Spake out then Beowulf, Ecgtheow's bairn:
What! we the sea-spoils here to thee, son of Healfdene,
High lord of the Scyldings, with lust have brought hither
For a token of glory, e'en these thou beholdest.
Now I all unsoftly with life I escaped,
In war under the water dar'd I the work
Full hard to be worked, and well-nigh there was
The sundering of strife, save that me God had shielded.
So it is that in battle naught might I with Hrunting
One whit do the work, though the weapon be doughty; 1660
But to me then he granted, the Wielder of men,
That on wall I beheld there all beauteous hanging
An ancient sword, might-endow'd (often he leadeth right
The friendless of men); so forth drew I that weapon.
In that onset I slew there, as hap then appaid me,
The herd of the house; then that bill of the host,
The broider'd sword, burn'd up, and that blood sprang forth
The hottest of battle-sweats; but the hilts thereof thenceforth
From the foemen I ferry'd. I wreaked the foul deeds,
The death-quelling of Danes, e'en as duly behoved. 1670
Now this I behote thee, that here in Hart mayst thou
Sleep sorrowless henceforth with the host of thy men
And the thanes every one that are of thy people
Of doughty and young; that for them need thou dread not,
O high lord of Scyldings, on that behalf soothly
Life-bale for the earls as erst thou hast done.
Then was the hilt golden to the ancient of warriors,
The hoary of host-leaders, into hand given,
The old work of giants; it turn'd to the owning,
After fall of the Devils, of the lord of the Danes, 1680
That work of the wonder-smith, syth gave up the world
The fierce-hearted groom, the foeman of God,
The murder-beguilted, and there eke his mother;
Unto the wielding of world-kings it turned,
The best that there be betwixt of the sea-floods
Of them that in Scaney dealt out the scat.
Now spake out Hrothgar, as he look'd on the hilts there,
The old heir-loom whereon was writ the beginning
Of the strife of the old time, whenas the flood slew,
The ocean a-gushing, that kin of the giants 1690
As fiercely they fared. That was a folk alien
To the Lord everlasting; so to them a last guerdon
Through the welling of waters the Wielder did give.
So was on the sword-guards all of the sheer gold
By dint of the rune-staves rightly bemarked,
Set down and said for whom first was that sword wrought,
And the choice of all irons erst had been done,
Wreath-hilted and worm-adorn'd. Then spake the wise one,
Healfdene's son, and all were gone silent:
Lo that may he say, who the right and the soothfast 1700
Amid the folk frameth, and far back all remembers,
The old country's warden, that as for this earl here
Born better was he. Uprear'd is the fame-blast
Through wide ways far yonder, O Beowulf, friend mine,
Of thee o'er all peoples. Thou hold'st all with patience,
Thy might with mood-wisdom; I shall make thee my love good,
As we twain at first spake it. For a comfort thou shalt be
Granted long while and long unto thy people,
For a help unto heroes. Naught such became Heremod
To Ecgwela's offspring, the honourful Scyldings; 1710
For their welfare naught wax'd he, but for felling in slaughter,
For the quelling of death to the folk of the Danes.
Mood-swollen he brake there his board-fellows soothly,
His shoulder-friends, until he sunder'd him lonely,
That mighty of princes, from the mirth of all men-folk.
Though him God the mighty in the joyance of might,
In main strength, exalted high over all-men,
And framed him forth, yet fast in his heart grew
A breast-hoard blood-fierce; none of fair rings he gave
To the Danes as due doom would. Unmerry he dured 1720
So that yet of that strife the trouble he suffer'd.
A folk-bale so longsome. By such do thou learn thee,
Get thee hold of man-valour: this tale for thy teaching
Old in winters I tell thee. 'Tis wonder to say it,
How the high God almighty to the kindred of mankind
Through his mind the wide-fashion'd deals wisdom about,
Home and earlship; he owneth the wielding of all.
At whiles unto love he letteth to turn
The mood-thought of a man that Is mighty of kindred,
And in his land giveth him joyance of earth, 1730
And to have and to hold the high ward-burg of men,
And sets so 'neath his wielding the deals of the world,
Dominion wide reaching, that he himself may not
In all his unwisdom of the ending bethink him.
He wonneth well-faring, nothing him wasteth
Sickness nor eld, nor the foe-sorrow to him
Dark in mind waxeth, nor strife any where,
The edge-hate, appeareth; but all the world for him
Wends as he willeth, and the worse naught he wotteth.
XXVI. MORE CONVERSE OF HROTHGAR AND BEOWULF:
THE GEATS MAKE THEM READY FOR DEPARTURE.
Until that within him a deal of o'erthink-ing 1740
Waxeth and groweth while sleepeth the warder,
The soul's herdsman; that slumber too fast is forsooth,
Fast bounden by troubles, the banesman all nigh,
E'en he that from arrow-bow evilly shooteth.
Then he in his heart under helm is besmitten
With a bitter shaft; not a whit then may he ward him
From the wry wonder-biddings of the ghost the all-wicked.
Too little he deems that which long he hath hold.
Wrath-greedy he covets; nor e'en for boast-sake gives
The rings fair beplated; and the forth-coming doom 1750
Forgetteth, forheedeth, for that God gave him erewhile,
The Wielder of glory, a deal of the worship.
At the ending-stave then it after befalleth
That the shell of his body sinks fleeting away,
And falleth all fey; and another one fetcheth,
E'en one that undolefully dealeth the treasure,
The earl's gains of aforetime, and fear never heedeth.
From the bale-envy ward thee, lief Beowulf, therefore,
Thou best of all men, and choose thee the better,
The redes everlasting; to o'erthinkirig turn not, 1760
O mighty of champions! for now thy might breatheth
For a short while of time; but eft-soon it shall be
That sickness or edges from thy strength thee shall sunder,
Or the hold of the fire, or the welling of floods,
Or the grip of the sword-blade, or flight of the spear,
Or eld the all-evil: or the beaming of eyen
Shall fail and shall dim: then shall it be forthright
That thee, lordly man, the death over-masters.
E'en so I the Ring-Danes for an hundred of seasons
Did wield under the welkin and lock'd them by war 1770
From many a kindred the Middle-Garth over
With ash-spears and edges, in such wise that not ever
Under the sky's run of my foemen I reckoned.
What! to me in my land came a shifting of that,
Came grief after game, sithence Grendel befell,
My foeman of old, mine ingoer soothly.
I from that onfall bore ever unceasing
Mickle mood-care; herefor be thanks to the Maker,
To the Lord everlasting, that in life I abided,
Yea, that I on that head all sword-gory there, 1780
Now the old strife is over, with eyen should stare.
Go fare thou to settle, the feast-joyance dree thou,
O war-worshipp'd! unto us twain yet there will be
Mickle treasure in common when come is the morning.
Glad of mood then the Geat was, and speedy he gat him
To go see the settle, as the sage one commanded.
Then was after as erst, that they of the might-fame,
The floor-sitters, fairly the feasting bedight them
All newly. The helm of the night loured over
Dark over the host-men. Uprose all the doughty, 1790
For he, the hoar-blended, would wend to his bed,
That old man of the Scyldings. The Geat without measure,
The mighty shield-warrior, now willed him rest.
And soon now the hall-thane him of way-faring weary,
From far away come, forth show'd him the road,
E'en he who for courtesy cared for all things
Of the needs of the thane, e'en such as on that day
The farers o'er ocean would fainly have had.
Rested then the wide-hearted; high up the house tower'd
Wide-gaping all gold-dight; within slept the guest; 1800
Until the black raven, the blithe-hearted, boded
The heavens' joy: then was come thither a-hastening
The bright sun o'er the plains, and hastened the scathers,
The athelings once more aback to their people
All fain to be faring; and far away thence
Would the comer high-hearted go visit his keel.
Bade then the hard one Hrunting to bear,
The Ecglaf's son bade to take him his sword,
The iron well-lov'd; gave him thanks for the lending,
Quoth he that the war-friend for worthy he told, 1810
Full of craft in the war; nor with word he aught
The edge of the sword. Hah! the high-hearted warrior.
So whenas all way-forward, yare in their war-gear,
Were the warriors, the dear one then went to the Danes,
To the high seat went the Atheling, whereas was the other;
The battle-bold warrior gave greeting to Hrothgar.
XXVII. BEOWULF BIDS HROTHGAR FAREWELL:
THE GEATS FARE TO SHIP.
Out then spake Beowulf, Ecgtheow's bairn:
As now we sea-farers have will to be saying,
We from afar come, that now are we fainest
Of seeking to Hygelac. Here well erst were we 1820
Serv'd as our wills would, and well thine avail was.
If I on the earth then, be it e'en but a little,
Of the love of thy mood may yet more be an-earning,
O lord of the men-folk, than heretofore might I,
Of the works of the battle yare then soon shall I be.
If I should be learning, I over the flood's run,
That the sitters about thee beset thee with dread,
Even thee hating as otherwhile did they;
Then thousands to theeward of thanes shall I bring
For the helping of heroes. Of Hygelac wot I, 1830
The lord of the Geat-folk, though he be but a youngling,
That shepherd of folk, that me will he further
By words and by works, that well may I ward thee,
And unto thine helping the spear-holt may bear,
A main-staying mighty, whenas men thou art needing.
And if therewith Hrethric in the courts of the Geat-house,
The King's bairn, take hosting, then may he a many
Of friends find him soothly: far countries shall be
Better sought to by him who for himself is doughty.
Out then spake Hrothgar in answer to himward: 1840
Thy word-saying soothly the Lord of all wisdom
Hath sent into thy mind; never heard I more sagely
In a life that so young was a man word be laying;
Strong of might and main art thou and sage of thy mood,
Wise the words of thy framing. Tell I this for a weening,
If it so come to pass that the spear yet shall take,
Or the battle all sword-grim, the son of that Hrethel,
Or sickness or iron thine Alderman have,
Thy shepherd of folk, and thou fast to life hold thee,
Then no better than thee may the Sea-Geats be having 1850
To choose for themselves, no one of the kings,
Hoard-warden of heroes, if then thou wilt hold
Thy kinsman's own kingdom. Me liketh thy mood-heart,
The longer the better, O Beowulf the lief;
In such wise hast thou fared, that unto the folks now,
The folk of the Geats and the Gar-Danes withal,
In common shall peace be, and strife rest appeased
And the hatreds the doleful which erst they have dreed;
Shall become, whiles I wield it, this wide realm of ours,
Treasures common to either folk: many a one other 1860
With good things shall greet o'er the bath of the gannet;
And the ring'd bark withal over sea shall be bringing
The gifts and love-tokens. The twain folks I know
Toward foeman toward friend fast-fashion'd together,
In every way blameless as in the old wise.
Then the refuge of warriors, he gave him withal,
Gave Healfdene's son of treasures yet twelve;
And he bade him with those gifts to go his own people
To seek in all soundness, and swiftly come back.
Then kissed the king, he of noble kin gotten, 1870
The lord of the Scyldings, that best of the thanes,
By the halse then he took him; from him fell the tears
From the blended of hoar hair. Of both things was there hoping
To the old, the old wise one; yet most of the other,
To wit, that they sithence each each might be seeing,
The high-heart in council. To him so lief was he
That he his breast-welling might nowise forbear,
But there in his bosom, bound fast in his heart-bonds,
After that dear man a longing dim-hidden
Burn'd against blood-tie. So Beowulf thenceforth, 1880
The gold-proud of warriors, trod the mould grassy,
Exulting in gold-store. The sea-ganger bided
Its owning-lord whereas at anchor it rode.
Then was there in going the gift of King Hrothgar
Oft highly accounted; yea, that was a king
In every wise blameless, till eld took from him eftsoon
The joyance of might, as it oft scathes a many.
XXVIII. BEOWULF COMES BACK TO HIS LAND.
OF THE TALE OF THRYTHO.
Came a many to flood then all mighty of mood,
Of the bachelors were they, and ring-nets they bore,
The limb-sarks belocked. The land-warden noted 1890
The earls' aback-faring, as erst he beheld them;
Then nowise with harm from the nose of the cliff
The guests there he greeted, but rode unto themward,
And quoth that full welcome to the folk of the Weders
The bright-coated warriors were wending to ship.
Then was on the sand there the bark the wide-sided
With war-weed beladen, the ring-stemm'd as she lay there
With mares and with treasure; uptower'd the mast
High over Hrothgar's wealth of the hoards.
He then to the boat-warden handsel'd a gold-bounden 1900
Sword, so that sithence was he on mead-bench
Worthy'd the more for that very same wealth,
The heirloom. Sithence in the ship he departed
To stir the deep water; the Dane-land he left.
Then was by the mast there one of the sea-rails,
A sail, with rope made fast; thunder'd the sound-wood.
Not there the wave-floater did the wind o'er the billows
Waft off from its ways; the sea-wender fared,
Floated the foamy-neck'd forth o'er the waves,
The bounden-stemm'd over the streams of the sea; 1910
Till the cliffs of the Geats there they gat them to wit,
The nesses well kenned. Throng'd up the keel then
Driven hard by the lift, and stood on the land.
Then speedy at holm was the hythe-warden yare,
E'en he who a long while after the lief men
Eager at stream's side far off had looked.
To the sand thereon bound he the wide-fathom'd ship
With anchor-bands fast, lest from them the waves' might
The wood that was winsome should drive thence awayward.
Thereon bade he upbear the athelings' treasures, 1920
The fretwork and wrought gold. Not far from them thenceforth
To seek to the giver of treasures it was,
E'en Hygelac, Hrethel's son, where at home wonneth
Himself and his fellows hard by the sea-wall.
Brave was the builded house, bold king the lord was,
High were the walls, Hygd very young,
Wise and well-thriven, though few of winters
Under the burg-locks had she abided,
The daughter of Hæreth; naught was she dastard;
Nowise niggard of gifts to the folk of the Geats, 1930
Of wealth of the treasures. But wrath Thrytho bore,
The folk-queen the fierce, wrought the crime-deed full fearful.
No one there durst it, the bold one, to dare,
Of the comrades beloved, save only her lord,
That on her by day with eyen he stare,
But if to him death-bonds predestin'd he count on,
Hand-wreathed; thereafter all rathely it was
After the hand-grip the sword-blade appointed,
That the cunning-wrought sword should show forth the deed,
Make known the murder-bale. Naught is such queenlike 1940
For a woman to handle, though peerless she be,
That a weaver of peace the life should waylay,
For a shame that was lying, of a lief man of men;
But the kinsman of Hemming, he hinder'd it surely.
Yet the drinkers of ale otherwise said they;
That folk-bales, which were lesser, she framed forsooth,
Lesser enmity-malice, since thence erst she was
Given gold-deck'd to the young one of champions,
She the dear of her lineage, since Offa's floor
Over the fallow flood by the lore of her father 1950
She sought in her wayfaring. Well was she sithence
There on the man-throne mighty with good;
Her shaping of life well brooked she living;
High love she held toward the lord of the heroes;
Of all kindred of men by the hearsay of me
The best of all was he the twain seas beside,
Of the measureless kindred; thereof Offa was
For gifts and for war, the spear-keen of men,
Full widely beworthy'd, with wisdom he held
The land of his heritage. Thence awoke Eomær 1960
For a help unto heroes, the kinsman of Hemming,
The grandson of Garmund, the crafty in war-strife.
XXIX. BEOWULF TELLS HYGELAC OF HROTHGAR:
ALSO OF FREAWARU HIS DAUGHTER.
Went his ways then the hard one, and he with his hand-shoal,
Himself over the sand the sea-plain a-treading,
The warths wide away; shone the world's candle,
The sun slop'd from the southward; so dreed they their journey,
And went their ways stoutly unto where the earls' refuge,
The banesman of Ongentheow all in his burgs there,
The young king of war, the good, as they heard it.
Was dealing the rings. Aright unto Hygelac 1970
Was Beowulf's speeding made knowen full swiftly,
That there into the house-place that hedge of the warriors,
His mate of the linden-board, living was come,
Hale from the battle-play home to him houseward.
Then rathe was beroomed, as the rich one was bidding,
For the guests a-foot going the floor all withinward.
Then sat in the face of him he from the fight sav'd,
Kinsman by kinsman, whenas his man-lord
In fair-sounding speech had greeted the faithful
With mightyful words. With mead-skinking turned 1980
Through the high house adown the daughter of Hæreth:
The people she loved: the wine-bucket bare she
To the hands of the men. But now fell to Hygelac
His very house-fellow in that hall the high
To question full fairly, for wit-lust to-brake him,
Of what like were the journeys the Sea-Geats had wended:
How befell you the sea-lode, O Beowulf lief,
When thou on a sudden bethoughtst thee afar
Over the salt water the strife to be seeking,
The battle in Hart? or for Hrothgar forsooth 1990
The wide-kenned woe some whit didst thou mend,
For that mighty of lords? I therefore the mood-care
In woe-wellings seethed; trow'd not in the wending
Of thee the lief man. A long while did I pray thee
That thou the death-guest there should greet not a whit;
Wouldst let those same South-Danes their own selves to settle
The war-tide with Grendel. Now to God say I thank
That thee, and thee sound, now may I see.
Out then spake Beowulf, Ecgtheow's bairn:
All undark it is, O Hygelac lord, 2000
That meeting the mighty, to a many of men;
Of what like was the meeting of Grendel and me
On that field of the deed, where he many a deal
For the Victory-Scyldings of sorrow had framed,
And misery for ever; but all that I awreaked,
So that needeth not boast any kinsman of Grendel
Any one upon earth of that uproar of dawn-dusk,
Nay not who lives longest of that kindred the loathly
Encompass'd of fenland. Thither first did I come
Unto that ring-hall Hrothgar to greet; 2010
Soon unto me the great Healfdene's son,
So soon as my heart he was wotting forsooth.
Right against his own son a settle there showed.
All that throng was in joy, nor life-long saw I ever
Under vault of the heavens amidst any hall-sitters
More mirth of the mead. There the mighty Queen whiles,
Peace-sib of the folk, went all over the floor,
To the young sons bade heart up; oft she there the ring-wreath
Gave unto a man ere to settle she wended.
At whiles fore the doughty the daughter of Hrothgar 2020
To the earls at the end the ale-bucket bore;
E'en she whom Freawaru the floor-sitters thereat
Heard I to name; where she the nail'd treasure
Gave to the warriors. She was behight then
Youngling and gold-dight to the glad son of Froda.
This hath seemed fair to the friend of the Scyldings,
The herd of the realm, and good rede he accounts it,
That he with that wife of death-feuds a deal
And of strifes should allay. Oft unseldom eachwhere
After a lord's fall e'en but for a little 2030
Bows down the bane-spear, though doughty the bride be.
XXX. BEOWULF FOREBODES ILL FROM THE WEDDING OF FREAWARU:
HE TELLS OF GRENDEL AND HIS DAM.
Ill-liking this may be to the lord of the Heathobards,
And to each of the thanes of that same people.
When he with fair bride on the floor of hall wendeth,
That the Dane's noble bairn his doughty should wait on,
As on him glisten there the heirlooms of the aged,
Hard and with rings bedight, Heathobards' treasure,
Whileas the weapons yet they might wield;
Till astray did they lead there at the lind-play
Their own fellows belov'd and their very own lives. 2040
For then saith at the beer, he who seeth the ring,
An ancient ash-warrior who mindeth of all
The spear-death of men; grim is he of mind;
Sad of mood he beginneth to tell the young champion.
Through the thought of his heart his mind there to try,
The war-bale to waken, and sayeth this word:
Mayest thou, friend mine, wot of the war-sword,
That which thy father bore in the fight
Under the war-mask e'en on the last time,
That the dear iron, whereas the Danes slew him, 2050
Wielded the death-field, since Withergyld lay,
After fall of the heroes, the keen-hearted Scyldings?
Now here of those banesmen the son, whoseso he be,
All merry in fretwork forth on floor fareth;
Of the murder he boasteth, and that jewel he beareth,
E'en that which of right thou shouldest arede.
Thus he mindeth and maketh word every of times,
With sore words he telleth, until the time cometh
That the thane of the fair bride for the deeds of his father
After bite of the bill sleepeth all blood-stain'd, 2060
All forfeit of life; but thenceforth the other
Escapeth alive; the land well he kenneth;
Then will be broken on both sides forsooth
The oath-swearing of earls, whenas unto Ingeld
Well up the death-hatreds, and the wife-loves of him
Because of the care-wellings cooler become.
Therefore the Heathobards' faith I account not,
Their deal of the folk-peace, unguileful to Danes,
Their fast-bounden friendship. Henceforth must I speak on
Again about Grendel, that thou get well to know it, 2070
O treasure-out-dealer, how sithence betided
The hand-race of heroes: sithence heaven's gem
All over the grounds glided, came the wroth guest,
The dire night-angry one us to go look on,
Whereas we all sound were warding the hall.
There then for Handshoe was battle abiding,
Life-bale to the fey; he first lay alow,
The war-champion girded; unto him became Grendel,
To the great thane of kindreds, a banesman of mouth,
Of the man well-beloved the body he swallow'd; 2080
Nor the sooner therefor out empty-handed
The bloody-tooth'd banesman, of bales all bemindful,
Out from that gold-hall yet would he get him;
But he, mighty of main, made trial of me,
And gripp'd ready-handed. His glove hung aloft,
Wondrous and wide, in wily bands fast,
With cunning wiles was it begeared forsooth,
With crafts of the devils and fells of the dragons;
He me withinwards there, me the unsinning,
The doer of big deeds would do me to be 2090
As one of the many; but naught so it might be,
Sithence in mine anger upright I stood.
'Tis over-long telling how I to the folkscather
For each one of evils out paid the hand-gild.
There I, O my lord king, them thy leal people
Worthy'd with works: but away he gat loosed
Out thence for a little while, brooked yet life-joys;
But his right hand held ward of his track howsoever,
High upon Hart-hall, and thence away humble
He sad of his mood to the mere-ground fell downward. 2100
Me for that slaughter-race the friend of the Scyldings
With gold that beplated was mickle deal paid,
With a many of treasures, sithence came the morning,
And we to the feast-tide had sat us adown;
Song was and glee there; the elder of Scyldings,
Asking of many things, told of things o'erpast;
Whiles hath the battle-deer there the harp's joy,
The wood of mirth greeted; whiles the lay said he
Soothfast and sorrowful; whiles a spell seldom told
Told he by right, the king roomy-hearted; 2110
Whiles began afterward he by eld bounden,
The aged hoar warrior, of his youth to bewail him,
Its might of the battle; his breast well'd within him,
When he, wont in winters, of many now minded.
So we there withinward the livelong day's wearing
Took pleasure amongst us, till came upon men
Another of nights; then eftsoons again
Was yare for the harm-wreak the mother of Grendel:
All sorry she wended, for her son death had taken,
The war-hate of the Weders: that monster of women 2120
Awreaked her bairn, and quelled a warrior
In manner all mighty. Then was there from Aeschere,
The wise man of old, life waning away;
Nor him might they even when come was the morning,
That death-weary wight, the folk of the Danes
Burn up with the brand, nor lade on the bale
The man well-belov'd, for his body she bare off
In her fathom the fiendly all under the fell-stream.
That was unto Hrothgar of sorrows the heaviest
Of them which the folk-chieftain long had befallen. 2130
Then me did the lord king, and e'en by thy life,
Mood-heavy beseech me that I in the holm-throng
Should do after earlship, my life to adventure,
And frame me main-greatness, and meed he behight me.
Then I of the welling flood, which is well kenned,
The grim and the grisly ground-herder did find.
There to us for a while was the blending of hands;
The holm welled with gore, and the head I becarved
In that hall of the ground from the Mother of Grendel
With the all-eked edges; unsoftly out thence 2140
My life forth I ferry'd, for not yet was I fey.
But the earls' burg to me was giving thereafter
Much sort of the treasures, e'en Healfdene's son.
XXXI. BEOWULF GIVES HROTHGAR'S GIFTS TO HYGELAC,
AND BY HIM IS REWARDED.
OF THE DEATH OF HYGELAC AND OF HEARDRED HIS SON,
AND HOW BEOWULF IS KING OF THE GEATS:
THE WORM IS FIRST TOLD OF.
So therewith the folk-king far'd, living full seemly;
By those wages forsooth ne'er a whit had I lost,
By the meed of my main, but to me treasure gave he,
The Healfdene's son, to the doom of myself;
Which to thee, king of bold ones, will I be a-bringing,
And gladly will give thee; for of thee is all gotten
Of favours along, and but little have I 2150
Of head-kinsmen forsooth, saving, Hygelac, thee.
Then he bade them bear in the boar-shape, the head-sign,
The battle-steep war-helm, the byrny all hoary,
The sword stately-good, and spell after he said:
This raiment of war Hrothgar gave to my hand,
The wise of the kings, and therewithal bade me,
That I first of all of his favour should flit thee;
He quoth that first had it King Heorogar of old,
The king of the Scyldings, a long while of time;
But no sooner would he give it unto his son, 2160
Heoroward the well-whet, though kind to him were he,
This weed of the breast. Do thou brook it full well.
On these fretworks, so heard I, four horses therewith,
All alike, close followed after the track,
Steeds apple-fallow. Fair grace he gave him
Of horses and treasures. E'en thus shall do kinsman,
And nowise a wile-net shall weave for another
With craft of the darkness, or do unto death
His very hand-fellow. But now unto Hygelac
The bold in the battle was his nephew full faithful, 2170
And either to other of good deeds was mindful.
I heard that the neck-ring to Hygd did he give,
E'en the wonder-gem well-wrought, that Wealh-theow gave him,
The king's daughter; gave he three steeds therewithal
Slender, and saddle-bright; sithence to her was,
After the ring-gift, the breast well beworthy'd.
Thus boldly he bore him, the Ecgtheow's bairn,
The groom kenned in battle, in good deeds a-doing;
After due doom he did, and ne'er slew he the drunken
Hearth-fellows of him: naught rough was his heart; 2180
But of all men of mankind with the greatest of might
The gift fully and fast set, which had God to him given,
That war-deer did hold. Long was he contemned,
While the bairns of the Geats naught told him for good,
Nor him on the mead-bench worthy of mickle
The lord of the war-hosts would be a-making.
Weened they strongly that he were but slack then,
An atheling unkeen; then came about change
To the fame-happy man for every foul harm.
Bade then the earls' burg in to be bringing, 2190
The king battle-famed, the leaving of Hrethel,
All geared with gold; was not 'mid the Geats then
A treasure-gem better of them of the sword-kind,
That which then on Beowulf's harm there he laid;
And gave to him there seven thousand in gift,
A built house and king-stool; to both them together
Was in that folkship land that was kindly,
Father-right, home; to the other one rather
A wide realm, to him who was there the better.
But thereafter it went so in days later worn 2200
Through the din of the battle, sithence Hygelac lay low
And unto Heardred swords of the battle
Under the war-board were for a bane;
When fell on him midst of this victory-folk
The hard battle-wolves, the Scyldings of war,
And by war overwhelmed the nephew of Hereric;
That sithence unto Beowulf turned the broad realm
All into his hand. Well then did he hold it
For a fifty of winters; then was he an old king,
An old fatherland's warder; until one began 2210
Through the dark of the night-tide, a drake, to hold sway.
In a howe high aloft watched over an hoard,
A stone-burg full steep; thereunder a path sty'd
Unknown unto men, and therewithin wended
Who of men do I know not; for his lust there took he,
From the hoard of the heathen his hand took away
A hall-bowl gem-flecked, nowise back did he give it
Though the herd of the hoard him sleeping beguil'd he
With thief-craft; and this then found out the king,
The best of folk-heroes, that wrath-bollen was he. 2220
XXXII. HOW THE WORM CAME TO THE HOWE,
AND HOW HE WAS ROBBED OF A CUP;
AND HOW HE FELL ON THE FOLK.
Not at all with self-wielding the craft of the worm-hoards
He sought of his own will, who sore himself harmed;
But for threat of oppression a thrall, of I wot not
Which bairn of mankind, from blows wrathful fled,
House-needy forsooth, and hied him therein,
A man by guilt troubled. Then soon it betided
That therein to the guest there stood grisly terror;
However the wretched, of every hope waning
* * * * *
The ill-shapen wight, whenas the fear gat him,
The treasure-vat saw; of such there was a many 2230
Up in that earth-house of treasures of old,
As them in the yore-days, though what man I know not,
The huge leavings and loom of a kindred of high ones,
Well thinking of thoughts there had hidden away.
Dear treasures. But all them had death borne away
In the times of erewhile; and the one at the last
Of the doughty of that folk that there longest lived,
There waxed he friend-sad, yet ween'd he to tarry,
That he for a little those treasures the longsome
Might brook for himself. But a burg now all ready 2240
Wonn'd on the plain nigh the waves of the water,
New by a ness, by narrow-crafts fasten'd;
Within there then bare of the treasures of earls
That herd of the rings a deal hard to carry,
Of gold fair beplated, and few words he quoth:
Hold thou, O earth, now, since heroes may hold not,
The owning of earls. What! it erst within thee
Good men did get to them; now war-death hath gotten,
Life-bale the fearful, each man and every
Of my folk; e'en of them who forwent the life: 2250
The hall-joy had they seen. No man to wear sword
I own, none to brighten the beaker beplated,
The dear drink-vat; the doughty have sought to else-whither.
Now shall the hard war-helm bedight with the gold
Be bereft of its plating; its polishers sleep,
They that the battle-mask erewhile should burnish:
Likewise the war-byrny, which abode in the battle
O'er break of the war-boards the bite of the irons,
Crumbles after the warrior; nor may the ring'd byrny
After the war-leader fare wide afield 2260
On behalf of the heroes: nor joy of the harp is,
No game of the glee-wood; no goodly hawk now
Through the hall swingeth; no more the swift horse
Beateth the burg-stead. Now hath bale-quelling
A many of life-kin forth away sent.
Suchwise sad-moody moaned in sorrow
One after all, unblithely bemoaning
By day and by night, till the welling of death
Touch'd at his heart. The old twilight-scather
Found the hoard's joyance standing all open, 2270
E'en he that, burning, seeketh to burgs,
The evil drake, naked, that flieth a night-tide,
With fire encompass'd; of him the earth-dwellers
Are strongly adrad; wont is he to seek to
The hoard in the earth, where he the gold heathen
Winter-old wardeth; nor a whit him it betters.
So then the folk-scather for three hundred winters
Held in the earth a one of hoard-houses
All-eked of craft, until him there anger'd
A man in his mood, who bare to his man-lord 2280
A beaker beplated, and bade him peace-warding
Of his lord: then was lightly the hoard searched over,
And the ring-hoard off borne; and the boon it was granted
To that wretched-wrought man. There then the lord saw
That work of men foregone the first time of times.
Then awaken'd the Worm, and anew the strife was;
Along the stone stank he, the stout-hearted found
The foot-track of the foe; he had stept forth o'er-far
With dark craft, over-nigh to the head of the drake.
So may the man unfey full easily outlive 2290
The woe and the wrack-journey, he whom the Wielder's
Own grace is holding. Now sought the hoard-warden
Eager over the ground; for the groom he would find
Who unto him sleeping had wrought out the sore:
Hot and rough-moody oft he turn'd round the howe
All on the outward; but never was any man
On the waste; but however in war he rejoiced,
In battle-work. Whiles he turn'd back to his howe
And sought to his treasure-vat; soon he found this,
That one of the grooms had proven the gold, 2300
The high treasures; then the hoard-warden abided,
But hardly forsooth, until come was the even,
And all anger-bollen was then the burg-warden,
And full much would the loath one with the fire-flame pay back
For his drink-vat the dear. Then day was departed
E'en at will to the Worm, and within wall no longer
Would he bide, but awayward with burning he fared,
All dight with the fire: it was fearful beginning
To the folk in the land, and all swiftly it fell 2310
On their giver of treasure full grievously ended.
XXXIII. THE WORM BURNS BEOWULF'S HOUSE,
AND BEOWULF GETS READY TO GO AGAINST HIM.
BEOWULF'S EARLY DEEDS IN BATTLE WITH THE HETWARE TOLD OF.
Began then the guest to spew forth of gleeds,
The bright dwellings to burn; stood the beam of the burning
For a mischief to menfolk; now nothing that quick was
The loathly lift-flier would leave there forsooth;
The war of the Worm was wide to be seen there,
The narrowing foe's hatred anigh and afar,
How he, the fight-scather, the folk of the Geats
Hated and harm'd; shot he back to the hoard,
His dark lordly hall, ere yet was the day's while;
The land-dwellers had he in the light low encompass'd 2320
With bale and with brand; in his burg yet he trusted,
His war-might and his wall: but his weening bewray'd him.
Then Beowulf was done to wit of the terror
Full swiftly forsooth, that the house of himself,
Best of buildings, was molten in wellings of fire,
The gift-stool of the Geats. To the good one was that
A grief unto heart; of mind-sorrows the greatest.
Weened the wise one, that Him, e'en the Wielder,
The Lord everlasting, against the old rights
He had bitterly anger'd; the breast boil'd within him 2330
With dark thoughts, that to him were naught duly wonted.
Now had the fire-drake the own fastness of folk,
The water-land outward, that ward of the earth,
With gleeds to ground wasted; so therefore the war-king,
The lord of the Weder-folk, learned him vengeance.
Then he bade be work'd for him, that fence of the warriors,
And that all of iron, the lord of the earls,
A war-board all glorious, for wissed he yarely
That the holt-wood hereto might help him no whit,
The linden 'gainst fire-flame. Of fleeting days now 2340
The Atheling exceeding good end should abide,
The end of the world's life, and the Worm with him also,
Though long he had holden the weal of the hoard.
Forsooth scorned then the lord of the rings
That he that wide-flier with war-band should seek,
With a wide host; he fear'd not that war for himself,
Nor for himself the Worm's war accounted one whit,
His might and his valour, for that he erst a many
Strait-daring of battles had bided, and liv'd,
Clashings huge of the battle, sithence he of Hrothgar, 2350
He, the man victory-happy, had cleansed the hall,
And in war-tide had gripped the kindred of Grendel,
The loathly of kindreds; nor was that the least
Of hand-meetings, wherein erst was Hygelac slain,
Sithence the Geats' king in the onrush of battle,
The lord-friend of the folks, down away in the Frieslands,
The offspring of Hrethel, died, drunken of sword-drinks,
All beaten of bill. Thence Beowulf came forth
By his own craft forsooth, dreed the work of the swimming;
He had on his arm, he all alone, thirty 2360
Of war-gears, when he to the holm went adown.
Then nowise the Hetware needed to joy them
Over the foot-war, wherein forth against him
They bore the war-linden: few went back again
From that wolf of the battle to wend to their homes.
O'erswam then the waters' round Ecgtheow's son,
Came all wretched and byrd-alone back to his people,
Whereas offer'd him Hygd then the kingdom and hoard,
The rings and the king-stool: trowed naught in the child,
That he 'gainst folks outland the fatherland-seats 2370
Might can how to hold, now was Hygelac dead:
Yet no sooner therefor might the poor folk prevail
To gain from the Atheling in any of ways
That he unto Heardred would be for a lord,
Or eke that that kingdom henceforward should choose;
Yet him midst of the folk with friend-lore he held,
All kindly with honour till older he waxed
And wielded the Weder-Geats. To him men-waifs thereafter
Sought from over the sea, the sons they of Ohthere,
For they erst had withstood the helm of the Scylfings, 2380
E'en him that was best of the kings of the sea,
Of them that in Swede-realm dealt out the treasure,
The mighty of princes. Unto him 'twas a life-mark;
To him without food there was fated the life-wound,
That Hygelac's son, by the swinging of swords;
And him back departed Ongentheow's bairn,
To go seek to his house, sithence Heardred lay dead,
And let Beowulf hold the high seat of the king
And wield there the Geats. Yea, good was that king.
XXXIV. BEOWULF GOES AGAINST THE WORM.
HE TELLS OF HEREBEALD AND HÆTHCYN.
Of that fall of the folk-king he minded the payment 2390
In days that came after: unto Eadgils he was
A friend to him wretched; with folk he upheld him
Over the wide sea, that same son of Ohthere,
With warriors and weapons. Sithence had he wreaking
With cold journeys of care: from the king took he life.
Now each one of hates thus had he outlived,
And of perilous slaughters, that Ecgtheow's son,
All works that be doughty, until that one day
When he with the Worm should wend him to deal.
So twelvesome he set forth all swollen with anger, 2400
The lord of the Geats, the drake to go look on.
Aright had he learnt then whence risen the feud was,
The bale-hate against men-folk: to his barm then had come
The treasure-vat famous by the hand of the finder;
He was in that troop of men the thirteenth
Who the first of that battle had set upon foot,
The thrall, the sad-minded; in shame must he thenceforth
Wise the way to the plain; and against his will went he
Thereunto, where the earth-hall the one there he wist,
The howe under earth anigh the holm's welling, 2410
The wave-strife: there was it now full all within
With gems and with wires; the monster, the warden,
The yare war-wolf, he held him therein the hoard golden,
The old under the earth: it was no easy cheaping
To go and to gain for any of grooms.
Sat then on the ness there the strife-hardy king
While farewell he bade to his fellows of hearth,
The gold-friend of the Geats; sad was gotten his soul,
Wavering, death-minded; weird nigh beyond measure,
Which him old of years gotten now needs must be greeting, 2420
Must seek his soul's hoard and asunder must deal
His life from his body: no long while now was
The life of the Atheling in flesh all bewounden.
Now spake out Beowulf, Ecgtheow's bairn:
Many a one in my youth of war-onsets I outliv'd,
And the whiles of the battle: all that I remember.
Seven winters had I when the wielder of treasures,
The lord-friend of folk, from my father me took,
Held me and had me Hrethel the king,
Gave me treasure and feast, and remember'd the friendship. 2430
For life thence I was not to him a whit loather,
A berne in his burgs than his bairns were, or each one,
Herebeald, or Hæthcyn, or Hygelac mine.
For the eldest there was in unseemly wise
By the mere deed of kinsman a murder-bed strawen,
Whenas him did Hæthcyn from out of his horn-bow,
His lord and his friend, with shaft lay alow:
His mark he miss'd shooting, and shot down his kinsman,
One brother another with shaft all bebloody'd;
That was fight feeless by fearful crime sinned, 2440
Soul-weary to heart, yet natheless then had
The atheling from life all unwreak'd to be ceasing.
So sad-like it is for a carle that is aged
To be biding the while that his boy shall be riding
Yet young on the gallows; then a lay should he utter,
A sorrowful song whenas hangeth his son
A gain unto ravens, and naught good of avail
May he, old and exceeding old, anywise frame.
Ever will he be minded on every each morning
Of his son's faring otherwhere; nothing he heedeth 2450
Of abiding another withinward his burgs,
An heritage-warder, then whenas the one
By the very death's need hath found out the ill.
Sorrow-careful he seeth within his son's bower
The waste wine-hall, the resting-place now of the winds,
All bereft of the revel; the riders are sleeping,
The heroes in grave, and no voice of the harp is,
No game in the garths such as erewhile was gotten.
XXXV. BEOWULF TELLS OF PAST FEUDS,
AND BIDS FAREWELL TO HIS FELLOWS:
HE FALLS ON THE WORM, AND THE BATTLE OF THEM BEGINS.
Then to sleeping-stead wendeth he, singeth he sorrow,
The one for the other; o'er-roomy all seem'd him 2460
The meads and the wick-stead. So the helm of the Weders
For Herebeald's sake the sorrow of heart
All welling yet bore, and in nowise might he
On the banesman of that life the feud be a-booting;
Nor ever the sooner that warrior might hate
With deeds loathly, though he to him nothing was lief.
He then with the sorrow wherewith that sore beset him
Man's joy-tide gave up, and chose him God's light.
To his offspring he left, e'en as wealthy man doeth,
His land and his folk-burgs when he from life wended. 2470
Then sin was and striving of Swedes and of Geats,
Over the wide water war-tide in common,
The hard horde-hate to wit sithence Hrethel perish'd;
And to them ever were the Ongentheow's sons
Doughty and host-whetting, nowise then would friendship
Hold over the waters; but round about Hreosnaburgh
The fierce fray of foeman was oftentimes fram'd.
Kin of friends that mine were, there they awreaked
The feud and the evil deed, e'en as was famed;
Although he, the other, with his own life he bought it, 2480
A cheaping full hard: unto Hæthcyn it was,
To the lord of the Geat-folk, a life-fateful war.
Learned I that the morrow one brother the other
With the bills' edges wreaked the death on the banesman,
Whereas Ongentheow is a-seeking of Eofor:
Glode the war-helm asunder, the aged of Scylfings
Fell, sword-bleak; e'en so remember'd the hand
Feud enough; nor e'en then did the life-stroke withhold.
I to him for the treasure which erewhile he gave me
Repaid it in warring, as was to me granted, 2490
With my light-gleaming sword. To me gave he land,
The hearth and the home-bliss: unto him was no need
That unto the Gifthas or unto the Spear-Danes
Or into the Swede-realm he needs must go seeking
A worse wolf of war for a worth to be cheaping;
For in the host ever would I be before him
Alone in the fore-front, and so life-long shall I
Be a-framing of strife, whileas tholeth the sword,
Which early and late hath bestead me full often,
Sithence was I by doughtiness unto Day-raven 2500
The hand-bane erst waxen, to the champion of Hug-folk;
He nowise the fretwork to the king of the Frisians,
The breast-worship to wit, might bring any more,
But cringed in battle that herd of the banner,
The Atheling in might: the edge naught was his bane,
But for him did the war-grip the heart-wellings of him
Break, the house of the bones. Now shall the bill's edge,
The hand and hard sword, about the hoard battle.
So word uttered Beowulf, spake out the boast word
For the last while as now: Many wars dared I 2510
In the days of my youth, and now will I yet,
The old warder of folk, seek to the feud,
Full gloriously frame, if the scather of foul-deed
From the hall of the earth me out shall be seeking.
Greeted he then each one of the grooms,
The keen wearers of helms, for the last while of whiles,
His own fellows the dear: No sword would I fare with,
No weapon against the Worm, wist I but how
'Gainst the monster of evil in otherwise might I
Uphold me my boast, as erst did I with Grendel; 2520
But there fire of the war-tide full hot do I ween me,
And the breath, and the venom; I shall bear on me therefore
Both the board and the byrny; nor the burg's warden shall I
Overflee for a foot's-breadth, but unto us twain
It shall be at the wall as to us twain Weird willeth,
The Maker of each man. Of mood am I eager;
So that 'gainst that war-flier from boast I withhold me.
Abide ye upon burg with your byrnies bewarded,
Ye men in your battle-gear, which may the better
After the slaughter-race save us from wounding 2530
Of the twain of us. Naught is it yours to take over,
Nor the measure of any man save alone me,
That he on the monster should mete out his might,
Or work out the earlship: but I with my main might
Shall gain me the gold, or else gets me the battle,
The perilous life-bale, e'en me your own lord.
Arose then by war-round the warrior renowned
Hard under helm, and the sword-sark he bare
Under the stone-cliffs: in the strength then he trowed
Of one man alone; no dastard's way such is. 2540
Then he saw by the wall (e'en he, who so many,
The good of man-bounties, of battles had out-liv'd,
Of crashes of battle whenas hosts were blended)
A stone-bow a-standing, and from out thence a stream
Breaking forth from the burg; was that burn's outwelling
All hot with the war-fire; and none nigh to the hoard then
Might ever unburning any while bide,
Live out through the deep for the flame of the drake.
Out then from his breast, for as bollen as was he,
Let the Weder-Geats' chief the words be out faring; 2550
The stout-hearted storm'd and the stave of him enter'd
Battle-bright sounding in under the hoar stone.
Then uproused was hate, and the hoard-warden wotted
The speech of man's word, and no more while there was
Friendship to fetch. Then forth came there first
The breath of the evil beast out from the stone,
The hot sweat of battle, and dinn'd then the earth.
The warrior beneath the burg swung up his war-round
Against that grisly guest, the lord of the Geats;
Then the heart of the ring-bow'd grew eager therewith 2560
To seek to the strife. His sword ere had he drawn,
That good lord of the battle, the leaving of old,
The undull of edges: there was unto either
Of the bale-minded ones the fear of the other.
All steadfast of mind stood against his steep shield
The lord of the friends, when the Worm was a-bowing
Together all swiftly, in war-gear he bided;
Then boune was the burning one, bow'd in his going,
To the fate of him faring. The shield was well warding
The life and the lyke of the mighty lord king 2570
For a lesser of whiles than his will would have had it,
If he at that frist on the first of the day
Was to wield him, as weird for him never will'd it,
The high-day of battle. His hand he up braided,
The lord of the Geats, and the grisly-fleck'd smote he
With the leaving of Ing, in such wise that the edge fail'd,
The brown blade on the bone, and less mightily bit
Than the king of the nation had need in that stour,
With troubles beset. But then the burg-warden
After the war-swing all wood of his mood 2580
Cast forth the slaughter-flame, sprung thereon widely
The battle-gleams: nowise of victory he boasted,
The gold-friend of the Geats; his war-bill had falter'd,
All naked in war, in such wise as it should not,
The iron exceeding good. Naught was it easy
For him there, the mighty-great offspring of Ecgtheow,
That he now that earth-plain should give up for ever;
But against his will needs must he dwell in the wick
Of the otherwhere country; as ever must each man
Let go of his loan-days. Not long was it thenceforth 2590
Ere the fell ones of fight fell together again.
The hoard-warden up-hearten'd him, welled his breast
With breathing anew. Then narrow need bore he,
Encompass'd with fire, who erst the folk wielded;
Nowise in a heap his hand-fellows there,
The bairns of the athelings, stood all about him
In valour of battle; but they to holt bow'd them;
Their dear life they warded; but in one of them welled
His soul with all sorrow. So sib-ship may never
Turn aside any whit to the one that well thinketh. 2600
XXXVI. WIGLAF SON OF WEOHSTAN
GOES TO THE HELP OF BEOWULF:
NÆGLING, BEOWULF'S SWORD, IS BROKEN ON THE WORM.
Wiglaf so hight he, the son of Weohstan,
Lief linden-warrior, and lord of Scylfings,
The kinsman of Aelfhere: and he saw his man-lord
Under his host-mask tholing the heat;
He had mind of the honour that to him gave he erewhile.
The wick-stead the wealthy of them, the Wægmundings,
And the folk-rights each one which his father had owned.
Then he might not withhold him, his hand gripp'd the round,
Yellow linden; he tugg'd out withal the old sword,
That was known among men for the heirloom of Eanmund, 2610
Ohthere's son, unto whom in the strife did become,
To the exile unfriended, Weohstan for the bane
With the sword-edge, and unto his kinsmen bare off
The helm the brown-brindled, the byrny beringed,
And the old eoten-sword that erst Onela gave him;
Were they his kinsman's weed of the war,
Host-fight-gear all ready. Of the feud nothing spake he.
Though he of his brother the bairn had o'er-thrown.
But the host-gear befretted he held many seasons,
The bill and the byrny, until his own boy might 2620
Do him the earlship as did his ere-father.
Amidst of the Geats then he gave him the war-weed
Of all kinds unnumber'd, whenas he from life wended
Old on the forth-way. Then was the first time
For that champion the young that he the war-race
With his high lord the famed e'er he should frame:
Naught melted his mood, naught the loom of his kinsman
Weaken'd in war-tide; that found out the Worm
When they two together had gotten to come.
Now spake out Wiglaf many words rightwise, 2630
And said to his fellows: all sad was his soul:
I remember that while when we gat us the mead,
And whenas we behight to the high lord of us
In the beer-hall, e'en he who gave us these rings,
That we for the war-gear one while would pay,
If unto him thislike need e'er should befall,
For these helms and hard swords. So he chose us from host
To this faring of war by his very own will,
Of glories he minded us, and gave me these gems here,
Whereas us of gar-warriors he counted for good, 2640
And bold bearers of helms. Though our lord e'en for us
This work of all might was of mind all alone
Himself to be framing, the herd of the folk,
Whereas most of all men he hath mightiness framed.
Of deeds of all daring, yet now is the day come
Whereon to our man-lord behoveth the main
Of good battle-warriors; so thereunto wend we,
And help we the host-chief, whiles that the heat be,
The gleed-terror grim. Now of me wotteth God
That to me is much liefer that that, my lyke-body, 2650
With my giver of gold the gleed should engrip.
Unmeet it methinketh that we shields should bear
Back unto our own home, unless we may erst
The foe fell adown and the life-days defend
Of the king of the Weders. Well wot I hereof
That his old deserts naught such were, that he only
Of all doughty of Geats the grief should be bearing.
Sink at strife. Unto us shall one sword be, one helm,
One byrny and shield, to both of us common.
Through the slaughter-reek waded he then, bare his war-helm 2660
To the finding his lord, and few words he quoth:
O Beowulf the dear, now do thee all well,
As thou in thy youthful life quothest of yore,
That naught wouldst thou let, while still thou wert living,
Thy glory fade out. Now shalt thou of deeds famed,
The atheling of single heart, with all thy main deal
For the warding thy life, and to stay thee I will.
Then after these words all wroth came the Worm,
The dire guest foesome, that second of whiles
With fire-wellings flecked, his foes to go look on, 2670
The loath men. With flame was lightly then burnt up
The board to the boss, and might not the byrny
To the warrior the young frame any help yet.
But so the young man under shield of his kinsman
Went onward with valour, whenas his own was
All undone with gleeds; then again the war-king
Remember'd his glories, and smote with mainmight
With his battle-bill, so that it stood in the head
Need-driven by war-hate. Then asunder burst Nægling,
Waxed weak in the war-tide, e'en Beowulf's sword, 2680
The old and grey-marked; to him was not given
That to him any whit might the edges of irons
Be helpful in battle; over-strong was the hand
Which every of swords, by the hearsay of me,
With its swing over-wrought, when he bare unto strife
A wondrous hard weapon; naught it was to him better.
Then was the folk-scather for the third of times yet,
The fierce fire-drake, all mindful of feud;
He rac'd on that strong one, when was room to him given,
Hot and battle-grim; he all the halse of him gripped 2690
With bitter-keen bones; all bebloody'd he waxed
With the gore of his soul. Well'd in waves then the war-sweat.
XXXVII. THEY TWO SLAY THE WORM.
BEOWULF IS WOUNDED DEADLY:
HE BIDDETH WIGLAF BEAR OUT THE TREASURE.
Then heard I that at need of the high king of folk
The upright earl made well manifest might,
His craft and his keenness as kind was to him;
The head there he heeded not (but the hand burned
Of that man of high mood when he helped his kinsman),
Whereas he now the hate-guest smote yet a deal nether,
That warrior in war-gear, whereby the sword dived,
The plated, of fair hue, and thereby fell the flame 2700
To minish thereafter, and once more the king's self
Wielded his wit, and his slaying-sax drew out,
The bitter and battle-sharp, borne on his byrny;
Asunder the Weder's helm smote the Worm midmost;
They felled the fiend, and force drave the life out,
And they twain together had gotten him ending,
Those athelings sib. E'en such should a man be,
A thane good at need. Now that to the king was
The last victory-while, by the deeds of himself,
Of his work of the world. Sithence fell the wound, 2710
That the earth-drake to him had wrought but erewhile.
To swell and to sweal; and this soon he found out,
That down in the breast of him bale-evil welled,
The venom withinward; then the Atheling wended,
So that he by the wall, bethinking him wisdom.
Sat on seat there and saw on the works of the giants,
How that the stone-bows fast stood on pillars,
The earth-house everlasting upheld withinward.
Then with his hand him the sword-gory,
That great king his thane, the good beyond measure, 2720
His friend-lord with water washed full well,
The sated of battle, and unspanned his war-helm.
Forth then spake Beowulf, and over his wound said,
His wound piteous deadly; wist he full well,
That now of his day-whiles all had he dreed,
Of the joy of the earth; all was shaken asunder
The tale of his days; death without measure nigh:
Unto my son now should I be giving
My gear of the battle, if to me it were granted
Any ward of the heritage after my days 2730
To my body belonging. This folk have I holden
Fifty winters; forsooth was never a folk-king
Of the sitters around, no one of them soothly,
Who me with the war-friends durst wend him to greet
And bear down with the terror. In home have I abided
The shapings of whiles, and held mine own well.
No wily hates sought I; for myself swore not many
Of oaths in unright. For all this may I,
Sick with the life-wounds, soothly have joy.
Therefore naught need wyte me the Wielder of men 2740
With kin murder-bale, when breaketh asunder
My life from my lyke. And now lightly go thou
To look on the hoard under the hoar stone,
Wiglaf mine lief, now that lieth the Worm
And sleepeth sore wounded, beshorn of his treasure;
And be hasty that I now the wealth of old time,
The gold-having may look on, and yarely behold
The bright cunning gems, that the softlier may I
After the treasure-weal let go away
My life, and the folk-ship that long I have held. 2750