{"id":419,"date":"2015-07-16T15:57:25","date_gmt":"2015-07-16T15:57:25","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/courses.candelalearning.com\/britlit1xmaster\/?post_type=chapter&p=419"},"modified":"2015-07-16T15:57:25","modified_gmt":"2015-07-16T15:57:25","slug":"beowulf-sections-36-41","status":"web-only","type":"chapter","link":"https:\/\/courses.lumenlearning.com\/suny-britlit1\/chapter\/beowulf-sections-36-41\/","title":{"raw":"Beowulf Sections 36-41","rendered":"Beowulf Sections 36-41"},"content":{"raw":"XXXVI\r\n\r\nI HAVE heard that swiftly the son of Weohstan\r\nat wish and word of his wounded king, --\r\nwar-sick warrior, -- woven mail-coat,\r\nbattle-sark, bore \u2019neath the barrow\u2019s roof.\r\nThen the clansman keen, of conquest proud,\r\npassing the seat,[footnote]Where Beowulf lay.[\/footnote]\u00a0saw store of jewels\r\nand glistening gold the ground along;\r\nby the wall were marvels, and many a vessel\r\nin the den of the dragon, the dawn-flier old:\r\nunburnished bowls of bygone men\r\nreft of richness; rusty helms\r\nof the olden age; and arm-rings many\r\nwondrously woven. -- Such wealth of gold,\r\nbooty from barrow, can burden with pride\r\neach human wight: let him hide it who will! --\r\nHis glance too fell on a gold-wove banner\r\nhigh o\u2019er the hoard, of handiwork noblest,\r\nbrilliantly broidered; so bright its gleam,\r\nall the earth-floor he easily saw\r\nand viewed all these vessels. No vestige now\r\nwas seen of the serpent: the sword had ta\u2019en him.\r\nThen, I heard, the hill of its hoard was reft,\r\nold work of giants, by one alone;\r\nhe burdened his bosom with beakers and plate\r\nat his own good will, and the ensign took,\r\nbrightest of beacons. -- The blade of his lord\r\n-- its edge was iron -- had injured deep\r\none that guarded the golden hoard\r\nmany a year and its murder-fire\r\nspread hot round the barrow in horror-billows\r\nat midnight hour, till it met its doom.\r\nHasted the herald, the hoard so spurred him\r\nhis track to retrace; he was troubled by doubt,\r\nhigh-souled hero, if haply he\u2019d find\r\nalive, where he left him, the lord of Weders,\r\nweakening fast by the wall of the cave.\r\nSo he carried the load. His lord and king\r\nhe found all bleeding, famous chief\r\nat the lapse of life. The liegeman again\r\nplashed him with water, till point of word\r\nbroke through the breast-hoard. Beowulf spake,\r\nsage and sad, as he stared at the gold. --\r\n\u201cFor the gold and treasure, to God my thanks,\r\nto the Wielder-of-Wonders, with words I say,\r\nfor what I behold, to Heaven\u2019s Lord,\r\nfor the grace that I give such gifts to my folk\r\nor ever the day of my death be run!\r\nNow I\u2019ve bartered here for booty of treasure\r\nthe last of my life, so look ye well\r\nto the needs of my land! No longer I tarry.\r\nA barrow bid ye the battle-fanned raise\r\nfor my ashes. \u2019Twill shine by the shore of the flood,\r\nto folk of mine memorial fair\r\non Hrones Headland high uplifted,\r\nthat ocean-wanderers oft may hail\r\nBeowulf\u2019s Barrow, as back from far\r\nthey drive their keels o\u2019er the darkling wave.\u201d\r\nFrom his neck he unclasped the collar of gold,\r\nvalorous king, to his vassal gave it\r\nwith bright-gold helmet, breastplate, and ring,\r\nto the youthful thane: bade him use them in joy.\r\n\u201cThou art end and remnant of all our race\r\nthe Waegmunding name. For Wyrd hath swept them,\r\nall my line, to the land of doom,\r\nearls in their glory: I after them go.\u201d\r\nThis word was the last which the wise old man\r\nharbored in heart ere hot death-waves\r\nof balefire he chose. From his bosom fled\r\nhis soul to seek the saints\u2019 reward.\r\n
\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\nXXXVII\r\n\r\nIT was heavy hap for that hero young\r\non his lord beloved to look and find him\r\nlying on earth with life at end,\r\nsorrowful sight. But the slayer too,\r\nawful earth-dragon, empty of breath,\r\nlay felled in fight, nor, fain of its treasure,\r\ncould the writhing monster rule it more.\r\nFor edges of iron had ended its days,\r\nhard and battle-sharp, hammers\u2019 leaving;[footnote]What had been left or made by the hammer; well-forged.[\/footnote]\r\nand that flier-afar had fallen to ground\r\nhushed by its hurt, its hoard all near,\r\nno longer lusty aloft to whirl\r\nat midnight, making its merriment seen,\r\nproud of its prizes: prone it sank\r\nby the handiwork of the hero-king.\r\nForsooth among folk but few achieve,\r\n-- though sturdy and strong, as stories tell me,\r\nand never so daring in deed of valor, --\r\nthe perilous breath of a poison-foe\r\nto brave, and to rush on the ring-board hall,\r\nwhenever his watch the warden keeps\r\nbold in the barrow. Beowulf paid\r\nthe price of death for that precious hoard;\r\nand each of the foes had found the end\r\nof this fleeting life.\r\nBefell erelong\r\nthat the laggards in war the wood had left,\r\ntrothbreakers, cowards, ten together,\r\nfearing before to flourish a spear\r\nin the sore distress of their sovran lord.\r\nNow in their shame their shields they carried,\r\narmor of fight, where the old man lay;\r\nand they gazed on Wiglaf. Wearied he sat\r\nat his sovran\u2019s shoulder, shieldsman good,\r\nto wake him with water.[footnote]Trying to revive him.[\/footnote]\u00a0Nowise it availed.\r\nThough well he wished it, in world no more\r\ncould he barrier life for that leader-of-battles\r\nnor baffle the will of all-wielding God.\r\nDoom of the Lord was law o\u2019er the deeds\r\nof every man, as it is to-day.\r\nGrim was the answer, easy to get,\r\nfrom the youth for those that had yielded to fear!\r\nWiglaf spake, the son of Weohstan, --\r\nmournful he looked on those men unloved: --\r\n\u201cWho sooth will speak, can say indeed\r\nthat the ruler who gave you golden rings\r\nand the harness of war in which ye stand\r\n-- for he at ale-bench often-times\r\nbestowed on hall-folk helm and breastplate,\r\nlord to liegemen, the likeliest gear\r\nwhich near of far he could find to give, --\r\nthrew away and wasted these weeds of battle,\r\non men who failed when the foemen came!\r\nNot at all could the king of his comrades-in-arms\r\nventure to vaunt, though the Victory-Wielder,\r\nGod, gave him grace that he got revenge\r\nsole with his sword in stress and need.\r\nTo rescue his life, \u2019twas little that I\r\ncould serve him in struggle; yet shift I made\r\n(hopeless it seemed) to help my kinsman.\r\nIts strength ever waned, when with weapon I struck\r\nthat fatal foe, and the fire less strongly\r\nflowed from its head. -- Too few the heroes\r\nin throe of contest that thronged to our king!\r\nNow gift of treasure and girding of sword,\r\njoy of the house and home-delight\r\nshall fail your folk; his freehold-land\r\nevery clansman within your kin\r\nshall lose and leave, when lords high-born\r\nhear afar of that flight of yours,\r\na fameless deed. Yea, death is better\r\nfor liegemen all than a life of shame!\u201d\r\n
\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\nXXXVIII\r\n\r\nTHAT battle-toil bade he at burg to announce,\r\nat the fort on the cliff, where, full of sorrow,\r\nall the morning earls had sat,\r\ndaring shieldsmen, in doubt of twain:\r\nwould they wail as dead, or welcome home,\r\ntheir lord beloved? Little[footnote]Nothing.[\/footnote]\u00a0kept back\r\nof the tidings new, but told them all,\r\nthe herald that up the headland rode. --\r\n\u201cNow the willing-giver to Weder folk\r\nin death-bed lies; the Lord of Geats\r\non the slaughter-bed sleeps by the serpent\u2019s deed!\r\nAnd beside him is stretched that slayer-of-men\r\nwith knife-wounds sick:[footnote] Dead.[\/footnote]\u00a0no sword availed\r\non the awesome thing in any wise\r\nto work a wound. There Wiglaf sitteth,\r\nWeohstan\u2019s bairn, by Beowulf\u2019s side,\r\nthe living earl by the other dead,\r\nand heavy of heart a head-watch[footnote] Death-watch, guard of honor, \u201clyke-wake.\u201d[\/footnote]\u00a0keeps\r\no\u2019er friend and foe. -- Now our folk may look\r\nfor waging of war when once unhidden\r\nto Frisian and Frank the fall of the king\r\nis spread afar. -- The strife began\r\nwhen hot on the Hugas[footnote]A name for the Franks.[\/footnote]\u00a0Hygelac fell\r\nand fared with his fleet to the Frisian land.\r\nHim there the Hetwaras humbled in war,\r\nplied with such prowess their power o\u2019erwhelming\r\nthat the bold-in-battle bowed beneath it\r\nand fell in fight. To his friends no wise\r\ncould that earl give treasure! And ever since\r\nthe Merowings\u2019 favor has failed us wholly.\r\nNor aught expect I of peace and faith\r\nfrom Swedish folk. \u2019Twas spread afar\r\nhow Ongentheow reft at Ravenswood\r\nHaethcyn Hrethling of hope and life,\r\nwhen the folk of Geats for the first time sought\r\nin wanton pride the Warlike-Scylfings.\r\nSoon the sage old sire[footnote]Ongentheow.[\/footnote]\u00a0of Ohtere,\r\nancient and awful, gave answering blow;\r\nthe sea-king[footnote]Haethcyn.[\/footnote]\u00a0he slew, and his spouse redeemed,\r\nhis good wife rescued, though robbed of her gold,\r\nmother of Ohtere and Onela.\r\nThen he followed his foes, who fled before him\r\nsore beset and stole their way,\r\nbereft of a ruler, to Ravenswood.\r\n\r\nWith his host he besieged there what swords had left,\r\nthe weary and wounded; woes he threatened\r\nthe whole night through to that hard-pressed throng:\r\nsome with the morrow his sword should kill,\r\nsome should go to the gallows-tree\r\nfor rapture of ravens. But rescue came\r\nwith dawn of day for those desperate men\r\nwhen they heard the horn of Hygelac sound,\r\ntones of his trumpet; the trusty king\r\nhad followed their trail with faithful band.\r\n
\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\nXXXIX\r\n\r\n\u201cTHE bloody swath of Swedes and Geats\r\nand the storm of their strife, were seen afar,\r\nhow folk against folk the fight had wakened.\r\nThe ancient king with his atheling band\r\nsought his citadel, sorrowing much:\r\nOngentheow earl went up to his burg.\r\nHe had tested Hygelac\u2019s hardihood,\r\nthe proud one\u2019s prowess, would prove it no longer,\r\ndefied no more those fighting-wanderers\r\nnor hoped from the seamen to save his hoard,\r\nhis bairn and his bride: so he bent him again,\r\nold, to his earth-walls. Yet after him came\r\nwith slaughter for Swedes the standards of Hygelac\r\no\u2019er peaceful plains in pride advancing,\r\ntill Hrethelings fought in the fenced town.[footnote]The line may mean: till Hrethelings stormed on the hedged shields, -- i.e. the shield-wall or hedge of defensive war -- Hrethelings, of course, are Geats.[\/footnote]\r\nThen Ongentheow with edge of sword,\r\nthe hoary-bearded, was held at bay,\r\nand the folk-king there was forced to suffer\r\nEofor\u2019s anger. In ire, at the king\r\nWulf Wonreding with weapon struck;\r\nand the chieftain\u2019s blood, for that blow, in streams\r\nflowed \u2019neath his hair. No fear felt he,\r\nstout old Scylfing, but straightway repaid\r\nin better bargain that bitter stroke\r\nand faced his foe with fell intent.\r\nNor swift enough was the son of Wonred\r\nanswer to render the aged chief;\r\ntoo soon on his head the helm was cloven;\r\nblood-bedecked he bowed to earth,\r\nand fell adown; not doomed was he yet,\r\nand well he waxed, though the wound was sore.\r\nThen the hardy Hygelac-thane,[footnote] Eofor, brother to Wulf Wonreding.[\/footnote]\r\nwhen his brother fell, with broad brand smote,\r\ngiants\u2019 sword crashing through giants\u2019-helm\r\nacross the shield-wall: sank the king,\r\nhis folk\u2019s old herdsman, fatally hurt.\r\nThere were many to bind the brother\u2019s wounds\r\nand lift him, fast as fate allowed\r\nhis people to wield the place-of-war.\r\nBut Eofor took from Ongentheow,\r\nearl from other, the iron-breastplate,\r\nhard sword hilted, and helmet too,\r\nand the hoar-chief\u2019s harness to Hygelac carried,\r\nwho took the trappings, and truly promised\r\nrich fee \u2019mid folk, -- and fulfilled it so.\r\nFor that grim strife gave the Geatish lord,\r\nHrethel\u2019s offspring, when home he came,\r\nto Eofor and Wulf a wealth of treasure,\r\nEach of them had a hundred thousand[footnote]Sc. \u201cvalue in\u201d hides and the weight of the gold.[\/footnote]\r\nin land and linked rings; nor at less price reckoned\r\nmid-earth men such mighty deeds!\r\nAnd to Eofor he gave his only daughter\r\nin pledge of grace, the pride of his home.\r\n\r\n\u201cSuch is the feud, the foeman\u2019s rage,\r\ndeath-hate of men: so I deem it sure\r\nthat the Swedish folk will seek us home\r\nfor this fall of their friends, the fighting-Scylfings,\r\nwhen once they learn that our warrior leader\r\nlifeless lies, who land and hoard\r\never defended from all his foes,\r\nfurthered his folk\u2019s weal, finished his course\r\na hardy hero. -- Now haste is best,\r\nthat we go to gaze on our Geatish lord,\r\nand bear the bountiful breaker-of-rings\r\nto the funeral pyre. No fragments merely\r\nshall burn with the warrior. Wealth of jewels,\r\ngold untold and gained in terror,\r\ntreasure at last with his life obtained,\r\nall of that booty the brands shall take,\r\nfire shall eat it. No earl must carry\r\nmemorial jewel. No maiden fair\r\nshall wreathe her neck with noble ring:\r\nnay, sad in spirit and shorn of her gold,\r\noft shall she pass o\u2019er paths of exile\r\nnow our lord all laughter has laid aside,\r\nall mirth and revel. Many a spear\r\nmorning-cold shall be clasped amain,\r\nlifted aloft; nor shall lilt of harp\r\nthose warriors wake; but the wan-hued raven,\r\nfain o\u2019er the fallen, his feast shall praise\r\nand boast to the eagle how bravely he ate\r\nwhen he and the wolf were wasting the slain.\u201d\r\n\r\nSo he told his sorrowful tidings,\r\nand little[footnote] Not at all.[\/footnote]\u00a0he lied, the loyal man\r\nof word or of work. The warriors rose;\r\nsad, they climbed to the Cliff-of-Eagles,\r\nwent, welling with tears, the wonder to view.\r\nFound on the sand there, stretched at rest,\r\ntheir lifeless lord, who had lavished rings\r\nof old upon them. Ending-day\r\nhad dawned on the doughty-one; death had seized\r\nin woful slaughter the Weders\u2019 king.\r\nThere saw they, besides, the strangest being,\r\nloathsome, lying their leader near,\r\nprone on the field. The fiery dragon,\r\nfearful fiend, with flame was scorched.\r\nReckoned by feet, it was fifty measures\r\nin length as it lay. Aloft erewhile\r\nit had revelled by night, and anon come back,\r\nseeking its den; now in death\u2019s sure clutch\r\nit had come to the end of its earth-hall joys.\r\nBy it there stood the stoups and jars;\r\ndishes lay there, and dear-decked swords\r\neaten with rust, as, on earth\u2019s lap resting,\r\na thousand winters they waited there.\r\nFor all that heritage huge, that gold\r\nof bygone men, was bound by a spell,[footnote] Laid on it when it was put in the barrow. This spell, or in our days the \u201ccurse,\u201d either prevented discovery or brought dire ills on the finder and taker.[\/footnote]\r\nso the treasure-hall could be touched by none\r\nof human kind, -- save that Heaven\u2019s King,\r\nGod himself, might give whom he would,\r\nHelper of Heroes, the hoard to open, --\r\neven such a man as seemed to him meet.\r\n
\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\nXL\r\n\r\nA PERILOUS path, it proved, he[footnote] Probably the fugitive is meant who discovered the hoard. Ten Brink and Gering assume that the dragon is meant. \u201cHid\u201d may well mean here \u201ctook while in hiding.\u201d[\/footnote]\u00a0trod\r\nwho heinously hid, that hall within,\r\nwealth under wall! Its watcher had killed\r\none of a few,[footnote]That is \u201cone and a few others.\u201d But Beowulf seems to be indicated.[\/footnote]\u00a0and the feud was avenged\r\nin woful fashion. Wondrous seems it,\r\nwhat manner a man of might and valor\r\noft ends his life, when the earl no longer\r\nin mead-hall may live with loving friends.\r\nSo Beowulf, when that barrow\u2019s warden\r\nhe sought, and the struggle; himself knew not\r\nin what wise he should wend from the world at last.\r\nFor[footnote]Ten Brink points out the strongly heathen character of this part of the epic. Beowulf\u2019s end came, so the old tradition ran, from his unwitting interference with spell-bound treasure.[\/footnote]\u00a0princes potent, who placed the gold,\r\nwith a curse to doomsday covered it deep,\r\nso that marked with sin the man should be,\r\nhedged with horrors, in hell-bonds fast,\r\nracked with plagues, who should rob their hoard.\r\nYet no greed for gold, but the grace of heaven,\r\never the king had kept in view.[footnote]A hard saying, variously interpreted. In any case, it is the somewhat clumsy effort of the Christian poet to tone down the heathenism of his material by an edifying observation.[\/footnote]\r\nWiglaf spake, the son of Weohstan: --\r\n\u201cAt the mandate of one, oft warriors many\r\nsorrow must suffer; and so must we.\r\nThe people\u2019s-shepherd showed not aught\r\nof care for our counsel, king beloved!\r\nThat guardian of gold he should grapple not, urged we,\r\nbut let him lie where he long had been\r\nin his earth-hall waiting the end of the world,\r\nthe hest of heaven. -- This hoard is ours\r\nbut grievously gotten; too grim the fate\r\nwhich thither carried our king and lord.\r\nI was within there, and all I viewed,\r\nthe chambered treasure, when chance allowed me\r\n(and my path was made in no pleasant wise)\r\nunder the earth-wall. Eager, I seized\r\nsuch heap from the hoard as hands could bear\r\nand hurriedly carried it hither back\r\nto my liege and lord. Alive was he still,\r\nstill wielding his wits. The wise old man\r\nspake much in his sorrow, and sent you greetings\r\nand bade that ye build, when he breathed no more,\r\non the place of his balefire a barrow high,\r\nmemorial mighty. Of men was he\r\nworthiest warrior wide earth o\u2019er\r\nthe while he had joy of his jewels and burg.\r\nLet us set out in haste now, the second time\r\nto see and search this store of treasure,\r\nthese wall-hid wonders, -- the way I show you, --\r\nwhere, gathered near, ye may gaze your fill\r\nat broad-gold and rings. Let the bier, soon made,\r\nbe all in order when out we come,\r\nour king and captain to carry thither\r\n-- man beloved -- where long he shall bide\r\nsafe in the shelter of sovran God.\u201d\r\nThen the bairn of Weohstan bade command,\r\nhardy chief, to heroes many\r\nthat owned their homesteads, hither to bring\r\nfirewood from far -- o\u2019er the folk they ruled --\r\nfor the famed-one\u2019s funeral. \u201c Fire shall devour\r\nand wan flames feed on the fearless warrior\r\nwho oft stood stout in the iron-shower,\r\nwhen, sped from the string, a storm of arrows\r\nshot o\u2019er the shield-wall: the shaft held firm,\r\nfeatly feathered, followed the barb.\u201d\r\nAnd now the sage young son of Weohstan\r\nseven chose of the chieftain\u2019s thanes,\r\nthe best he found that band within,\r\nand went with these warriors, one of eight,\r\nunder hostile roof. In hand one bore\r\na lighted torch and led the way.\r\nNo lots they cast for keeping the hoard\r\nwhen once the warriors saw it in hall,\r\naltogether without a guardian,\r\nlying there lost. And little they mourned\r\nwhen they had hastily haled it out,\r\ndear-bought treasure! The dragon they cast,\r\nthe worm, o\u2019er the wall for the wave to take,\r\nand surges swallowed that shepherd of gems.\r\nThen the woven gold on a wain was laden --\r\ncountless quite! -- and the king was borne,\r\nhoary hero, to Hrones-Ness.\r\n
\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\nXLI\r\n\r\nTHEN fashioned for him the folk of Geats\r\nfirm on the earth a funeral-pile,\r\nand hung it with helmets and harness of war\r\nand breastplates bright, as the boon he asked;\r\nand they laid amid it the mighty chieftain,\r\nheroes mourning their master dear.\r\nThen on the hill that hugest of balefires\r\nthe warriors wakened. Wood-smoke rose\r\nblack over blaze, and blent was the roar\r\nof flame with weeping (the wind was still),\r\ntill the fire had broken the frame of bones,\r\nhot at the heart. In heavy mood\r\ntheir misery moaned they, their master\u2019s death.\r\nWailing her woe, the widow[footnote]Nothing is said of Beowulf\u2019s wife in the poem, but Bugge surmises that Beowulf finally accepted Hygd\u2019s offer of kingdom and hoard, and, as was usual, took her into the bargain.[\/footnote]\u00a0old,\r\nher hair upbound, for Beowulf\u2019s death\r\nsung in her sorrow, and said full oft\r\nshe dreaded the doleful days to come,\r\ndeaths enow, and doom of battle,\r\nand shame. -- The smoke by the sky was devoured.\r\nThe folk of the Weders fashioned there\r\non the headland a barrow broad and high,\r\nby ocean-farers far descried:\r\nin ten days\u2019 time their toil had raised it,\r\nthe battle-brave\u2019s beacon. Round brands of the pyre\r\na wall they built, the worthiest ever\r\nthat wit could prompt in their wisest men.\r\nThey placed in the barrow that precious booty,\r\nthe rounds and the rings they had reft erewhile,\r\nhardy heroes, from hoard in cave, --\r\ntrusting the ground with treasure of earls,\r\ngold in the earth, where ever it lies\r\nuseless to men as of yore it was.\r\nThen about that barrow the battle-keen rode,\r\natheling-born, a band of twelve,\r\nlament to make, to mourn their king,\r\nchant their dirge, and their chieftain honor.\r\nThey praised his earlship, his acts of prowess\r\nworthily witnessed: and well it is\r\nthat men their master-friend mightily laud,\r\nheartily love, when hence he goes\r\nfrom life in the body forlorn away.\r\n\r\nThus made their mourning the men of Geatland,\r\nfor their hero\u2019s passing his hearth-companions:\r\nquoth that of all the kings of earth,\r\nof men he was mildest and most beloved,","rendered":"

XXXVI<\/p>\n

I HAVE heard that swiftly the son of Weohstan
\nat wish and word of his wounded king, —
\nwar-sick warrior, — woven mail-coat,
\nbattle-sark, bore \u2019neath the barrow\u2019s roof.
\nThen the clansman keen, of conquest proud,
\npassing the seat,[1]<\/sup><\/a>\u00a0saw store of jewels
\nand glistening gold the ground along;
\nby the wall were marvels, and many a vessel
\nin the den of the dragon, the dawn-flier old:
\nunburnished bowls of bygone men
\nreft of richness; rusty helms
\nof the olden age; and arm-rings many
\nwondrously woven. — Such wealth of gold,
\nbooty from barrow, can burden with pride
\neach human wight: let him hide it who will! —
\nHis glance too fell on a gold-wove banner
\nhigh o\u2019er the hoard, of handiwork noblest,
\nbrilliantly broidered; so bright its gleam,
\nall the earth-floor he easily saw
\nand viewed all these vessels. No vestige now
\nwas seen of the serpent: the sword had ta\u2019en him.
\nThen, I heard, the hill of its hoard was reft,
\nold work of giants, by one alone;
\nhe burdened his bosom with beakers and plate
\nat his own good will, and the ensign took,
\nbrightest of beacons. — The blade of his lord
\n— its edge was iron — had injured deep
\none that guarded the golden hoard
\nmany a year and its murder-fire
\nspread hot round the barrow in horror-billows
\nat midnight hour, till it met its doom.
\nHasted the herald, the hoard so spurred him
\nhis track to retrace; he was troubled by doubt,
\nhigh-souled hero, if haply he\u2019d find
\nalive, where he left him, the lord of Weders,
\nweakening fast by the wall of the cave.
\nSo he carried the load. His lord and king
\nhe found all bleeding, famous chief
\nat the lapse of life. The liegeman again
\nplashed him with water, till point of word
\nbroke through the breast-hoard. Beowulf spake,
\nsage and sad, as he stared at the gold. —
\n\u201cFor the gold and treasure, to God my thanks,
\nto the Wielder-of-Wonders, with words I say,
\nfor what I behold, to Heaven\u2019s Lord,
\nfor the grace that I give such gifts to my folk
\nor ever the day of my death be run!
\nNow I\u2019ve bartered here for booty of treasure
\nthe last of my life, so look ye well
\nto the needs of my land! No longer I tarry.
\nA barrow bid ye the battle-fanned raise
\nfor my ashes. \u2019Twill shine by the shore of the flood,
\nto folk of mine memorial fair
\non Hrones Headland high uplifted,
\nthat ocean-wanderers oft may hail
\nBeowulf\u2019s Barrow, as back from far
\nthey drive their keels o\u2019er the darkling wave.\u201d
\nFrom his neck he unclasped the collar of gold,
\nvalorous king, to his vassal gave it
\nwith bright-gold helmet, breastplate, and ring,
\nto the youthful thane: bade him use them in joy.
\n\u201cThou art end and remnant of all our race
\nthe Waegmunding name. For Wyrd hath swept them,
\nall my line, to the land of doom,
\nearls in their glory: I after them go.\u201d
\nThis word was the last which the wise old man
\nharbored in heart ere hot death-waves
\nof balefire he chose. From his bosom fled
\nhis soul to seek the saints\u2019 reward.<\/p>\n

\n<\/div>\n

XXXVII<\/p>\n

IT was heavy hap for that hero young
\non his lord beloved to look and find him
\nlying on earth with life at end,
\nsorrowful sight. But the slayer too,
\nawful earth-dragon, empty of breath,
\nlay felled in fight, nor, fain of its treasure,
\ncould the writhing monster rule it more.
\nFor edges of iron had ended its days,
\nhard and battle-sharp, hammers\u2019 leaving;[2]<\/sup><\/a>
\nand that flier-afar had fallen to ground
\nhushed by its hurt, its hoard all near,
\nno longer lusty aloft to whirl
\nat midnight, making its merriment seen,
\nproud of its prizes: prone it sank
\nby the handiwork of the hero-king.
\nForsooth among folk but few achieve,
\n— though sturdy and strong, as stories tell me,
\nand never so daring in deed of valor, —
\nthe perilous breath of a poison-foe
\nto brave, and to rush on the ring-board hall,
\nwhenever his watch the warden keeps
\nbold in the barrow. Beowulf paid
\nthe price of death for that precious hoard;
\nand each of the foes had found the end
\nof this fleeting life.
\nBefell erelong
\nthat the laggards in war the wood had left,
\ntrothbreakers, cowards, ten together,
\nfearing before to flourish a spear
\nin the sore distress of their sovran lord.
\nNow in their shame their shields they carried,
\narmor of fight, where the old man lay;
\nand they gazed on Wiglaf. Wearied he sat
\nat his sovran\u2019s shoulder, shieldsman good,
\nto wake him with water.[3]<\/sup><\/a>\u00a0Nowise it availed.
\nThough well he wished it, in world no more
\ncould he barrier life for that leader-of-battles
\nnor baffle the will of all-wielding God.
\nDoom of the Lord was law o\u2019er the deeds
\nof every man, as it is to-day.
\nGrim was the answer, easy to get,
\nfrom the youth for those that had yielded to fear!
\nWiglaf spake, the son of Weohstan, —
\nmournful he looked on those men unloved: —
\n\u201cWho sooth will speak, can say indeed
\nthat the ruler who gave you golden rings
\nand the harness of war in which ye stand
\n— for he at ale-bench often-times
\nbestowed on hall-folk helm and breastplate,
\nlord to liegemen, the likeliest gear
\nwhich near of far he could find to give, —
\nthrew away and wasted these weeds of battle,
\non men who failed when the foemen came!
\nNot at all could the king of his comrades-in-arms
\nventure to vaunt, though the Victory-Wielder,
\nGod, gave him grace that he got revenge
\nsole with his sword in stress and need.
\nTo rescue his life, \u2019twas little that I
\ncould serve him in struggle; yet shift I made
\n(hopeless it seemed) to help my kinsman.
\nIts strength ever waned, when with weapon I struck
\nthat fatal foe, and the fire less strongly
\nflowed from its head. — Too few the heroes
\nin throe of contest that thronged to our king!
\nNow gift of treasure and girding of sword,
\njoy of the house and home-delight
\nshall fail your folk; his freehold-land
\nevery clansman within your kin
\nshall lose and leave, when lords high-born
\nhear afar of that flight of yours,
\na fameless deed. Yea, death is better
\nfor liegemen all than a life of shame!\u201d<\/p>\n

\n<\/div>\n

XXXVIII<\/p>\n

THAT battle-toil bade he at burg to announce,
\nat the fort on the cliff, where, full of sorrow,
\nall the morning earls had sat,
\ndaring shieldsmen, in doubt of twain:
\nwould they wail as dead, or welcome home,
\ntheir lord beloved? Little[4]<\/sup><\/a>\u00a0kept back
\nof the tidings new, but told them all,
\nthe herald that up the headland rode. —
\n\u201cNow the willing-giver to Weder folk
\nin death-bed lies; the Lord of Geats
\non the slaughter-bed sleeps by the serpent\u2019s deed!
\nAnd beside him is stretched that slayer-of-men
\nwith knife-wounds sick:[5]<\/sup><\/a>\u00a0no sword availed
\non the awesome thing in any wise
\nto work a wound. There Wiglaf sitteth,
\nWeohstan\u2019s bairn, by Beowulf\u2019s side,
\nthe living earl by the other dead,
\nand heavy of heart a head-watch[6]<\/sup><\/a>\u00a0keeps
\no\u2019er friend and foe. — Now our folk may look
\nfor waging of war when once unhidden
\nto Frisian and Frank the fall of the king
\nis spread afar. — The strife began
\nwhen hot on the Hugas[7]<\/sup><\/a>\u00a0Hygelac fell
\nand fared with his fleet to the Frisian land.
\nHim there the Hetwaras humbled in war,
\nplied with such prowess their power o\u2019erwhelming
\nthat the bold-in-battle bowed beneath it
\nand fell in fight. To his friends no wise
\ncould that earl give treasure! And ever since
\nthe Merowings\u2019 favor has failed us wholly.
\nNor aught expect I of peace and faith
\nfrom Swedish folk. \u2019Twas spread afar
\nhow Ongentheow reft at Ravenswood
\nHaethcyn Hrethling of hope and life,
\nwhen the folk of Geats for the first time sought
\nin wanton pride the Warlike-Scylfings.
\nSoon the sage old sire[8]<\/sup><\/a>\u00a0of Ohtere,
\nancient and awful, gave answering blow;
\nthe sea-king[9]<\/sup><\/a>\u00a0he slew, and his spouse redeemed,
\nhis good wife rescued, though robbed of her gold,
\nmother of Ohtere and Onela.
\nThen he followed his foes, who fled before him
\nsore beset and stole their way,
\nbereft of a ruler, to Ravenswood.<\/p>\n

With his host he besieged there what swords had left,
\nthe weary and wounded; woes he threatened
\nthe whole night through to that hard-pressed throng:
\nsome with the morrow his sword should kill,
\nsome should go to the gallows-tree
\nfor rapture of ravens. But rescue came
\nwith dawn of day for those desperate men
\nwhen they heard the horn of Hygelac sound,
\ntones of his trumpet; the trusty king
\nhad followed their trail with faithful band.<\/p>\n

\n<\/div>\n

XXXIX<\/p>\n

\u201cTHE bloody swath of Swedes and Geats
\nand the storm of their strife, were seen afar,
\nhow folk against folk the fight had wakened.
\nThe ancient king with his atheling band
\nsought his citadel, sorrowing much:
\nOngentheow earl went up to his burg.
\nHe had tested Hygelac\u2019s hardihood,
\nthe proud one\u2019s prowess, would prove it no longer,
\ndefied no more those fighting-wanderers
\nnor hoped from the seamen to save his hoard,
\nhis bairn and his bride: so he bent him again,
\nold, to his earth-walls. Yet after him came
\nwith slaughter for Swedes the standards of Hygelac
\no\u2019er peaceful plains in pride advancing,
\ntill Hrethelings fought in the fenced town.[10]<\/sup><\/a>
\nThen Ongentheow with edge of sword,
\nthe hoary-bearded, was held at bay,
\nand the folk-king there was forced to suffer
\nEofor\u2019s anger. In ire, at the king
\nWulf Wonreding with weapon struck;
\nand the chieftain\u2019s blood, for that blow, in streams
\nflowed \u2019neath his hair. No fear felt he,
\nstout old Scylfing, but straightway repaid
\nin better bargain that bitter stroke
\nand faced his foe with fell intent.
\nNor swift enough was the son of Wonred
\nanswer to render the aged chief;
\ntoo soon on his head the helm was cloven;
\nblood-bedecked he bowed to earth,
\nand fell adown; not doomed was he yet,
\nand well he waxed, though the wound was sore.
\nThen the hardy Hygelac-thane,[11]<\/sup><\/a>
\nwhen his brother fell, with broad brand smote,
\ngiants\u2019 sword crashing through giants\u2019-helm
\nacross the shield-wall: sank the king,
\nhis folk\u2019s old herdsman, fatally hurt.
\nThere were many to bind the brother\u2019s wounds
\nand lift him, fast as fate allowed
\nhis people to wield the place-of-war.
\nBut Eofor took from Ongentheow,
\nearl from other, the iron-breastplate,
\nhard sword hilted, and helmet too,
\nand the hoar-chief\u2019s harness to Hygelac carried,
\nwho took the trappings, and truly promised
\nrich fee \u2019mid folk, — and fulfilled it so.
\nFor that grim strife gave the Geatish lord,
\nHrethel\u2019s offspring, when home he came,
\nto Eofor and Wulf a wealth of treasure,
\nEach of them had a hundred thousand[12]<\/sup><\/a>
\nin land and linked rings; nor at less price reckoned
\nmid-earth men such mighty deeds!
\nAnd to Eofor he gave his only daughter
\nin pledge of grace, the pride of his home.<\/p>\n

\u201cSuch is the feud, the foeman\u2019s rage,
\ndeath-hate of men: so I deem it sure
\nthat the Swedish folk will seek us home
\nfor this fall of their friends, the fighting-Scylfings,
\nwhen once they learn that our warrior leader
\nlifeless lies, who land and hoard
\never defended from all his foes,
\nfurthered his folk\u2019s weal, finished his course
\na hardy hero. — Now haste is best,
\nthat we go to gaze on our Geatish lord,
\nand bear the bountiful breaker-of-rings
\nto the funeral pyre. No fragments merely
\nshall burn with the warrior. Wealth of jewels,
\ngold untold and gained in terror,
\ntreasure at last with his life obtained,
\nall of that booty the brands shall take,
\nfire shall eat it. No earl must carry
\nmemorial jewel. No maiden fair
\nshall wreathe her neck with noble ring:
\nnay, sad in spirit and shorn of her gold,
\noft shall she pass o\u2019er paths of exile
\nnow our lord all laughter has laid aside,
\nall mirth and revel. Many a spear
\nmorning-cold shall be clasped amain,
\nlifted aloft; nor shall lilt of harp
\nthose warriors wake; but the wan-hued raven,
\nfain o\u2019er the fallen, his feast shall praise
\nand boast to the eagle how bravely he ate
\nwhen he and the wolf were wasting the slain.\u201d<\/p>\n

So he told his sorrowful tidings,
\nand little[13]<\/sup><\/a>\u00a0he lied, the loyal man
\nof word or of work. The warriors rose;
\nsad, they climbed to the Cliff-of-Eagles,
\nwent, welling with tears, the wonder to view.
\nFound on the sand there, stretched at rest,
\ntheir lifeless lord, who had lavished rings
\nof old upon them. Ending-day
\nhad dawned on the doughty-one; death had seized
\nin woful slaughter the Weders\u2019 king.
\nThere saw they, besides, the strangest being,
\nloathsome, lying their leader near,
\nprone on the field. The fiery dragon,
\nfearful fiend, with flame was scorched.
\nReckoned by feet, it was fifty measures
\nin length as it lay. Aloft erewhile
\nit had revelled by night, and anon come back,
\nseeking its den; now in death\u2019s sure clutch
\nit had come to the end of its earth-hall joys.
\nBy it there stood the stoups and jars;
\ndishes lay there, and dear-decked swords
\neaten with rust, as, on earth\u2019s lap resting,
\na thousand winters they waited there.
\nFor all that heritage huge, that gold
\nof bygone men, was bound by a spell,[14]<\/sup><\/a>
\nso the treasure-hall could be touched by none
\nof human kind, — save that Heaven\u2019s King,
\nGod himself, might give whom he would,
\nHelper of Heroes, the hoard to open, —
\neven such a man as seemed to him meet.<\/p>\n

\n<\/div>\n

XL<\/p>\n

A PERILOUS path, it proved, he[15]<\/sup><\/a>\u00a0trod
\nwho heinously hid, that hall within,
\nwealth under wall! Its watcher had killed
\none of a few,[16]<\/sup><\/a>\u00a0and the feud was avenged
\nin woful fashion. Wondrous seems it,
\nwhat manner a man of might and valor
\noft ends his life, when the earl no longer
\nin mead-hall may live with loving friends.
\nSo Beowulf, when that barrow\u2019s warden
\nhe sought, and the struggle; himself knew not
\nin what wise he should wend from the world at last.
\nFor[17]<\/sup><\/a>\u00a0princes potent, who placed the gold,
\nwith a curse to doomsday covered it deep,
\nso that marked with sin the man should be,
\nhedged with horrors, in hell-bonds fast,
\nracked with plagues, who should rob their hoard.
\nYet no greed for gold, but the grace of heaven,
\never the king had kept in view.[18]<\/sup><\/a>
\nWiglaf spake, the son of Weohstan: —
\n\u201cAt the mandate of one, oft warriors many
\nsorrow must suffer; and so must we.
\nThe people\u2019s-shepherd showed not aught
\nof care for our counsel, king beloved!
\nThat guardian of gold he should grapple not, urged we,
\nbut let him lie where he long had been
\nin his earth-hall waiting the end of the world,
\nthe hest of heaven. — This hoard is ours
\nbut grievously gotten; too grim the fate
\nwhich thither carried our king and lord.
\nI was within there, and all I viewed,
\nthe chambered treasure, when chance allowed me
\n(and my path was made in no pleasant wise)
\nunder the earth-wall. Eager, I seized
\nsuch heap from the hoard as hands could bear
\nand hurriedly carried it hither back
\nto my liege and lord. Alive was he still,
\nstill wielding his wits. The wise old man
\nspake much in his sorrow, and sent you greetings
\nand bade that ye build, when he breathed no more,
\non the place of his balefire a barrow high,
\nmemorial mighty. Of men was he
\nworthiest warrior wide earth o\u2019er
\nthe while he had joy of his jewels and burg.
\nLet us set out in haste now, the second time
\nto see and search this store of treasure,
\nthese wall-hid wonders, — the way I show you, —
\nwhere, gathered near, ye may gaze your fill
\nat broad-gold and rings. Let the bier, soon made,
\nbe all in order when out we come,
\nour king and captain to carry thither
\n— man beloved — where long he shall bide
\nsafe in the shelter of sovran God.\u201d
\nThen the bairn of Weohstan bade command,
\nhardy chief, to heroes many
\nthat owned their homesteads, hither to bring
\nfirewood from far — o\u2019er the folk they ruled —
\nfor the famed-one\u2019s funeral. \u201c Fire shall devour
\nand wan flames feed on the fearless warrior
\nwho oft stood stout in the iron-shower,
\nwhen, sped from the string, a storm of arrows
\nshot o\u2019er the shield-wall: the shaft held firm,
\nfeatly feathered, followed the barb.\u201d
\nAnd now the sage young son of Weohstan
\nseven chose of the chieftain\u2019s thanes,
\nthe best he found that band within,
\nand went with these warriors, one of eight,
\nunder hostile roof. In hand one bore
\na lighted torch and led the way.
\nNo lots they cast for keeping the hoard
\nwhen once the warriors saw it in hall,
\naltogether without a guardian,
\nlying there lost. And little they mourned
\nwhen they had hastily haled it out,
\ndear-bought treasure! The dragon they cast,
\nthe worm, o\u2019er the wall for the wave to take,
\nand surges swallowed that shepherd of gems.
\nThen the woven gold on a wain was laden —
\ncountless quite! — and the king was borne,
\nhoary hero, to Hrones-Ness.<\/p>\n

\n<\/div>\n

XLI<\/p>\n

THEN fashioned for him the folk of Geats
\nfirm on the earth a funeral-pile,
\nand hung it with helmets and harness of war
\nand breastplates bright, as the boon he asked;
\nand they laid amid it the mighty chieftain,
\nheroes mourning their master dear.
\nThen on the hill that hugest of balefires
\nthe warriors wakened. Wood-smoke rose
\nblack over blaze, and blent was the roar
\nof flame with weeping (the wind was still),
\ntill the fire had broken the frame of bones,
\nhot at the heart. In heavy mood
\ntheir misery moaned they, their master\u2019s death.
\nWailing her woe, the widow[19]<\/sup><\/a>\u00a0old,
\nher hair upbound, for Beowulf\u2019s death
\nsung in her sorrow, and said full oft
\nshe dreaded the doleful days to come,
\ndeaths enow, and doom of battle,
\nand shame. — The smoke by the sky was devoured.
\nThe folk of the Weders fashioned there
\non the headland a barrow broad and high,
\nby ocean-farers far descried:
\nin ten days\u2019 time their toil had raised it,
\nthe battle-brave\u2019s beacon. Round brands of the pyre
\na wall they built, the worthiest ever
\nthat wit could prompt in their wisest men.
\nThey placed in the barrow that precious booty,
\nthe rounds and the rings they had reft erewhile,
\nhardy heroes, from hoard in cave, —
\ntrusting the ground with treasure of earls,
\ngold in the earth, where ever it lies
\nuseless to men as of yore it was.
\nThen about that barrow the battle-keen rode,
\natheling-born, a band of twelve,
\nlament to make, to mourn their king,
\nchant their dirge, and their chieftain honor.
\nThey praised his earlship, his acts of prowess
\nworthily witnessed: and well it is
\nthat men their master-friend mightily laud,
\nheartily love, when hence he goes
\nfrom life in the body forlorn away.<\/p>\n

Thus made their mourning the men of Geatland,
\nfor their hero\u2019s passing his hearth-companions:
\nquoth that of all the kings of earth,
\nof men he was mildest and most beloved,<\/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>