{"id":405,"date":"2015-07-15T21:44:38","date_gmt":"2015-07-15T21:44:38","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/courses.candelalearning.com\/britlit1xmaster\/?post_type=chapter&p=405"},"modified":"2015-07-15T22:35:18","modified_gmt":"2015-07-15T22:35:18","slug":"beowulf-16-20","status":"web-only","type":"chapter","link":"https:\/\/courses.lumenlearning.com\/suny-britlit1\/chapter\/beowulf-16-20\/","title":{"raw":"Beowulf Sections 16-20","rendered":"Beowulf Sections 16-20"},"content":{"raw":"XVI\r\n\r\nAND the lord of earls, to each that came\r\nwith Beowulf over the briny ways,\r\nan heirloom there at the ale-bench gave,\r\nprecious gift; and the price[footnote]Man-price, wergild.[\/footnote]\u00a0bade pay\r\nin gold for him whom Grendel erst\r\nmurdered, -- and fain of them more had killed,\r\nhad not wisest God their Wyrd averted,\r\nand the man\u2019s[footnote]Beowulf\u2019s.[\/footnote]\u00a0brave mood. The Maker then\r\nruled human kind, as here and now.\r\nTherefore is insight always best,\r\nand forethought of mind. How much awaits him\r\nof lief and of loath, who long time here,\r\nthrough days of warfare this world endures!\r\n\r\nThen song and music mingled sounds\r\nin the presence of Healfdene\u2019s head-of-armies[footnote]Hrothgar.[\/footnote]\r\nand harping was heard with the hero-lay\r\nas Hrothgar\u2019s singer the hall-joy woke\r\nalong the mead-seats, making his song\r\nof that sudden raid on the sons of Finn.[footnote]There is no need to assume a gap in the Ms. As before about Sigemund and Heremod, so now, though at greater length, about Finn and his feud, a lay is chanted or recited; and the epic poet, counting on his readers\u2019 familiarity with the story, -- a fragment of it still exists, -- simply gives the headings.[\/footnote]\r\nHealfdene\u2019s hero, Hnaef the Scylding,\r\nwas fated to fall in the Frisian slaughter.[footnote]The exact story to which this episode refers in summary is not to be determined, but the following account of it is reasonable and has good support among scholars. Finn, a Frisian chieftain, who nevertheless has a \u201ccastle\u201d outside the Frisian border, marries Hildeburh, a Danish princess; and her brother, Hnaef, with many other Danes, pays Finn a visit. Relations between the two peoples have been strained before. Something starts the old feud anew; and the visitors are attacked in their quarters. Hnaef is killed; so is a son of Hildeburh. Many fall on both sides. Peace is patched up; a stately funeral is held; and the surviving visitors become in a way vassals or liegemen of Finn, going back with him to Frisia. So matters rest a while. Hengest is now leader of the Danes; but he is set upon revenge for his former lord, Hnaef. Probably he is killed in feud; but his clansmen, Guthlaf and Oslaf, gather at their home a force of sturdy Danes, come back to Frisia, storm Finn\u2019s stronghold, kill him, and carry back their kinswoman Hildeburh.[\/footnote]\r\nHildeburh needed not hold in value\r\nher enemies\u2019 honor![footnote]The \u201cenemies\u201d must be the Frisians.[\/footnote]\u00a0Innocent both\r\nwere the loved ones she lost at the linden-play,\r\nbairn and brother, they bowed to fate,\r\nstricken by spears; \u2019twas a sorrowful woman!\r\nNone doubted why the daughter of Hoc\r\nbewailed her doom when dawning came,\r\nand under the sky she saw them lying,\r\nkinsmen murdered, where most she had kenned\r\nof the sweets of the world! By war were swept, too,\r\nFinn\u2019s own liegemen, and few were left;\r\nin the parleying-place[footnote]Battlefield. -- Hengest is the \u201cprince\u2019s thane,\u201d companion of Hnaef. \u201cFolcwald\u2019s son\u201d is Finn.[\/footnote]\u00a0he could ply no longer\r\nweapon, nor war could he wage on Hengest,\r\nand rescue his remnant by right of arms\r\nfrom the prince\u2019s thane. A pact he offered:\r\nanother dwelling the Danes should have,\r\nhall and high-seat, and half the power\r\nshould fall to them in Frisian land;\r\nand at the fee-gifts, Folcwald\u2019s son\r\nday by day the Danes should honor,\r\nthe folk of Hengest favor with rings,\r\neven as truly, with treasure and jewels,\r\nwith fretted gold, as his Frisian kin\r\nhe meant to honor in ale-hall there.\r\nPact of peace they plighted further\r\non both sides firmly. Finn to Hengest\r\nwith oath, upon honor, openly promised\r\nthat woful remnant, with wise-men\u2019s aid,\r\nnobly to govern, so none of the guests\r\nby word or work should warp the treaty,[footnote]That is, Finn would govern in all honor the few Danish warriors who were left, provided, of course, that none of them tried to renew the quarrel or avenge Hnaef their fallen lord. If, again, one of Finn\u2019s Frisians began a quarrel, he should die by the sword.[\/footnote]\r\nor with malice of mind bemoan themselves\r\nas forced to follow their fee-giver\u2019s slayer,\r\nlordless men, as their lot ordained.\r\nShould Frisian, moreover, with foeman\u2019s taunt,\r\nthat murderous hatred to mind recall,\r\nthen edge of the sword must seal his doom.\r\n\r\nOaths were given, and ancient gold\r\nheaped from hoard. -- The hardy Scylding,\r\nbattle-thane best,[footnote]Hnaef.[\/footnote]\u00a0on his balefire lay.\r\nAll on the pyre were plain to see\r\nthe gory sark, the gilded swine-crest,\r\nboar of hard iron, and athelings many\r\nslain by the sword: at the slaughter they fell.\r\nIt was Hildeburh\u2019s hest, at Hnaef\u2019s own pyre\r\nthe bairn of her body on brands to lay,\r\nhis bones to burn, on the balefire placed,\r\nat his uncle\u2019s side. In sorrowful dirges\r\nbewept them the woman: great wailing ascended.\r\nThen wound up to welkin the wildest of death-fires,\r\nroared o\u2019er the hillock:[footnote]The high place chosen for the funeral: see description of Beowulf\u2019s funeral-pile at the end of the poem.[\/footnote]\u00a0heads all were melted,\r\ngashes burst, and blood gushed out\r\nfrom bites[footnote]Wounds.[\/footnote]\u00a0of the body. Balefire devoured,\r\ngreediest spirit, those spared not by war\r\nout of either folk: their flower was gone.\r\n
<\/div>\r\nXVII\r\n\r\nTHEN hastened those heroes their home to see,\r\nfriendless, to find the Frisian land,\r\nhouses and high burg. Hengest still\r\nthrough the death-dyed winter dwelt with Finn,\r\nholding pact, yet of home he minded,\r\nthough powerless his ring-decked prow to drive\r\nover the waters, now waves rolled fierce\r\nlashed by the winds, or winter locked them\r\nin icy fetters. Then fared another\r\nyear to men\u2019s dwellings, as yet they do,\r\nthe sunbright skies, that their season ever\r\nduly await. Far off winter was driven;\r\nfair lay earth\u2019s breast; and fain was the rover,\r\nthe guest, to depart, though more gladly he pondered\r\non wreaking his vengeance than roaming the deep,\r\nand how to hasten the hot encounter\r\nwhere sons of the Frisians were sure to be.\r\nSo he escaped not the common doom,\r\nwhen Hun with \u201cLafing,\u201d the light-of-battle,\r\nbest of blades, his bosom pierced:\r\nits edge was famed with the Frisian earls.\r\nOn fierce-heart Finn there fell likewise,\r\non himself at home, the horrid sword-death;\r\nfor Guthlaf and Oslaf of grim attack\r\nhad sorrowing told, from sea-ways landed,\r\nmourning their woes.[footnote]That is, these two Danes, escaping home, had told the story of the attack on Hnaef, the slaying of Hengest, and all the Danish woes. Collecting a force, they return to Frisia and kill Finn in his home.[\/footnote]\u00a0Finn\u2019s wavering spirit\r\nbode not in breast. The burg was reddened\r\nwith blood of foemen, and Finn was slain,\r\nking amid clansmen; the queen was taken.\r\nTo their ship the Scylding warriors bore\r\nall the chattels the chieftain owned,\r\nwhatever they found in Finn\u2019s domain\r\nof gems and jewels. The gentle wife\r\no\u2019er paths of the deep to the Danes they bore,\r\nled to her land.\r\nThe lay was finished,\r\nthe gleeman\u2019s song. Then glad rose the revel;\r\nbench-joy brightened. Bearers draw\r\nfrom their \u201cwonder-vats\u201d wine. Comes Wealhtheow forth,\r\nunder gold-crown goes where the good pair sit,\r\nuncle and nephew, true each to the other one,\r\nkindred in amity. Unferth the spokesman\r\nat the Scylding lord\u2019s feet sat: men had faith in his spirit,\r\nhis keenness of courage, though kinsmen had found him\r\nunsure at the sword-play. The Scylding queen spoke:\r\n\u201cQuaff of this cup, my king and lord,\r\nbreaker of rings, and blithe be thou,\r\ngold-friend of men; to the Geats here speak\r\nsuch words of mildness as man should use.\r\nBe glad with thy Geats; of those gifts be mindful,\r\nor near or far, which now thou hast.\r\n\r\nMen say to me, as son thou wishest\r\nyon hero to hold. Thy Heorot purged,\r\njewel-hall brightest, enjoy while thou canst,\r\nwith many a largess; and leave to thy kin\r\nfolk and realm when forth thou goest\r\nto greet thy doom. For gracious I deem\r\nmy Hrothulf,[footnote]Nephew to Hrothgar, with whom he subsequently quarrels, and elder cousin to the two young sons of Hrothgar and Wealhtheow, -- their natural guardian in the event of the king\u2019s death. There is something finely feminine in this speech of Wealhtheow\u2019s, apart from its somewhat irregular and irrelevant sequence of topics. Both she and her lord probably distrust Hrothulf; but she bids the king to be of good cheer, and, turning to the suspect, heaps affectionate assurances on his probity. \u201cMy own Hrothulf\u201d will surely not forget these favors and benefits of the past, but will repay them to the orphaned boy.[\/footnote]\u00a0willing to hold and rule\r\nnobly our youths, if thou yield up first,\r\nprince of Scyldings, thy part in the world.\r\nI ween with good he will well requite\r\noffspring of ours, when all he minds\r\nthat for him we did in his helpless days\r\nof gift and grace to gain him honor!\u201d\r\nThen she turned to the seat where her sons wereplaced,\r\nHrethric and Hrothmund, with heroes\u2019 bairns,\r\nyoung men together: the Geat, too, sat there,\r\nBeowulf brave, the brothers between.\r\n
<\/div>\r\nXVIII\r\n\r\nA CUP she gave him, with kindly greeting\r\nand winsome words. Of wounden gold,\r\nshe offered, to honor him, arm-jewels twain,\r\ncorselet and rings, and of collars the noblest\r\nthat ever I knew the earth around.\r\nNe\u2019er heard I so mighty, \u2019neath heaven\u2019s dome,\r\na hoard-gem of heroes, since Hama bore\r\nto his bright-built burg the Brisings\u2019 necklace,\r\njewel and gem casket. -- Jealousy fled he,\r\nEormenric\u2019s hate: chose help eternal.\r\nHygelac Geat, grandson of Swerting,\r\non the last of his raids this ring bore with him,\r\nunder his banner the booty defending,\r\nthe war-spoil warding; but Wyrd o\u2019erwhelmed him\r\nwhat time, in his daring, dangers he sought,\r\nfeud with Frisians. Fairest of gems\r\nhe bore with him over the beaker-of-waves,\r\nsovran strong: under shield he died.\r\nFell the corpse of the king into keeping of Franks,\r\ngear of the breast, and that gorgeous ring;\r\nweaker warriors won the spoil,\r\nafter gripe of battle, from Geatland\u2019s lord,\r\nand held the death-field.\r\nDin rose in hall.\r\nWealhtheow spake amid warriors, and said: --\r\n\u201cThis jewel enjoy in thy jocund youth,\r\nBeowulf lov\u2019d, these battle-weeds wear,\r\na royal treasure, and richly thrive!\r\nPreserve thy strength, and these striplings here\r\ncounsel in kindness: requital be mine.\r\nHast done such deeds, that for days to come\r\nthou art famed among folk both far and near,\r\nso wide as washeth the wave of Ocean\r\nhis windy walls. Through the ways of life\r\nprosper, O prince! I pray for thee\r\nrich possessions. To son of mine\r\nbe helpful in deed and uphold his joys!\r\nHere every earl to the other is true,\r\nmild of mood, to the master loyal!\r\nThanes are friendly, the throng obedient,\r\nliegemen are revelling: list and obey!\u201d\r\nWent then to her place. -- That was proudest of feasts;\r\nflowed wine for the warriors. Wyrd they knew not,\r\ndestiny dire, and the doom to be seen\r\nby many an earl when eve should come,\r\nand Hrothgar homeward hasten away,\r\nroyal, to rest. The room was guarded\r\nby an army of earls, as erst was done.\r\nThey bared the bench-boards; abroad they spread\r\nbeds and bolsters. -- One beer-carouser\r\nin danger of doom lay down in the hall. --\r\n\r\nAt their heads they set their shields of war,\r\nbucklers bright; on the bench were there\r\nover each atheling, easy to see,\r\nthe high battle-helmet, the haughty spear,\r\nthe corselet of rings. \u2019Twas their custom so\r\never to be for battle prepared,\r\nat home, or harrying, which it were,\r\neven as oft as evil threatened\r\ntheir sovran king. -- They were clansmen good.\r\n
<\/div>\r\nXIX\r\n\r\nTHEN sank they to sleep. With sorrow one bought\r\nhis rest of the evening, -- as ofttime had happened\r\nwhen Grendel guarded that golden hall,\r\nevil wrought, till his end drew nigh,\r\nslaughter for sins. \u2019Twas seen and told\r\nhow an avenger survived the fiend,\r\nas was learned afar. The livelong time\r\nafter that grim fight, Grendel\u2019s mother,\r\nmonster of women, mourned her woe.\r\nShe was doomed to dwell in the dreary waters,\r\ncold sea-courses, since Cain cut down\r\nwith edge of the sword his only brother,\r\nhis father\u2019s offspring: outlawed he fled,\r\nmarked with murder, from men\u2019s delights\r\nwarded the wilds. -- There woke from him\r\nsuch fate-sent ghosts as Grendel, who,\r\nwar-wolf horrid, at Heorot found\r\na warrior watching and waiting the fray,\r\nwith whom the grisly one grappled amain.\r\nBut the man remembered his mighty power,\r\nthe glorious gift that God had sent him,\r\nin his Maker\u2019s mercy put his trust\r\nfor comfort and help: so he conquered the foe,\r\nfelled the fiend, who fled abject,\r\nreft of joy, to the realms of death,\r\nmankind\u2019s foe. And his mother now,\r\ngloomy and grim, would go that quest\r\nof sorrow, the death of her son to avenge.\r\nTo Heorot came she, where helmeted Danes\r\nslept in the hall. Too soon came back\r\nold ills of the earls, when in she burst,\r\nthe mother of Grendel. Less grim, though, that terror,\r\ne\u2019en as terror of woman in war is less,\r\nmight of maid, than of men in arms\r\nwhen, hammer-forged, the falchion hard,\r\nsword gore-stained, through swine of the helm,\r\ncrested, with keen blade carves amain.\r\nThen was in hall the hard-edge drawn,\r\nthe swords on the settles,[footnote]They had laid their arms on the benches near where they slept.[\/footnote]\u00a0and shields a-many\r\nfirm held in hand: nor helmet minded\r\nnor harness of mail, whom that horror seized.\r\nHaste was hers; she would hie afar\r\nand save her life when the liegemen saw her.\r\nYet a single atheling up she seized\r\nfast and firm, as she fled to the moor.\r\nHe was for Hrothgar of heroes the dearest,\r\nof trusty vassals betwixt the seas,\r\nwhom she killed on his couch, a clansman famous,\r\nin battle brave. -- Nor was Beowulf there;\r\nanother house had been held apart,\r\nafter giving of gold, for the Geat renowned. --\r\nUproar filled Heorot; the hand all had viewed,\r\nblood-flecked, she bore with her; bale was returned,\r\ndole in the dwellings: \u2019twas dire exchange\r\nwhere Dane and Geat were doomed to give\r\nthe lives of loved ones. Long-tried king,\r\nthe hoary hero, at heart was sad\r\nwhen he knew his noble no more lived,\r\nand dead indeed was his dearest thane.\r\nTo his bower was Beowulf brought in haste,\r\ndauntless victor. As daylight broke,\r\nalong with his earls the atheling lord,\r\nwith his clansmen, came where the king abode\r\nwaiting to see if the Wielder-of-All\r\nwould turn this tale of trouble and woe.\r\nStrode o\u2019er floor the famed-in-strife,\r\nwith his hand-companions, -- the hall resounded, --\r\nwishing to greet the wise old king,\r\nIngwines\u2019 lord; he asked if the night\r\nhad passed in peace to the prince\u2019s mind.\r\n
<\/div>\r\nXX\r\n\r\nHROTHGAR spake, helmet-of-Scyldings: --\r\n\u201cAsk not of pleasure! Pain is renewed\r\nto Danish folk. Dead is Aeschere,\r\nof Yrmenlaf the elder brother,\r\nmy sage adviser and stay in council,\r\nshoulder-comrade in stress of fight\r\nwhen warriors clashed and we warded our heads,\r\nhewed the helm-boars; hero famed\r\nshould be every earl as Aeschere was!\r\nBut here in Heorot a hand hath slain him\r\nof wandering death-sprite. I wot not whither,[footnote]He surmises presently where she is.[\/footnote]\r\nproud of the prey, her path she took,\r\nfain of her fill. The feud she avenged\r\nthat yesternight, unyieldingly,\r\nGrendel in grimmest grasp thou killedst, --\r\nseeing how long these liegemen mine\r\nhe ruined and ravaged. Reft of life,\r\nin arms he fell. Now another comes,\r\nkeen and cruel, her kin to avenge,\r\nfaring far in feud of blood:\r\nso that many a thane shall think, who e\u2019er\r\nsorrows in soul for that sharer of rings,\r\nthis is hardest of heart-bales. The hand lies low\r\nthat once was willing each wish to please.\r\nLand-dwellers here[footnote]The connection is not difficult. The words of mourning, of acute grief, are said; and according to Germanic sequence of thought, inexorable here, the next and only topic is revenge. But is it possible? Hrothgar leads up to his appeal and promise with a skillful and often effective description of the horrors which surround the monster\u2019s home and await the attempt of an avenging foe.[\/footnote]\u00a0and liegemen mine,\r\nwho house by those parts, I have heard relate\r\nthat such a pair they have sometimes seen,\r\nmarch-stalkers mighty the moorland haunting,\r\nwandering spirits: one of them seemed,\r\nso far as my folk could fairly judge,\r\nof womankind; and one, accursed,\r\nin man\u2019s guise trod the misery-track\r\nof exile, though huger than human bulk.\r\nGrendel in days long gone they named him,\r\nfolk of the land; his father they knew not,\r\nnor any brood that was born to him\r\nof treacherous spirits. Untrod is their home;\r\nby wolf-cliffs haunt they and windy headlands,\r\nfenways fearful, where flows the stream\r\nfrom mountains gliding to gloom of the rocks,\r\nunderground flood. Not far is it hence\r\nin measure of miles that the mere expands,\r\nand o\u2019er it the frost-bound forest hanging,\r\nsturdily rooted, shadows the wave.\r\nBy night is a wonder weird to see,\r\nfire on the waters. So wise lived none\r\nof the sons of men, to search those depths!\r\nNay, though the heath-rover, harried by dogs,\r\nthe horn-proud hart, this holt should seek,\r\nlong distance driven, his dear life first\r\non the brink he yields ere he brave the plunge\r\nto hide his head: \u2019tis no happy place!\r\nThence the welter of waters washes up\r\nwan to welkin when winds bestir\r\nevil storms, and air grows dusk,\r\nand the heavens weep. Now is help once more\r\nwith thee alone! The land thou knowst not,\r\nplace of fear, where thou findest out\r\nthat sin-flecked being. Seek if thou dare!\r\nI will reward thee, for waging this fight,\r\nwith ancient treasure, as erst I did,\r\nwith winding gold, if thou winnest back.\u201d","rendered":"

XVI<\/p>\n

AND the lord of earls, to each that came
\nwith Beowulf over the briny ways,
\nan heirloom there at the ale-bench gave,
\nprecious gift; and the price[1]<\/sup><\/a>\u00a0bade pay
\nin gold for him whom Grendel erst
\nmurdered, — and fain of them more had killed,
\nhad not wisest God their Wyrd averted,
\nand the man\u2019s[2]<\/sup><\/a>\u00a0brave mood. The Maker then
\nruled human kind, as here and now.
\nTherefore is insight always best,
\nand forethought of mind. How much awaits him
\nof lief and of loath, who long time here,
\nthrough days of warfare this world endures!<\/p>\n

Then song and music mingled sounds
\nin the presence of Healfdene\u2019s head-of-armies[3]<\/sup><\/a>
\nand harping was heard with the hero-lay
\nas Hrothgar\u2019s singer the hall-joy woke
\nalong the mead-seats, making his song
\nof that sudden raid on the sons of Finn.[4]<\/sup><\/a>
\nHealfdene\u2019s hero, Hnaef the Scylding,
\nwas fated to fall in the Frisian slaughter.[5]<\/sup><\/a>
\nHildeburh needed not hold in value
\nher enemies\u2019 honor![6]<\/sup><\/a>\u00a0Innocent both
\nwere the loved ones she lost at the linden-play,
\nbairn and brother, they bowed to fate,
\nstricken by spears; \u2019twas a sorrowful woman!
\nNone doubted why the daughter of Hoc
\nbewailed her doom when dawning came,
\nand under the sky she saw them lying,
\nkinsmen murdered, where most she had kenned
\nof the sweets of the world! By war were swept, too,
\nFinn\u2019s own liegemen, and few were left;
\nin the parleying-place[7]<\/sup><\/a>\u00a0he could ply no longer
\nweapon, nor war could he wage on Hengest,
\nand rescue his remnant by right of arms
\nfrom the prince\u2019s thane. A pact he offered:
\nanother dwelling the Danes should have,
\nhall and high-seat, and half the power
\nshould fall to them in Frisian land;
\nand at the fee-gifts, Folcwald\u2019s son
\nday by day the Danes should honor,
\nthe folk of Hengest favor with rings,
\neven as truly, with treasure and jewels,
\nwith fretted gold, as his Frisian kin
\nhe meant to honor in ale-hall there.
\nPact of peace they plighted further
\non both sides firmly. Finn to Hengest
\nwith oath, upon honor, openly promised
\nthat woful remnant, with wise-men\u2019s aid,
\nnobly to govern, so none of the guests
\nby word or work should warp the treaty,[8]<\/sup><\/a>
\nor with malice of mind bemoan themselves
\nas forced to follow their fee-giver\u2019s slayer,
\nlordless men, as their lot ordained.
\nShould Frisian, moreover, with foeman\u2019s taunt,
\nthat murderous hatred to mind recall,
\nthen edge of the sword must seal his doom.<\/p>\n

Oaths were given, and ancient gold
\nheaped from hoard. — The hardy Scylding,
\nbattle-thane best,[9]<\/sup><\/a>\u00a0on his balefire lay.
\nAll on the pyre were plain to see
\nthe gory sark, the gilded swine-crest,
\nboar of hard iron, and athelings many
\nslain by the sword: at the slaughter they fell.
\nIt was Hildeburh\u2019s hest, at Hnaef\u2019s own pyre
\nthe bairn of her body on brands to lay,
\nhis bones to burn, on the balefire placed,
\nat his uncle\u2019s side. In sorrowful dirges
\nbewept them the woman: great wailing ascended.
\nThen wound up to welkin the wildest of death-fires,
\nroared o\u2019er the hillock:[10]<\/sup><\/a>\u00a0heads all were melted,
\ngashes burst, and blood gushed out
\nfrom bites[11]<\/sup><\/a>\u00a0of the body. Balefire devoured,
\ngreediest spirit, those spared not by war
\nout of either folk: their flower was gone.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

XVII<\/p>\n

THEN hastened those heroes their home to see,
\nfriendless, to find the Frisian land,
\nhouses and high burg. Hengest still
\nthrough the death-dyed winter dwelt with Finn,
\nholding pact, yet of home he minded,
\nthough powerless his ring-decked prow to drive
\nover the waters, now waves rolled fierce
\nlashed by the winds, or winter locked them
\nin icy fetters. Then fared another
\nyear to men\u2019s dwellings, as yet they do,
\nthe sunbright skies, that their season ever
\nduly await. Far off winter was driven;
\nfair lay earth\u2019s breast; and fain was the rover,
\nthe guest, to depart, though more gladly he pondered
\non wreaking his vengeance than roaming the deep,
\nand how to hasten the hot encounter
\nwhere sons of the Frisians were sure to be.
\nSo he escaped not the common doom,
\nwhen Hun with \u201cLafing,\u201d the light-of-battle,
\nbest of blades, his bosom pierced:
\nits edge was famed with the Frisian earls.
\nOn fierce-heart Finn there fell likewise,
\non himself at home, the horrid sword-death;
\nfor Guthlaf and Oslaf of grim attack
\nhad sorrowing told, from sea-ways landed,
\nmourning their woes.[12]<\/sup><\/a>\u00a0Finn\u2019s wavering spirit
\nbode not in breast. The burg was reddened
\nwith blood of foemen, and Finn was slain,
\nking amid clansmen; the queen was taken.
\nTo their ship the Scylding warriors bore
\nall the chattels the chieftain owned,
\nwhatever they found in Finn\u2019s domain
\nof gems and jewels. The gentle wife
\no\u2019er paths of the deep to the Danes they bore,
\nled to her land.
\nThe lay was finished,
\nthe gleeman\u2019s song. Then glad rose the revel;
\nbench-joy brightened. Bearers draw
\nfrom their \u201cwonder-vats\u201d wine. Comes Wealhtheow forth,
\nunder gold-crown goes where the good pair sit,
\nuncle and nephew, true each to the other one,
\nkindred in amity. Unferth the spokesman
\nat the Scylding lord\u2019s feet sat: men had faith in his spirit,
\nhis keenness of courage, though kinsmen had found him
\nunsure at the sword-play. The Scylding queen spoke:
\n\u201cQuaff of this cup, my king and lord,
\nbreaker of rings, and blithe be thou,
\ngold-friend of men; to the Geats here speak
\nsuch words of mildness as man should use.
\nBe glad with thy Geats; of those gifts be mindful,
\nor near or far, which now thou hast.<\/p>\n

Men say to me, as son thou wishest
\nyon hero to hold. Thy Heorot purged,
\njewel-hall brightest, enjoy while thou canst,
\nwith many a largess; and leave to thy kin
\nfolk and realm when forth thou goest
\nto greet thy doom. For gracious I deem
\nmy Hrothulf,[13]<\/sup><\/a>\u00a0willing to hold and rule
\nnobly our youths, if thou yield up first,
\nprince of Scyldings, thy part in the world.
\nI ween with good he will well requite
\noffspring of ours, when all he minds
\nthat for him we did in his helpless days
\nof gift and grace to gain him honor!\u201d
\nThen she turned to the seat where her sons wereplaced,
\nHrethric and Hrothmund, with heroes\u2019 bairns,
\nyoung men together: the Geat, too, sat there,
\nBeowulf brave, the brothers between.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

XVIII<\/p>\n

A CUP she gave him, with kindly greeting
\nand winsome words. Of wounden gold,
\nshe offered, to honor him, arm-jewels twain,
\ncorselet and rings, and of collars the noblest
\nthat ever I knew the earth around.
\nNe\u2019er heard I so mighty, \u2019neath heaven\u2019s dome,
\na hoard-gem of heroes, since Hama bore
\nto his bright-built burg the Brisings\u2019 necklace,
\njewel and gem casket. — Jealousy fled he,
\nEormenric\u2019s hate: chose help eternal.
\nHygelac Geat, grandson of Swerting,
\non the last of his raids this ring bore with him,
\nunder his banner the booty defending,
\nthe war-spoil warding; but Wyrd o\u2019erwhelmed him
\nwhat time, in his daring, dangers he sought,
\nfeud with Frisians. Fairest of gems
\nhe bore with him over the beaker-of-waves,
\nsovran strong: under shield he died.
\nFell the corpse of the king into keeping of Franks,
\ngear of the breast, and that gorgeous ring;
\nweaker warriors won the spoil,
\nafter gripe of battle, from Geatland\u2019s lord,
\nand held the death-field.
\nDin rose in hall.
\nWealhtheow spake amid warriors, and said: —
\n\u201cThis jewel enjoy in thy jocund youth,
\nBeowulf lov\u2019d, these battle-weeds wear,
\na royal treasure, and richly thrive!
\nPreserve thy strength, and these striplings here
\ncounsel in kindness: requital be mine.
\nHast done such deeds, that for days to come
\nthou art famed among folk both far and near,
\nso wide as washeth the wave of Ocean
\nhis windy walls. Through the ways of life
\nprosper, O prince! I pray for thee
\nrich possessions. To son of mine
\nbe helpful in deed and uphold his joys!
\nHere every earl to the other is true,
\nmild of mood, to the master loyal!
\nThanes are friendly, the throng obedient,
\nliegemen are revelling: list and obey!\u201d
\nWent then to her place. — That was proudest of feasts;
\nflowed wine for the warriors. Wyrd they knew not,
\ndestiny dire, and the doom to be seen
\nby many an earl when eve should come,
\nand Hrothgar homeward hasten away,
\nroyal, to rest. The room was guarded
\nby an army of earls, as erst was done.
\nThey bared the bench-boards; abroad they spread
\nbeds and bolsters. — One beer-carouser
\nin danger of doom lay down in the hall. —<\/p>\n

At their heads they set their shields of war,
\nbucklers bright; on the bench were there
\nover each atheling, easy to see,
\nthe high battle-helmet, the haughty spear,
\nthe corselet of rings. \u2019Twas their custom so
\never to be for battle prepared,
\nat home, or harrying, which it were,
\neven as oft as evil threatened
\ntheir sovran king. — They were clansmen good.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

XIX<\/p>\n

THEN sank they to sleep. With sorrow one bought
\nhis rest of the evening, — as ofttime had happened
\nwhen Grendel guarded that golden hall,
\nevil wrought, till his end drew nigh,
\nslaughter for sins. \u2019Twas seen and told
\nhow an avenger survived the fiend,
\nas was learned afar. The livelong time
\nafter that grim fight, Grendel\u2019s mother,
\nmonster of women, mourned her woe.
\nShe was doomed to dwell in the dreary waters,
\ncold sea-courses, since Cain cut down
\nwith edge of the sword his only brother,
\nhis father\u2019s offspring: outlawed he fled,
\nmarked with murder, from men\u2019s delights
\nwarded the wilds. — There woke from him
\nsuch fate-sent ghosts as Grendel, who,
\nwar-wolf horrid, at Heorot found
\na warrior watching and waiting the fray,
\nwith whom the grisly one grappled amain.
\nBut the man remembered his mighty power,
\nthe glorious gift that God had sent him,
\nin his Maker\u2019s mercy put his trust
\nfor comfort and help: so he conquered the foe,
\nfelled the fiend, who fled abject,
\nreft of joy, to the realms of death,
\nmankind\u2019s foe. And his mother now,
\ngloomy and grim, would go that quest
\nof sorrow, the death of her son to avenge.
\nTo Heorot came she, where helmeted Danes
\nslept in the hall. Too soon came back
\nold ills of the earls, when in she burst,
\nthe mother of Grendel. Less grim, though, that terror,
\ne\u2019en as terror of woman in war is less,
\nmight of maid, than of men in arms
\nwhen, hammer-forged, the falchion hard,
\nsword gore-stained, through swine of the helm,
\ncrested, with keen blade carves amain.
\nThen was in hall the hard-edge drawn,
\nthe swords on the settles,[14]<\/sup><\/a>\u00a0and shields a-many
\nfirm held in hand: nor helmet minded
\nnor harness of mail, whom that horror seized.
\nHaste was hers; she would hie afar
\nand save her life when the liegemen saw her.
\nYet a single atheling up she seized
\nfast and firm, as she fled to the moor.
\nHe was for Hrothgar of heroes the dearest,
\nof trusty vassals betwixt the seas,
\nwhom she killed on his couch, a clansman famous,
\nin battle brave. — Nor was Beowulf there;
\nanother house had been held apart,
\nafter giving of gold, for the Geat renowned. —
\nUproar filled Heorot; the hand all had viewed,
\nblood-flecked, she bore with her; bale was returned,
\ndole in the dwellings: \u2019twas dire exchange
\nwhere Dane and Geat were doomed to give
\nthe lives of loved ones. Long-tried king,
\nthe hoary hero, at heart was sad
\nwhen he knew his noble no more lived,
\nand dead indeed was his dearest thane.
\nTo his bower was Beowulf brought in haste,
\ndauntless victor. As daylight broke,
\nalong with his earls the atheling lord,
\nwith his clansmen, came where the king abode
\nwaiting to see if the Wielder-of-All
\nwould turn this tale of trouble and woe.
\nStrode o\u2019er floor the famed-in-strife,
\nwith his hand-companions, — the hall resounded, —
\nwishing to greet the wise old king,
\nIngwines\u2019 lord; he asked if the night
\nhad passed in peace to the prince\u2019s mind.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

XX<\/p>\n

HROTHGAR spake, helmet-of-Scyldings: —
\n\u201cAsk not of pleasure! Pain is renewed
\nto Danish folk. Dead is Aeschere,
\nof Yrmenlaf the elder brother,
\nmy sage adviser and stay in council,
\nshoulder-comrade in stress of fight
\nwhen warriors clashed and we warded our heads,
\nhewed the helm-boars; hero famed
\nshould be every earl as Aeschere was!
\nBut here in Heorot a hand hath slain him
\nof wandering death-sprite. I wot not whither,[15]<\/sup><\/a>
\nproud of the prey, her path she took,
\nfain of her fill. The feud she avenged
\nthat yesternight, unyieldingly,
\nGrendel in grimmest grasp thou killedst, —
\nseeing how long these liegemen mine
\nhe ruined and ravaged. Reft of life,
\nin arms he fell. Now another comes,
\nkeen and cruel, her kin to avenge,
\nfaring far in feud of blood:
\nso that many a thane shall think, who e\u2019er
\nsorrows in soul for that sharer of rings,
\nthis is hardest of heart-bales. The hand lies low
\nthat once was willing each wish to please.
\nLand-dwellers here[16]<\/sup><\/a>\u00a0and liegemen mine,
\nwho house by those parts, I have heard relate
\nthat such a pair they have sometimes seen,
\nmarch-stalkers mighty the moorland haunting,
\nwandering spirits: one of them seemed,
\nso far as my folk could fairly judge,
\nof womankind; and one, accursed,
\nin man\u2019s guise trod the misery-track
\nof exile, though huger than human bulk.
\nGrendel in days long gone they named him,
\nfolk of the land; his father they knew not,
\nnor any brood that was born to him
\nof treacherous spirits. Untrod is their home;
\nby wolf-cliffs haunt they and windy headlands,
\nfenways fearful, where flows the stream
\nfrom mountains gliding to gloom of the rocks,
\nunderground flood. Not far is it hence
\nin measure of miles that the mere expands,
\nand o\u2019er it the frost-bound forest hanging,
\nsturdily rooted, shadows the wave.
\nBy night is a wonder weird to see,
\nfire on the waters. So wise lived none
\nof the sons of men, to search those depths!
\nNay, though the heath-rover, harried by dogs,
\nthe horn-proud hart, this holt should seek,
\nlong distance driven, his dear life first
\non the brink he yields ere he brave the plunge
\nto hide his head: \u2019tis no happy place!
\nThence the welter of waters washes up
\nwan to welkin when winds bestir
\nevil storms, and air grows dusk,
\nand the heavens weep. Now is help once more
\nwith thee alone! The land thou knowst not,
\nplace of fear, where thou findest out
\nthat sin-flecked being. Seek if thou dare!
\nI will reward thee, for waging this fight,
\nwith ancient treasure, as erst I did,
\nwith winding gold, if thou winnest back.\u201d<\/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>