| |
| BEOWULF spake, bairn of Ecgtheow: | |
| “Sorrow not, sage! It beseems us better | |
| friends to avenge than fruitlessly mourn them. | |
| Each of us all must his end abide | |
| in the ways of the world; so win who may | 5 |
| glory ere death! When his days are told, | |
| that is the warrior’s worthiest doom. | |
| Rise, O realm-warder! Ride we anon, | |
| and mark the trail of the mother of Grendel. | |
| No harbor shall hide her—heed my promise!— | 10 |
| enfolding of field or forested mountain | |
| or floor of the flood, let her flee where she will! | |
| But thou this day endure in patience, | |
| as I ween thou wilt, thy woes each one.” | |
| Leaped up the graybeard: God he thanked, | 15 |
| mighty Lord, for the man’s brave words. | |
| For Hrothgar soon a horse was saddled | |
| wave-maned steed. The sovran wise | |
| stately rode on; his shield-armed men | |
| followed in force. The footprints led | 20 |
| along the woodland, widely seen, | |
| a path o’er the plain, where she passed, and trod | |
| the murky moor; of men-at-arms | |
| she bore the bravest and best one, dead, | |
| him who with Hrothgar the homestead ruled. | 25 |
| On then went the atheling-born | |
| o’er stone-cliffs steep and strait defiles, | |
| narrow passes and unknown ways, | |
| headlands sheer, and the haunts of the Nicors. | |
| Foremost he 1 fared, a few at his side | 30 |
| of the wiser men, the ways to scan, | |
| till he found in a flash the forested hill | |
| hanging over the hoary rock, | |
| a woful wood: the waves below | |
| were dyed in blood. The Danish men | 35 |
| had sorrow of soul, and for Scyldings all, | |
| for many a hero, ’twas hard to bear, | |
| ill for earls, when Æschere’s head | |
| they found by the flood on the foreland there. | |
| Waves were welling, the warriors saw, | 40 |
| hot with blood; but the horn sang oft | |
| battle-song bold. The band sat down, | |
| and watched on the water worm-like things, | |
| sea-dragons strange that sounded the deep, | |
| and nicors that lay on the ledge of the ness— | 45 |
| such as oft essay at hour of morn | |
| on the road-of-sails their ruthless quest,— | |
| and sea-snakes and monsters. These started away, | |
| swollen and savage that song to hear, | |
| that war-horn’s blast. The warden of Geats, | 50 |
| with bolt from bow, then balked of life, | |
| of wave-work, one monster; amid its heart | |
| went the keen war-shaft; in water it seemed | |
| less doughty in swimming whom death had seized. | |
| Swift on the billows, with boar-spears well | 55 |
| hooked and barbed, it was hard beset, | |
| done to death and dragged on the headland, | |
| wave-roamer wondrous. Warriors viewed | |
| the grisly guest. | |
| Then girt him Beowulf | 60 |
| in martial mail, nor mourned for his life. | |
| His breastplate broad and bright of hues, | |
| woven by hand, should the waters try; | |
| well could it ward the warrior’s body | |
| that battle should break on his breast in vain | 65 |
| nor harm his heart by the hand of a foe. | |
| And the helmet white that his head protected | |
| was destined to dare the deeps of the flood, | |
| through wave-whirl win: ’twas wound with chains, | |
| decked with gold, as in days of yore | 70 |
| the weapon-smith worked it wondrously, | |
| with swine-forms set it, that swords nowise, | |
| brandished in battle, could bite that helm. | |
| Nor was that the meanest of mighty helps | |
| which Hrothgar’s orator offered at need: | 75 |
| “Hrunting” they named the hilted sword, | |
| of old-time heirlooms easily first; | |
| iron was its edge, all etched with poison, | |
| with battle-blood hardened, nor blenched it at fight | |
| in hero’s hand who held it ever, | 80 |
| on paths of peril prepared to go | |
| to folkstead 2 of foes. Not first time this | |
| it was destined to do a daring task. | |
| For he bore not in mind, the bairn of Ecglaf | |
| sturdy and strong, that speech he had made, | 85 |
| drunk with wine, now this weapon he lent | |
| to a stouter swordsman. Himself, though, durst not | |
| under welter of waters wager his life | |
| as loyal liegeman. So lost he his glory, | |
| honor of earls. With the other not so, | 90 |
| who girded him now for the grim encounter. | |
