{"id":417,"date":"2015-07-16T15:27:21","date_gmt":"2015-07-16T15:27:21","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/courses.candelalearning.com\/britlit1xmaster\/?post_type=chapter&p=417"},"modified":"2015-07-16T15:27:21","modified_gmt":"2015-07-16T15:27:21","slug":"beowulf-sections-31-35","status":"web-only","type":"chapter","link":"https:\/\/courses.lumenlearning.com\/suny-britlit1\/chapter\/beowulf-sections-31-35\/","title":{"raw":"Beowulf Sections 31-35","rendered":"Beowulf Sections 31-35"},"content":{"raw":"XXXI\r\n\r\nTHEN the baleful fiend its fire belched out,\r\nand bright homes burned. The blaze stood high\r\nall landsfolk frighting. No living thing\r\nwould that loathly one leave as aloft it flew.\r\nWide was the dragon\u2019s warring seen,\r\nits fiendish fury far and near,\r\nas the grim destroyer those Geatish people\r\nhated and hounded. To hidden lair,\r\nto its hoard it hastened at hint of dawn.\r\nFolk of the land it had lapped in flame,\r\nwith bale and brand. In its barrow it trusted,\r\nits battling and bulwarks: that boast was vain!\r\n\r\nTo Beowulf then the bale was told\r\nquickly and truly: the king\u2019s own home,\r\nof buildings the best, in brand-waves melted,\r\nthat gift-throne of Geats. To the good old man\r\nsad in heart, \u2019twas heaviest sorrow.\r\nThe sage assumed that his sovran God\r\nhe had angered, breaking ancient law,\r\nand embittered the Lord. His breast within\r\nwith black thoughts welled, as his wont was never.\r\nThe folk\u2019s own fastness that fiery dragon\r\nwith flame had destroyed, and the stronghold all\r\nwashed by waves; but the warlike king,\r\nprince of the Weders, plotted vengeance.\r\nWarriors\u2019-bulwark, he bade them work\r\nall of iron -- the earl\u2019s commander --\r\na war-shield wondrous: well he knew\r\nthat forest-wood against fire were worthless,\r\nlinden could aid not. -- Atheling brave,\r\nhe was fated to finish this fleeting life,[footnote]Literally \u201cloan-days,\u201d days loaned to man.[\/footnote]\r\nhis days on earth, and the dragon with him,\r\nthough long it had watched o\u2019er the wealth of the hoard! --\r\nShame he reckoned it, sharer-of-rings,\r\nto follow the flyer-afar with a host,\r\na broad-flung band; nor the battle feared he,\r\nnor deemed he dreadful the dragon\u2019s warring,\r\nits vigor and valor: ventures desperate\r\nhe had passed a-plenty, and perils of war,\r\ncontest-crash, since, conqueror proud,\r\nHrothgar\u2019s hall he had wholly purged,\r\nand in grapple had killed the kin of Grendel,\r\nloathsome breed! Not least was that\r\nof hand-to-hand fights where Hygelac fell,\r\nwhen the ruler of Geats in rush of battle,\r\nlord of his folk, in the Frisian land,\r\nson of Hrethel, by sword-draughts died,\r\nby brands down-beaten. Thence Beowulf fled\r\nthrough strength of himself and his swimming power,\r\nthough alone, and his arms were laden with thirty\r\ncoats of mail, when he came to the sea!\r\nNor yet might Hetwaras[footnote]Chattuarii, a tribe that dwelt along the Rhine, and took part in repelling the raid of (Hygelac) Chocilaicus.[\/footnote]\u00a0haughtily boast\r\ntheir craft of contest, who carried against him\r\nshields to the fight: but few escaped\r\nfrom strife with the hero to seek their homes!\r\nThen swam over ocean Ecgtheow\u2019s son\r\nlonely and sorrowful, seeking his land,\r\nwhere Hygd made him offer of hoard and realm,\r\nrings and royal-seat, reckoning naught\r\nthe strength of her son to save their kingdom\r\nfrom hostile hordes, after Hygelac\u2019s death.\r\nNo sooner for this could the stricken ones\r\nin any wise move that atheling\u2019s mind\r\nover young Heardred\u2019s head as lord\r\nand ruler of all the realm to be:\r\nyet the hero upheld him with helpful words,\r\naided in honor, till, older grown,\r\nhe wielded the Weder-Geats. -- Wandering exiles\r\nsought him o\u2019er seas, the sons of Ohtere,\r\nwho had spurned the sway of the Scylfings\u2019-helmet,\r\nthe bravest and best that broke the rings,\r\nin Swedish land, of the sea-kings\u2019 line,\r\nhaughty hero.[footnote] Onla, son of Ongentheow, who pursues his two nephews Eanmund and Eadgils to Heardred\u2019s court, where they have taken refuge after their unsuccessful rebellion. In the fighting Heardred is killed.[\/footnote]\u00a0Hence Heardred\u2019s end.\r\nFor shelter he gave them, sword-death came,\r\nthe blade\u2019s fell blow, to bairn of Hygelac;\r\nbut the son of Ongentheow sought again\r\nhouse and home when Heardred fell,\r\nleaving Beowulf lord of Geats\r\nand gift-seat\u2019s master. -- A good king he!\r\n
\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\nXXXII\r\n\r\nTHE fall of his lord he was fain to requite\r\nin after days; and to Eadgils he proved\r\nfriend to the friendless, and forces sent\r\nover the sea to the son of Ohtere,\r\nweapons and warriors: well repaid he\r\nthose care-paths cold when the king he slew.[footnote]That is, Beowulf supports Eadgils against Onela, who is slain by Eadgils in revenge for the \u201ccare-paths\u201d of exile into which Onela forced him.[\/footnote]\r\nThus safe through struggles the son of Ecgtheow\r\nhad passed a plenty, through perils dire,\r\nwith daring deeds, till this day was come\r\nthat doomed him now with the dragon to strive.\r\nWith comrades eleven the lord of Geats\r\nswollen in rage went seeking the dragon.\r\nHe had heard whence all the harm arose\r\nand the killing of clansmen; that cup of price\r\non the lap of the lord had been laid by the finder.\r\nIn the throng was this one thirteenth man,\r\nstarter of all the strife and ill,\r\ncare-laden captive; cringing thence\r\nforced and reluctant, he led them on\r\ntill he came in ken of that cavern-hall,\r\nthe barrow delved near billowy surges,\r\nflood of ocean. Within \u2019twas full\r\nof wire-gold and jewels; a jealous warden,\r\nwarrior trusty, the treasures held,\r\nlurked in his lair. Not light the task\r\nof entrance for any of earth-born men!\r\nSat on the headland the hero king,\r\nspake words of hail to his hearth-companions,\r\ngold-friend of Geats. All gloomy his soul,\r\nwavering, death-bound. Wyrd full nigh\r\nstood ready to greet the gray-haired man,\r\nto seize his soul-hoard, sunder apart\r\nlife and body. Not long would be\r\nthe warrior\u2019s spirit enwound with flesh.\r\nBeowulf spake, the bairn of Ecgtheow: --\r\n\u201cThrough store of struggles I strove in youth,\r\nmighty feuds; I mind them all.\r\nI was seven years old when the sovran of rings,\r\nfriend-of-his-folk, from my father took me,\r\nhad me, and held me, Hrethel the king,\r\nwith food and fee, faithful in kinship.\r\nNe\u2019er, while I lived there, he loathlier found me,\r\nbairn in the burg, than his birthright sons,\r\nHerebeald and Haethcyn and Hygelac mine.\r\nFor the eldest of these, by unmeet chance,\r\nby kinsman\u2019s deed, was the death-bed strewn,\r\nwhen Haethcyn killed him with horny bow,\r\nhis own dear liege laid low with an arrow,\r\nmissed the mark and his mate shot down,\r\none brother the other, with bloody shaft.\r\nA feeless fight,[footnote]That is, the king could claim no wergild, or man-price, from one son for the killing of the other.[\/footnote]\u00a0and a fearful sin,\r\nhorror to Hrethel; yet, hard as it was,\r\nunavenged must the atheling die!\r\nToo awful it is for an aged man\r\nto bide and bear, that his bairn so young\r\nrides on the gallows. A rime he makes,\r\nsorrow-song for his son there hanging\r\nas rapture of ravens; no rescue now\r\ncan come from the old, disabled man!\r\nStill is he minded, as morning breaks,\r\nof the heir gone elsewhere;[footnote]Usual euphemism for death.[\/footnote]\u00a0another he hopes not\r\nhe will bide to see his burg within\r\nas ward for his wealth, now the one has found\r\ndoom of death that the deed incurred.\r\nForlorn he looks on the lodge of his son,\r\nwine-hall waste and wind-swept chambers\r\nreft of revel. The rider sleepeth,\r\nthe hero, far-hidden;[footnote] Sc. in the grave.[\/footnote]\u00a0no harp resounds,\r\nin the courts no wassail, as once was heard.\r\n
\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\nXXXIII\r\n\r\n\u201cTHEN he goes to his chamber, a grief-song chants\r\nalone for his lost. Too large all seems,\r\nhomestead and house. So the helmet-of-Weders\r\nhid in his heart for Herebeald\r\nwaves of woe. No way could he take\r\nto avenge on the slayer slaughter so foul;\r\nnor e\u2019en could he harass that hero at all\r\nwith loathing deed, though he loved him not.\r\nAnd so for the sorrow his soul endured,\r\nmen\u2019s gladness he gave up and God\u2019s light chose.\r\nLands and cities he left his sons\r\n(as the wealthy do) when he went from earth.\r\nThere was strife and struggle \u2019twixt Swede and Geat\r\no\u2019er the width of waters; war arose,\r\nhard battle-horror, when Hrethel died,\r\nand Ongentheow\u2019s offspring grew\r\nstrife-keen, bold, nor brooked o\u2019er the seas\r\npact of peace, but pushed their hosts\r\nto harass in hatred by Hreosnabeorh.\r\nMen of my folk for that feud had vengeance,\r\nfor woful war (\u2018tis widely known),\r\nthough one of them bought it with blood of his heart,\r\na bargain hard: for Haethcyn proved\r\nfatal that fray, for the first-of-Geats.\r\nAt morn, I heard, was the murderer killed\r\nby kinsman for kinsman,[footnote]Eofor for Wulf. -- The immediate provocation for Eofor in killing \u201cthe hoary Scylfing,\u201d Ongentheow, is that the latter has just struck Wulf down; but the king, Haethcyn, is also avenged by the blow. See the detailed description below.[\/footnote]\u00a0with clash of sword,\r\nwhen Ongentheow met Eofor there.\r\nWide split the war-helm: wan he fell,\r\nhoary Scylfing; the hand that smote him\r\nof feud was mindful, nor flinched from the death-blow.\r\n-- \u201cFor all that he[footnote]Hygelac.[\/footnote]\u00a0gave me, my gleaming sword\r\nrepaid him at war, -- such power I wielded, --\r\nfor lordly treasure: with land he entrusted me,\r\nhomestead and house. He had no need\r\nfrom Swedish realm, or from Spear-Dane folk,\r\nor from men of the Gifths, to get him help, --\r\nsome warrior worse for wage to buy!\r\nEver I fought in the front of all,\r\nsole to the fore; and so shall I fight\r\nwhile I bide in life and this blade shall last\r\nthat early and late hath loyal proved\r\nsince for my doughtiness Daeghrefn fell,\r\nslain by my hand, the Hugas\u2019 champion.\r\nNor fared he thence to the Frisian king\r\nwith the booty back, and breast-adornments;\r\nbut, slain in struggle, that standard-bearer\r\nfell, atheling brave. Not with blade was he slain,\r\nbut his bones were broken by brawny gripe,\r\nhis heart-waves stilled. -- The sword-edge now,\r\nhard blade and my hand, for the hoard shall strive.\u201d\r\nBeowulf spake, and a battle-vow made\r\nhis last of all: \u201cI have lived through many\r\nwars in my youth; now once again,\r\nold folk-defender, feud will I seek,\r\ndo doughty deeds, if the dark destroyer\r\nforth from his cavern come to fight me!\u201d\r\nThen hailed he the helmeted heroes all,\r\nfor the last time greeting his liegemen dear,\r\ncomrades of war: \u201cI should carry no weapon,\r\nno sword to the serpent, if sure I knew\r\nhow, with such enemy, else my vows\r\nI could gain as I did in Grendel\u2019s day.\r\nBut fire in this fight I must fear me now,\r\nand poisonous breath; so I bring with me\r\nbreastplate and board.[footnote]Shield.[\/footnote]\u00a0From the barrow\u2019s keeper\r\nno footbreadth flee I. One fight shall end\r\nour war by the wall, as Wyrd allots,\r\nall mankind\u2019s master. My mood is bold\r\nbut forbears to boast o\u2019er this battling-flyer.\r\n-- Now abide by the barrow, ye breastplate-mailed,\r\nye heroes in harness, which of us twain\r\nbetter from battle-rush bear his wounds.\r\nWait ye the finish. The fight is not yours,\r\nnor meet for any but me alone\r\nto measure might with this monster here\r\nand play the hero. Hardily I\r\nshall win that wealth, or war shall seize,\r\ncruel killing, your king and lord!\u201d\r\nUp stood then with shield the sturdy champion,\r\nstayed by the strength of his single manhood,\r\nand hardy \u2019neath helmet his harness bore\r\nunder cleft of the cliffs: no coward\u2019s path!\r\nSoon spied by the wall that warrior chief,\r\nsurvivor of many a victory-field\r\nwhere foemen fought with furious clashings,\r\nan arch of stone; and within, a stream\r\nthat broke from the barrow. The brooklet\u2019s wave\r\nwas hot with fire. The hoard that way\r\nhe never could hope unharmed to near,\r\nor endure those deeps,[footnote] The hollow passage.[\/footnote]\u00a0for the dragon\u2019s flame.\r\nThen let from his breast, for he burst with rage,\r\nthe Weder-Geat prince a word outgo;\r\nstormed the stark-heart; stern went ringing\r\nand clear his cry \u2019neath the cliff-rocks gray.\r\nThe hoard-guard heard a human voice;\r\nhis rage was enkindled. No respite now\r\nfor pact of peace! The poison-breath\r\nof that foul worm first came forth from the cave,\r\nhot reek-of-fight: the rocks resounded.\r\nStout by the stone-way his shield he raised,\r\nlord of the Geats, against the loathed-one;\r\nwhile with courage keen that coiled foe\r\ncame seeking strife. The sturdy king\r\nhad drawn his sword, not dull of edge,\r\nheirloom old; and each of the two\r\nfelt fear of his foe, though fierce their mood.\r\nStoutly stood with his shield high-raised\r\nthe warrior king, as the worm now coiled\r\ntogether amain: the mailed-one waited.\r\nNow, spire by spire, fast sped and glided\r\nthat blazing serpent. The shield protected,\r\nsoul and body a shorter while\r\nfor the hero-king than his heart desired,\r\ncould his will have wielded the welcome respite\r\nbut once in his life! But Wyrd denied it,\r\nand victory\u2019s honors. -- His arm he lifted\r\nlord of the Geats, the grim foe smote\r\nwith atheling\u2019s heirloom. Its edge was turned\r\nbrown blade, on the bone, and bit more feebly\r\nthan its noble master had need of then\r\nin his baleful stress. -- Then the barrow\u2019s keeper\r\nwaxed full wild for that weighty blow,\r\ncast deadly flames; wide drove and far\r\nthose vicious fires. No victor\u2019s glory\r\nthe Geats\u2019 lord boasted; his brand had failed,\r\nnaked in battle, as never it should,\r\nexcellent iron! -- \u2019Twas no easy path\r\nthat Ecgtheow\u2019s honored heir must tread\r\nover the plain to the place of the foe;\r\nfor against his will he must win a home\r\nelsewhere far, as must all men, leaving\r\nthis lapsing life! -- Not long it was\r\nere those champions grimly closed again.\r\nThe hoard-guard was heartened; high heaved his breast\r\nonce more; and by peril was pressed again,\r\nenfolded in flames, the folk-commander!\r\nNor yet about him his band of comrades,\r\nsons of athelings, armed stood\r\nwith warlike front: to the woods they bent them,\r\ntheir lives to save. But the soul of one\r\nwith care was cumbered. Kinship true\r\ncan never be marred in a noble mind!\r\n
\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\nXXXIV\r\n\r\nWIGLAF his name was, Weohstan\u2019s son,\r\nlinden-thane loved, the lord of Scylfings,\r\nAelfhere\u2019s kinsman. His king he now saw\r\nwith heat under helmet hard oppressed.\r\nHe minded the prizes his prince had given him,\r\nwealthy seat of the Waegmunding line,\r\nand folk-rights that his father owned\r\nNot long he lingered. The linden yellow,\r\nhis shield, he seized; the old sword he drew: --\r\nas heirloom of Eanmund earth-dwellers knew it,\r\nwho was slain by the sword-edge, son of Ohtere,\r\nfriendless exile, erst in fray\r\nkilled by Weohstan, who won for his kin\r\nbrown-bright helmet, breastplate ringed,\r\nold sword of Eotens, Onela\u2019s gift,\r\nweeds of war of the warrior-thane,\r\nbattle-gear brave: though a brother\u2019s child\r\nhad been felled, the feud was unfelt by Onela.[footnote]That is, although Eanmund was brother\u2019s son to Onela, the slaying of the former by Weohstan is not felt as cause of feud, and is rewarded by gift of the slain man\u2019s weapons.[\/footnote]\r\nFor winters this war-gear Weohstan kept,\r\nbreastplate and board, till his bairn had grown\r\nearlship to earn as the old sire did:\r\nthen he gave him, mid Geats, the gear of battle,\r\nportion huge, when he passed from life,\r\nfared aged forth. For the first time now\r\nwith his leader-lord the liegeman young\r\nwas bidden to share the shock of battle.\r\nNeither softened his soul, nor the sire\u2019s bequest\r\nweakened in war.[footnote]Both Wiglaf and the sword did their duty. -- The following is one of the classic passages for illustrating the comitatus as the most conspicuous Germanic institution, and its underlying sense of duty, based partly on the idea of loyalty and partly on the practical basis of benefits received and repaid.[\/footnote]\u00a0So the worm found out\r\nwhen once in fight the foes had met!\r\nWiglaf spake, -- and his words were sage;\r\nsad in spirit, he said to his comrades: --\r\n\u201cI remember the time, when mead we took,\r\nwhat promise we made to this prince of ours\r\nin the banquet-hall, to our breaker-of-rings,\r\nfor gear of combat to give him requital,\r\nfor hard-sword and helmet, if hap should bring\r\nstress of this sort! Himself who chose us\r\nfrom all his army to aid him now,\r\nurged us to glory, and gave these treasures,\r\nbecause he counted us keen with the spear\r\nand hardy \u2019neath helm, though this hero-work\r\nour leader hoped unhelped and alone\r\nto finish for us, -- folk-defender\r\nwho hath got him glory greater than all men\r\nfor daring deeds! Now the day is come\r\nthat our noble master has need of the might\r\nof warriors stout. Let us stride along\r\nthe hero to help while the heat is about him\r\nglowing and grim! For God is my witness\r\nI am far more fain the fire should seize\r\nalong with my lord these limbs of mine![footnote]Sc. \u201cthan to bide safely here,\u201d -- a common figure of incomplete comparison.[\/footnote]\r\nUnsuiting it seems our shields to bear\r\nhomeward hence, save here we essay\r\nto fell the foe and defend the life\r\nof the Weders\u2019 lord. I wot \u2019twere shame\r\non the law of our land if alone the king\r\nout of Geatish warriors woe endured\r\nand sank in the struggle! My sword and helmet,\r\nbreastplate and board, for us both shall serve!\u201d\r\nThrough slaughter-reek strode he to succor his chieftain,\r\nhis battle-helm bore, and brief words spake: --\r\n\u201cBeowulf dearest, do all bravely,\r\nas in youthful days of yore thou vowedst\r\nthat while life should last thou wouldst let no wise\r\nthy glory droop! Now, great in deeds,\r\natheling steadfast, with all thy strength\r\nshield thy life! I will stand to help thee.\u201d\r\nAt the words the worm came once again,\r\nmurderous monster mad with rage,\r\nwith fire-billows flaming, its foes to seek,\r\nthe hated men. In heat-waves burned\r\nthat board[footnote]Wiglaf\u2019s wooden shield.[\/footnote]\u00a0to the boss, and the breastplate failed\r\nto shelter at all the spear-thane young.\r\nYet quickly under his kinsman\u2019s shield\r\nwent eager the earl, since his own was now\r\nall burned by the blaze. The bold king again\r\nhad mind of his glory: with might his glaive\r\nwas driven into the dragon\u2019s head, --\r\nblow nerved by hate. But Naegling[footnote]Gering would translate \u201ckinsman of the nail,\u201d as both are made of iron.[\/footnote]\u00a0was shivered,\r\nbroken in battle was Beowulf\u2019s sword,\r\nold and gray. \u2019Twas granted him not\r\nthat ever the edge of iron at all\r\ncould help him at strife: too strong was his hand,\r\nso the tale is told, and he tried too far\r\nwith strength of stroke all swords he wielded,\r\nthough sturdy their steel: they steaded him nought.\r\nThen for the third time thought on its feud\r\nthat folk-destroyer, fire-dread dragon,\r\nand rushed on the hero, where room allowed,\r\nbattle-grim, burning; its bitter teeth\r\nclosed on his neck, and covered him\r\nwith waves of blood from his breast that welled.\r\n
\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\nXXXV\r\n\r\n\u2019TWAS now, men say, in his sovran\u2019s need\r\nthat the earl made known his noble strain,\r\ncraft and keenness and courage enduring.\r\nHeedless of harm, though his hand was burned,\r\nhardy-hearted, he helped his kinsman.\r\nA little lower the loathsome beast\r\nhe smote with sword; his steel drove in\r\nbright and burnished; that blaze began\r\nto lose and lessen. At last the king\r\nwielded his wits again, war-knife drew,\r\na biting blade by his breastplate hanging,\r\nand the Weders\u2019-helm smote that worm asunder,\r\nfelled the foe, flung forth its life.\r\nSo had they killed it, kinsmen both,\r\nathelings twain: thus an earl should be\r\nin danger\u2019s day! -- Of deeds of valor\r\nthis conqueror\u2019s-hour of the king was last,\r\nof his work in the world. The wound began,\r\nwhich that dragon-of-earth had erst inflicted,\r\nto swell and smart; and soon he found\r\nin his breast was boiling, baleful and deep,\r\npain of poison. The prince walked on,\r\nwise in his thought, to the wall of rock;\r\nthen sat, and stared at the structure of giants,\r\nwhere arch of stone and steadfast column\r\nupheld forever that hall in earth.\r\nYet here must the hand of the henchman peerless\r\nlave with water his winsome lord,\r\nthe king and conqueror covered with blood,\r\nwith struggle spent, and unspan his helmet.\r\nBeowulf spake in spite of his hurt,\r\nhis mortal wound; full well he knew\r\nhis portion now was past and gone\r\nof earthly bliss, and all had fled\r\nof his file of days, and death was near:\r\n\u201cI would fain bestow on son of mine\r\nthis gear of war, were given me now\r\nthat any heir should after me come\r\nof my proper blood. This people I ruled\r\nfifty winters. No folk-king was there,\r\nnone at all, of the neighboring clans\r\nwho war would wage me with \u2019warriors\u2019-friends\u2019[footnote]That is, swords.[\/footnote]\r\nand threat me with horrors. At home I bided\r\nwhat fate might come, and I cared for mine own;\r\nfeuds I sought not, nor falsely swore\r\never on oath. For all these things,\r\nthough fatally wounded, fain am I!\r\nFrom the Ruler-of-Man no wrath shall seize me,\r\nwhen life from my frame must flee away,\r\nfor killing of kinsmen! Now quickly go\r\nand gaze on that hoard \u2019neath the hoary rock,\r\nWiglaf loved, now the worm lies low,\r\nsleeps, heart-sore, of his spoil bereaved.\r\nAnd fare in haste. I would fain behold\r\nthe gorgeous heirlooms, golden store,\r\nhave joy in the jewels and gems, lay down\r\nsoftlier for sight of this splendid hoard\r\nmy life and the lordship I long have held.\u201d","rendered":"

XXXI<\/p>\n

THEN the baleful fiend its fire belched out,
\nand bright homes burned. The blaze stood high
\nall landsfolk frighting. No living thing
\nwould that loathly one leave as aloft it flew.
\nWide was the dragon\u2019s warring seen,
\nits fiendish fury far and near,
\nas the grim destroyer those Geatish people
\nhated and hounded. To hidden lair,
\nto its hoard it hastened at hint of dawn.
\nFolk of the land it had lapped in flame,
\nwith bale and brand. In its barrow it trusted,
\nits battling and bulwarks: that boast was vain!<\/p>\n

To Beowulf then the bale was told
\nquickly and truly: the king\u2019s own home,
\nof buildings the best, in brand-waves melted,
\nthat gift-throne of Geats. To the good old man
\nsad in heart, \u2019twas heaviest sorrow.
\nThe sage assumed that his sovran God
\nhe had angered, breaking ancient law,
\nand embittered the Lord. His breast within
\nwith black thoughts welled, as his wont was never.
\nThe folk\u2019s own fastness that fiery dragon
\nwith flame had destroyed, and the stronghold all
\nwashed by waves; but the warlike king,
\nprince of the Weders, plotted vengeance.
\nWarriors\u2019-bulwark, he bade them work
\nall of iron — the earl\u2019s commander —
\na war-shield wondrous: well he knew
\nthat forest-wood against fire were worthless,
\nlinden could aid not. — Atheling brave,
\nhe was fated to finish this fleeting life,[1]<\/sup><\/a>
\nhis days on earth, and the dragon with him,
\nthough long it had watched o\u2019er the wealth of the hoard! —
\nShame he reckoned it, sharer-of-rings,
\nto follow the flyer-afar with a host,
\na broad-flung band; nor the battle feared he,
\nnor deemed he dreadful the dragon\u2019s warring,
\nits vigor and valor: ventures desperate
\nhe had passed a-plenty, and perils of war,
\ncontest-crash, since, conqueror proud,
\nHrothgar\u2019s hall he had wholly purged,
\nand in grapple had killed the kin of Grendel,
\nloathsome breed! Not least was that
\nof hand-to-hand fights where Hygelac fell,
\nwhen the ruler of Geats in rush of battle,
\nlord of his folk, in the Frisian land,
\nson of Hrethel, by sword-draughts died,
\nby brands down-beaten. Thence Beowulf fled
\nthrough strength of himself and his swimming power,
\nthough alone, and his arms were laden with thirty
\ncoats of mail, when he came to the sea!
\nNor yet might Hetwaras[2]<\/sup><\/a>\u00a0haughtily boast
\ntheir craft of contest, who carried against him
\nshields to the fight: but few escaped
\nfrom strife with the hero to seek their homes!
\nThen swam over ocean Ecgtheow\u2019s son
\nlonely and sorrowful, seeking his land,
\nwhere Hygd made him offer of hoard and realm,
\nrings and royal-seat, reckoning naught
\nthe strength of her son to save their kingdom
\nfrom hostile hordes, after Hygelac\u2019s death.
\nNo sooner for this could the stricken ones
\nin any wise move that atheling\u2019s mind
\nover young Heardred\u2019s head as lord
\nand ruler of all the realm to be:
\nyet the hero upheld him with helpful words,
\naided in honor, till, older grown,
\nhe wielded the Weder-Geats. — Wandering exiles
\nsought him o\u2019er seas, the sons of Ohtere,
\nwho had spurned the sway of the Scylfings\u2019-helmet,
\nthe bravest and best that broke the rings,
\nin Swedish land, of the sea-kings\u2019 line,
\nhaughty hero.[3]<\/sup><\/a>\u00a0Hence Heardred\u2019s end.
\nFor shelter he gave them, sword-death came,
\nthe blade\u2019s fell blow, to bairn of Hygelac;
\nbut the son of Ongentheow sought again
\nhouse and home when Heardred fell,
\nleaving Beowulf lord of Geats
\nand gift-seat\u2019s master. — A good king he!<\/p>\n

\n<\/div>\n

XXXII<\/p>\n

THE fall of his lord he was fain to requite
\nin after days; and to Eadgils he proved
\nfriend to the friendless, and forces sent
\nover the sea to the son of Ohtere,
\nweapons and warriors: well repaid he
\nthose care-paths cold when the king he slew.[4]<\/sup><\/a>
\nThus safe through struggles the son of Ecgtheow
\nhad passed a plenty, through perils dire,
\nwith daring deeds, till this day was come
\nthat doomed him now with the dragon to strive.
\nWith comrades eleven the lord of Geats
\nswollen in rage went seeking the dragon.
\nHe had heard whence all the harm arose
\nand the killing of clansmen; that cup of price
\non the lap of the lord had been laid by the finder.
\nIn the throng was this one thirteenth man,
\nstarter of all the strife and ill,
\ncare-laden captive; cringing thence
\nforced and reluctant, he led them on
\ntill he came in ken of that cavern-hall,
\nthe barrow delved near billowy surges,
\nflood of ocean. Within \u2019twas full
\nof wire-gold and jewels; a jealous warden,
\nwarrior trusty, the treasures held,
\nlurked in his lair. Not light the task
\nof entrance for any of earth-born men!
\nSat on the headland the hero king,
\nspake words of hail to his hearth-companions,
\ngold-friend of Geats. All gloomy his soul,
\nwavering, death-bound. Wyrd full nigh
\nstood ready to greet the gray-haired man,
\nto seize his soul-hoard, sunder apart
\nlife and body. Not long would be
\nthe warrior\u2019s spirit enwound with flesh.
\nBeowulf spake, the bairn of Ecgtheow: —
\n\u201cThrough store of struggles I strove in youth,
\nmighty feuds; I mind them all.
\nI was seven years old when the sovran of rings,
\nfriend-of-his-folk, from my father took me,
\nhad me, and held me, Hrethel the king,
\nwith food and fee, faithful in kinship.
\nNe\u2019er, while I lived there, he loathlier found me,
\nbairn in the burg, than his birthright sons,
\nHerebeald and Haethcyn and Hygelac mine.
\nFor the eldest of these, by unmeet chance,
\nby kinsman\u2019s deed, was the death-bed strewn,
\nwhen Haethcyn killed him with horny bow,
\nhis own dear liege laid low with an arrow,
\nmissed the mark and his mate shot down,
\none brother the other, with bloody shaft.
\nA feeless fight,[5]<\/sup><\/a>\u00a0and a fearful sin,
\nhorror to Hrethel; yet, hard as it was,
\nunavenged must the atheling die!
\nToo awful it is for an aged man
\nto bide and bear, that his bairn so young
\nrides on the gallows. A rime he makes,
\nsorrow-song for his son there hanging
\nas rapture of ravens; no rescue now
\ncan come from the old, disabled man!
\nStill is he minded, as morning breaks,
\nof the heir gone elsewhere;[6]<\/sup><\/a>\u00a0another he hopes not
\nhe will bide to see his burg within
\nas ward for his wealth, now the one has found
\ndoom of death that the deed incurred.
\nForlorn he looks on the lodge of his son,
\nwine-hall waste and wind-swept chambers
\nreft of revel. The rider sleepeth,
\nthe hero, far-hidden;[7]<\/sup><\/a>\u00a0no harp resounds,
\nin the courts no wassail, as once was heard.<\/p>\n

\n<\/div>\n

XXXIII<\/p>\n

\u201cTHEN he goes to his chamber, a grief-song chants
\nalone for his lost. Too large all seems,
\nhomestead and house. So the helmet-of-Weders
\nhid in his heart for Herebeald
\nwaves of woe. No way could he take
\nto avenge on the slayer slaughter so foul;
\nnor e\u2019en could he harass that hero at all
\nwith loathing deed, though he loved him not.
\nAnd so for the sorrow his soul endured,
\nmen\u2019s gladness he gave up and God\u2019s light chose.
\nLands and cities he left his sons
\n(as the wealthy do) when he went from earth.
\nThere was strife and struggle \u2019twixt Swede and Geat
\no\u2019er the width of waters; war arose,
\nhard battle-horror, when Hrethel died,
\nand Ongentheow\u2019s offspring grew
\nstrife-keen, bold, nor brooked o\u2019er the seas
\npact of peace, but pushed their hosts
\nto harass in hatred by Hreosnabeorh.
\nMen of my folk for that feud had vengeance,
\nfor woful war (\u2018tis widely known),
\nthough one of them bought it with blood of his heart,
\na bargain hard: for Haethcyn proved
\nfatal that fray, for the first-of-Geats.
\nAt morn, I heard, was the murderer killed
\nby kinsman for kinsman,[8]<\/sup><\/a>\u00a0with clash of sword,
\nwhen Ongentheow met Eofor there.
\nWide split the war-helm: wan he fell,
\nhoary Scylfing; the hand that smote him
\nof feud was mindful, nor flinched from the death-blow.
\n— \u201cFor all that he[9]<\/sup><\/a>\u00a0gave me, my gleaming sword
\nrepaid him at war, — such power I wielded, —
\nfor lordly treasure: with land he entrusted me,
\nhomestead and house. He had no need
\nfrom Swedish realm, or from Spear-Dane folk,
\nor from men of the Gifths, to get him help, —
\nsome warrior worse for wage to buy!
\nEver I fought in the front of all,
\nsole to the fore; and so shall I fight
\nwhile I bide in life and this blade shall last
\nthat early and late hath loyal proved
\nsince for my doughtiness Daeghrefn fell,
\nslain by my hand, the Hugas\u2019 champion.
\nNor fared he thence to the Frisian king
\nwith the booty back, and breast-adornments;
\nbut, slain in struggle, that standard-bearer
\nfell, atheling brave. Not with blade was he slain,
\nbut his bones were broken by brawny gripe,
\nhis heart-waves stilled. — The sword-edge now,
\nhard blade and my hand, for the hoard shall strive.\u201d
\nBeowulf spake, and a battle-vow made
\nhis last of all: \u201cI have lived through many
\nwars in my youth; now once again,
\nold folk-defender, feud will I seek,
\ndo doughty deeds, if the dark destroyer
\nforth from his cavern come to fight me!\u201d
\nThen hailed he the helmeted heroes all,
\nfor the last time greeting his liegemen dear,
\ncomrades of war: \u201cI should carry no weapon,
\nno sword to the serpent, if sure I knew
\nhow, with such enemy, else my vows
\nI could gain as I did in Grendel\u2019s day.
\nBut fire in this fight I must fear me now,
\nand poisonous breath; so I bring with me
\nbreastplate and board.[10]<\/sup><\/a>\u00a0From the barrow\u2019s keeper
\nno footbreadth flee I. One fight shall end
\nour war by the wall, as Wyrd allots,
\nall mankind\u2019s master. My mood is bold
\nbut forbears to boast o\u2019er this battling-flyer.
\n— Now abide by the barrow, ye breastplate-mailed,
\nye heroes in harness, which of us twain
\nbetter from battle-rush bear his wounds.
\nWait ye the finish. The fight is not yours,
\nnor meet for any but me alone
\nto measure might with this monster here
\nand play the hero. Hardily I
\nshall win that wealth, or war shall seize,
\ncruel killing, your king and lord!\u201d
\nUp stood then with shield the sturdy champion,
\nstayed by the strength of his single manhood,
\nand hardy \u2019neath helmet his harness bore
\nunder cleft of the cliffs: no coward\u2019s path!
\nSoon spied by the wall that warrior chief,
\nsurvivor of many a victory-field
\nwhere foemen fought with furious clashings,
\nan arch of stone; and within, a stream
\nthat broke from the barrow. The brooklet\u2019s wave
\nwas hot with fire. The hoard that way
\nhe never could hope unharmed to near,
\nor endure those deeps,[11]<\/sup><\/a>\u00a0for the dragon\u2019s flame.
\nThen let from his breast, for he burst with rage,
\nthe Weder-Geat prince a word outgo;
\nstormed the stark-heart; stern went ringing
\nand clear his cry \u2019neath the cliff-rocks gray.
\nThe hoard-guard heard a human voice;
\nhis rage was enkindled. No respite now
\nfor pact of peace! The poison-breath
\nof that foul worm first came forth from the cave,
\nhot reek-of-fight: the rocks resounded.
\nStout by the stone-way his shield he raised,
\nlord of the Geats, against the loathed-one;
\nwhile with courage keen that coiled foe
\ncame seeking strife. The sturdy king
\nhad drawn his sword, not dull of edge,
\nheirloom old; and each of the two
\nfelt fear of his foe, though fierce their mood.
\nStoutly stood with his shield high-raised
\nthe warrior king, as the worm now coiled
\ntogether amain: the mailed-one waited.
\nNow, spire by spire, fast sped and glided
\nthat blazing serpent. The shield protected,
\nsoul and body a shorter while
\nfor the hero-king than his heart desired,
\ncould his will have wielded the welcome respite
\nbut once in his life! But Wyrd denied it,
\nand victory\u2019s honors. — His arm he lifted
\nlord of the Geats, the grim foe smote
\nwith atheling\u2019s heirloom. Its edge was turned
\nbrown blade, on the bone, and bit more feebly
\nthan its noble master had need of then
\nin his baleful stress. — Then the barrow\u2019s keeper
\nwaxed full wild for that weighty blow,
\ncast deadly flames; wide drove and far
\nthose vicious fires. No victor\u2019s glory
\nthe Geats\u2019 lord boasted; his brand had failed,
\nnaked in battle, as never it should,
\nexcellent iron! — \u2019Twas no easy path
\nthat Ecgtheow\u2019s honored heir must tread
\nover the plain to the place of the foe;
\nfor against his will he must win a home
\nelsewhere far, as must all men, leaving
\nthis lapsing life! — Not long it was
\nere those champions grimly closed again.
\nThe hoard-guard was heartened; high heaved his breast
\nonce more; and by peril was pressed again,
\nenfolded in flames, the folk-commander!
\nNor yet about him his band of comrades,
\nsons of athelings, armed stood
\nwith warlike front: to the woods they bent them,
\ntheir lives to save. But the soul of one
\nwith care was cumbered. Kinship true
\ncan never be marred in a noble mind!<\/p>\n

\n<\/div>\n

XXXIV<\/p>\n

WIGLAF his name was, Weohstan\u2019s son,
\nlinden-thane loved, the lord of Scylfings,
\nAelfhere\u2019s kinsman. His king he now saw
\nwith heat under helmet hard oppressed.
\nHe minded the prizes his prince had given him,
\nwealthy seat of the Waegmunding line,
\nand folk-rights that his father owned
\nNot long he lingered. The linden yellow,
\nhis shield, he seized; the old sword he drew: —
\nas heirloom of Eanmund earth-dwellers knew it,
\nwho was slain by the sword-edge, son of Ohtere,
\nfriendless exile, erst in fray
\nkilled by Weohstan, who won for his kin
\nbrown-bright helmet, breastplate ringed,
\nold sword of Eotens, Onela\u2019s gift,
\nweeds of war of the warrior-thane,
\nbattle-gear brave: though a brother\u2019s child
\nhad been felled, the feud was unfelt by Onela.[12]<\/sup><\/a>
\nFor winters this war-gear Weohstan kept,
\nbreastplate and board, till his bairn had grown
\nearlship to earn as the old sire did:
\nthen he gave him, mid Geats, the gear of battle,
\nportion huge, when he passed from life,
\nfared aged forth. For the first time now
\nwith his leader-lord the liegeman young
\nwas bidden to share the shock of battle.
\nNeither softened his soul, nor the sire\u2019s bequest
\nweakened in war.[13]<\/sup><\/a>\u00a0So the worm found out
\nwhen once in fight the foes had met!
\nWiglaf spake, — and his words were sage;
\nsad in spirit, he said to his comrades: —
\n\u201cI remember the time, when mead we took,
\nwhat promise we made to this prince of ours
\nin the banquet-hall, to our breaker-of-rings,
\nfor gear of combat to give him requital,
\nfor hard-sword and helmet, if hap should bring
\nstress of this sort! Himself who chose us
\nfrom all his army to aid him now,
\nurged us to glory, and gave these treasures,
\nbecause he counted us keen with the spear
\nand hardy \u2019neath helm, though this hero-work
\nour leader hoped unhelped and alone
\nto finish for us, — folk-defender
\nwho hath got him glory greater than all men
\nfor daring deeds! Now the day is come
\nthat our noble master has need of the might
\nof warriors stout. Let us stride along
\nthe hero to help while the heat is about him
\nglowing and grim! For God is my witness
\nI am far more fain the fire should seize
\nalong with my lord these limbs of mine![14]<\/sup><\/a>
\nUnsuiting it seems our shields to bear
\nhomeward hence, save here we essay
\nto fell the foe and defend the life
\nof the Weders\u2019 lord. I wot \u2019twere shame
\non the law of our land if alone the king
\nout of Geatish warriors woe endured
\nand sank in the struggle! My sword and helmet,
\nbreastplate and board, for us both shall serve!\u201d
\nThrough slaughter-reek strode he to succor his chieftain,
\nhis battle-helm bore, and brief words spake: —
\n\u201cBeowulf dearest, do all bravely,
\nas in youthful days of yore thou vowedst
\nthat while life should last thou wouldst let no wise
\nthy glory droop! Now, great in deeds,
\natheling steadfast, with all thy strength
\nshield thy life! I will stand to help thee.\u201d
\nAt the words the worm came once again,
\nmurderous monster mad with rage,
\nwith fire-billows flaming, its foes to seek,
\nthe hated men. In heat-waves burned
\nthat board[15]<\/sup><\/a>\u00a0to the boss, and the breastplate failed
\nto shelter at all the spear-thane young.
\nYet quickly under his kinsman\u2019s shield
\nwent eager the earl, since his own was now
\nall burned by the blaze. The bold king again
\nhad mind of his glory: with might his glaive
\nwas driven into the dragon\u2019s head, —
\nblow nerved by hate. But Naegling[16]<\/sup><\/a>\u00a0was shivered,
\nbroken in battle was Beowulf\u2019s sword,
\nold and gray. \u2019Twas granted him not
\nthat ever the edge of iron at all
\ncould help him at strife: too strong was his hand,
\nso the tale is told, and he tried too far
\nwith strength of stroke all swords he wielded,
\nthough sturdy their steel: they steaded him nought.
\nThen for the third time thought on its feud
\nthat folk-destroyer, fire-dread dragon,
\nand rushed on the hero, where room allowed,
\nbattle-grim, burning; its bitter teeth
\nclosed on his neck, and covered him
\nwith waves of blood from his breast that welled.<\/p>\n

\n<\/div>\n

XXXV<\/p>\n

\u2019TWAS now, men say, in his sovran\u2019s need
\nthat the earl made known his noble strain,
\ncraft and keenness and courage enduring.
\nHeedless of harm, though his hand was burned,
\nhardy-hearted, he helped his kinsman.
\nA little lower the loathsome beast
\nhe smote with sword; his steel drove in
\nbright and burnished; that blaze began
\nto lose and lessen. At last the king
\nwielded his wits again, war-knife drew,
\na biting blade by his breastplate hanging,
\nand the Weders\u2019-helm smote that worm asunder,
\nfelled the foe, flung forth its life.
\nSo had they killed it, kinsmen both,
\nathelings twain: thus an earl should be
\nin danger\u2019s day! — Of deeds of valor
\nthis conqueror\u2019s-hour of the king was last,
\nof his work in the world. The wound began,
\nwhich that dragon-of-earth had erst inflicted,
\nto swell and smart; and soon he found
\nin his breast was boiling, baleful and deep,
\npain of poison. The prince walked on,
\nwise in his thought, to the wall of rock;
\nthen sat, and stared at the structure of giants,
\nwhere arch of stone and steadfast column
\nupheld forever that hall in earth.
\nYet here must the hand of the henchman peerless
\nlave with water his winsome lord,
\nthe king and conqueror covered with blood,
\nwith struggle spent, and unspan his helmet.
\nBeowulf spake in spite of his hurt,
\nhis mortal wound; full well he knew
\nhis portion now was past and gone
\nof earthly bliss, and all had fled
\nof his file of days, and death was near:
\n\u201cI would fain bestow on son of mine
\nthis gear of war, were given me now
\nthat any heir should after me come
\nof my proper blood. This people I ruled
\nfifty winters. No folk-king was there,
\nnone at all, of the neighboring clans
\nwho war would wage me with \u2019warriors\u2019-friends\u2019[17]<\/sup><\/a>
\nand threat me with horrors. At home I bided
\nwhat fate might come, and I cared for mine own;
\nfeuds I sought not, nor falsely swore
\never on oath. For all these things,
\nthough fatally wounded, fain am I!
\nFrom the Ruler-of-Man no wrath shall seize me,
\nwhen life from my frame must flee away,
\nfor killing of kinsmen! Now quickly go
\nand gaze on that hoard \u2019neath the hoary rock,
\nWiglaf loved, now the worm lies low,
\nsleeps, heart-sore, of his spoil bereaved.
\nAnd fare in haste. I would fain behold
\nthe gorgeous heirlooms, golden store,
\nhave joy in the jewels and gems, lay down
\nsoftlier for sight of this splendid hoard
\nmy life and the lordship I long have held.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\t\t\t

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