
for the lofty house, to see how the Ring-Danes
were settling into it after their drink,
and there he came upon them, a company of the best
asleep from their feasting, insensible to pain
120 and human sorrow. Suddenly then
the God-cursed brute was creating havoc:
greedy and grim, he grabbed thirty men
from their resting places and rushed to his lair,
flushed up and inflamed from the raid,
blundering back with the butchered corpses.
Then as dawn brightened and the day broke
Grendel’s powers of destruction were plain:
their wassail was over, they wept to heaven
and mourned under morning. Their mighty prince,
130 the storied leader, sat stricken and helpless,
humiliated by the loss of his guard,
bewildered and stunned, staring aghast
at the demon’s trail, in deep distress.
He was numb with grief, but got no respite
for one night later merciless Grendel
struck again with more gruesome murders.
Malignant by nature, he never showed remorse.
It was easy then to meet with a man
shifting himself to a safer distance
140 to bed in the bothies, for who could be blind
to the evidence of his eyes, the obviousness
of that hall-watcher’s hate? Whoever escaped
kept a weather-eye open and moved away.
King Hrothgar’s distress and helplessness
So Grendel ruled in defiance of right,
one against all, until the greatest house
in the world stood empty, a deserted wallstead.
For twelve winters, seasons of woe,
the lord of the Shieldings suffered under
his load of sorrow; and so, before long,
150 the news was known over the whole world.
Sad lays were sung about the beset king,
the vicious raids and ravages of Grendel,
his long and unrelenting feud,
nothing but war; how he would never
parley or make peace with any Dane
nor stop his death-dealing nor pay the death-price.
No counsellor could ever expect
fair reparation from those rabid hands.
All were endangered; young and old
160 were hunted down by that dark death-shadow
who lurked and swooped in the long nights
on the misty moors; nobody knows
where these reavers from hell roam on their errands.
So Grendel waged his lonely war,
inflicting constant cruelties on the people,
atrocious hurt. He took over Heorot,
haunted the glittering hall after dark,
but the throne itself, the treasure-seat,
he was kept from approaching; he was the Lord’s outcast.
The Danes, hard-pressed, turn for help to heathen gods
170 These were hard times, heart-breaking
for the prince of the Shieldings; powerful counsellors,