{"id":401,"date":"2015-07-15T20:58:14","date_gmt":"2015-07-15T20:58:14","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/courses.candelalearning.com\/britlit1xmaster\/?post_type=chapter&p=401"},"modified":"2015-07-15T22:35:03","modified_gmt":"2015-07-15T22:35:03","slug":"beowulf-11-15","status":"publish","type":"chapter","link":"https:\/\/courses.lumenlearning.com\/rangercollege-britlit1-curry\/chapter\/beowulf-11-15\/","title":{"raw":"Beowulf Sections 11-15","rendered":"Beowulf Sections 11-15"},"content":{"raw":"XI\r\n\r\nTHEN from the moorland, by misty crags,\r\nwith God\u2019s wrath laden, Grendel came.\r\nThe monster was minded of mankind now\r\nsundry to seize in the stately house.\r\nUnder welkin he walked, till the wine-palace there,\r\ngold-hall of men, he gladly discerned,\r\nflashing with fretwork. Not first time, this,\r\nthat he the home of Hrothgar sought, --\r\nyet ne\u2019er in his life-day, late or early,\r\nsuch hardy heroes, such hall-thanes, found!\r\nTo the house the warrior walked apace,\r\nparted from peace;[footnote] That is, he was a \u201clost soul,\u201d doomed to hell.[\/footnote]\u00a0the portal opended,\r\nthough with forged bolts fast, when his fists had\r\nstruck it,\r\nand baleful he burst in his blatant rage,\r\nthe house\u2019s mouth. All hastily, then,\r\no\u2019er fair-paved floor the fiend trod on,\r\nireful he strode; there streamed from his eyes\r\nfearful flashes, like flame to see.\r\n\r\nHe spied in hall the hero-band,\r\nkin and clansmen clustered asleep,\r\nhardy liegemen. Then laughed his heart;\r\nfor the monster was minded, ere morn should dawn,\r\nsavage, to sever the soul of each,\r\nlife from body, since lusty banquet\r\nwaited his will! But Wyrd forbade him\r\nto seize any more of men on earth\r\nafter that evening. Eagerly watched\r\nHygelac\u2019s kinsman his cursed foe,\r\nhow he would fare in fell attack.\r\nNot that the monster was minded to pause!\r\nStraightway he seized a sleeping warrior\r\nfor the first, and tore him fiercely asunder,\r\nthe bone-frame bit, drank blood in streams,\r\nswallowed him piecemeal: swiftly thus\r\nthe lifeless corse was clear devoured,\r\ne\u2019en feet and hands. Then farther he hied;\r\nfor the hardy hero with hand he grasped,\r\nfelt for the foe with fiendish claw,\r\nfor the hero reclining, -- who clutched it boldly,\r\nprompt to answer, propped on his arm.\r\nSoon then saw that shepherd-of-evils\r\nthat never he met in this middle-world,\r\nin the ways of earth, another wight\r\nwith heavier hand-gripe; at heart he feared,\r\nsorrowed in soul, -- none the sooner escaped!\r\nFain would he flee, his fastness seek,\r\nthe den of devils: no doings now\r\nsuch as oft he had done in days of old!\r\nThen bethought him the hardy Hygelac-thane\r\nof his boast at evening: up he bounded,\r\ngrasped firm his foe, whose fingers cracked.\r\nThe fiend made off, but the earl close followed.\r\nThe monster meant -- if he might at all --\r\nto fling himself free, and far away\r\nfly to the fens, -- knew his fingers\u2019 power\r\nin the gripe of the grim one. Gruesome march\r\nto Heorot this monster of harm had made!\r\nDin filled the room; the Danes were bereft,\r\ncastle-dwellers and clansmen all,\r\nearls, of their ale. Angry were both\r\nthose savage hall-guards: the house resounded.\r\nWonder it was the wine-hall firm\r\nin the strain of their struggle stood, to earth\r\nthe fair house fell not; too fast it was\r\nwithin and without by its iron bands\r\ncraftily clamped; though there crashed from sill\r\nmany a mead-bench -- men have told me --\r\ngay with gold, where the grim foes wrestled.\r\nSo well had weened the wisest Scyldings\r\nthat not ever at all might any man\r\nthat bone-decked, brave house break asunder,\r\ncrush by craft, -- unless clasp of fire\r\nin smoke engulfed it. -- Again uprose\r\ndin redoubled. Danes of the North\r\nwith fear and frenzy were filled, each one,\r\nwho from the wall that wailing heard,\r\nGod\u2019s foe sounding his grisly song,\r\ncry of the conquered, clamorous pain\r\nfrom captive of hell. Too closely held him\r\nhe who of men in might was strongest\r\nin that same day of this our life.\r\n
<\/div>\r\nXII\r\n\r\nNOT in any wise would the earls\u2019-defence[footnote]Kenning for Beowulf.[\/footnote]\r\nsuffer that slaughterous stranger to live,\r\nuseless deeming his days and years\r\nto men on earth. Now many an earl\r\nof Beowulf brandished blade ancestral,\r\nfain the life of their lord to shield,\r\ntheir praised prince, if power were theirs;\r\nnever they knew, -- as they neared the foe,\r\nhardy-hearted heroes of war,\r\naiming their swords on every side\r\nthe accursed to kill, -- no keenest blade,\r\nno farest of falchions fashioned on earth,\r\ncould harm or hurt that hideous fiend!\r\nHe was safe, by his spells, from sword of battle,\r\nfrom edge of iron. Yet his end and parting\r\non that same day of this our life\r\nwoful should be, and his wandering soul\r\nfar off flit to the fiends\u2019 domain.\r\nSoon he found, who in former days,\r\nharmful in heart and hated of God,\r\non many a man such murder wrought,\r\nthat the frame of his body failed him now.\r\nFor him the keen-souled kinsman of Hygelac\r\nheld in hand; hateful alive\r\nwas each to other. The outlaw dire\r\ntook mortal hurt; a mighty wound\r\nshowed on his shoulder, and sinews cracked,\r\nand the bone-frame burst. To Beowulf now\r\nthe glory was given, and Grendel thence\r\ndeath-sick his den in the dark moor sought,\r\nnoisome abode: he knew too well\r\nthat here was the last of life, an end\r\nof his days on earth. -- To all the Danes\r\nby that bloody battle the boon had come.\r\nFrom ravage had rescued the roving stranger\r\nHrothgar\u2019s hall; the hardy and wise one\r\nhad purged it anew. His night-work pleased him,\r\nhis deed and its honor. To Eastern Danes\r\nhad the valiant Geat his vaunt made good,\r\nall their sorrow and ills assuaged,\r\ntheir bale of battle borne so long,\r\nand all the dole they erst endured\r\npain a-plenty. -- \u2019Twas proof of this,\r\nwhen the hardy-in-fight a hand laid down,\r\narm and shoulder, -- all, indeed,\r\nof Grendel\u2019s gripe, -- \u2019neath the gabled roof.\r\n
<\/div>\r\nXIII\r\n\r\nMANY at morning, as men have told me,\r\nwarriors gathered the gift-hall round,\r\nfolk-leaders faring from far and near,\r\no\u2019er wide-stretched ways, the wonder to view,\r\ntrace of the traitor. Not troublous seemed\r\nthe enemy\u2019s end to any man\r\nwho saw by the gait of the graceless foe\r\nhow the weary-hearted, away from thence,\r\nbaffled in battle and banned, his steps\r\ndeath-marked dragged to the devils\u2019 mere.\r\nBloody the billows were boiling there,\r\nturbid the tide of tumbling waves\r\nhorribly seething, with sword-blood hot,\r\nby that doomed one dyed, who in den of the moor\r\nlaid forlorn his life adown,\r\nhis heathen soul, and hell received it.\r\nHome then rode the hoary clansmen\r\nfrom that merry journey, and many a youth,\r\non horses white, the hardy warriors,\r\nback from the mere. Then Beowulf\u2019s glory\r\neager they echoed, and all averred\r\nthat from sea to sea, or south or north,\r\nthere was no other in earth\u2019s domain,\r\nunder vault of heaven, more valiant found,\r\nof warriors none more worthy to rule!\r\n(On their lord beloved they laid no slight,\r\ngracious Hrothgar: a good king he!)\r\nFrom time to time, the tried-in-battle\r\ntheir gray steeds set to gallop amain,\r\nand ran a race when the road seemed fair.\r\nFrom time to time, a thane of the king,\r\nwho had made many vaunts, and was mindful of verses,\r\nstored with sagas and songs of old,\r\nbound word to word in well-knit rime,\r\nwelded his lay; this warrior soon\r\nof Beowulf\u2019s quest right cleverly sang,\r\nand artfully added an excellent tale,\r\nin well-ranged words, of the warlike deeds\r\nhe had heard in saga of Sigemund.\r\nStrange the story: he said it all, --\r\nthe Waelsing\u2019s wanderings wide, his struggles,\r\nwhich never were told to tribes of men,\r\nthe feuds and the frauds, save to Fitela only,\r\nwhen of these doings he deigned to speak,\r\nuncle to nephew; as ever the twain\r\nstood side by side in stress of war,\r\nand multitude of the monster kind\r\nthey had felled with their swords. Of Sigemund grew,\r\nwhen he passed from life, no little praise;\r\nfor the doughty-in-combat a dragon killed\r\nthat herded the hoard:[footnote]\u201cGuarded the treasure.\u201d[\/footnote]\u00a0under hoary rock\r\nthe atheling dared the deed alone\r\nfearful quest, nor was Fitela there.\r\nYet so it befell, his falchion pierced\r\nthat wondrous worm, -- on the wall it struck,\r\nbest blade; the dragon died in its blood.\r\nThus had the dread-one by daring achieved\r\nover the ring-hoard to rule at will,\r\nhimself to pleasure; a sea-boat he loaded,\r\nand bore on its bosom the beaming gold,\r\nson of Waels; the worm was consumed.\r\nHe had of all heroes the highest renown\r\namong races of men, this refuge-of-warriors,\r\nfor deeds of daring that decked his name\r\nsince the hand and heart of Heremod\r\ngrew slack in battle. He, swiftly banished\r\nto mingle with monsters at mercy of foes,\r\nto death was betrayed; for torrents of sorrow\r\nhad lamed him too long; a load of care\r\nto earls and athelings all he proved.\r\nOft indeed, in earlier days,\r\nfor the warrior\u2019s wayfaring wise men mourned,\r\nwho had hoped of him help from harm and bale,\r\nand had thought their sovran\u2019s son would thrive,\r\nfollow his father, his folk protect,\r\nthe hoard and the stronghold, heroes\u2019 land,\r\nhome of Scyldings. -- But here, thanes said,\r\nthe kinsman of Hygelac kinder seemed\r\nto all: the other[footnote]Sc. Heremod.[\/footnote]\u00a0was urged to crime!\r\nAnd afresh to the race,[footnote]The singer has sung his lays, and the epic resumes its story. The time-relations are not altogether good in this long passage which describes the rejoicings of \u201cthe day after\u201d; but the present shift from the riders on the road to the folk at the hall is not very violent, and is of a piece with the general style.[\/footnote]\u00a0the fallow roads\r\nby swift steeds measured! The morning sun\r\nwas climbing higher. Clansmen hastened\r\nto the high-built hall, those hardy-minded,\r\nthe wonder to witness. Warden of treasure,\r\ncrowned with glory, the king himself,\r\nwith stately band from the bride-bower strode;\r\nand with him the queen and her crowd of maidens\r\nmeasured the path to the mead-house fair.\r\n
<\/div>\r\nXIV\r\n\r\nHROTHGAR spake, -- to the hall he went,\r\nstood by the steps, the steep roof saw,\r\ngarnished with gold, and Grendel\u2019s hand: --\r\n\u201cFor the sight I see to the Sovran Ruler\r\nbe speedy thanks! A throng of sorrows\r\nI have borne from Grendel; but God still works\r\nwonder on wonder, the Warden-of-Glory.\r\nIt was but now that I never more\r\nfor woes that weighed on me waited help\r\nlong as I lived, when, laved in blood,\r\nstood sword-gore-stained this stateliest house, --\r\nwidespread woe for wise men all,\r\nwho had no hope to hinder ever\r\nfoes infernal and fiendish sprites\r\nfrom havoc in hall. This hero now,\r\nby the Wielder\u2019s might, a work has done\r\nthat not all of us erst could ever do\r\nby wile and wisdom. Lo, well can she say\r\nwhoso of women this warrior bore\r\namong sons of men, if still she liveth,\r\nthat the God of the ages was good to her\r\nin the birth of her bairn. Now, Beowulf, thee,\r\nof heroes best, I shall heartily love\r\nas mine own, my son; preserve thou ever\r\nthis kinship new: thou shalt never lack\r\nwealth of the world that I wield as mine!\r\nFull oft for less have I largess showered,\r\nmy precious hoard, on a punier man,\r\nless stout in struggle. Thyself hast now\r\nfulfilled such deeds, that thy fame shall endure\r\nthrough all the ages. As ever he did,\r\nwell may the Wielder reward thee still!\u201d\r\nBeowulf spake, bairn of Ecgtheow: --\r\n\u201cThis work of war most willingly\r\nwe have fought, this fight, and fearlessly dared\r\nforce of the foe. Fain, too, were I\r\nhadst thou but seen himself, what time\r\nthe fiend in his trappings tottered to fall!\r\nSwiftly, I thought, in strongest gripe\r\non his bed of death to bind him down,\r\nthat he in the hent of this hand of mine\r\nshould breathe his last: but he broke away.\r\nHim I might not -- the Maker willed not --\r\nhinder from flight, and firm enough hold\r\nthe life-destroyer: too sturdy was he,\r\nthe ruthless, in running! For rescue, however,\r\nhe left behind him his hand in pledge,\r\narm and shoulder; nor aught of help\r\ncould the cursed one thus procure at all.\r\nNone the longer liveth he, loathsome fiend,\r\nsunk in his sins, but sorrow holds him\r\ntightly grasped in gripe of anguish,\r\nin baleful bonds, where bide he must,\r\nevil outlaw, such awful doom\r\nas the Mighty Maker shall mete him out.\u201d\r\n\r\nMore silent seemed the son of Ecglaf[footnote]Unferth, Beowulf\u2019s sometime opponent in the flyting.[\/footnote]\r\nin boastful speech of his battle-deeds,\r\nsince athelings all, through the earl\u2019s great prowess,\r\nbeheld that hand, on the high roof gazing,\r\nfoeman\u2019s fingers, -- the forepart of each\r\nof the sturdy nails to steel was likest, --\r\nheathen\u2019s \u201chand-spear,\u201d hostile warrior\u2019s\r\nclaw uncanny. \u2019Twas clear, they said,\r\nthat him no blade of the brave could touch,\r\nhow keen soever, or cut away\r\nthat battle-hand bloody from baneful foe.\r\n
<\/div>\r\nXV\r\n\r\nTHERE was hurry and hest in Heorot now\r\nfor hands to bedeck it, and dense was the throng\r\nof men and women the wine-hall to cleanse,\r\nthe guest-room to garnish. Gold-gay shone the hangings\r\nthat were wove on the wall, and wonders many\r\nto delight each mortal that looks upon them.\r\nThough braced within by iron bands,\r\nthat building bright was broken sorely;[footnote]There is no horrible inconsistency here such as the critics strive and cry about. In spite of the ruin that Grendel and Beowulf had made within the hall, the framework and roof held firm, and swift repairs made the interior habitable. Tapestries were hung on the walls, and willing hands prepared the banquet.[\/footnote]\r\nrent were its hinges; the roof alone\r\nheld safe and sound, when, seared with crime,\r\nthe fiendish foe his flight essayed,\r\nof life despairing. -- No light thing that,\r\nthe flight for safety, -- essay it who will!\r\nForced of fate, he shall find his way\r\nto the refuge ready for race of man,\r\nfor soul-possessors, and sons of earth;\r\nand there his body on bed of death\r\nshall rest after revel.\r\nArrived was the hour\r\nwhen to hall proceeded Healfdene\u2019s son:\r\nthe king himself would sit to banquet.\r\nNe\u2019er heard I of host in haughtier throng\r\nmore graciously gathered round giver-of-rings!\r\nBowed then to bench those bearers-of-glory,\r\nfain of the feasting. Featly received\r\nmany a mead-cup the mighty-in-spirit,\r\nkinsmen who sat in the sumptuous hall,\r\nHrothgar and Hrothulf. Heorot now\r\nwas filled with friends; the folk of Scyldings\r\nne\u2019er yet had tried the traitor\u2019s deed.\r\nTo Beowulf gave the bairn of Healfdene\r\na gold-wove banner, guerdon of triumph,\r\nbroidered battle-flag, breastplate and helmet;\r\nand a splendid sword was seen of many\r\nborne to the brave one. Beowulf took\r\ncup in hall:[footnote]From its formal use in other places, this phrase, to take cup in hall, or \u201con the floor,\u201d would seem to mean that Beowulf stood up to receive his gifts, drink to the donor, and say thanks.[\/footnote]\u00a0for such costly gifts\r\nhe suffered no shame in that soldier throng.\r\nFor I heard of few heroes, in heartier mood,\r\nwith four such gifts, so fashioned with gold,\r\non the ale-bench honoring others thus!\r\nO\u2019er the roof of the helmet high, a ridge,\r\nwound with wires, kept ward o\u2019er the head,\r\nlest the relict-of-files[footnote]Kenning for sword.[\/footnote]\u00a0should fierce invade,\r\nsharp in the strife, when that shielded hero\r\nshould go to grapple against his foes.\r\nThen the earls\u2019-defence[footnote]Hrothgar. He is also the \u201crefuge of the friends of Ing,\u201d below. Ing belongs to myth.[\/footnote]\u00a0on the floor[footnote]Horses are frequently led or ridden into the hall where folk sit at banquet: so in Chaucer\u2019s Squire\u2019s tale, in the ballad of King Estmere, and in the romances.[\/footnote]\u00a0bade lead\r\ncoursers eight, with carven head-gear,\r\nadown the hall: one horse was decked\r\nwith a saddle all shining and set in jewels;\r\n\u2019twas the battle-seat of the best of kings,\r\nwhen to play of swords the son of Healfdene\r\nwas fain to fare. Ne\u2019er failed his valor\r\nin the crush of combat when corpses fell.\r\nTo Beowulf over them both then gave\r\nthe refuge-of-Ingwines right and power,\r\no\u2019er war-steeds and weapons: wished him joy of them.\r\nManfully thus the mighty prince,\r\nhoard-guard for heroes, that hard fight repaid\r\nwith steeds and treasures contemned by none\r\nwho is willing to say the sooth aright.","rendered":"

XI<\/p>\n

THEN from the moorland, by misty crags,
\nwith God\u2019s wrath laden, Grendel came.
\nThe monster was minded of mankind now
\nsundry to seize in the stately house.
\nUnder welkin he walked, till the wine-palace there,
\ngold-hall of men, he gladly discerned,
\nflashing with fretwork. Not first time, this,
\nthat he the home of Hrothgar sought, —
\nyet ne\u2019er in his life-day, late or early,
\nsuch hardy heroes, such hall-thanes, found!
\nTo the house the warrior walked apace,
\nparted from peace;[1]<\/sup><\/a>\u00a0the portal opended,
\nthough with forged bolts fast, when his fists had
\nstruck it,
\nand baleful he burst in his blatant rage,
\nthe house\u2019s mouth. All hastily, then,
\no\u2019er fair-paved floor the fiend trod on,
\nireful he strode; there streamed from his eyes
\nfearful flashes, like flame to see.<\/p>\n

He spied in hall the hero-band,
\nkin and clansmen clustered asleep,
\nhardy liegemen. Then laughed his heart;
\nfor the monster was minded, ere morn should dawn,
\nsavage, to sever the soul of each,
\nlife from body, since lusty banquet
\nwaited his will! But Wyrd forbade him
\nto seize any more of men on earth
\nafter that evening. Eagerly watched
\nHygelac\u2019s kinsman his cursed foe,
\nhow he would fare in fell attack.
\nNot that the monster was minded to pause!
\nStraightway he seized a sleeping warrior
\nfor the first, and tore him fiercely asunder,
\nthe bone-frame bit, drank blood in streams,
\nswallowed him piecemeal: swiftly thus
\nthe lifeless corse was clear devoured,
\ne\u2019en feet and hands. Then farther he hied;
\nfor the hardy hero with hand he grasped,
\nfelt for the foe with fiendish claw,
\nfor the hero reclining, — who clutched it boldly,
\nprompt to answer, propped on his arm.
\nSoon then saw that shepherd-of-evils
\nthat never he met in this middle-world,
\nin the ways of earth, another wight
\nwith heavier hand-gripe; at heart he feared,
\nsorrowed in soul, — none the sooner escaped!
\nFain would he flee, his fastness seek,
\nthe den of devils: no doings now
\nsuch as oft he had done in days of old!
\nThen bethought him the hardy Hygelac-thane
\nof his boast at evening: up he bounded,
\ngrasped firm his foe, whose fingers cracked.
\nThe fiend made off, but the earl close followed.
\nThe monster meant — if he might at all —
\nto fling himself free, and far away
\nfly to the fens, — knew his fingers\u2019 power
\nin the gripe of the grim one. Gruesome march
\nto Heorot this monster of harm had made!
\nDin filled the room; the Danes were bereft,
\ncastle-dwellers and clansmen all,
\nearls, of their ale. Angry were both
\nthose savage hall-guards: the house resounded.
\nWonder it was the wine-hall firm
\nin the strain of their struggle stood, to earth
\nthe fair house fell not; too fast it was
\nwithin and without by its iron bands
\ncraftily clamped; though there crashed from sill
\nmany a mead-bench — men have told me —
\ngay with gold, where the grim foes wrestled.
\nSo well had weened the wisest Scyldings
\nthat not ever at all might any man
\nthat bone-decked, brave house break asunder,
\ncrush by craft, — unless clasp of fire
\nin smoke engulfed it. — Again uprose
\ndin redoubled. Danes of the North
\nwith fear and frenzy were filled, each one,
\nwho from the wall that wailing heard,
\nGod\u2019s foe sounding his grisly song,
\ncry of the conquered, clamorous pain
\nfrom captive of hell. Too closely held him
\nhe who of men in might was strongest
\nin that same day of this our life.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

XII<\/p>\n

NOT in any wise would the earls\u2019-defence[2]<\/sup><\/a>
\nsuffer that slaughterous stranger to live,
\nuseless deeming his days and years
\nto men on earth. Now many an earl
\nof Beowulf brandished blade ancestral,
\nfain the life of their lord to shield,
\ntheir praised prince, if power were theirs;
\nnever they knew, — as they neared the foe,
\nhardy-hearted heroes of war,
\naiming their swords on every side
\nthe accursed to kill, — no keenest blade,
\nno farest of falchions fashioned on earth,
\ncould harm or hurt that hideous fiend!
\nHe was safe, by his spells, from sword of battle,
\nfrom edge of iron. Yet his end and parting
\non that same day of this our life
\nwoful should be, and his wandering soul
\nfar off flit to the fiends\u2019 domain.
\nSoon he found, who in former days,
\nharmful in heart and hated of God,
\non many a man such murder wrought,
\nthat the frame of his body failed him now.
\nFor him the keen-souled kinsman of Hygelac
\nheld in hand; hateful alive
\nwas each to other. The outlaw dire
\ntook mortal hurt; a mighty wound
\nshowed on his shoulder, and sinews cracked,
\nand the bone-frame burst. To Beowulf now
\nthe glory was given, and Grendel thence
\ndeath-sick his den in the dark moor sought,
\nnoisome abode: he knew too well
\nthat here was the last of life, an end
\nof his days on earth. — To all the Danes
\nby that bloody battle the boon had come.
\nFrom ravage had rescued the roving stranger
\nHrothgar\u2019s hall; the hardy and wise one
\nhad purged it anew. His night-work pleased him,
\nhis deed and its honor. To Eastern Danes
\nhad the valiant Geat his vaunt made good,
\nall their sorrow and ills assuaged,
\ntheir bale of battle borne so long,
\nand all the dole they erst endured
\npain a-plenty. — \u2019Twas proof of this,
\nwhen the hardy-in-fight a hand laid down,
\narm and shoulder, — all, indeed,
\nof Grendel\u2019s gripe, — \u2019neath the gabled roof.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

XIII<\/p>\n

MANY at morning, as men have told me,
\nwarriors gathered the gift-hall round,
\nfolk-leaders faring from far and near,
\no\u2019er wide-stretched ways, the wonder to view,
\ntrace of the traitor. Not troublous seemed
\nthe enemy\u2019s end to any man
\nwho saw by the gait of the graceless foe
\nhow the weary-hearted, away from thence,
\nbaffled in battle and banned, his steps
\ndeath-marked dragged to the devils\u2019 mere.
\nBloody the billows were boiling there,
\nturbid the tide of tumbling waves
\nhorribly seething, with sword-blood hot,
\nby that doomed one dyed, who in den of the moor
\nlaid forlorn his life adown,
\nhis heathen soul, and hell received it.
\nHome then rode the hoary clansmen
\nfrom that merry journey, and many a youth,
\non horses white, the hardy warriors,
\nback from the mere. Then Beowulf\u2019s glory
\neager they echoed, and all averred
\nthat from sea to sea, or south or north,
\nthere was no other in earth\u2019s domain,
\nunder vault of heaven, more valiant found,
\nof warriors none more worthy to rule!
\n(On their lord beloved they laid no slight,
\ngracious Hrothgar: a good king he!)
\nFrom time to time, the tried-in-battle
\ntheir gray steeds set to gallop amain,
\nand ran a race when the road seemed fair.
\nFrom time to time, a thane of the king,
\nwho had made many vaunts, and was mindful of verses,
\nstored with sagas and songs of old,
\nbound word to word in well-knit rime,
\nwelded his lay; this warrior soon
\nof Beowulf\u2019s quest right cleverly sang,
\nand artfully added an excellent tale,
\nin well-ranged words, of the warlike deeds
\nhe had heard in saga of Sigemund.
\nStrange the story: he said it all, —
\nthe Waelsing\u2019s wanderings wide, his struggles,
\nwhich never were told to tribes of men,
\nthe feuds and the frauds, save to Fitela only,
\nwhen of these doings he deigned to speak,
\nuncle to nephew; as ever the twain
\nstood side by side in stress of war,
\nand multitude of the monster kind
\nthey had felled with their swords. Of Sigemund grew,
\nwhen he passed from life, no little praise;
\nfor the doughty-in-combat a dragon killed
\nthat herded the hoard:[3]<\/sup><\/a>\u00a0under hoary rock
\nthe atheling dared the deed alone
\nfearful quest, nor was Fitela there.
\nYet so it befell, his falchion pierced
\nthat wondrous worm, — on the wall it struck,
\nbest blade; the dragon died in its blood.
\nThus had the dread-one by daring achieved
\nover the ring-hoard to rule at will,
\nhimself to pleasure; a sea-boat he loaded,
\nand bore on its bosom the beaming gold,
\nson of Waels; the worm was consumed.
\nHe had of all heroes the highest renown
\namong races of men, this refuge-of-warriors,
\nfor deeds of daring that decked his name
\nsince the hand and heart of Heremod
\ngrew slack in battle. He, swiftly banished
\nto mingle with monsters at mercy of foes,
\nto death was betrayed; for torrents of sorrow
\nhad lamed him too long; a load of care
\nto earls and athelings all he proved.
\nOft indeed, in earlier days,
\nfor the warrior\u2019s wayfaring wise men mourned,
\nwho had hoped of him help from harm and bale,
\nand had thought their sovran\u2019s son would thrive,
\nfollow his father, his folk protect,
\nthe hoard and the stronghold, heroes\u2019 land,
\nhome of Scyldings. — But here, thanes said,
\nthe kinsman of Hygelac kinder seemed
\nto all: the other[4]<\/sup><\/a>\u00a0was urged to crime!
\nAnd afresh to the race,[5]<\/sup><\/a>\u00a0the fallow roads
\nby swift steeds measured! The morning sun
\nwas climbing higher. Clansmen hastened
\nto the high-built hall, those hardy-minded,
\nthe wonder to witness. Warden of treasure,
\ncrowned with glory, the king himself,
\nwith stately band from the bride-bower strode;
\nand with him the queen and her crowd of maidens
\nmeasured the path to the mead-house fair.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

XIV<\/p>\n

HROTHGAR spake, — to the hall he went,
\nstood by the steps, the steep roof saw,
\ngarnished with gold, and Grendel\u2019s hand: —
\n\u201cFor the sight I see to the Sovran Ruler
\nbe speedy thanks! A throng of sorrows
\nI have borne from Grendel; but God still works
\nwonder on wonder, the Warden-of-Glory.
\nIt was but now that I never more
\nfor woes that weighed on me waited help
\nlong as I lived, when, laved in blood,
\nstood sword-gore-stained this stateliest house, —
\nwidespread woe for wise men all,
\nwho had no hope to hinder ever
\nfoes infernal and fiendish sprites
\nfrom havoc in hall. This hero now,
\nby the Wielder\u2019s might, a work has done
\nthat not all of us erst could ever do
\nby wile and wisdom. Lo, well can she say
\nwhoso of women this warrior bore
\namong sons of men, if still she liveth,
\nthat the God of the ages was good to her
\nin the birth of her bairn. Now, Beowulf, thee,
\nof heroes best, I shall heartily love
\nas mine own, my son; preserve thou ever
\nthis kinship new: thou shalt never lack
\nwealth of the world that I wield as mine!
\nFull oft for less have I largess showered,
\nmy precious hoard, on a punier man,
\nless stout in struggle. Thyself hast now
\nfulfilled such deeds, that thy fame shall endure
\nthrough all the ages. As ever he did,
\nwell may the Wielder reward thee still!\u201d
\nBeowulf spake, bairn of Ecgtheow: —
\n\u201cThis work of war most willingly
\nwe have fought, this fight, and fearlessly dared
\nforce of the foe. Fain, too, were I
\nhadst thou but seen himself, what time
\nthe fiend in his trappings tottered to fall!
\nSwiftly, I thought, in strongest gripe
\non his bed of death to bind him down,
\nthat he in the hent of this hand of mine
\nshould breathe his last: but he broke away.
\nHim I might not — the Maker willed not —
\nhinder from flight, and firm enough hold
\nthe life-destroyer: too sturdy was he,
\nthe ruthless, in running! For rescue, however,
\nhe left behind him his hand in pledge,
\narm and shoulder; nor aught of help
\ncould the cursed one thus procure at all.
\nNone the longer liveth he, loathsome fiend,
\nsunk in his sins, but sorrow holds him
\ntightly grasped in gripe of anguish,
\nin baleful bonds, where bide he must,
\nevil outlaw, such awful doom
\nas the Mighty Maker shall mete him out.\u201d<\/p>\n

More silent seemed the son of Ecglaf[6]<\/sup><\/a>
\nin boastful speech of his battle-deeds,
\nsince athelings all, through the earl\u2019s great prowess,
\nbeheld that hand, on the high roof gazing,
\nfoeman\u2019s fingers, — the forepart of each
\nof the sturdy nails to steel was likest, —
\nheathen\u2019s \u201chand-spear,\u201d hostile warrior\u2019s
\nclaw uncanny. \u2019Twas clear, they said,
\nthat him no blade of the brave could touch,
\nhow keen soever, or cut away
\nthat battle-hand bloody from baneful foe.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

XV<\/p>\n

THERE was hurry and hest in Heorot now
\nfor hands to bedeck it, and dense was the throng
\nof men and women the wine-hall to cleanse,
\nthe guest-room to garnish. Gold-gay shone the hangings
\nthat were wove on the wall, and wonders many
\nto delight each mortal that looks upon them.
\nThough braced within by iron bands,
\nthat building bright was broken sorely;[7]<\/sup><\/a>
\nrent were its hinges; the roof alone
\nheld safe and sound, when, seared with crime,
\nthe fiendish foe his flight essayed,
\nof life despairing. — No light thing that,
\nthe flight for safety, — essay it who will!
\nForced of fate, he shall find his way
\nto the refuge ready for race of man,
\nfor soul-possessors, and sons of earth;
\nand there his body on bed of death
\nshall rest after revel.
\nArrived was the hour
\nwhen to hall proceeded Healfdene\u2019s son:
\nthe king himself would sit to banquet.
\nNe\u2019er heard I of host in haughtier throng
\nmore graciously gathered round giver-of-rings!
\nBowed then to bench those bearers-of-glory,
\nfain of the feasting. Featly received
\nmany a mead-cup the mighty-in-spirit,
\nkinsmen who sat in the sumptuous hall,
\nHrothgar and Hrothulf. Heorot now
\nwas filled with friends; the folk of Scyldings
\nne\u2019er yet had tried the traitor\u2019s deed.
\nTo Beowulf gave the bairn of Healfdene
\na gold-wove banner, guerdon of triumph,
\nbroidered battle-flag, breastplate and helmet;
\nand a splendid sword was seen of many
\nborne to the brave one. Beowulf took
\ncup in hall:[8]<\/sup><\/a>\u00a0for such costly gifts
\nhe suffered no shame in that soldier throng.
\nFor I heard of few heroes, in heartier mood,
\nwith four such gifts, so fashioned with gold,
\non the ale-bench honoring others thus!
\nO\u2019er the roof of the helmet high, a ridge,
\nwound with wires, kept ward o\u2019er the head,
\nlest the relict-of-files[9]<\/sup><\/a>\u00a0should fierce invade,
\nsharp in the strife, when that shielded hero
\nshould go to grapple against his foes.
\nThen the earls\u2019-defence[10]<\/sup><\/a>\u00a0on the floor[11]<\/sup><\/a>\u00a0bade lead
\ncoursers eight, with carven head-gear,
\nadown the hall: one horse was decked
\nwith a saddle all shining and set in jewels;
\n\u2019twas the battle-seat of the best of kings,
\nwhen to play of swords the son of Healfdene
\nwas fain to fare. Ne\u2019er failed his valor
\nin the crush of combat when corpses fell.
\nTo Beowulf over them both then gave
\nthe refuge-of-Ingwines right and power,
\no\u2019er war-steeds and weapons: wished him joy of them.
\nManfully thus the mighty prince,
\nhoard-guard for heroes, that hard fight repaid
\nwith steeds and treasures contemned by none
\nwho is willing to say the sooth aright.<\/p>\n\n\t\t\t

\n\t\t\t

Candela Citations<\/h3>\n\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t
Public domain content<\/div>