and greatest of his race, Beowulf by name. To him came the news of
Grendel's deeds and of Hrothgar's sorrow, and his soul was filled with
a fiery ambition to free the Danes. From among his warriors he
selected fifteen of the boldest and strongest, and put out to sea in a
new ship, pitched within and without, to seek the land of the Danes
and to offer his help to Hrothgar. Over the white sea waves dashed the
noble vessel, flinging the foam aside from her swanlike prow until
before her showed the cliffs and wind-swept mountain sides of Denmark.
Giving thanks to God for their prosperous voyage, they landed, donned
their heavy armor and marched in silence to the palace Heorot.
Entering the hall with clanking armor they set their brazen shields
against the wall, piled their steel-headed spears in a heap by the
door, and bowed to Hrothgar, who, bowed with sorrow and years, sat
silently among his earls. When Beowulf rose among his warriors he
towered high above them, godlike in his glittering armor. Hrothgar
looked on him in wonder, but felt that he saw in the mighty man a
deliverer sent in answer to his prayer.
Before Hrothgar could recover from his surprise and delight, Beowulf
stretched forth his powerful arms and spoke: "Hail, Hrothgar, king of
the Danes. Many a time and oft have I fought with the Jotuns, evil and
powerful, and every time have I overcome, and now have I come unto the
land of the Danes to undertake battle with the fierce Grendel. No
human weapon hath power against a Jotun, so here in your mead-hall
leave I my weapons all, and empty-handed and alone will I pit my
strength against the horrid Grendel. Man to man, strength to strength,
will I fight, till victory is mine or death befalleth me.
"If I perish, give my companions my shroud and send it home by them in
my new ship across the sea. Let there be no mourning for me, for to
every man Fate cometh at last."
Hrothgar answered, "Noble you are, O Beowulf, and powerful, but
terrible indeed is Grendel. Many a time at eventide have my warriors
fearlessly vowed to await the coming of Grendel and to fight with him
as you propose; but when morning came, the floor of Heorot was deep
with their blood, but no other trace of them remained. Before,
however, we accept your valiant offer, sit this night at meat, where,
by our old and honored custom, we incite each other to heroic deeds
and valorous behavior, when night shall come and Grendel claim his
prey."
A royal feast it was that the old king gave that night, and the golden
mead flowed from the twisted cups in living streams, while the Skalds
sang the valorous deeds of heroic Danes of old.
Then rose Beowulf to speak. "To-night Grendel cometh again, expecting
no one to fight him for many a time hath he levied his toll and
escaped without harm. Here alone with myself will I keep vigil, and
alone will I fight the foul fiend. To-morrow morning the sun will
glorify my victory or I shall be a corpse in the dark and noisome home
of the ogre."
The eye of the gray-haired king grew bright again as he listened to
the brave words of Beowulf, and from her throne the queen in her
bejeweled garments stepped down to Beowulf and presented him the
loving-cup with words of gracious encouragement.
"No more shall Grendel feast upon the bodies of royal Danes, for to-
night his foul body shall feel the powerful grip of my mighty hands,"
said Beowulf.
To their proper resting places in the hall stepped the Danish
warriors, one by one, filing in a steady line past the great Beowulf,
to whom each gave kindly greeting. Last of all came Hrothgar, and as
he passed, he grasped the strong fingers of Beowulf and said, "To your
keeping I leave my great hall, Heorot. Never before have I passed the
duty on to any man. Be thou brave and valiant, and if victory cometh
to thee no reward shall be too great for thy service."
And so the king departed, and silence fell over Heorot.
Left alone, Beowulf laid aside his iron mail, took off his brazen
helmet and ungirded his trusty sword. Then unarmed and unprotected he
lay down upon his bed. All about the palace slept, but Beowulf could
find no rest upon his couch.
In the dim light of the early morn, forth from the pale mists of the
marshes, stalked Grendel, up to the door of the many-windowed Heorot.
Fire-strengthened were the iron bands with which the doors were bound,
but he tore them away like wisps of straw and walked across the
sounding tiles of the many-colored floor. Like strokes of vivid
lightning flashed the fire from his eyes, making before him all things
as clear as noonday. Beowulf, on his sleepless couch, held his breath
as the fierce ogre gloated savagely over the bountiful feast he saw
spread before him in the bodies of the sleeping Danes. With moistening
lips he trod among the silent braves, and Beowulf saw him choose the
strongest and noblest of them all. Quickly the monster stooped, seized
the sleeping earl, and with one fierce stroke of his massive jaw, tore
open the throat of the warrior and drank his steaming blood. Then he
tore the corpse limb from limb and with horrid glee crunched the bones
of his victim's hands.
[Illustration: GRENDEL COULD NOT BREAK THAT GRIP OF STEEL.]
Then spying the sleeping Beowulf he dropped his mangled prey and laid
his rough hands on his watchful enemy. Suddenly Beowulf raised himself
upon one elbow and fastened his strong grip on the astonished Jotun.
Never before had Grendel felt such a grip of steel. He straightened
his mighty back and flung the clinging Beowulf toward the door, but
never for a moment did the brave champion relax his fierce grip, and
the ogre was thrown back into the center of the hall. Together they
fell upon the beautiful pavement and rolled about in their mighty
struggles till the walls of the palace shook as in a hurricane and the
very pinnacles toppled from their secure foundations. The walls of
Heorot fell not, but the floor was strewn with broken benches whose
gold trappings were torn like paper, while the two struggled on the
floor in the wreck of drinking horns and costly vessels from the
tables, while over all slopped ale from the mammoth tankards. Backward
and forward they struggled, sometimes upon their feet and again upon
the floor; but with all his fearsome struggles, Grendel could not
break that grip of steel. At last, with one mighty wrench, Grendel
tore himself free, leaving in the tightly locked hands of Beowulf his
strong right arm and even his shoulder blade, torn raggedly from his
body. Roaring with pain from the gaping wound which extended from neck
to waist, the ogre fled to the marshes, into whose slimy depths he
fell; and there he slowly bled to death. Fair shone the sun on Heorot
the next morning when the warriors came from all directions to
celebrate the marvelous prowess of Beowulf, who stalked in triumph
through the hall with his bloody trophy held on high. Close by the
throne of the king he hung Grendel's shoulder, arm, and hand, where
all might see and test the strength of its mighty muscles and the
steel-like hardness of its nails, which no human sword of choicest
steel could mark or mar. With bursting heart, Hrothgar thanked God for
his deliverance and gave credit to Beowulf for his valorous deed.
First was the wreck of the savage encounter cleared away, then were
the iron bands refastened on the door and the tables spread for a
costly feast of general rejoicing. There amid the songs of the Skalds
and the shouts of the warriors, the queen poured forth the sacred mead
and handed it to Beowulf in the royal cup of massive gold. As the
rejoicing grew more general, the king showered gifts upon Beowulf, an
ensign and a helm, a breastplate and a sword, each covered with
twisted gold and set with precious stones. Eight splendid horses,
trapped in costly housings trimmed with golden thread and set with
jewels, were led before Beowulf, and their silken bridles were laid
within his hand. With her own hand the queen gave him a massive ring
of russet gold sparkling with diamonds, the finest in the land.
"May happiness and good fortune attend thee, Beowulf," she said, "and
ever may these well-earned gifts remind thee of those whom thou hast
succored from deadly peril; and as the years advance may fame roll in
upon thee as roll the billows upon the rocky shores of our beloved
kingdom."
When the feast was over Hrothgar and his queen departed from the hall,
and Beowulf retired to the When the feast was over Hrothgar and his
queen departed from the hall, and Beowulf retired to the house they
had prepared for him. But the warriors remained as was their custom,
and, girt in their coats of chained mail, with swords ready at hand,
they lay down upon the floor to sleep, prepared to answer on the
instant any call their lord should make. Dense darkness closed upon
the hall, and the Danes slept peacefully, unaware that danger
threatened.
When midnight came, out of the cold waters of the reedy fastnesses in
the marsh came Grendel's mother, fierce and terrible in her wrath,
burning to avenge the death of her son. Like Grendel she wrenched the
door from its iron fastenings and trod across the figured floor of
Heorot. With bitter malice she seized the favorite counselor of
Hrothgar and rent his body limb from limb. Then seizing from the wall
the arm and shoulder of her son she ran quickly from the hall and hid
herself in her noisome lair.
The noise of her savage work aroused the sleeping Danes, and so loud
were their cries of anger and dismay that Hrothgar heard, and rushed
forth to Heorot, where Beowulf met him.
As soon as Hrothgar heard what had happened he turned to Beowulf and
cried, "O, mighty champion of the Danes, yet again has grief and
sorrow come upon me, for my favorite war companion and chief counselor
has been foully murdered by Grendel's mother, nor can we tell who next
will suffer from the foul fiend's wrath.
[Illustration: BEOWULF ON HIS NOBLE STEED]
"Scarcely a mile from this place, in the depths of a grove of moss-
covered trees, which are hoary with age, and whose interlacing
branches shut out the light of the sun, lies a stagnant pool. Around
the edges of its foul black water twine the snake-like roots of the
trees, and on its loathsome surface at night the magic fires burn
dimly. In the midst of the pond, shunned alike by man and beast, lives
the wolf-like mother of Grendel. Darest thou to enter its stagnant
depths to do battle with the monster and to deliver us from her
ravages?"
Straightening his massive form and throwing back his head in fierce
determination, Beowulf replied, "To avenge a friend is better than to
mourn for him. No man can hasten or delay by a single moment his death
hour. What fate awaiteth me I know not, but I dare anything to wreak
vengeance on the foul murderer, and in my efforts to bring justice I
take no thought of the future."
Then the king Hrothgar ordered a noble steed with arching neck and
tossing mane to be saddled and brought forth for the noble Beowulf to
ride. Shield bearers by the score accompanied him as he rode on the
narrow bridle path, between those dark-frowning cliffs whose rugged
trees dimmed the sun and made the journey seem as though it were in
twilight. In such a manner came they to the desolate lake in the
gloomy wood.
The sight that met the eyes of Beowulf was enough to chill the blood
of any man. On the shore among the tangled roots of the trees crawled
hideous poisonous snakes, while on the surface of the water rolled
great sea dragons, whose ugly crests were raised in anger and alarm.
From the turbid depths of the water, unholy animals of strange and
fearful shapes kept coming to the surface and swimming about with
threatening mien.
Undaunted by these sickening sights, Beowulf blew a mighty blast upon
his terrible war-horn, at the sound of which the noisome animals slunk
back to the slimy depths of the dismal pond. Clad in his shirt of iron
mail, wearing the hooded helmet that had often protected his head from
the savage blows of his enemies, and clasping in his hand the handle
of his great knife, Hrunting, whose hardened blade had carried death
to many a strong foeman, Beowulf fronted the awful lake.
Thus armed and protected, he plunged into the thickened oily waters,
which closed quickly over him, leaving but a few great bubbles to show
where he had disappeared. Into the depths of the dark abyss he swam
until it seemed as though he were plunging straight into the jaws of
death.
As his mighty strength neared exhaustion, Beowulf found the hall at
the depth of the abyss, and there saw Grendel's mother lying in wait
for him. With her fierce claws she grappled him and dragged him into
her dismal water palace whose dark walls oozed with the slime of ages.
Recovering his breath, and fierce at the assault, Beowulf swung his
heavy knife and brought it down on the sea wolf's head. Never before
had Hrunting failed him, but now the hard skull of Grendel's mother
turned the biting edge of the forged steel, and the blow twisted the
blade as though it were soft wire. Flinging aside his useless knife,
Beowulf clutched the sea woman with the mighty grip that had slain her
son, and the struggle for mastery began. More than once was Beowulf
pushed nigh to exhaustion, but every time he recovered himself and
escaped from the deadly grasp of the powerful fiend who strove to take
his life. As he grew weaker, Grendel's mother seized her russet-bladed
knife and with a mighty blow drove it straight at the heart of
Beowulf. Once again his trusty shirt of mail turned the blade, and by
a last convulsive effort he regained his feet.
As he rose from his dangerous position he saw glittering in his sight
as it hung in the walls of water, the hilt of a mighty sword, which
was made for giants, and which no man on earth but Beowulf could
wield. Little he knew of its magic power, but he seized it in both
hands, and swinging it about his head in mighty curves, struck full at
the head of the monster. Savage was the blow, more mighty than human
being ever struck before, and the keen edge of the sword crashed
through the brazen mail, cleft the neck of the sea wolf, and felled
her dead upon the floor. From her neck spurted hot blood which melted
the blade and burned it away as frost wreathes are melted by the sun.
In his hand remained only the carven hilt.
On the shore of the dark lake the Danes waited anxiously for the
reappearance of Beowulf, and when blood came welling up through the
dark waters they felt their champion had met his fate, and returning
to Heorot, they sat down to mourn in the great mead-hall.
Then among them strode Beowulf, carrying in one hand the great head of
the sea woman and in the other the blistered hilt of the sword, snake-
shaped, carven with the legend of its forging. Beowulf related the
story of his combat and added, "When I saw that Grendel's mother was
dead I seized her head and swam upward again through the heaving
waters, bearing the heavy burden with me; and as I landed on the shore
of the lake I saw its waters dry behind me, and bright meadows with
beautiful flowers take their place. The trees themselves put on new
robes of green, and peace and gladness settled over all. God and my
strong right hand prospered me, and here I show the sword with which
the giants of old defied the eternal God, The enemies of God are
overcome, and here in Heorot may Hrothgar and his counselors dwell in
peace."
The king and his counselors gathered round about Beowulf, and looked
with wonder and amazement on the head of the fierce sea monster and
read with strange thrills of awe the wondrous history of the sword and
the cunning work of its forgers.
Then to Beowulf, Hrothgar spoke in friendly wise, "Glorious is thy
victory, O Beowulf, and great and marvelous is the strength that God
hath given thee, but accept now in the hour of thy success a word of
kindly counsel. When a man rides on the high tide of success he may
think that his strength and glory are forever, but it is God alone who
giveth him courage and power over others, and in the end all must fall
before the arrows of death. God sent Grendel to punish me for my pride
when I had freed the Danes and built my pinnacled mead-hall. Then when
this despair was upon me he brought thee to my salvation. Bear then
thy honors meekly, and give thanks to God that made thee strong. Go
now into the feast and join thy happiness to that of my warriors."
That day the high walls of Heorot rang with the thunderous shouts of
the warriors and echoed the inspiring words of the Skalds who sang of
Beowulf's victory. When at last darkness settled o'er the towers and
pinnacles of the palace, the grateful Danes laid themselves down to
sleep in peace and safety, knowing that their slumber would never
again be disturbed by the old sea woman or her giant progeny.
CUPID AND PSYCHE
Adapted by ANNA MCCALEB
Once upon a time, in a far-off country whose exact location no man
knows, there lived a king whose chief glory and pride was in his three
beautiful daughters. The two elder sisters were sought in marriage by
princes, but Psyche, by far the most beautiful of the three, remained
at her father's home, unsought. The fact was, she was so lovely that
all the people worshiped her as a goddess, while no man felt that he
was worthy to ask for her hand.
"Shall a mere mortal," they said, "venture to seek the love of Venus,
queen of beauty?"
When Psyche learned of the name they had given her she was frightened,
for she knew well the jealous, vengeful nature of the goddess of
beauty. And she did well to fear; for Venus, jealous, angry, was even
then plotting her destruction.
"Go," she said to her son Cupid. "Wound that proud, impertinent girl
with your arrows, and see to it that she falls in love with some
wretched, depraved human being. She shall pay for attempting to rival
me."
Off went the mischievous youth, pleased with his errand; but when he
bent over the sleeping Psyche and saw that she was far more beautiful
than any one whom he had ever looked upon, he started hastily back,
and wounded, not the maiden, but himself, with his arrow. Happy, and
yet wretched in his love (for he knew his mother too well to fancy
that she would relent toward the offending Psyche), he stole away; and
for days he did not go near his mother, knowing that she would demand
of him the outcome of his mission.
Meanwhile the old king, feeling that disgrace rested on his family
because no man had come to seek Psyche in marriage, sent messengers to
ask of the oracle [Footnote: An oracle was a place where some god
answered questions about future happenings. The same name was also
given to the answers made by the god. The most famous oracles were
that of Jupiter at Dodona and that of Apollo at Delphi, the latter
holding chief place. At Delphi there was a temple to Apollo built over
a chasm in the mountain side from which came sulphurous fumes. A
priestess took her seat on a tripod over this chasm, and the answers
she gave to inquiries were supposed to be dictated by the god. These
answers were almost always unintelligible, and even when interpreted
by the priests were ambiguous and of little use. Nevertheless, the
Greeks believed in oracles firmly, and never undertook any important
work without first consulting one or more of them.] of Apollo whether
he or his family had ignorantly offended any of the gods. Eagerly he
watched for the return of the messengers, but as they came back the
sight of their white faces told him that no favorable answer had been
theirs.
"Pardon, O King," said the spokesman, "thy servants who bring thee ill
news. We can but speak the words of the gods, which were these:
"'For hear thy doom; a rugged rock there is
Set back a league from thine own palace fair;
There leave the maid, that she may wait the kiss
Of the fell monster that doth harbour there:
This is the mate for whom her yellow hair
And tender limbs have been so fashioned,
This is the pillow for her lovely head.
"'And if thou sparest now to do this thing,
I will destroy thee and thy land also,
And of dead corpses shalt thou be the king,
And stumbling through the dark land shalt thou go,
Howling for second death to end thy woe;
Live therefore as thou mayst and do my will,
And be a king that men may envy still.'"
[Footnote: From William Morris's Earthly Paradise.]
Imagine the grief of the loving father at these words! Had the oracle
but threatened punishment to him, he would have endured any torture
before subjecting his child to such a fate; but as a king, he dared
not bring ruin on all his people, who trusted him. Psyche, herself,
numb with horror, commanded quietly that preparations be made for the
procession which should accompany her to the rock described by the
oracle. Some days later, this procession set out, the priests in their
white robes preceding Psyche, who, in mourning garments, with bowed
head and clasped hands, walked between her father and mother. Her
parents bewailed their fate and clung to her, but she said only, "It
is the will of the gods, and therefore must be."
At last the mountain top was reached, the last heart-breaking
farewells were said, and the procession wound back toward the city,
leaving Psyche alone. All the horror of her fate burst upon her as she
stood on the bleak rock, and she raised her hands to heaven and cried.
Suddenly, however, it seemed to her that the breeze which blew past
her murmured in her ear "Do not fear"; and certainly she felt herself
being lifted gently and carried over mountain and valley and sea. At
last, she was placed on a grassy bank, in a pleasant, flower-bright
valley, and here she fell asleep, feeling quite safe after all her
fears.
On awaking, she strolled about the lovely garden in which she found
herself, wondering to see no one, though on all sides there were signs
of work and care and thought. At the door of a palace, more gorgeous
than any she had ever seen before, she paused, but soft voices called
"Enter, beautiful maiden," and gentle hands, which she saw not, drew
her within the door. While she gazed in wonder at the wrought golden
pillars, the ivory and gold furnishings, the mosaic of precious stones
which formed the floor, a voice said, close beside her:
"Sovereign lady, let not fear oppress thee:
All is thine on which thine eye doth rest.
We, whose voices greet thee, are thy servants--
Thou art mistress here, not passing guest.
In thy chamber, bed of down awaits thee;
Perfumed baths our skilled hands prepare."
As she had slept in the garden, Psyche felt no need of rest, but
passed at once to the refreshment of the bath. Then, for she had eaten
nothing since the oracle's decree, she seated herself at the table and
ate of the delicious dishes which the invisible hands presented to
her. Swiftly the remaining hours of daylight passed, while the amazed
and enraptured Psyche wandered about the palace and listened to the
exquisite music which invisible performers furnished for her.
With the coming of the darkness, the voice which had spoken to her at
her entrance said, "Our master comes!" And shortly after, he began to
speak to her himself. At the first tones of his gentle, loving voice,
Psyche forgot her fears, forgot the oracle; and when her unseen lover
said, "Canst thou love me somewhat in return for all the love I give
thee?" she answered, "Willingly!"
"Thou mayest have all the joys which earth and heaven afford; one
thing only I ask of thee in return. I shall come to thee with the
darkness, and never shalt thou try to see my face."
Psyche promised, and she kept her promise faithfully for a long time,
though her longing to see the husband who was so good to her was
great. During the hours when he was with her, she was perfectly happy,
but through the long days, when she had nothing but the voices that
had greeted her on her arrival, and her own thoughts for company, she
longed and longed to see her sisters, and to send to her parents news
of her happiness. One night when her husband came, she begged of him
that he would allow her sisters to visit her.
"Art thou not happy with me, Pysche?" he asked sorrowfully. "Do I not
fill thy heart as thou fillest mine?"
"I am happier with thee than ever happy girl was with seen lover,"
replied Psyche, "but my parents and my sisters are yet in sorrow over
my fate, and my heart tells me it is selfishness for me to be so happy
while they grieve for me."