Beowulf (Bilingual Edition)
Author: Seamus Heaney
Date: 2001-02-17
Publisher: W. W. Norton & Company
Rights: All Rights Reserved

ALSO BY SEAMUS HEANEY

POETRY

Death of a Naturalist

Door into the Dark

Wintering Out

North

Field Work

Poems 1965–1975

Sweeney Astray: A Version from the Irish

Station Island

The Haw Lantern

Selected Poems 1966–1987

Seeing Things

Sweeney’s Flight (with photographs by Rachel Giese)

The Spirit Level

Opened Ground: Selected Poems 1966–1996

CRITICISM

Preoccupations: Selected Prose 1968–1978

The Government of the Tongue

The Redress of Poetry

PLAYS

The Cure at Troy: A Version of Sophocles’ Philoctetes

BEOWULF

In memory of Ted Hughes

Contents

1. Title Page
2. Dedication
3. Introduction
4. A Note on Names by Alfred David
5. Old English
6. Translation
7. Family Trees
8. Acknowledgements
9. Copyright
10. More Praise for Beowulf
11. Also by Seamus Heaney

Introduction

And now this is ‘an inheritance’—

Upright, rudimentary, unshiftably planked
In the long ago, yet willable forward

Again and again and again.

BEOWULF: THE POEM

The poem called Beowulf was composed sometime between the middle of the seventh and the end of the tenth century of the first millennium, in the language that is to-day called Anglo-Saxon or Old English. It is a heroic narrative, more than three thousand lines long, concerning the deeds of a Scandinavian prince, also called Beowulf, and it stands as one of the foundation works of poetry in English. The fact that the English language has changed so much in the last thousand years means, however, that the poem is now generally read in translation and mostly in English courses at schools and universities. This has contributed to the impression that it was written (as Osip Mandelstam said of The Divine Comedy) “on official paper,” which is unfortunate, since what we are dealing with is a work of the greatest imaginative vitality, a masterpiece where the structuring of the tale is as elaborate as the beautiful contrivances of its language. Its narrative elements may belong to a previous age but as a work of art it lives in its own continuous present, equal to our knowledge of reality in the present time.

The poem was written in England but the events it describes are set in Scandinavia, in a “once upon a time” that is partly historical. Its hero, Beowulf, is the biggest presence among the warriors in the land of the Geats, a territory situated in what is now southern Sweden, and early in the poem Beowulf crosses the sea to the land of the Danes in order to clear their country of a man-eating monster called Grendel. From this expedition (which involves him in a second contest with Grendel’s mother) he returns in triumph and eventually rules for fifty years as king of his homeland. Then a dragon begins to terrorize the countryside and Beowulf must confront it. In a final climactic encounter, he does manage to slay the dragon, but he also meets his own death and enters the legends of his people as a warrior of high renown.

We know about the poem more or less by chance because it exists in one manuscript only. This unique copy (now in the British Library) barely survived a fire in the eighteenth century and was then transcribed and titled, retranscribed and edited, translated and adapted, interpreted and reinterpreted, until it has become canonical. For decades it has been a set book on English syllabuses at university level all over the world. The fact that many English departments require it to be studied in the original continues to generate resistance, most notably at Oxford University, where the pros and cons of the inclusion of part of it as a compulsory element in the English course have been debated regularly in recent years.

For generations of undergraduates, academic study of the poem was often just a matter of construing the meaning, getting a grip on the grammar and vocabulary of Anglo-Saxon, and being able to recognize, translate, and comment upon random extracts which were presented in the examinations. For generations of scholars too the interest had been textual and philological; then there developed a body of research into analogues and sources, a quest for stories and episodes in the folklore and legends of the Nordic peoples which would parallel or foreshadow episodes in Beowulf. Scholars were also preoccupied with fixing the exact time and place of the poem’s composition, paying minute attention to linguistic, stylistic, and scribal details. More generally, they tried to establish the history and genealogy of the dynasties of Swedes and Geats and Danes to which the poet makes constant allusion; and they devoted themselves to a consideration of the world-view behind the poem, asking to what extent (if at all) the newly Christian understanding of the world which operates in the poet’s designing mind displaces him from his imaginative at-homeness in the world of his poem—a pagan Germanic society governed by a heroic code of honour, one where the attainment of a name for warrior-prowess among the living overwhelms any concern about the soul’s destiny in the afterlife.

However, when it comes to considering Beowulf as a work of literature, there is one publication that stands out. In 1936, the Oxford scholar and teacher J.R.R. Tolkien published an epoch-making paper entitled “Beowulf: The Monsters and the Critics” which took for granted the poem’s integrity and distinction as a work of art and proceeded to show in what this integrity and distinction inhered. He assumed that the poet had felt his way through the inherited material—the fabulous elements and the traditional accounts of an heroic past—and by a combination of creative intuition and conscious structuring had arrived at a unity of effect and a balanced order. He assumed, in other words, that the Beowulf poet was an imaginative writer rather than some kind of back-formation derived from nineteenth-century folklore and philology. Tolkien’s brilliant literary treatment changed the way the poem was valued and initiated a new era—and new terms—of appreciation.

It is impossible to attain a full understanding and estimate of Beowulf without recourse to this immense body of commentary and elucidation. Nevertheless, readers coming to the poem for the first time are likely to be as delighted as they are discomfited by the strangeness of the names and the immediate lack of known reference points. An English speaker new to The Iliad or The Odyssey or The Aeneid will probably at least have heard of Troy and Helen, or of Penelope and the Cyclops, or of Dido and the golden bough. These epics may be in Greek and Latin, yet the classical heritage has entered the cultural memory enshrined in English so thoroughly that their worlds are more familiar than that of the first native epic, even though it was composed centuries after them. Achilles rings a bell, but not Scyld Scēfing. Ithaca leads the mind in a certain direction, but not Heorot. The Sibyl of Cumae will stir certain associations, but not bad Queen Modthryth. First-time readers of Beowulf very quickly rediscover the meaning of the term “the dark ages,” and it is in the hope of dispelling some of the puzzlement they are bound to feel that I have added the marginal glosses which appear in the following pages.

Still, in spite of the sensation of being caught between a “shield-wall” of opaque references and a “word-hoard” that is old and strange, such readers are also bound to feel a certain “shock of the new.” This is because the poem possesses a mythic potency. Like Shield Sheafson (as Scyld Scēfing is known in this translation), it arrives from somewhere beyond the known bourne of our experience, and having fulfilled its purpose (again like Shield), it passes once more into the beyond. In the intervening time, the poet conjures up a work as remote as Shield’s funeral boat borne towards the horizon, as commanding as the horn-pronged gables of King Hrothgar’s hall, as solid and dazzling as Beowulf’s funeral pyre that is set ablaze at the end. These opening and closing scenes retain a haunting presence in the mind; they are set pieces but they have the life-marking power of certain dreams. They are like the pillars of the gate of horn, through which wise dreams of true art can still be said to pass.

What happens in between is what William Butler Yeats would have called a phantasmagoria. Three agons, three struggles in which the preternatural force-for-evil of the hero’s enemies comes springing at him in demonic shapes. Three encounters with what the critical literature and the textbook glossaries call “the monsters.” In three archetypal sites of fear: the barricaded night-house, the infested underwater current, and the reptile-haunted rocks of a wilderness. If we think of the poem in this way, its place in world art becomes clearer and more secure. We can conceive of it re-presented and transformed in performance in a bunraku theatre in Japan, where the puppetry and the poetry are mutually supportive, a mixture of technicolour spectacle and ritual chant. Or we can equally envisage it as an animated cartoon (and there has been at least one shot at this already), full of mutating graphics and minatory stereophonics. We can avoid, at any rate, the slightly cardboard effect which the word “monster” tends to introduce, and give the poem a fresh chance to sweep “in off the moors, down through the mist bands” of Anglo-Saxon England, forward into the global village of the third millennium.

Nevertheless, the dream element and overall power to haunt come at a certain readerly price. The poem abounds in passages which will leave an unprepared audience bewildered. Just when the narrative seems ready to take another step ahead into the main Beowulf story, it sidesteps. For a moment it is as if we have been channel-surfed into another poem, and at two points in this translation I indicate that we are in fact participating in a poem-within-our-poem not only by the use of italics but by a slight quickening of pace and shortening of metrical rein. The passages occur in lines 883–914 and lines 1070–1158, and on each occasion a minstrel has begun to chant a poem as part of the celebration of Beowulf’s achievement. In the former case, the minstrel expresses his praise by telling the story of Sigemund’s victory over a dragon, which both parallels Beowulf’s triumph over Grendel and prefigures his fatal encounter with the wyrm in his old age. In the latter—the most famous of what were once called the “digressions” in the poem, the one dealing with a fight between Danes and Frisians at the stronghold of Finn, the Frisian king—the song the minstrel sings has a less obvious bearing on the immediate situation of the hero, but its import is nevertheless central to both the historical and the imaginative world of the poem.

The “Finnsburg episode” envelops us in a society that is at once honour-bound and blood-stained, presided over by the laws of the blood-feud, where the kin of a person slain are bound to exact a price for the death, either by slaying the killer or by receiving satisfaction in the form of wergild (the “man-price”), a legally fixed compensation. The claustrophobic and doom-laden atmosphere of this interlude gives the reader an intense intimation of what wyrd, or fate, meant not only to the characters in the Finn story but to those participating in the main action of Beowulf itself. All conceive of themselves as hooped within the great wheel of necessity, in thrall to a code of loyalty and bravery, bound to seek glory in the eye of the warrior world. The little nations are grouped around their lord, the greater nations spoil for war and menace the little ones, a lord dies, defencelessness ensues, the enemy strikes, vengeance for the dead becomes an ethic for the living, bloodshed begets further bloodshed, the wheel turns, the generations tread and tread and tread. Which is what I meant above when I said that the import of the Finnsburg passage is central to the historical and imaginative world of the poem as a whole.

One way of reading Beowulf is to think of it as three agons in the hero’s life, but another way would be to regard it as a poem which contemplates the destinies of three peoples by tracing their interweaving histories in the story of the central character. First we meet the Danes—variously known as the Shieldings (after Shield Sheafson, the founder of their line), the Ingwins, the Spear-Danes, the Bright-Danes, the West-Danes, and so on—a people in the full summer of their power, symbolized by the high hall built by King Hrothgar, one “meant to be a wonder of the world.” The threat to this gilded order comes from within, from marshes beyond the pale, from the bottom of the haunted mere where “Cain’s clan,” in the shape of Grendel and his troll-dam, trawl and scavenge and bide their time. But it also comes from without, from the Heathobards, for example, whom the Danes have defeated in battle and from whom they can therefore expect retaliatory war (see ll. 2020–69).

Beowulf actually predicts this turn of events when he goes back to his own country after saving the Danes (for the time being, at any rate) by staving off the two “reavers from hell.” In the hall of his “ring-giver,” Hygelac, lord of the Geats, the hero discourses about his adventures in a securely fortified cliff-top enclosure. But this security is only temporary, for it is the destiny of the Geat people to be left lordless in the end. Hygelac’s alliances eventually involve him in deadly war with the Swedish king, Ongentheow, and even though he does not personally deliver the fatal stroke (two of his thanes are responsible for this—see ll. 2484–89 and then the lengthier reprise of this incident at ll. 2922–3003), he is known in the poem as “Ongentheow’s killer.” Hence it comes to pass that after the death of Beowulf, who eventually succeeds Hygelac, the Geats experience a great foreboding and the epic closes in a mood of sombre expectation. A world is passing away, the Swedes and others are massing on the borders to attack, and there is no lord or hero to rally the defence.

The Swedes, therefore, are the third nation whose history and destiny are woven into the narrative, and even though no part of the main action is set in their territory, they and their kings constantly stalk the horizon of dread within which the main protagonists pursue their conflicts and allegiances. The Swedish dimension gradually becomes an important element in the poem’s emotional and imaginative geography, a geography which entails, it should be said, no very clear map-sense of the world, more an apprehension of menaced borders, of danger gathering beyond the mere and the marshes, of mearc-stapas “prowling the moors, huge marauders / from some other world.”

Within these phantasmal boundaries, each lord’s hall is an actual and a symbolic refuge. Here is heat and light, rank and ceremony, human solidarity and culture; the duguð share the mead-benches with the geogoð, the veterans with their tales of warrior kings and hero-saviours from the past rub shoulders with young braves—þegnas, eorlas, thanes, retainers—keen to win such renown in the future. The prospect of gaining a glorious name in the wael-raes, in the rush of battle-slaughter, the pride of defending one’s lord and bearing heroic witness to the integrity of the bond between him and his hall-companions—a bond sealed in the glēo and gidd of peace-time feasting and ring-giving—this is what gave drive and sanction to the Germanic warrior-culture enshrined in Beowulf.

Heorot and Hygelac’s hall are the hubs of this value system upon which the poem’s action turns. But there is another, outer rim of value, a circumference of understanding within which the heroic world is occasionally viewed as from a distance and recognized for what it is, an earlier state of consciousness and culture, one which has not been altogether shed but which has now been comprehended as part of another pattern. And this circumference and pattern arise, of course, from the poet’s Christianity and from his perspective as an Englishman looking back at places and legends which his ancestors knew before they made their migration from continental Europe to their new home on the island of the Britons. As a consequence of his doctrinal certitude, which is as composed as it is ardent, the poet can view the story-time of his poem with a certain historical detachment and even censure the ways of those who lived in illo tempore:

Sometimes at pagan shrines they vowed
offerings to idols, swore oaths
that the killer of souls might come to their aid
and save the people. That was their way,
their heathenish hope; deep in their hearts
they remembered hell. (ll. 175–80)

At the same time, as a result of his inherited vernacular culture and the imaginative sympathy which distinguishes him as an artist, the poet can lend the full weight of his rhetorical power to Beowulf as he utters the first principles of the northern warrior’s honour-code:

It is always better
to avenge dear ones than to indulge in mourning.

For every one of us, living in this world
means waiting for our end. Let whoever can
win glory before death. When a warrior is gone,
that will be his best and only bulwark. (ll. 1384–89)

In an age when “the instability of the human subject” is constantly argued for if not presumed, there should be no problem with a poem which is woven from two such different psychic fabrics. In fact, Beowulf perfectly answers the early modern conception of a work of creative imagination as one in which conflicting realities find accommodation within a new order; and this reconciliation occurs, it seems to me, most poignantly and most profoundly in the poem’s third section, once the dragon enters the picture and the hero in old age must gather his powers for the final climactic ordeal. From the moment Beowulf advances under the crags, into the comfortless arena bounded by the rock-wall, the reader knows he is one of those “marked by fate.” The poetry is imbued with a strong intuition of wyrd hovering close, “unknowable but certain,” and yet, because it is imagined within a consciousness which has learned to expect that the soul will find an ultimate home “among the steadfast ones,” this primal human emotion has been transmuted into something less “zero at the bone,” more metaphysically tempered.

A similar transposition from a plane of regard which is, as it were, helmeted and hall-bound to one which sees things in a slightly more heavenly light is discernible in the different ways the poet imagines gold. Gold is a constant element, gleaming solidly in underground vaults, on the breasts of queens or the arms and regalia of warriors on the mead-benches. It is loaded into boats as spoil, handed out in bent bars as hall gifts, buried in the earth as treasure, persisting underground as an affirmation of a people’s glorious past and an elegy for it. It pervades the ethos of the poem the way sex pervades consumer culture. And yet the bullion with which Waels’s son, Sigemund, weighs down the hold after an earlier dragon-slaying triumph (in the old days, long before Beowulf’s time) is a more trustworthy substance than that which is secured behind the walls of Beowulf’s barrow. By the end of the poem, gold has suffered a radiation from the Christian vision. It is not that it yet equals riches in the medieval sense of worldly corruption, just that its status as the ore of all value has been put in doubt. It is lǣne, transitory, passing from hand to hand, and its changed status is registered as a symptom of the changed world. Once the dragon is disturbed, the melancholy and sense of displacement which pervade the last movement of the poem enter the hoard as a disabling and ominous light. And the dragon himself, as a genius of the older order, is bathed in this light, so that even as he begins to stir, the reader has a premonition that the days of his empery are numbered.

Nevertheless, the dragon has a wonderful inevitability about him and a unique glamour. It is not that the other monsters are lacking in presence and aura; it is more that they remain, for all their power to terrorize, creatures of the physical world. Grendel comes alive in the reader’s imagination as a kind of dog-breath in the dark, a fear of collision with some hard-boned and immensely strong android frame, a mixture of Caliban and hoplite. And while his mother too has a definite brute-bearing about her, a creature of slouch and lunge on land if seal-swift in the water, she nevertheless retains a certain non-strangeness. As antagonists of a hero being tested, Grendel and his mother possess an appropriate head-on strength. The poet may need them as figures who do the devil’s work, but the poem needs them more as figures who call up and show off Beowulf’s physical might and his superb gifts as a warrior. They are the right enemies for a young glory-hunter, instigators of the formal boast, worthy trophies to be carried back from the grim testing-ground—Grendel’s arm is ripped off and nailed up, his head severed and paraded in Heorot. It is all consonant with the surge of youth and the compulsion to win fame “as wide as the wind’s home, / as the sea around cliffs,” utterly a manifestation of the Germanic heroic code.

Enter then, fifty years later, the dragon. From his dry-stone vault, from a nest where he is heaped in coils around the body-heated gold. Once he is wakened, there is something glorious in the way he manifests himself, a Fourth of July effulgence fire-working its path across the night sky; and yet, because of the centuries he has spent dormant in the tumulus, there is a foundedness as well as a lambency about him. He is at once a stratum of the earth and a streamer in the air, no painted dragon but a figure of real oneiric power, one that can easily survive the prejudice which arises at the very mention of the word “dragon.” Whether in medieval art or in modern Disney cartoons, the dragon can strike us as far less horrific than he is meant to be, but in the final movement of Beowulf, he lodges himself in the imagination as wyrd rather than wyrm, more a destiny than a set of reptilian vertebrae.

Grendel and his mother enter Beowulf’s life from the outside, accidentally, challenges which in other circumstances he might not have taken up, enemies from whom he might have been distracted or deflected. The dragon, on the other hand, is a given of his home ground, abiding in his underearth as in his understanding, waiting for the meeting, the watcher at the ford, the questioner who sits so sly, the “lion-limb,” as Gerard Manley Hopkins might have called him, against whom Beowulf’s body and soul must measure themselves. Dragon equals shadow-line, the psalmist’s valley of the shadow of death, the embodiment of a knowledge deeply ingrained in the species which is the very knowledge of the price to be paid for physical and spiritual survival.

It has often been observed that all the scriptural references in Beowulf are to the Old Testament. The poet is more in sympathy with the tragic, waiting, unredeemed phase of things than with any transcendental promise. Beowulf’s mood as he gets ready to fight the dragon—who could be read as a projection of Beowulf’s own chthonic wisdom refined in the crucible of experience—recalls the mood of other tragic heroes: Oedipus at Colonus, Lear at his “ripeness is all” extremity, Hamlet in the last illuminations of his “prophetic soul”:

no easy bargain
would be made in that place by any man.

The veteran king sat down on the cliff-top.

He wished good luck to the Geats who had shared
his hearth and his gold. He was sad at heart,
unsettled yet ready, sensing his death.

His fate hovered near, unknowable but certain. (ll. 2415–21)

Here the poet attains a level of insight that approaches the visionary. The subjective and the inevitable are in perfect balance, what is solidly established is bathed in an element which is completely sixth-sensed, and indeed the whole slow-motion, constantly self-deferring approach to the hero’s death and funeral continues to be like this. Beowulf’s soul may not yet have fled “to its destined place among the steadfast ones,” but there is already a beyond-the-grave aspect to him, a revenant quality about his resoluteness. This is not just metrical narrative full of anthropological interest and typical heroic-age motifs; it is poetry of a high order, in which passages of great lyric intensity—such as the “Lay of the Last Survivor” (ll. 2247–66) and, even more remarkably, the so-called “Father’s Lament” (ll. 2444–62)—rise like emanations from some fissure in the bedrock of the human capacity to endure:

It was like the misery felt by an old man
who has lived to see his son’s body
swing on the gallows. He begins to keen
and weep for his boy, watching the raven
gloat where he hangs: he can be of no help.

The wisdom of age is worthless to him.

Morning after morning, he wakes to remember
that his child has gone; he has no interest
in living on until another heir
is born in the hall …

……………

Alone with his longing, he lies down on his bed
and sings a lament; everything seems too large,
the steadings and the fields.

Such passages mark an ultimate stage in poetic attainment; they are the imaginative equivalent of Beowulf’s spiritual state at the end, when he tells his men that “doom of battle will bear [their] lord away,” in the same way that the sea-journeys so vividly described in lines 210–28 and 1903–24 are the equivalent of his exultant prime.

At these moments of lyric intensity, the keel of the poetry is deeply set in the element of sensation while the mind’s lookout sways metrically and far-sightedly in the element of pure comprehension. Which is to say that the elevation of Beowulf is always, paradoxically, buoyantly down to earth. And nowhere is this more obviously and memorably the case than in the account of the hero’s funeral with which the poem ends. Here the inexorable and the elegiac combine in a description of the funeral pyre being got ready, the body being burnt, and the barrow being constructed—a scene at once immemorial and oddly contemporary. The Geat woman who cries out in dread as the flames consume the body of her dead lord could come straight from a late-twentieth-century news report, from Rwanda or Kosovo; her keen is a nightmare glimpse into the minds of people who have survived traumatic, even monstrous events and who are now being exposed to a comfortless future. We immediately recognize her predicament and the pitch of her grief and find ourselves the better for having them expressed with such adequacy and dignity and unforgiving truth:

On a height they kindled the hugest of all
funeral fires; fumes of woodsmoke
billowed darkly up, the blaze roared
and drowned out their weeping, wind died down
and flames wrought havoc in the hot bone-house,
burning it to the core. They were disconsolate
and wailed aloud for their lord’s decease.

A Geat woman too sang out in grief;
with hair bound up, she unburdened herself
of her worst fears, a wild litany
of nightmare and lament: her nation invaded,
enemies on the rampage, bodies in piles,
slavery and abasement. Heaven swallowed the smoke.

(ll. 3143–55)

ABOUT THIS TRANSLATION

When I was an undergraduate at Queen’s University, Belfast, I studied Beowulf and other Anglo-Saxon poems and developed not only a feel for the language but a fondness for the melancholy and fortitude that characterized the poetry. Consequently, when an invitation to translate the poem arrived from the editors of The Norton Anthology of English Literature, I was tempted to try my hand. While I had no great expertise in Old English, I had a strong desire to get back to the first stratum of the language and to “assay the hoard” (l. 2509). This was during the middle years of the 1980s, when I had begun a regular teaching job at Harvard and was opening my ear to the untethered music of some contemporary American poetry. Saying yes to the Beowulf commission would be (I argued with myself) a kind of aural antidote, a way of ensuring that my linguistic anchor would stay lodged on the Anglo-Saxon sea-floor. So I undertook to do it.

Very soon, however, I hesitated. It was labour-intensive work, scriptorium-slow. I worked dutifully, like a sixth-former at homework. I would set myself twenty lines a day, write out my glossary of hard words in longhand, try to pick a way through the syntax, get the run of the meaning established in my head, and then hope that the lines could be turned into metrical shape and raised to the power of verse. Often, however, the whole attempt to turn it into modern English seemed to me like trying to bring down a megalith with a toy hammer. What had been so attractive in the first place, the hand-built, rock-sure feel of the thing, began to defeat me. I turned to other work, the commissioning editors did not pursue me, and the project went into abeyance.

Even so, I had an instinct that it should not be let go. An understanding I had worked out for myself concerning my own linguistic and literary origins made me reluctant to abandon the task. I had noticed, for example, that without any conscious intent on my part certain lines in the first poem in my first book conformed to the requirements of Anglo-Saxon metrics. These lines were made up of two balancing halves, each half containing two stressed syllables—“the spade sinks into gravelly ground: / My father, digging. I look down”—and in the case of the second line, there was alliteration linking “digging” and “down” across the caesura. Part of me, in other words, had been writing Anglo-Saxon from the start.

This was not surprising, given that the poet who had first formed my ear was Gerard Manley Hopkins. Hopkins was a chip off the Old English block, and the earliest lines I published when I was a student were as much pastiche Anglo-Saxon as they were pastiche Hopkins: “Starling thatch-watches and sudden swallow / Straight breaks to mud-nest, home-rest rafter” and so on. I have written about all this elsewhere and about the relation of my Hopkins ventriloquism to the speech patterns of Ulster—especially as these were caricatured by the poet W. R. Rodgers. Ulster people, according to Rodgers, are “an abrupt people / who like the spiky consonants of speech / and think the soft ones cissy” and get a kick out of “anything that gives or takes attack / like Micks, Teagues, tinkers’ gets, Vatican.”

Joseph Brodsky once said that poets’ biographies are present in the sounds they make and I suppose all I am saying is that I consider Beowulf to be part of my voice-right. And yet to persuade myself that I was born into its language and that its language was born into me took a while: for somebody who grew up in the political and cultural conditions of Lord Brookeborough’s Northern Ireland, it could hardly have been otherwise.

Sprung from an Irish nationalist background and educated at a Northern Irish Catholic school, I had learned the Irish language and lived within a cultural and ideological frame that regarded it as the language which I should by rights have been speaking but which I had been robbed of. I have also written, for example, about the thrill I experienced when I stumbled upon the word lachtar in my Irish-English dictionary and found that this word, which my aunt had always used when speaking of a flock of chicks, was in fact an Irish language word, and, more than that, an Irish word associated in particular with County Derry. Yet here it was, surviving in my aunt’s English speech generations after her forebears and mine had ceased to speak Irish. For a long time, therefore, the little word was—to borrow a simile from Joyce—like a rapier point of consciousness pricking me with an awareness of language-loss and cultural dispossession, and tempting me into binary thinking about language. I tended to conceive of English and Irish as adversarial tongues, as either/or conditions rather than both/ands, and this was an attitude which for a long time hampered the development of a more confident and creative way of dealing with the whole vexed question—the question, that is, of the relationship between nationality, language, history, and literary tradition in Ireland.

Luckily, I glimpsed the possibility of release from this kind of cultural determinism early on, in my first arts year at Queen’s University, Belfast, when we were lectured on the history of the English language by Professor John Braidwood. Braidwood could not help informing us, for example, that the word “whiskey” is the same word as the Irish and Scots Gaelic word uisce, meaning water, and that the River Usk in Britain is therefore to some extent the River Uisce (or Whiskey); and so in my mind the stream was suddenly turned into a kind of linguistic river of rivers issuing from a pristine Celto-British Land of Cock-aigne, a riverrun of Finnegans Wakespeak pouring out of the cleft rock of some pre-political, prelapsarian, ur-philological Big Rock Candy Mountain—and all of this had a wonderfully sweetening effect upon me. The Irish/English duality, the Celtic/Saxon antithesis were momentarily collapsed, and in the resulting etymological eddy a gleam of recognition flashed through the synapses and I glimpsed an elsewhere of potential which seemed at the same time to be a somewhere being remembered. The place on the language map where the Usk and the uisce and the whiskey coincided was definitely a place where the spirit might find a loophole, an escape route from what John Montague has called “the partitioned intellect,” away into some unpartitioned linguistic country, a region where one’s language would not be a simple badge of ethnicity or a matter of cultural preference or official imposition, but an entry into further language. And I eventually came upon one of these loopholes in Beowulf itself.

What happened was that I found in the glossary to C. L. Wrenn’s edition of the poem the Old English word meaning “to suffer,” the word þolian; and although at first it looked completely strange with its thorn symbol instead of the familiar th, I gradually realized that it was not strange at all, for it was the word that older and less educated people would have used in the country where I grew up. “They’ll just have to learn to thole,” my aunt would say about some family who had suffered an unforeseen bereavement. And now suddenly here was “thole” in the official textual world, mediated through the apparatus of a scholarly edition, a little bleeper to remind me that my aunt’s language was not just a self-enclosed family possession but an historical heritage, one that involved the journey þolian had made north into Scotland and then across into Ulster with the planters and then across from the planters to the locals who had originally spoken Irish and then farther across again when the Scots Irish emigrated to the American South in the eighteenth century. When I read in John Crowe Ransom the line “Sweet ladies, long may ye bloom, and toughly I hope ye may thole,” my heart lifted again, the world widened, something was furthered. The far-flungness of the word, the phenomenological pleasure of finding it variously transformed by Ransom’s modernity and Beowulf’s venerability made me feel vaguely something for which again I only found the words years later. What I was experiencing as I kept meeting up with thole on its multicultural odyssey was the feeling which Osip Mandelstam once defined as a “nostalgia for world culture.” And this was a nostalgia I didn’t even know I suffered until I experienced its fulfilment in this little epiphany. It was as if, on the analogy of baptism by desire, I had undergone something like illumination by philology. And even though I did not know it at the time, I had by then reached the point where I was ready to translate Beowulf. Polian had opened my right-of-way.

So, in a sense, the decision to accept Norton’s invitation was taken thirty-five years before the invitation was actually issued. But between one’s sense of readiness to take on a subject and the actual inscription of the first lines, there is always a problematical hiatus. To put it another way: from the point of view of the writer, words in a poem need what the Polish poet Anna Swir once called “the equivalent of a biological right to life.” The erotics of composition are essential to the process, some prereflective excitation and orientation, some sense that your own little verse-craft can dock safe and sound at the big quay of the language. And this is as true for translators as it is for poets attempting original work.

It is one thing to find lexical meanings for the words and to have some feel for how the metre might go, but it is quite another thing to find the tuning fork that will give you the note and pitch for the overall music of the work. Without some melody sensed or promised, it is simply impossible for a poet to establish the translator’s right-of-way into and through a text. I was therefore lucky to hear this enabling note almost straight away, a familiar local voice, one that had belonged to relatives of my father’s, people whom I had once described in a poem as “big voiced Scullions.”

I called them “big voiced” because when the men of the family spoke, the words they uttered came across with a weighty distinctness, phonetic units as separate and defined as delph platters displayed on a dresser shelf. A simple sentence such as “We cut the corn to-day” took on immense dignity when one of the Scullions spoke it. They had a kind of Native American solemnity of utterance, as if they were announcing verdicts rather than making small talk. And when I came to ask myself how I wanted Beowulf to sound in my version, I realized I wanted it to be speakable by one of those relatives. I therefore tried to frame the famous opening lines in cadences that would have suited their voices, but that still echoed with the sound and sense of the Anglo-Saxon:

Hwaet wē Gār-Dena in geār-dagum
þēod-cyninga þrym gefrūnon,
hū ðā æpelingas ellen fremedon.

Conventional renderings of hwaet, the first word of the poem, tend towards the archaic literary, with “lo” and “hark” and “behold” and “attend” and—more colloquially—“listen” being some of the solutions offered previously. But in Hiberno-English Scullionspeak, the particle “so” came naturally to the rescue, because in that idiom “so” operates as an expression which obliterates all previous discourse and narrative, and at the same time functions as an exclamation calling for immediate attention. So, “so” it was:

So. The Spear-Danes in days gone by
and the kings who ruled them had courage and greatness.

We have heard of those princes’ heroic campaigns.

I came to the task of translating Beowulf with a prejudice in favour of forthright delivery. I remembered the voice of the poem as being attractively direct, even though the diction was ornate and the narrative method at times oblique. What I had always loved was a kind of foursquareness about the utterance, a feeling of living inside a constantly indicative mood, in the presence of an understanding that assumes you share an awareness of the perilous nature of life and are yet capable of seeing it steadily and, when necessary, sternly. There is an undeluded quality about the Beowulf poet’s sense of the world which gives his lines immense emotional credibility and allows him to make general observations about life which are far too grounded in experience and reticence to be called “moralizing.” These so-called “gnomic” parts of the poem have the cadence and force of earned wisdom, and their combination of cogency and verity was again something that I could remember from the speech I heard as a youngster in the Scullion kitchen. When I translate lines 24–25 as “Behaviour that’s admired / is the path to power among people everywhere,” I am attending as much to the grain of my original vernacular as to the content of the Anglo-Saxon lines. But then the evidence suggests that this middle ground between oral tradition and the demands of written practice was also the ground occupied by the Beowulf poet. The style of the poem is hospitable to the kind of formulaic phrases which are the stock-in-trade of oral bards, and yet it is marked too by the self-consciousness of an artist convinced that “we must labour to be beautiful.”

In one area, my own labours have been less than thorough-going. I have not followed the strict metrical rules that bound the Anglo-Saxon scop. I have been guided by the fundamental pattern of four stresses to the line, but I allow myself several transgressions. For example, I don’t always employ alliteration, and sometimes I alliterate only in one half of the line. When these breaches occur, it is because I prefer to let the natural “sound of sense” prevail over the demands of the convention: I have been reluctant to force an artificial shape or an unusual word choice just for the sake of correctness.

In general, the alliteration varies from the shadowy to the substantial, from the properly to the improperly distributed. Substantial and proper are such lines as

The fórtunes of wár fávoured Hróthgar (l. 64)

the híghest in the land, would lénd advíce (l. 172)

and fínd friéndship in the Fáther’s embráce (l. 188).

Here the caesura is definite, there are two stresses in each half of the line, and the first stressed syllable of the second half alliterates with the first or the second or both of the stressed syllables in the first half. The main deviation from this is one which other translators have allowed themselves—the freedom, that is, to alliterate on the fourth stressed syllable, a practice which breaks the rule but which nevertheless does bind the line together:

We have héard of those prínces’ heróic campáigns (l. 3)

and he cróssed óver into the Lórd’s kéeping (l. 27).

In the course of the translation, such deviations, distortions, syncopations, and extensions do occur; what I was after first and foremost was a narrative line that sounded as if it meant business, and I was prepared to sacrifice other things in pursuit of this directness of utterance.

The appositional nature of the Old English syntax, for example, is somewhat slighted here, as is the Beowulf poet’s resourcefulness with synonyms and (to a lesser extent) his genius for compound-making, kennings, and all sorts of variation. Usually—as at line 1209, where I render ȳða ful as “frothing wave-vat,” and line 1523, where beado-lēoma becomes “battle-torch”—I try to match the poet’s analogy-seeking habit at its most original; and I use all the common coinages for the lord of the nation, variously referred to as “ring-giver,” “treasure-giver,” “his people’s shield” or “shepherd” or “helmet.” I have been less faithful, however, to the way the poet rings the changes when it comes to compounds meaning a sword or a spear or a battle or any bloody encounter with foes. Old English abounds in vigorous and evocative and specifically poetic words for these things, but I have tended to follow modern usage and in the main have called a sword a sword.

There was one area, however, where a certain strangeness in the diction came naturally. In those instances where a local Ulster word seemed either poetically or historically right, I felt free to use it. For example, at lines 324 and 2988 I use the word “graith” for “harness” and at 3026 “hoked” for “rooted about” because the local term seemed in each case to have special body and force. Then, for reasons of historical suggestiveness, I have in several instances used the word “bawn” to refer to Hrothgar’s hall. In Elizabethan English, bawn (from the Irish bó-dhún, a fort for cattle) referred specifically to the fortified dwellings which the English planters built in Ireland to keep the dispossessed natives at bay, so it seemed the proper term to apply to the embattled keep where Hrothgar waits and watches. Indeed, every time I read the lovely interlude that tells of the minstrel singing in Heorot just before the first attacks of Grendel, I cannot help thinking of Edmund Spenser in Kilcolman Castle, reading the early cantos of The Faerie Queene to Sir Walter Raleigh, just before the Irish burned the castle and drove Spenser out of Munster back to the Elizabethan court. Putting a bawn into Beowulf seems one way for an Irish poet to come to terms with that complex history of conquest and colony, absorption and resistance, integrity and antagonism, a history which has to be clearly acknowledged by all concerned in order to render it ever more “willable forward / Again and again and again.”

S.H.

A Note on Names

Old English, like Modern German, contained many compound words, most of which have been lost in Modern English. Most of the names in Beowulf are compounds. Hrothgar is a combination of words meaning “glory” and “spear” the name of his older brother, Heorogar, comes from “army” and “spear” Hrothgar’s sons Hrethric and Hrothmund contain the first elements of their father’s name combined, respectively, with ric (kingdom, empire, Modern German Reich) and mund (hand, protection). As in the case of the Danish dynasty, family names often alliterate. Masculine names of the warrior class have military associations. The importance of family and the demands of alliteration frequently lead to the designation of characters by formulas identifying them in terms of relationships. Thus Beowulf is referred to as “son of Ecgtheow” or “kinsman of Hygelac” (his uncle and lord).

The Old English spellings of names are mostly preserved in the translation. A few rules of pronunciation are worth keeping in mind. Initial H before r was sounded, and so Hrothgar’s name alliterates with that of his brother Heorogar. The combination cg has the value of dg in words like “edge.” The first element in the name of Beowulf’s father “Ecgtheow” is the same word as “edge,” and, by the figure of speech called synecdoche (a part of something stands for the whole), ecg stands for sword and Ecgtheow means “sword-servant.”

Alfred David

Old English

Hwæt wē Gār-Dena in geār-dagum

þēod-cyninga þrym gefrūnon,

hū ðā æþelingas ellen fremedon.

Oft Scyld Scēfing sceaþena þrēatum,

monegum mǣgþum meodo-setla oftēah;

egsode Eorle, syððan ǣrest wearð

fēasceaft funden; hē þæs frōfre gebād:

wēox under wolcnum, weorð-myndum þāh,

oðþæt him ǣghwylc þāra ymb-sittendra

10

ofer hron-rāde hȳran scolde,

gomban gyldan: þæt wæs gōd cyning!

Đǣm eafera wæs æfter cenned

geong in geardum, þone God sende

folce tō frōfre; fyren-ðearfe ongeat,

þæt hīe ǣr drugon aldor-lēase

lange hwīle; him þæs Līf-frēa,

wuldres Wealdend, worold-āre forgeaf;

Bēowulf wæs brēme —blæd wīde sprang—

Scyldes eafera, Scede-landum in.

20

Swā sceal geong guma gōde gewyrcean,

fromum feoh-giftum on fæder bearme,

þæt hine on ylde eft gewunigen

wil-gesīþas, þonne wīg cume,

lēode gelǣsten; lof-dǣdum sceal

in mǣgþa gehwære man geþēon.

Him ðā Scyld gewāt tō gescæp-hwīle,

fela-hrōr, fēran on Frēan wǣre.

Hī hyne þā ætbǣron tō brimes faroðe,

swǣse gesīþas, swā hē selfa bæd,

30

þenden wordum wēold wine Scyldinga,

lēof land-fruma lange āhte.

Þǣr æt hȳðe stōd hringed-stefna,

īsig ond ūt-fūs, æþelinges fær;

ālēdon þā lēofne þēoden,

bēaga bryttan on bearm scipes,

mǣrne be mæste; þǣr wæs mādma fela

of feor-wegum, frætwa, gelǣded.

Ne hȳrde ic cȳmlīcor cēol gegyrwan

hilde-wǣpnum ond heaðo-wǣdum,

40

billum ond byrnum; him on bearme læg

mādma mænigo, þā him mid scoldon

on flōdes ǣht feor gewītan.

Nalæs hī hine lǣssan lācum tēodan,

þēod-gestrēonum, þon þā dydon,

þe hine æt frumsceafte forð onsendon

ǣnne ofer ȳðe umbor-wesende.

Þā gȳt hī him āsetton segend gyldenne

hēah ofer hēafod, lēton holm beran,

gēafon on gār-secg; him wæs geōmor sefa,

50

murnende mōd. Men ne cunnon

secgan tō sōðe, sele-rǣdende,

hæleð under heofenum, hwā þǣm hlæste onfēng.

Đā wæs on burgum Bēowulf Scyldinga,

lēof lēod-cyning, longe þrāge

folcum gefrǣge; fæder ellor hwearf,

aldor of earde. Oþþæt him eft onwōc

hēah Healfdene; hēold, þenden lifde,

gamol ond gūð-rēouw, glæde Scyldingas.

Đǣm fēower bearn forð-gerīmed

60

in worold wōcun: weoroda rǣswan,

Heorogār, ond Hrōðgār ond Hālga til;

hȳrde ic þæt . . . . . wæs Onelan cwēn,

Heaðo-Scilfingas heals-gebedda.

Þā wæs Hrōðgāre here-spēd gyfen,

wīges weorð-mynd, þæt him his wine-māgas

georne hȳrdon, oððþæt sēo geogoð gewēox

mago-driht micel. Him on mōd be-arn

þæt heal-reced hātan wolde,

medo-ærn micel men gewyrcean,

70

þonne yldo bearn ǣfre gefrūnon,

ond þǣr on innan eall gedǣlan

geongum ond ealdum, swylc him God sealde,

būton folc-scare ond feorum gumena.

Đā ic wīde gefrægn weorc gebannan

manigre mǣgþe geond þisne middan-geard,

folc-stede frætwan. Him on fyrste gelomp,

ǣdre mid yldum, þæt hit wearð eal-gearo,

heal-ærna mǣst; scōp him Heort naman,

sē þe his wordes geweald wīde hæfde.

80

Hē bēot ne ālēh, bēagas dǣlde,

sinc æt symle. Sele hlīfade

hēah ond horn-gēap, heaðo-wylma bād,

lāðan līges; ne wæs hit lenge þā gēn,

þæt se ecg-hete āþum-swerian

æfter wæl-nīðe wæcnan scolde.

Đa se ellen-gǣst earfoðlīce

þrāge geþolode, sē þe in þȳstrum bād,

þæt hē dōgora gehwām drēam gehȳrde

hlūdne in healle; þǣr wæs hearpan swēg,

90

swutol sang scopes. Sægde sē þe cūþe

frumsceaft fīra feorran reccan,

cwæð þæt se Ælmihtiga eorðan worhte,

wlite-beorhtne wang, swā wæter bebūgeð:

gesette sige-hrēþig sunnan ond mōnan

lēoman tō lēohte land-būendum,

ond gefrætwade foldan scēatas

leomum ond lēafum; līf ēac gesceōp

cynna gehwylcum, þāra ðe cwice hwyrfaþ.

Swā ðā driht-guman drēamum lifdon,

100

ēadiglīce, oððæt ān ongan

fyrene fremman fēond on helle.

Wæs se grimma gæst Grendel hāten,

mǣre mearc-stapa, sē þe mōras hēold,

fen ond fæsten; fīfel-cynnes eard

won-sǣlī wer weardode hwīle,

siþðan him Scyppend forscrifen hæfde

in Caines cynne— þone cwealm gewræc

ēce Drihten, þæs þe hē Ābel slōg.

Ne gefeah hē þǣre fǣhðe, ac hē hine feor forwræc,

110

Metod for þȳ māne, man-cynne fram.

Þanon untȳdras ealle onwōcon,

eotenas ond ylfe ond orcnēas,

swylce gīgantas, þā wið Gode wunnon

lange þrāge; hē him ðæs lēan forgeald.

Gewāt ðā nēosian, syþðan niht becōm,

hēan hūses, hū hit Hring-Dene

æfter bēor-þege gebūn hæfdon;

fand þā ðǣr inne æþelinga gedriht

swefan æfter symble— sorge ne cūðon,

120

wonsceaft wera. Wiht unhǣlo,

grim ond grǣdig, gearo sōna wæs,

rēoc ond rēþe, ond on ræste genam

þrītig þegna; þanon eft gewāt

hūðe hrēmig tō hām faran,

mid þǣre wæl-fylle wīca nēosan.

Đā wæs on ūhtan mid ǣr-dæge

Grendles gūð-cræft gumum undyrne;

þā wæs æfter wiste wōp up āhafen,

micel morgen-swēg. Mǣre þēoden,

130

æþeling ǣr-gōd, unblīðe sæt,

þolode ðrȳð-swȳð, þegn-sorge drēah,

syðþan hīe þæs lāðan lāst scēawedon

wergan gāstes. Wæs þæt gewin tō strang,

lāð ond longsum. Næs hit lengra fyrst,

ac ymb āne niht eft gefremede

morð-beala māre ond nō mearn fore,

fǣhðe ond fyrene; wæs tō fæst on þām.

Þā wæs eāð-fynde þe him elles hwǣr

gerūmlīcor ræste sōhte,

140

bed æfter būrum, ðā him gebēacnod wæs,

gesægd sōðlīce sweotolan tācne

heal-ðegnes hete; hēold hyne syðþan

fyr ond fæstor sē þǣm fēonde ætwand.

Swā rīxode ond wið rihte wan

āna wið eallum, oðþæt īdel stōd

hūsa sēlest. Wæs sēo hwīl micel:

twelf wintra tīd torn geþolode

wine Scyldinga, wēana gehwelcne,

sīdra sorga; forðām secgum wearð,

150

ylda bearnum, undyrne cūð,

gyddum geōmore, þætte Grendel wan

hwīle wið Hrōþgār, hete-nīðas wæg,

fyrene ond fǣhðe fela missēra,

singāle sæce; sibbe ne wolde

wið manna hwone mægenes Deniga,

feorh-bealo feorran, fēa þingian,

nē þǣr nǣnig witena wēnan þorfte

beorhtre bōte tō banan folmum;

ac se ǣglǣca ēhtende wæs,

160

deorc dēaþ-scūa duguþe ond geogoþe,

seomade ond syrede; sin-nihte hēold

mistige mōras; men ne cunnon

hwyder hel-rūnan hwyrftum scrīþað.

Swā fela fyrena fēond man-cynnes,

atol ān-gengea, oft gefremede,

heardra hȳnða; Heorot eardode,

sinc-fāge sel sweartum nihtum;

nō hē þone gif-stōl grētan mōste,

māþðum for Metode, nē his myne wisse.

170

Þæt wæs wrǣc micel wine Scyldinga,

mōdes brecða. Monig oft gesæt

rīce tō rūne, rǣd eahtedon,

hwæt swīð-ferhðum sēlest wǣre

wið fǣr-gryrum tō gefremmanne.

Hwīlum hīe gehēton æt hærg-trafum

wīg-weorþunga, wordum bǣdon,

þæt him gāst-bona gēoce gefremede

wið þēod-þrēaum. Swylc wæs þēaw hyra,

hǣþenra hyht; helle gemundon

180

in mōd-sefan, Metod hīe ne cūþon,

dǣda Dēmend, ne wiston hīe Drihten God

nē hīe hūru heofena Helm herian ne cūþon,

wuldres Waldend. Wā bið þǣm ðe sceal

þurh slīðne nīð sāwle bescūfan

in fȳres fæþm, frōfre ne wēnan,

wihte gewendan! Wēl bið þǣm þe mōt

æfter dēað-dæge Drihten sēcean

ond tō Fæder fæþmum freoðo wilnian!

Swā ðā mǣl-ceare maga Healfdenes

190

singāla sēað; ne mihte snotor hæleð

wēan onwendan; wæs þæt gewin tō swȳð,

lāþ ond longsum, þe on ðā lēode becōm,

nȳd-wracu nīþ-grim, niht-bealwa mæst.

Þæt fram hām gefrægn Higelāces þegn,

gōd mid Gēatum, Grendles dǣda;

sē wæs mon-cynnes mægenes strengest

on þǣm dæge þysses līfes,

æþele ond ēacen. Hēt him ȳð-lidan

gōdne gegyrwan; cwæð, hē gūð-cyning

200

ofer swan-rāde sēcean wolde,

mǣrne þēoden, þā him wæs manna þearf.

Đone sīð-fæt him snotere ceorlas

lȳt-hwōn lōgon, þēah hē him lēof wǣre;

hwetton hige-rōfne, hǣl scēawedon.

Hæfde se gōda Gēata lēoda

cempan gecorone, þāra þe hē cēnoste

findan mihte; fīf-tȳna sum

sund-wudu sōhte; secg wīsade,

lagu-cræftig mon, land-gemyrcu.

210

Fyrst forð gewāt; flota wæs on ȳðum,

bāt under beorge. Beornas gearwe

on stefn stigon— strēamas wundon,

sund wið sande; secgas bǣron

on bearm nacan beorhte frætwe,

gūð-searo geatolīc; guman ūt scufon,

weras on wil-sīð wudu bundenne.

Gewāt þā ofer wǣg-holm, winde gefȳsed,

flota fāmī-heals, fugle gelīcost,

oðþæt ymb ān-tīd ōþres dōgores

220

wunden-stefna gewaden hæfde,

þæt ðā līðende land gesāwon,

brim-clifu blīcan, beorgas stēape,

sīde sǣ-næssas; þā wæs sund liden,

ēo-letes æt ende. Þanon up hraðe

Wedera lēode on wang stigon,

sǣ-wudu sǣldon —syrcan hrysedon,

gūð-gewǣdo; Gode þancedon,

þæs þe him ȳþ-lāde ēaðe wurdon.

Þā of wealle geseah weard Scildinga,

230

sē þe holm-clifu healdan scolde,

beran ofer bolcan beorhte randas,

fyrd-searu fūslicu; hine fyrwyt bræc

mōd-gehygdum, hwæt þā men wǣron.

Gewāt him þā tō waroðe wicge rīdan

þegn Hrōðgāres, þrymmum cwehte

mægen-wudu mundum, meþel-wordum frægn:

“Hwæt syndon gē searo-hæbbendra,

byrnum werede, þe þus brontne cēol

ofer lagu-strǣte lǣdan cwōmon,

240

hider ofer holmas? Ic hwīle wæs

ende-sǣta, ǣg-wearde hēold,

þē on land Dena lāðra nǣnig

mid scip-herge sceðþan ne meahte.

Nō hēr cūðlīcor cuman ongunnon

lind-hæbbende; nē gē lēafnes-word

gūð-fremmendra gearwe ne wisson,

māga gemēdu. Nǣfre ic māran geseah

eorla ofer eorþan, ðonne is ēower sum,

secg on searwum; nis þæt seld-guma,

250

wǣpnum geweorðad; nǣfre him his wlite lēoge,

ǣnlīc ansȳn. Nū ic ēower sceal

frum-cyn witan, ǣr gē fyr heonan

lēas-scēaweras on land Dena

furþur fēran. Nū gē feor-būend,

mere-līðende, mīnne gehȳrað

ānfealdne geþōht; ofost is sēlest

tō gecȳðanne hwanan ēowre cyme syndon.”

Him se yldesta andswarode,

werodes wīsa, word-hord onlēac:

260

“Wē synt gum-cynnes Gēata lēode

ond Higelāces heorð-genēatas;

wæs mīn fæder folcum gecȳþed,

æþele ord-fruma Ecgþēow hāten,—

gebād wintra worn, ǣr hē on weg hwurfe,

gamol of geardum; hine gearwe geman

witena wēl-hwylc wīde geond eorþan.

Wē þurh holdne hige hlāford þīnne,

sunu Healfdenes, sēcean cwōmon,

lēod-gebyrgean; wes þū ūs lārena gōd!

270

Habbað wē tō þǣm mǣran micel ǣrende,

Deniga frēan; ne sceal þǣr dyrne sum

wesan, þæs ic wēne. Þū wāst—gif hit is,

swā wē sōþlīce secgan hȳrdon—

þæt mid Scyldingum sceaðona ic nāt hwylc,

dēogol dǣd-hata, deorcum nihtum

ēaweð þurh egsan uncū ðne nīð,

hȳnðu ond hrā-fyl. Ic þæs Hrōðgār mæg

þurh rūmne sefan rǣd gelǣran,

hū hē frōd ond gōd fēond oferswȳðeþ—

280

gyf him edwenden ǣfre scolde

bealuwa bisigu, bōt eft cuman—

ond þā cear-wylmas cōlran wurðaþ;

oððe ā syþðan earfoð-þrāge,

þrēa-nȳd þolað, þenden þǣr wunað

on hēah-stede hūsa sēlest.”

Weard maþelode, ðǣr on wicge sæt,

ombeht unforht; “Ǣghwæþres sceal

scearp scyld-wiga gescād witan,

worda ond worca, sē þe wēl þenceð.

290

Ic þæt gehȳre, þæt þis is hold weorod

frēan Scyldinga. Gewītaþ forð beran

wǣpen ond gewǣdu; ic ēow wīsige:

swylce ic magu-þegnas mīne hāte

wið fēonda gehwone flotan ēowerne,

nīw-tyrwydne nacan on sande

ārum healdan, oþðæt eft byreð

ofer lagu-strēamas lēofne mannan

wudu wunden-hals tō Weder-mearce:

gōd-fremmendra swylcum gifeþe bið,

300

þæt þone hilde-rǣs hāl gedīgeð.”

Gewiton him þā fēran. Flota stille bād,

seomode on sāle sīd-fæþmed scip,

on ancre fæst. Eofor-līc scionon

ofer hlēor-bergan: gehroden golde,

fāh ond fȳ-heard, ferh wearde hēold:

gūþ-mōd grummon. Guman ōnetton,

sigon ætsomne, oþþæt hȳ sæl timbred,

geatolīc ond gold-fāh ongyton mihton;

þæt wæs fore-mǣrost fold-būendum

310

receda under roderum, on þǣm se rīca bād;

līxte se lēoma ofer landa fela.

Him þā hilde-dēor hof mōdigra

torht getǣhte, þæt hīe him tō mihton

gegnum gangan; gūð-beorna sum

wicg gewende, word æfter cwæð:

“Mǣl is mē tō fēran. Fæder al-walda

mid ār-stafum ēowic gehealde

sīða gesunde! Ic tō sǣ wille,

wið wrāð werod wearde healdan.”

320

Strǣt wæs stān-fāh, stīg wīsode

gumum ætgædere. Gūð-byrne scān,

heard, hond-locen, hring-īren scīr

song in searwum. Þā hī tō sele furðum

in hyra gryre-geatwum gangan cwōmon,

setton sǣ-mēþe sīde scyldas,

rondas regn-hearde, wið þæs recedes weal;

bugon þā tō bence, byrnan hringdon,

gūð-searo gumena. Gāras stōdon,

sǣ-manna searo, samod ætgædere,

330

æsc-holt ufan grǣg; wæs sē īren-þrēat

wǣpnum gewurþad. Þā ðǣr wlonc hæleð

ōret-mecgas æfter æþelum frægn:

“Hwanon ferigeað gē fǣtte scyldas,

grǣge syrcan ond grīm-helmas,

here-sceafta hēap? Ic eom Hrōðgāres

ār ond ombiht. Ne seah ic elþēodige

þus manige men mōdiglīcran.

Wēn’ ic þæt gē for wlenco, nalles for wrǣc-sīðum,

ac for hige-þrymmum Hrōðgār sōhton.”

340

Him þā ellen-rōf andswarode,

wlanc Wedera lēod, word æfter spræc,

heard under helme: “Wē synt Higelāces

bēod-genēatas; Bēowulf is mīn nama.

Wille ic āsecgan sunu Healfdenes,

mǣrum þēodne mīn ǣrende,

aldre þīnum, gif hē ūs geunnan wile,

þæt wē hine swā gōdne grētan mōton.”

Wulfgār maþelode: þæt wæs Wendla lēod,

wæs his mōd-sefa manegum gecȳðed,

350

wīg ond wīsdōm: “Ic þæs wine Deniga

frēan Scildinga frīnan wille,

bēaga bryttan, swā þū bēna eart,

þēoden mǣrne, ymb þīnne sīð,

ond þē þā andsware ǣdre gecȳðan,

ðe mē se gōda āgifan þenceð.”

Hwearf þā hrædlīce, þǣr Hrōðgār sæt,

eald ond unhār mid his eorla gedriht;

ēode ellen-rōf, þæt hē for eaxlum gestōd

Deniga frēan: cūþe hē duguðe þēaw.

360

Wulfgār maðelode tō his wine-drihtne:

“Hēr syndon geferede, feorran cumene

ofer geofenes begang Gēata lēode;

þone yldestan ōret-mecgas

Bēowulf nemnað; hȳ bēnan synt,

þæt hīe, þēoden mīn, wið þē mōton

wordum wrixlan. Nō ðū him wearne getēoh

ðīnra gegn-cwida, glæd-man Hrōðgār:

hȳ on wīg-getāwum wyrðe þinceað

eorla geæhtlan; hūru se aldor dēah,

370

sē þǣm heaðo-rincum hider wīsade.”

Hrōðgār maþelode, helm Scyldinga:

“Ic hine cūðe cniht-wesende;

wæs his eald-fæder Ecgþēo hāten,

ðǣm tō hām forgeaf Hrēþel Gēata

āngan dohtor; is his eafora nū

heard hēr cumen, sōhte holdne wine.

Đonne sægdon þæt sǣ-līþende,

þā ðe gif-sceattas Gēata fyredon

þyder tō þance, þæt hē þrītiges

380

manna mægen-cræft on his mund-gripe,

heaþo-rōf hæbbe. Hine hālig God

for ār-stafum ūs onsende

tō West-Denum, þæs ic wēn hæbbe,

wið Grendles gryre. Ic þǣm gōdan sceal

for his mōd-þræce mādmas bēodan.

Bēo ðū on ofeste, hāt in gān,

sēon sibbe-gedriht samod ætgædere;

gesaga him ēac wordum þæt hīe sint wil-cuman

Deniga lēodum!” Þā tō dura healle

390

Wulfgār ēode, word inne ābēad:

Ēow hēt secgan sige-drihten mīn,

aldor Ēast-Dena, þæt hē ēower æþelu can:

ond gē him syndon ofer sǣ-wylmas,

heard-hicgende, hider wil-cuman.

Nū gē mōton gangan in ēowrum gūð-getāwum,

under here-grīman, Hrōðgār gesēon;

lǣtað hilde-bord hēr onbīdan,

wudu, wæl-sceaftas, worda geþinges.”

Ārās þā se rīca, ymb hine rinc manig,

400

prȳðlīc þegna hēap; sume þǣr bidon,

heaðo-rēaf hēoldon, swā him se hearda bebēad.

Snyredon ætsomne, þā secg wīsode,

under Heorotes hrōf; ēode hilde-dēor,

heard under helme, þæt hē on hēoðe gestōd.

Bēowulf maðelode —on him byrne scān,

searo-net seowed smiþes orþancum

“Wæs þū, Hrōðgār, hāl! Ic eom Higelāces

mǣg ond mago-ðegn; hæbbe ic mǣrða fela

ongunnen on geogoþe. Mē wearð Grendles þing

410

on mīnre ēþel-tyrf undyrne cūð;

secgað sǣ-līðend, þæt þæs sele stande,

reced sēlesta, rinca gehwylcum

īdel ond unnyt, siððan ǣ fen-lēoht

under heofenes hādor beholen weorþeð.

Þā mē þæt gelǣrdon lēode mīne,

þā sēlestan, snotere ceorlas,

þēoden Hrōðgār, þæt ic þē sōhte,

forþan hīe mægenes cræft mīne cū þon:

selfe ofersāwon, ðā ic of searwum cwōm,

420

fāh from fēondum, þǣr ic fīfe geband,

ȳðde eotena cyn, ond on ȳðum slōg

niceras nihtes, nearo-þearfe drēah,

wræc Wedera nīð —wēan āhsodon—

forgrand gramum: ond nū wið Grendel sceal,

wið þām āglǣ can āna gehēgan

ðing wið þyrse. Ic þē nū ðā,

brego Beorht-Dena, biddan wille,

eodor Scyldinga, ānre bēne:

þæt ðū mē ne forwyrne, wīgendra hlēo,

430

frēo-wine folca, nū ic þus feorran cōm,

þæt ic mōte āna ond mīnra eorla gedryht,

þes hearda hēap, Heorot fǣlsian.

Hæbbe ic ēac geāhsod, þæt se ǣglǣca

for his won-hȳdum wǣpna ne recceð.

Ic þæt þonne forhicge, swā mē Higelāc sīe,

mīn mon-drihten, mōdes blīðe,

þæt ic sweord bere oþðe sīdne scyld,

geolo-rand tō gūþe; ac ic mid grāpe sceal

fōn wið fēonde ond ymb feorh sacan,

440

lāð wið lāþum; ðǣr gelȳfan sceal

Dryhtnes dōme sē þe hine dēað nimeð.

Wēn’ ic þæt hē wille, gif hē wealdan mōt,

in þǣm gū ð-sele Gēotena lēode

etan unforhte, swā hē oft dyde,

mægen hrēð-manna. Nā þū mīnne þearft

hafalan hȳdan, ac hē mē habban wile

drēore fāhne, gif mec dēað nimeð;

byreð blōdig wæl, byrgean þenceð;

eteð ān-genga unmurnlīce,

450

mearcað mōr-hopu; nō ðū ymb mīnes ne þearft

līces feorme leng sorgian.

Onsend Higelāce, gif mec hild nime,

beadu-scrūda betst, þæt mīne brēost wereð,

hrægla sēlest; þæt is Hrǣdlan lāf,

Wēlandes geweorc. Gǣð ā wyrd swā hīo scel!”

Hrōðgār maþelode, helm Scyldinga:

“For were-fyhtum þū, wine mīn Bēowulf,

ond for ār-stafum ūsic sōhtest.

Geslōh þīn fæder fǣhðe mǣste,

460

wearþ hē Heaþolāfe tō hand-bonan

mid Wilfingum; ðā hine wāra cyn

for here-brōgan habban ne mihte.

Þanon hē gesōhte Sūð-Dena folc

ofer ȳða gewealc, Ār-Scyldinga;

ðā ic furþum wēold folce Deniga

ond on geogoðe hēold grimme-rīce,

hord-burh hæleþa; ðā wæs Heregār dēad,

mīn yldra mǣg unlifigende,

bearn Healfdenes; sē wæs betera ðonne ic!

470

Siððan þā fǣhðe fēo þingode;

sende ic Wylfingum ofer wæteres hrycg

ealde mādmas; hē mē āþas swōr.

Sorh is mē tō secganne on sefan mīnum

gumena ǣngum, hwæt mē Grendel hafað

hȳnðo on Heorote mid his hete-þancum,

fǣr-nīða gefremed; is mīn flet-werod,

wīg-hēap gewanod; hīe wyrd forswēop

on Grendles gryre. God ēaþe mæg

þone dol-sceaðan dǣda getwǣfan!

480

Ful oft gebēotedon bēore druncne

ofer ealo-wǣge ōret-mecgas,

þæt hīe in bēor-sele bīdan woldon

Grendles gūþe mid gryrum ecga.

Đonne wæs þēos medo-heal on morgen-tīd,

driht-sele drēor-fāh, þonne dæg līxte,

eal benc-þelu blōde bestȳmed,

heall heoru-drēore; āhte ic holdra þȳ lǣs

dēorre duguðe, þē þā dēað fornam.

Site nū tō symle, ond on sǣl meoto

490

sige hrēð-secga, swā þīn sefa hwette!”

Þā wæs Gēat-mæcgum geador ætsomne

on bēor-sele benc gerȳmed;

þǣr swīð-ferhþe sittan ēodon,

þrȳðum dealle; þegn nytte behēold,

sē þe on handa bær hroden ealo-wǣge,

scencte scīr-wered; scop hwīlum sang

hādor on Heorote; þǣr wæs hæleða drēam,

duguð unlȳtel Dena ond Wedera.

Unferð maþelode, Ecglāfes bearn,

500

þe æt fōtum sæt frēan Scyldinga,

onband beadu-rūne: wæs him Bēowulfes sīð,

mōdges mere-faran, micel æfþunca,

forþon þe hē ne ūþe, þæt ǣnig ōðer man

ǣfre mǣrða þon mā middan-geardes

gehēdde under heofenum þonne hē sylfa:

“Eart þū sē Bēowulf, sē þe wið Brecan wunne,

on sīdne sǣ ymb sund flite,

ðǣr git for wlence wada cunnedon

ond for dol-gilpe on dēop wæter

510

aldrum nēþdon? Nē inc ǣnig mon,

nē lēof nē lāð, belēan mihte

sorh-fullne sīð, þā git on sund rēon;

þǣr git ēagor-strēam earmum þehton,

mǣton mere-strǣta, mundum brugdon,

glidon ofer gār-secg. Geofon ȳþum wēol,

wintrys wylmum; git on wæteres ǣht

seofon niht swuncon; hē þē æt sunde oferflāt,

hæfde māre mægen; þā hine on morgen-tīd

on Heaþo-Rǣmes holm up ætbær.

520

Đonon hē gesōhte swǣsne ēðel,

lēof his lēodum, lond Brondinga,

freoðo-burh fægere, þǣr hē folc āhte,

burh ond bēagas. Bēot eal wið þē

sunu Bēanstānes sōðe gelǣste.

Đonne wēne ic tō þē wyrsan geþingea,

ðēah þū heaðo-rǣsa gehwǣr dohte,

grimre gū ðe, gif þū Grendles dearst

niht-longne fyrst nēan bīdan.”

Bēowulf maþelode, bearn Ecgþēowes:

530

“Hwæt þū worn fela, wine mīn Unferð,

bēore druncen ymb Brecan sprǣce,

sægdest from his sīðe! Sō ð ic talige

þæt ic mere-strengo māran āhte,

earfeþo on ȳþum, ðonne ǣnig ōþer man.

Wit þæt gecwǣdon cniht-wesende

ond gebēotedon —wǣron bēgen þā gīt

on geogoð-fēore— þæt wit on gār-secg ūt

aldrum nēðdon; ond þæt geæfndon swā.

Hæfdon swurd nacod, þā wit on sund rēon,

540

heard on handa; wit unc wið hron-fixas

werian þōhton; nō hē wiht fram mē

flōd-ȳþum feor flēotan meahte,

hraþor on holme, nō ic fram him wolde.

Đā wit ætsomne on sǣ wǣron

fīf nihta fyrst, oþþæt unc flōd tōdrāf,

wado weallende, wedera cealdost,

nīpende niht, ond norþan-wind

heaðo-grim ondhwearf. Hrēo wǣron ȳþa,

wæs mere-fixa mōd onhrēred.

550

Þǣr mē wið lāðum līc-syrce mīn,

heard, hond-locen, helpe gefremede,

beado-hrægl brōden on brēostum læg

golde gegyrwed. Mē tō grunde tēah

fāh fēond-scaða, fæste hæfde

grim on grāpe; hwæþre mē gyfeþe wearð,

þæt ic āglǣcan orde gerǣhte,

hilde-bille; heaþo-rǣs fornam

mihtig mere-dēor þurh mīne hand.

“Swā mec gelōme lāðo-getēonan

560

þrēatedon þearle; ic him þēnode

dēoran sweorde, swā hit gedēfe wæs.

Næs hīe ðǣre fylle gefēan hæfdon,

mān-fordǣdlan, þæt hīe mē þēgon,

symbel ymbsæton sǣ-grunde nēah;

ac on mergenne mēcum wunde

be ȳð-lāfe uppe lǣgon,

sweordum āswefede, þæt syðþan nā

ymb brontne ford brim-līðende

lāde ne letton. Lēoht ēastan cōm,

570

beorht bēacen Godes; brimu swaþredon

þæt ic sǣ-nǣssas gesēon mihte,

windige weallas. Wyrd oft nereð

unfǣgne eorl, þonne his ellen dēah.

Hwæþere mē gesǣlde, þæt ic mid sweorde ofslōh

niceras nigene. Nō ic on niht gefrægn

under heofones hwealf heardran feohtan,

nē on ēg-strēamum earmran mannon.

Hwæþere ic fāra feng fēore gedīgde,

sīþes wērig. Đā mec sǣ oþbær,

580

flōd æfter faroðe on Finna land,

wadu weallendu. Nō ic wiht fram þē

swylcra searo-nīða secgan hȳrde,

billa brōgan. Breca nǣfre gīt

æt heaðo-lāce, nē gehwæþer incer,

swā dēorlīce dǣd gefremede

fāgum sweordum —nō ic þæs fela gylpe—

þēah ðū þīnum brōðrum tō banan wurde,

hēafod-mǣgum; þæs þū in helle scealt

werhðo drēogan, þēah þīn wit duge.

590

Secge ic þē tō sōðe, sunu Ecglāfes,

þæt nǣfre Grendel swā fela gryra gefremede,

atol ǣglǣca ealdre þīnum,

hȳnðo on Heorote, gif þīn hige wǣre,

sefa swā searo-grim, swā þū self talast;

ac hē hafað onfunden, þæt hē þā fǣhðe ne þearf,

atole ecg-þræce ēower lēode

swīðe onsittan, Sige-Scyldinga.

Nymeð nȳd-bāde, nǣnegum ārað

lēode Deniga, ac hē lust wigeð,

600

swefeð ond sendeþ, secce ne wēneþ

tō Gār-Denum. Ac ic him Gēata sceal

eafoð ond ellen ungeāra nū,

gūþe gebēodan. Gǣþ eft sē þe mōt

tō medo mōdig, siþþan morgen-lēoht

ofer ylda bearn ōþres dōgores,

sunne swegl-wered sūþan scīneð!”

Þā wæs on sālum sinces brytta,

gamol-feax ond gūð-rōf; gēoce gelȳfde

brego Beorht-Dena, gehȳrde on Bēowulfe

610

folces hyrde fæst-rǣdne geþōht.

Đǣr wæs hæleþa hleahtor, hlyn swynsode,

word wǣron wynsume. Ēode Wealhþēow forð,

cwēn Hrōðgāres, cynna gemyndig;

grētte gold-hroden guman on healle,

ond þā frēolic wīf ful gesealde

ǣrest Ēast-Dena ēþel-wearde;

bæd hine blīðne æt þǣre bēor-þege,

lēodum lēofne; hē on lust geþeah

symbel ond sele-ful, sige-rōf kyning.

620

Ymb-ēode þā ides Helminga

duguþe ond geogoþe dǣl ǣghwylcne,

sinc-fato sealde, oþþæt sǣl ālamp,

þæt hīo Bēowulfe, bēag-hroden cwēn

mōde geþungen, medo-ful ætbær.

Grētte Gēata lēod, gode þancode

wīs-fæst wordum, þæs ðe hire se willa gelamp,

þæt hēo on ǣnigne eorl gelȳfde

fyrena frōfre. Hē þæt ful geþeah,

wæl-rēow wiga, æt Wealhþēon,

630

ond þā gyddode gūþe gefȳsed;

Bēowulf maþelode, bearn Ecgþēowes:

“Ic þæt hogode, þā ic on holm gestāh,

sǣ-bāt gesæt mid mīnra secga gedriht,

þæt ic ānunga ēowra lēoda

willan geworhte, oþðe on wæl crunge,

fēond-grāpum fæst. Ic gefremman sceal

eorlīc ellen, oþðe ende-dæg

on þisse meodu-healle mīnne gebīdan.”

Đām wīfe þā word wēl līcodon,

640

gilp-cwide Gēates; ēode gold-hroden

frēolicu folc-cwēn tō hire frēan sittan.

Þā wæs eft swā ǣr inne on healle

þrȳð-word sprecen, ðēod on sǣlum,

sige-folca swēg, oþþæt semninga

sunu Healfdenes sēcean wolde

ǣfen-ræste. Wiste þǣm āhlǣ can

tō þǣm hēah-sele hilde geþinged,

siððan hīe sunnan lēoht gesēon meahton,

oþ ðe nīpende niht ofer ealle,

650

scadu-helma gesceapu scrīðan cwōman

wan under wolcnum. Werod eall ārās.

Gegrētte þā guma ōþerne,

Hrō ðgār Bēowulf, ond him hǣl ābēad,

wīn-ærnes geweald, ond þæt word ācwæð:

“Nǣfre ic ǣnegum men ǣr ālȳfde,

siþðan ic hond ond rond hebban mihte,

ðrȳþ-ærn Dena būton þē nū ðā.

Hafa nū ond geheald husa sēlest:

gemyne mǣrþo, mægen-ellen cȳð,

660

waca wið wrāþum! Ne bið þē wilna gād

gif þū þæt ellen-weorc aldre gedīgest.”

Đā him Hrōþgār gewāt mid his hæleþa gedryht,

eodur Scyldinga ūt of healle;

wolde wīg-fruma Wealhþēo sēcan,

cwēn tō gebeddan. Hæfde kyning-wuldor

Grendle tōgēanes, swā guman gefrungon,

sele-weard āseted; sundor-nytte behēold

ymb aldor Dena, eoton-weard’ ābēad.

Hūru Gēata lēod georne truwode

670

mōdgan mægnes, Metodes hyldo.

Đā hē him of dyde īsern-byrnan,

helm of hafelan, sealde his hyrsted sweord,

īrena cyst ombiht-þegne,

ond gehealdan hēt hilde-geatwe.

Gespræc þā se gōda gylp-worda sum,

Bēowulf Gēata, ǣr hē on bed stige:

“Nō ic mē an here-wæsmun hnāgran talige

gūþ-geweorca þonne Grendel hine;

forþan ic hine sweorde swebban nelle,

680

aldre benēotan, þēah ic eal mæge.

Nāt hē þāra gōda, þæt hē mē ongēan slēa,

rand gehēawe, þēah ðe hē rōf sīe

nīþ-geweorca: ac wit on niht sculon

secge ofersittan, gif hē gesēcean dear

wīg ofer wǣpen: ond siþðan wītig God

on swā hwæþere hond, hālig Dryhten,

mǣrðo dēme, swā him gemet þince.”

Hylde hine þā heaþo-dēor, hlēor-bolster onfēng

eorles andwlitan, ond hine ymb monig

690

snellīc sǣ-rinc sele-reste gebēah.

Nǣnig heora þōhte, þæt hē þanon scolde

eft eard-lufan ǣfre gesēcean,

folc oþðe frēo-burh, þǣr hē āfēded wæs;

ac hīe hæfdon gefrūnen, þæt hīe ǣr tō fela micles

in þǣm wīn-sele wæl-dēað fornam,

Denigea lēode. Ac him Dryhten forgeaf

wīg-spēda gewiofu, Wedera lēodum,

frōfor ond fultum, þæt hīe fēond heora

ðurh ānes cræft ealle ofercōmon,

700

selfes mihtum. Sōð is gecȳþed,

þæt mihtig God manna cynnes

weold wīde-ferhð. Cōm on wanre niht

scrīðan sceadu-genga; scēotend swǣfon,

þā þæt horn-reced healdan scoldon,

ealle būton ānum. Þæt wæs yldum cūþ,

þæt hīe ne mōste, þā Metod nolde,

se syn-scaþa under sceadu bregdan,

ac hē wæccende wrāþum on andan

bād bolgen-mōd beadwa geþinges.

710

Đā cōm of mōre under mist-hleoþum

Grendel gongan, Godes yrre bær,

mynte se mān-scaða manna cynnes

sumne besyrwan in sele þām hēan.

Wōd under wolcnum, tō þæs þe hē wīn-reced,

gold-sele gumena gearwost wisse,

fǣttum fāhne. Ne wæs þæt forma sīð

þæt hē Hrōþgāres hām gesōhte.

Nǣfre hē on aldor-dagum ǣr nē siþðan

heardran hǣle heal-ðegnas fand.

720

Cōm þā tō recede rinc sīðian

drēamum bedǣled. Duru sōna onarn

fȳr-bendum fæst, syþðan hē hire folmum gehrān:

onbrǣd þā bealo-hȳdig, ðā hē gebolgen wæs,

recedes mūþan. Raþe æfter þon

on fāgne flōr fēond treddode,

ēode yrre-mōd; him of ēagum stōd

ligge gelīcost lēoht unfǣger.

Geseah hē in recede rinca manige,

swefan sibbe-gedriht samod ætgædere,

730

mago-rinca hēap. Þā his mōd āhlōg;

mynte þæt hē gedǣlde, ǣr þon dæg cwōme,

atol āglǣca, ānra gehwylces

līf wið līce, þā him ālumpen wæs

wist-fylle wēn. Ne wæs þæt wyrd þā gēn,

þæt hē mā mōste manna cynnes

ðicgean ofer þā niht. Þrȳð-swȳð behēold,

mǣg Higelāces, hū se mān-scaða

under fǣr-gripum gefaran wolde.

Nē þæt se āglǣ ca yldan þōhte,

740

ac hē gefēng hraðe forman sīðe

slǣpendne rinc, slāt unwearnum,

bāt bān-locan, blōd ēdrum dranc,

syn-snǣdum swealh; sōna hæfde

unlyfigendes eal gefeormod,

fēt ond folma. Forð nēar ætstōp,

nam þā mid handa hige-þīhtigne

rinc on ræste —rǣhte ongēan

fēond mid folme; hē onfēng hraþe

inwit-þancum ond wið earm gesæt.

750

Sōna þæt onfunde fyrena hyrde,

þæt hē ne mētte middan-geardes,

eorþan scēatta on elran men

mund-gripe māran; hē on mōde wearð

forht on ferhðe; nō þȳ ǣr fram meahte.

Hyge wæs him hin-fūs, wolde on heolster flēon,

sēcan dēofla gedræg; ne wæs his drohtoð þǣr,

swylce hē on ealder-dagum ǣr gemētte.

Gemunde þā se gōda mǣg Higelāces

ǣfen-sprǣce, up-lang āstōd

760

ond him fæste wiðfēng; fingras burston:

eoten wæs ūtweard, eorl furþur stōp.

Mynte se mǣra, þǣr hē meahte swā,

wīdre gewindan ond on weg þanon

flēon on fen-hopu; wiste his fingra geweald

on grames grāpum; þæt wæs gēocor sīð

þæt se hearm-scaþa tō Heorute ātēah.

Dryht-sele dynede, Denum eallum wearð,

ceaster-būendum, cēnra gehwylcum,

eorlum ealu-scerwen. Yrre wǣron bēgen,

770

rēþe ren-weardas. Reced hlynsode;

þā wæs wundor micel, þæt se wīn-sele

wiðhæfde heaþo-dēorum, þæt hē on hrūsan ne fēol,

fǣger fold-bold; ac hē þæs fæste wæs

innan ond ūtan īren-bendum

searo-þoncum besmiþod. Þǣr fram sylle ābēag

medu-benc monig, mīne gefrǣge,

golde geregnad, þǣr þā graman wunnon.

Þæs ne wēndon ǣr witan Scyldinga,

þæt hit ā mid gemete manna ǣnig,

780

betlīc ond bān-fāg tōbrecan meahte,

listum tōlūcan, nymþe līges fæþm

swulge on swaþule. Swēg up āstāg

nīwe geneahhe, Norð-Denum stōd

atelīc egesa, ānra gehwylcum

þāra þe of wealle wōp gehȳrdon,

gryre-lēoð galan Godes andsacan,

sige-lēasne sang, sār wānigean

helle hæfton. Hēold hine fæste,

sē þe manna wæs mægene strengest

790

on þǣm dæge þysses līfes.

Nolde eorla hlēo ǣnige þinga

þone cwealm-cuman cwicne forlǣtan,

nē his līf-dagas lēoda ǣnigum

nytte tealde. Þǣr genehost brægd

eorl Bēowulfes ealde lāfe,

wolde frēa-drihtnes feorh ealgian,

mǣres þēodnes, ðǣr hīe meahton swā.

Hīe þæt ne wiston, þā hīe gewin drugon,

heard-hicgende hilde-mecgas,

800

ond on healfa gehwone hēawan þōhton,

sāwle sēcan: þone syn-scaðan

ǣnig ofer eorþan īrenna cyst,

gūð-billa nān grētan nolde,

ac hē sige-wǣpnum forsworen hæfde,

ecga gehwylcre. Scolde his aldor-gedāl

on ðǣm dæge þysses līfes

earmlīc wurðan, ond se ellor-gāst

on fēonda geweald feor sīðian.

Đā þæt onfunde sē þe fela ǣror

810

mōdes myrðe manna cynne,

fyrene gefremede —hē fāg wið God—

þæt him se līc-homa lǣstan nolde,

ac hine se mōdega mǣg Hygelāces

hæfde be honda; wæs gehwæþer ōðrum

lifigende lāð. Līc-sār gebād

atol ǣglǣca; him on eaxle wearð

syn-dolh sweotol; seonowe onsprungon,

burston bān-locan. Bēowulfe wearð

gūð-hrēð gyfeþe; scolde Grendel þonan

820

feorh-sēoc flēon under fen-hleoðu,

sēcean wyn-lēas wīc; wiste þē geornor,

þæt his aldres wæs ende gegongen,

dōgera dæg-rīm. Denum eallum wearð

æfter þām wæl-rǣse willa gelumpen.

Hæfde þā gefǣlsod, sē þe ǣr feorran cōm,

snotor ond swȳð-ferhð, sele Hrōðgāres,

genered wið nīðe. Niht-weorce gefeh,

ellen-mǣrþum. Hæfde Ēast-Denum

Gēat-mecga lēod gilp gelǣsted,

830

swylce oncȳþðe ealle gebētte,

inwid-sorge, þē hīe ǣr drugon

ond for þrēa-nȳdum þolian scoldon,

torn unlȳtel. Þæt wæs tācen sweotol,

syþðan hilde-dēor hond ālegde,

earm ond eaxle —þǣr wæs eal geador

Grendles grāpe— under gēapne hrōf.

Đā wæs on morgen, mīne gefrǣge,

ymb þā gif-healle gūð-rinc monig;

fērdon folc-togan feorran ond nēan

840

geond wīd-wegas wundor scēawian,

lāþes lāstas. Nō his līf-gedāl

sārlīc þūhte secga ǣnegum,

þāra þe tīr-lēases trode scēawode,

hū hē wērig-mōd on weg þanon,

nīða ofercumen, on nicera mere,

fǣge ond geflȳmed feorh-lāstas bær.

Đǣr wæs on blōde brim weallende,

atol ȳða geswing, eal gemenged,

hāton heolfre, heoro-drēore wēol;

850

dēað-fǣge dēog, siððan drēama lēas

in fen-freoðo feorh ālegde,

hǣþene sāwle; þǣr him hel onfēng.

Þanon eft gewiton eald-gesīðas,

swylce geong manig of gomen-wāþe,

fram mere mōdge mēarum rīdan,

beornas on blancum. Đǣr wǣs Bēowulfes

mǣrðo mǣned; monig oft gecwæð,

þætto sūð nē norð be sǣm twēonum

ofer eormen-grund ōþer nǣnig

860

under swegles begong sēlra nǣre

rond-hæbbendra, rīces wyrðra.

Nē hīe hūru wine-drihten wiht ne lōgon,

glædne Hrōðgār, ac þæt wæs gōd cyning.

Hwīlum heaþo-rōfe hlēapan lēton,

on geflit faran fealwe mēaras,

ðǣr him fold-wegas fægere þūhton,

cystum cūðe; hwīlum cyninges þegn,

guma gilp-hlæden, gidda gemyndig,

sē ðe eal-fela eald-gesegena

870

worn gemunde, word ōþer fand

sōðe gebunden. Secg eft ongan

sīð Bēowulfes snyttrum styrian

ond on spēd wrecan spel gerāde,

wordum wrixlan. Wēl-hwylc gecwæð,

þæt hē fram Sigemunde secgan hȳrde,

ellen-dǣdum, uncūþes fela,

Wælsinges gewin, wīde sīðas,

þāra þe gumena bearn gearwe ne wiston,

fǣhðe ond fyrena, būton Fitela mid hine,

880

þonne hē swulces hwæt secgan wolde,

ēam his nefan, swā hīe ā wǣron

æt nīða gehwām nȳd-gesteallan;

hæfdon eal-fela eotena cynnes

sweordum gesǣged. Sigemunde gesprong

æfter dēað-dæge dōm unlȳtel,

syþðan wīges heard wyrm ācwealde,

hordes hyrde. Hē under hārne stān,

æþelinges bearn, āna genēðde

frēcne dǣde; ne wæs him Fitela mid;

890

hwæþre him gesǣlde, ðæt þæt swurd þurhwōd

wrǣtlīcne wyrm, þæt hit on wealle æstōd,

dryhtlīc īren; draca morðre swealt.

Hæfde āglǣca elne gegongen,

þæt hē bēah-hordes brūcan mōste

selfes dōme; sǣ-bāt gehleōd,

bær on bearm scipes beorhte frætwa,

Wælses eafera; wyrm hāt gemealt.

Sē wæs wreccena wīde mǣrost

ofer wer-þēode, wīgendra hlēo,

900

ellen-dǣdum —hē þæs ǣr onðāh—

siððan Heremōdes hild sweðrode,

eafoð ond ellen; hē mid eotenum wearð

on fēonda geweald forð forlācen

snūde forsended. Hine sorh-wylmas

lemede tō lange; hē his lēodum wearð,

eallum æþellingum tō aldor-ceare.

Swylce oft bemearn ǣrran mǣlum

swīð-ferhþes sīð snotor ceorl monig,

sē þe him bealwa tō bōte gelȳfde,

910

þæt þæt ðēodnes bearn geþēon scolde,

fæder-æþelum onfōn, folc gehealdan,

hord ond hlēo-burh, hæleþa rīce,

ēðel Scyldinga. Hē þǣr eallum wearð,

mǣg Higelāces, manna cynne,

frēondum gefægra; hine fyren onwōd.

Hwīlum flītende fealwe strǣte

mēarum mǣton. Đā wæs morgen-lēoht

scofen ond scynded. Ēode scealc monig

swīð-hicgende tō sele þām hēan,

920

searo-wundor sēon; swylce self cyning

of brȳd-būre, bēah-horda weard,

tryddode tīr-fæst getrume micle,

cystum gecȳþed, ond his cwēn mid him

medo-stigge mæt mægþa hōse.

Hrōðgār maþelode —hē tō healle gēong,

stōd on stapole, geseah stēapne hrōf

golde fāhne ond Grendles hond:

“Đisse ansȳne Al-wealdan þanc

lungre gelimpe! Fela ic lāþes gebād,

930

grynna æt Grendle; ā mæg God wyrcan

wunder æfter wundre, wuldres Hyrde.

Đæt wæs ungeāra, þæt ic ǣnigra mē

wēana ne wēnde tō wīdan feore

bōte gebīdan, þonne blōde fāh

hūsa sēlest heoro-drērig stōd,

wēa wīd-scofen witena gehwylcum

ðāra þe ne wēndon, þæt hīe wīde-ferhð

lēoda land-geweorc lāþum beweredon

scuccum ond scinnum. Nū scealc hafað

940

þurh Drihtnes miht dǣd gefremede,

ðe wē ealle ǣr ne meahton

snyttrum besyrwan. Hwæt, þæt secgan mæg

efne swā hwylc mægþa, swā ðone magan cende

æfter gum-cynnum, gyf hēo gȳt lyfað,

þæt hyre Eald-metod ēste wǣre

bearn-gebyrdo. Nū ic, Bēowulf, þec,

secg betsta, mē for sunu wylle

frēogan on ferhþe; heald forð tela

nīwe sibbe. Ne bið þē nǣnigre gād

950

worolde wilna, þē ic geweald hæbbe.

Ful oft ic for lǣssan lēan teohhode,

hord-weorþunge hnāhran rince,

sǣmran æt sæcce. Þū þē self hafast

dǣdum gefremed, þæt þīn dōm lyfað

āwa tō aldre. Al-walda þec

gōde forgylde, swā hē nū gȳt dyde!”

Bēowulf maþelode, bearn Ecgþēowes:

Wē þæt ellen-weorc ēstum miclum,

feohtan fremedon, frēcne genēðdon

960

eafoð uncūþes. Ūþe ic swīþor,

þæt ðū hine selfne gesēon mōste,

fēond on frætewum fyl-wērigne!

Ic hine hrædlīce heardan clammum

on wæl-bedde wrīþan þōhte,

þæt hē for mund-gripe mīnum scolde

licgean līf-bysig, būtan his līc swice.

Ic hine ne mihte, þē Metod nolde,

ganges getwǣman, nō ic him þæs georne ætfealh,

feorh-genīðlan; wæs tō fore-mihtig

970

fēond on fēþe. Hwæþere hē his folme forlēt

tō līf-wraþe lāst weardian,

earm ond eaxle; nō þǣr ǣnige swā þēah

fēasceaft guma frōfre gebohte;

nō þȳ leng leofað lāð-getēona

synnum geswenced, ac hyne sār hafað

in nīd-gripe nearwe befongen,

balwon bendum; ðǣr ābīdan sceal

maga māne fāh miclan dōmes,

hū him scīr Metod scrīfan wille.”

980

Đā wæs swīgra secg, sunu Ecglāfes,

on gylp-sprǣce gūð-geweorca,

siþðan æþelingas eorles cræfte

ofer hēanne hrōf hand scēawedon,

fēondes fingras. Foran ǣghwylc wæs,

steda nægla gehwylc stȳle gelīcost,

hǣþenes hand-sporu, hilde-rinces

egl unhēoru. Ǣghwylc gecwæð

þæt him heardra nān hrīnan wolde

īren ǣr-gōd, þæt ðæs āhlǣcan

990

blōdge beadu-folme onberan wolde.

Đā wæs hāten hreþe Heort innanweard

folmum gefrætwod; fela þǣra wæs,

wera ond wīfa, þe þæt wīn-reced,

gest-sele gyredon. Gold-fāg scinon

web æfter wāgum, wundor-sı īona fela

secga gehwylcum þāra þe on swylc starað.

Wæs þæt beorhte bold tōbrocen swīðe,

eal inneweard īren-bendum fæst,

heorras tōhlidene; hrōf āna genæs

1000

ealles ansund, þē se āglǣca

fyren-dǣdum fāg on flēam gewand,

aldres orwēna. Nō þæt ȳðe byð

tō beflēonne —fremme sē þe wille—

ac gesēcan sceal sāwl-berendra

nȳde genȳdde, niþða bearna,

grund-būendra gearwe stōwe,

þǣr his līc-homa, leger-bedde fæst,

swefeþ æfter symle.

Þā wæs sǣl ond mǣl

þæt tō healle gang Healfdenes sunu;

1010

wolde self cyning symbel þicgan.

Ne gefrægen ic þā mǣgþe māran weorode

ymb hyra sinc-gyfan sēl gebǣran.

Bugon þā tō bence blǣd-āgande,

fylle gefǣgon; fægere geþǣgon

medo-ful manig māgas þāra,

swīð-hicgende, on sele þām hēan,

Hrōðgār ond Hroþulf. Heorot innan wæs

frēondum āfylled; nalles fācen-stafas

Þēod-Scyldingas þenden fremedon.

1020

Forgeaf þā Bēowulfe brand Healfdenes

segen gyldenne sigores tō lēane,

hroden hilde-cumbor, helm ond byrnan;

mǣre māðþum-sweord manige gesāwon

beforan beorn beran. Bēowulf geþah

ful on flette; nō hē þǣre feoh-gyfte

for sceotendum scamigan ðorfte.

Ne gefrægn ic frēondlīcor fēower mādmas

golde gegyrede gum-manna fela

in ealo-bence ōðrum gesellan.

1030

Ymb þæs helmes hrōf hēafod-beorge

wīrum bewunden walu ūtan hēold,

þæt him fēla lāfe frēcne ne meahton

scūr-heard sceþðan, þonne scyld-freca

ongēan gramum gangan scolde.

Heht ðā eorla hlēo eahta mēaras

fǣted-hlēore on flet tēon,

in under eoderas; þāra ānum stōd

sadol swearwum fāh, since gewurþad.

Þæt wæs hilde-setl hēah-cyninges,

1040

ðonne sweorda gelāc sunu Healfdenes

efnan wolde; nǣfre on ōre læg

wīd-cūþes wīg, ðonne walu fēollon.

Ond ðā Bēowulfe bēga gehwæþres

eodor Ingwina onweald getēah,

wicga ond wǣpna; hēt hine wēl brūcan.

Swā manlīce mǣre þēoden,

hord-weard hæleþa heaþo-rǣsas geald

mēarum ond mādmum, swā hȳ nǣfre man lyhð,

sē þe secgan wile sōð æfter rihte.

1050

Đā gȳt ǣghwylcum eorla drihten

þāra þe mid Bēowulfe brim-lāde tēah,

on þǣre medu-bence māþðum gesealde,

yrfe-lāfe, ond þone ǣnne heht

golde forgyldan, þone ðe Grendel ǣr

māne ācwealde, swā hē hyra mā wolde,

nefne him wītig God wyrd forstōde

ond ðæs mannes mōd. Metod eallum wēold

gumena cynnes, swā hē nū gīt dēð.

Forþan bið andgit ǣghwær sēlest,

1060

ferhðes fore-þanc. Fela sceal gebīdan

lēofes ond lāþes, sē þe longe hēr

on ðyssum win-dagum worolde brūceð.

Þǣr wæs sang ond swēg samod ætgædere

fore Healfdenes hilde-wīsan,

gomen-wudu grēted, gid oft wrecen,

ðonne heal-gamen Hrōþgāres scop

æfter medo-bence mǣnan scolde:—

Finnes eaferum, ðā hīe se fǣr begeat,

hæleð Healf-Dena, Hnæf Scyldinga,

1070

in Frēs-wæle feallan scolde.

Nē hūru Hildeburh herian þorfte

eotena trēowe; unsynnum wearð

beloren lēofum æt þām lind-plegan

bearnum ond brōðrum; hīe on gebyrd hruron

gāre wunde; þæt wæs geōmuru ides.

Nalles hōlinga Hōces dohtor

meotodsceaft bemearn, syþðan morgen cōm,

ðā hēo under swegle gesēon meahte

morþor-bealo māga, þǣr hēo ǣr mǣste hēold

1080

worolde wynne. Wīg ealle fornam

Finnes þegnas, nemne fēaum ānum,

þæt hē ne mehte on þǣm meðel-stede

wīg Hengeste wiht gefeohtan,

nē þā wēa-lāfe wīge forþringan,

þēodnes ðegne; ac hig him geþingo budon,

þæt hīe him ōðer flet eal gerȳmdon,

healle ond hēah-setl, þæt hīe healfre geweald

wið eotena bearn āgan mōston,

ond æt feoh-gyftum Folcwaldan sunu

1090

dōgra gehwylce Dene weorþode,

Hengestes hēap hringum wenede

efne swā swīðe, sinc-gestrēonum

fǣttan goldes, swā hē Frēsena cyn

on bēor-sele byldan wolde.

Đā hīe getruwedon on twā healfa

fæste frioðu-wǣre. Fin Hengeste

elne unflitme āðum benemde

þæt hē þā wēa-lāfe weotena dōme

ārum hēolde, þæt ðǣr ǣnig mon

1100

wordum nē worcum wǣre ne brǣce,

nē þurh inwit-searo ǣfre gemǣnden,

ðēah hīe hira bēag-gyfan banan folgedon

ðēoden-lēase, þā him swā geþearfod wæs;

gyf þonne Frȳsna hwylc frēcnen sprǣce

ðæs morþor-hetes myndgiend wǣre,

þonne hit sweordes ecg syððan scolde.

Āð wæs geæfned, ond icge gold

āhæfen of horde: Here-Scyldinga

betst beado-rinca wæs on bǣl gearu.

1110

Æt þǣm āde wæs ēþ-gesȳne

swāt-fāh syrce, swȳn eal-gylden,

eofer īren-heard, æþeling manig

wundum āwyrded; sume on wæle crungon.

Hēt ðā Hildeburh æt Hnæfes āde

hire selfre sunu sweoloðe befæstan,

bān-fatu bærnan ond on bǣl dōn.

Earme on eaxle ides gnornode,

geōmrode giddum. Gūð-rinc āstāh;

wand tō wolcnum wæl-fȳra mæst,

1120

hlynode for hlāwe; hafelan multon,

bēn-geato burston, ðonne blōd ætspranc,

lāð-bite līces. Līg ealle forswealg,

gǣsta gīfrost, þāra ðe þǣr gūð fornam

bēga folces; wæs hira blǣd scacen.

Gewiton him ðā wīgend wīca nēosian

frēondum befeallen, Frȳs-land gesēon,

hāmas ond hēa-burh. Hengest ðā gȳt

wæl-fāgne winter wunode mid Finne

eal unhlitme; eard gemunde,

1130

þēah þe ne meahte on mere drīfan

hringed-stefnan; holm storme wēol,

won wið winde; winter ȳþe belēac

īs-gebinde, oþðæt ōþer cōm

gēar in geardas, swā nū gȳt dēð,

þā ðe syngāles sēle bewitiað,

wuldor-torhtan weder. Đā wæs winter scacen,

fæger foldan bearm; fundode wrecca,

gist of geardum; hē tō gyrn-wræce

swīðor þōhte þonne tō sǣ-lāde,

1140

gif hē torn-gemōt þurhtēon mihte,

þæt hē eotena bearn inne gemunde.

Swā hē ne forwyrnde worold-rǣdenne,

þonne him Hūnlāfing hilde-lēoman,

billa sēlest, on bearm dyde,

þæs wǣron mid eotenum ecge cūðe.

Swylce ferhð-frecan Fin eft begeat

sweord-bealo slīðen æt his selfes hām,

siþðan grimne gripe Gūðlāf ond Ōslāf

æfter sǣ-sīðe sorge mǣndon,

1150

ætwiton wēana dǣl; ne meahte wǣfre mōd

forhabban in hreþre. Đā wæs heal roden

fēonda fēorum, swilce Fin slægen,

cyning on corþre, ond sēo cwēn numen.

Scēotend Scyldinga tō scypon feredon

eal in-gesteald eorð-cyninges,

swylce hīe æt Finnes hām findan meahton

sigla, searo-gimma. Hīe on sǣ-lāde

drihtlīce wīf tō Denum feredon,

lǣddon tō lēodum.

Lēoð wæs āsungen,

1160

glēo-mannes gyd. Gamen eft āstāh,

beorhtode benc-swēg, byrelas sealdon

wīn of wunder-fatum. Þā cwōm Wealhþēo forð

gān under gyldnum bēage, þǣr þā gōdan twēgen

sǣton suhterge-fæderan; þā gȳt wæs hiera sib ætgædere,

ǣghwylc ōðrum trȳwe. Swylce þǣr Unferþ þyle

æt fōtum sæt frēan Scyldinga; gehwylc hiora his ferhþe

trēowde,

þæt hē hæfde mōd micel, þēah þe hē his māgum nǣre

ār-fæst æt ecga gelācum. Spræc ðā ides Scyldinga:

“Onfōh þissum fulle, frēo-drihten mīn,

1170

sinces brytta; þū on sǣlum wes,

gold-wine gumena, ond tō Gēatum spræc

mildum wordum, swā sceal man dōn;

bēo wið Gēatas glæd, geofena gemyndig,

nēan ond feorran þū nū hafast.

Mē man sægde, þæt þū ðē for sunu wolde

here-rinc habban. Heorot is gefǣlsod,

bēah-sele beorhta; brūc, þenden þū mōte,

manigra mēdo, ond þīnum māgum lǣf

folc ond rīce, þonne ðū forð scyle,

1180

metodsceaft sēon. Ic mīnne can

glædne Hrōþulf, þæt hē þā geogoðe wile

ārum healdan, gyf þū ǣr þonne hē,

wine Scildinga, worold oflǣtest;

wēne ic þæt hē mid gōde gyldan wille

uncran eaferan, gif hē þæt eal gemon,

hwæt wit tō willan ond tō worð-myndum

umbor-wesendum ǣr ārna gefremedon.”

Hwearf þā bī bence, þǣr hyre byre wǣron,

Hrēðrīc ond Hrōðmund, ond hæleþa bearn,

1190

giogoð ætgædere; þǣr se gōda sæt,

Bēowulf Gēata be þēam gebrōðrum twǣm.

Him wæs ful boren ond frēond-laþu

wordum bewægned, ond wunden gold

ēstum geēawed, earm-rēade twā,

hrægl ond hringas, heals-bēaga mǣst

þāra þe ic on foldan gefrægen hæbbe.

Nǣnigne ic under swegle sēlran hȳrde

hord-māððum hæleþa, syþðan Hāma ætwæg

tō þēre byrhtan byrig Brōsinga mene,

1200

sigle ond sinc-fæt; searo-nīðas flēah

Eormenrīces; gecēas ēcne rǣd.

Þone hring hæfde Higelāc Gēata,

nefa Swertinges, nȳhstan sīðe,

sīðþan hē under segne sinc ealgode,

wæl-rēaf werede; hyne wyrd fornam,

syþðan hē for wlenco wēan āhsode,

fǣhðe tō Frȳsum. Hē þā frætwe wæg,

eorclan-stānas ofer ȳða ful,

rīce þēoden; hē under rande gecranc.

1210

Gehwearf þā in Francna fæþm feorh cyninges,

brēost-gewǣdu ond se bēah somod;

wyrsan wīg-frecan wæl rēafeden

æfter gūð-sceare; Gēata lēode

hrēa-wīc hēoldon. Heal swēge onfēng.

Wealhðēo maþelode, hēo fore þǣm werede spræc:

“Brūc ðisses bēages, Bēowulf lēofa,

hyse, mid hǣle, ond þisses hrægles nēot,

þēod-gestrēona, ond geþēoh tela;

cen þec mid cræfte, ond þyssum cnyhtum wes

1220

lāra līðe; ic þē þæs lēan geman.

Hafast þū gefēred, þæt ðē feor ond nēah

ealne wīde-ferhþ weras ehtigað,

efne swā sīde swā sǣ bebūgeð

wind-geard, weallas. Wes, þenden þū lifige,

æþeling, ēadig! Ic þē an tela

sinc-gestrēona. Bēo þū suna mīnum

dǣdum gedēfe, drēam-healdende!

Hēr is ǣghwylc eorl ōþrum getrȳwe,

mōdes milde, man-drihtne hold;

1230

þegnas syndon geþwǣre, þēod eal-gearo,

druncne dryht-guman dōð swā ic bidde.”

Ēode þā tō setle. Þǣr wæs symbla cyst,

druncon wīn weras; wyrd ne cūþon,

geōsceaft grimme, swā hit āgangen wearð

eorla manegum, syþðan ǣfen cwōm,

ond him Hrōþgār gewāt tō hofe sīnum,

rīce tō ræste. Reced weardode

unrīm eorla, swā hīe oft ǣr dydon;

benc-þelu beredon; hit geondbrǣded wearð

1240

beddum ond bolstrum. Bēor-scealca sum

fūs ond fǣge flet-ræste gebēag.

Setton him tō hēafdon hilde-randas,

bord-wudu beorhtan. Þǣr on bence wæs

ofer æþelinge ȳþ-gesēne

heaþo-stēapa helm, hringed byrne,

þrec-wudu þrymlīc. Wæs þēaw hyra,

þæt hīe oft wǣron an wīg gearwe,

gē æt hām gē on herge, gē gehwæþer þāra

efne swylce mǣla, swylce hira man-dryhtne

1250

þearf gesǣlde; wæs sēo þēod tilu.

Sigon þā tō slǣpe. Sum sāre angeald

ǣfen-ræste, swā him ful oft gelamp

siþðan gold-sele Grendel warode,

unriht æfnde, oþþæt ende becwōm,

swylt æfter synnum. Þæt gesȳne wearþ,

wīd-cūþ werum, þætte wrecend þā gȳt

lifde æfter lāþum, lange þrāge,

æfter gūð-ceare. Grendles mōdor,

ides, āglǣc-wīf yrmþe gemunde,

1260

sē þe wæter-egesan wunian scolde,

cealde strēamas, siþðan Cain wearð

tō ecg-banan āngan brēþer,

fæderen-mǣge; hē þā fāg gewāt,

morþre gemearcod, man-drēam flēon,

wēsten warode. Þanon wōc fela

geōsceaft-gāsta; wæs þǣra Grendel sum

heoro-wearh hetelīc, sē æt Heorote fand

wæccendne wer wīges bīdan.

Þǣr him āglǣca ætgrǣpe wearð;

1270

hwæþre hē gemunde mægenes strenge,

gim-fæste gife, ðe him God sealde,

ond him tō An-waldan āre gelȳfde,

frōfre ond fultum; ðȳ hē þone fēond ofercwōm,

gehnǣgde helle-gāst. Þā hē hēan gewāt,

drēame bedǣled dēaþ-wīc sēon,

man-cynnes fēond. Ond his mōdor þā gȳt

gīfre ond galg-mōd gegān wolde

sorh-fulne sīð, sunu dēoð wrecan.

Cōm þā tō Heorote, ðær Hring-Dene

1280

geond þæt sæld swǣfun. Þā ðǣr sōna wearð

edhwyrft eorlum siþðan inne fealh

Grendles mōdor. Wæs se gryre lǣssa

efne swā micle, swā bið mægþa cræft,

wīg-gryre wīfes, be wǣpned-men

þonne heoru bunden, hamere geþuren,

sweord swāte fāh swīn ofer helme,

ecgum dyhttig, andweard scireð.

Đā wæs on healle heard-ecg togen,

sweord ofer setlum, sīd-rand manig

1290

hafen handa fæst; helm ne gemunde,

byrnan sīde, þā hine se brōga angeat.

Hēo wæs on ofste, wolde ūt þanon,

fēore beorgan, þā hēo onfunden wæs.

Hraðe hēo æþelinga ānne hæfde

fæste befangen, þā hēo tō fenne gang.

Sē wæs Hrōþgāre hæleþa lēofost

on gesīðes hād be sǣm twēonum,

rīce rand-wiga, þone ðe hēo on ræste ābrēat,

blǣd-fæstne beorn. Næs Bēowulf ðǣr,

1300

ac wæs ōþer in ǣr geteohhod

æfter māþðum-gife mǣrum Gēate.

Hrēan wearð in Heorote; hēo under heolfre genam

cūþe folme; cearu wæs genīwod,

geworden in wīcun. Ne wæs þæt gewrixle til,

þæt hīe on bā healfa bicgan scoldon

frēonda fēorum. Þā wæs frōd cyning,

hār hilde-rinc, on hrēon mōde,

syðþan hē aldor-þegn unlyfigendne,

þone dēorestan dēadne wisse.

1310

Hraþe wæs tō būre Bēowulf fetod,

sigor-ēadig secg. Samod ǣr-dæge

ēode eorla sum, æþele cempa,

self mid gesīðum, þǣr se snotera bād,

hwæþre him Al-walda ǣfre wille

æfter wēa-spelle wyrpe gefremman.

Gang ðā æfter flōre fyrd-wyrðe man

mid his hand-scale —heal-wudu dynede—

þæt hē þone wīsan wordum nǣgde,

frēan Ingwina; frægn gif him wǣre,

1320

æfter nēod-laðe, niht getǣse.

Hrōðgār maþelode, helm Scyldinga:

“Ne frīn þū æfter sǣlum; sorh is genīwod

Denigea lēodum. Dēad is Æschere,

Yrmenlāfes yldra brōþor,

mīn rūn-wita ond mı īn rǣd-bora,

eaxl-gestealla, ðonne wē on orlege

hafelan weredon, þonne hniton fēþan,

eoferas cnysedan. Swylc scolde eorl wesan,

æðeling ǣr-gōd, swylc Æschere wæs!

1330

Wearð him on Heorote tō hand-banan

wæl-gǣst wǣfre; ic ne wāt hwæder

atol ǣse wlanc eft-sīðas tēah,

fylle gefrǣgnod. Hēo þā fǣhðe wræc,

þē þū gystran niht Grendel cwealdest

þurh hǣstne hād heardum clammum,

forþan hē tō lange lēode mīne

wanode ond wyrde. Hē æt wīge gecrang

ealdres scyldig; ond nū ōþer cwōm

mihtig mān-scaða, wolde hyre mǣg wrecan,

1340

gē feor hafað fǣhðe gestǣled,

þæs þe þincean mæg þegne monegum,

sē þe æfter sinc-gyfan on sefan grēoteþ,

hreþer-bealo hearde; nū sēo hand ligeð,

sē þe ēow wēl-hwylcra wilna dohte.

“Ic þæt lond-būend, lēode mīne,

sele-rǣdende secgan hȳrde,

þæt hīe gesāwon swylce twēgen

micle mearc-stapan mōras healdan,

ellor-gǣstas; ðǣra ōðer wæs,

1350

þæs þe hīe gewislīcost gewitan meahton,

idese onlīcnes; ōðer earm-sceapen

on weres wæstmum wrǣc-lāstas træd,

næfne hē wæs māra þonne ǣnig man ōðer;

þone on geār-dagum ‘Grendel’ nemdon

fold-būende; nō hīe fæder cunnon,

hwæþer him ǣnig wæs ǣr ācenned

dyrnra gāsta. Hīe dȳgel lond

warigeað, wulf-hleoþu, windige næssas,

frēcne fen-gelād, ðǣr fyrgen-strēam

1360

under næssa genipu niþer gewīteð,

flōd under foldan. Nis þæt feor heonon

mīl-gemearces, þæt se mere standeð

ofer þǣm hongiað hrinde bearwas;

wudu wyrtum fæst wæter oferhelmað.

Þǣr mæg nihta gehwǣm nīð-wundor sēon,

fȳr on flōde; nō þæs frōd leofað

gumena bearna þæt þone grund wite.

Đēah þe hǣð-stapa hundum geswenced,

heorot hornum trum holt-wudu sēce,

1370

feorran geflȳmed, ǣr hē feorh seleð,

aldor on ōfre, ǣr hē in wille,

hafelan hȳdan. Nis þæt hēoru stōw;

þonon ȳð-geblond up āstīgeð

won tō wolcnum, þonne wind styreþ

lāð gewidru, oðþæt lyft ðrysmaþ,

roderas rēotað. Nū is se rǣd gelang

eft æt þē ānum. Eard gīt ne const,

frēcne stōwe, ðær þū findan miht

fela-sinnigne secg; sēc gif þū dyrre.

1380

Ic þē þā fǣhðe fēo lēanige,

eald-gestrēonum, swā ic ǣr dyde,

wundini golde, gyf þȳ on weg cymest.”

Bēowulf maþelode, bearn Ecgþēowes:

“Ne sorga, snotor guma! Sēlre bið ǣghwǣm

þæt hē his frēond wrece, þonne hē fela murne.

Ūre ǣghwylc sceal ende gebīdan

worolde līfes; wyrce sē þe mōte

dōmes ǣr dēaþe; þæt bið driht-guman

unlifgendum æfter sēlest.

1390

Ārīs, rīces weard, uton hraþe fēran,

Grendles māgan gang scēawigan!

Ic hit þē gehāte: nō hē on helm losaþ,

nē on foldan fæþm, nē on fyrgen-holt,

nē on gyfenes grund, gā þǣr hē wille.

Đȳs dōgor þū geþyld hafa

wēana gehwylces, swā ic þē wēne tō.”

Āhlēop ðā se gomela, Gode þancode,

mihtigan Drihtne, þæs se man gespræc.

Þā wæs Hrōðgāre hors gebǣted,

1400

wicg wunden-feax; wīsa fengel

geatolīc gende; gum-fēþa stōp

lind-hæbbendra. Lāstas wǣron

æfter wald-swaþum wīde gesȳne,

gang ofer grundas, gegnum fōr

ofer myrcan mor, mago-þegna bær

þone sēlestan sāwol-lēasne,

þāra þe mid Hrōðgāre hām eahtode.

Oferēode þā æþelinga bearn

stēap stān-hliðo, stīge nearwe,

1410

enge ān-paðas, uncūð gelād,

neowle næssas, nicor-hūsa fela.

Hē fēara sum beforan gengde

wīsra monna, wong scēawian;

oþþæt hē fǣringa fyrgen-bēamas

ofer hārne stān hleonian funde,

wyn-lēasne wudu; wæter under stōd

drēorig on gedrēfed. Denum eallum wæs,

winum Scyldinga, weorce on mōde

tō geþolianne, ðegne monegum,

1420

oncȳð eorla gehwǣm, syðþan Æscheres

on þām holm-clife hafelan mētton.

Flōd blōde wēol —folc tō sægon—

hātan heolfre. Horn stundum song

fūslīc fyrd-lēoð. Fēþa eal gesæt;

gesāwon ðā æfter wætere wyrm-cynnes fela,

sellīce sǣ-dracan sund cunnian,

swylce on næs-hleoðum nicras licgean,

ðā on undern-mǣl oft bewitigað

sorh-fulne sīð on segl-rāde,

1430

wyrmas ond wil-dēor. Hīe on weg hruron

bitere ond gebolgne; bearhtm ongēaton,

gūð-horn galan. Sumne Gēata lēod

of flān-bogan fēores getwǣfde,

ȳð-gewinnes, þæt him on aldre stōd

here-strǣl hearda; hē on holme wæs

sundes þē sǣnra, ðē hyne swylt fornam.

Hraæþe wearð on ȳðum mid eofer-sprēotum

heoro-hōcyhtum hearde genearwod,

nīða genæged ond on næs togen

1440

wundorlīc wǣg-bora; weras scēawedon

gryrelīcne gist.

Gyrede hine Bēowulf

eorl-gewǣdum, nalles for ealdre mearn;

scolde here-byrne hondum gebrōden,

sīd ond searo-fāh, sund cunnian,

sēo ðe bān-cofan beorgan cūþe,

þæt him hilde-grāp hreþre ne mihte,

eorres inwit-feng aldre gesceþðan;

ac se hwīta helm hafelan werede,

sē þe mere-grundas mengan scolde,

1450

sēcan sund-gebland since geweorðad,

befongen frēa-wrāsnum, swā hine fyrn-dagum

worhte wǣpna smið, wundrum tēode,

besette swīn-līcum, þæt hine syðþan nō

brond nē beado-mēcas bītan ne meahton.

Næs þæt þonne mǣtost mægen-fultuma,

þæt him on ðearfe lāh ðyle Hrōðgāres;

wæs þǣm hæft-mēce Hrunting nama;

þæt wæs ān foran eald-gestrēona;

ecg wæs īren, āter-tānum fāh,

1460

āhyrded heaþo-swāte; nǣfre hit æt hilde ne swāc

manna ǣngum, þāra þe hit mid mundum bewand,

sē ðe gryre-sīðas gegān dorste,

folc-stede fāra. Næs þæt forma sīð

þæt hit ellen-weorc æfnan scolde.

Hūru ne gemunde mago Ecglāfes

eafoþes cræftig, þæt hē ǣr gespræc

wīne druncen, þā hē þæs wǣpnes onlāh

sēlran sweord-frecan; selfa ne dorste

under ȳða gewin aldre genēþan,

1470

drihtscype drēogan; þǣr hē dōme forlēas,

ellen-mærðum. Ne wæs þǣm ōðrum swā,

syðþan hē hine tō gūðe gegyred hæfde.

Bēowulf maþelode, bearn Ecgþēowes:

“Geþenc nū, se mǣra maga Healfdenes,

snottra fengel, nū ic eom sīðes fūs,

gold-wine gumena, hwæt wit geō sprǣcon,

gif ic æt þearfe þīnre scolde

aldre linnan, þæt ðū mē ā wǣre

forð-gewitenum on fæder stǣle.

1480

Wes þū mund-bora mīnum mago-þegnum,

hond-gesellum, gif mec hild nime;

swylce þū ðā mādmas, þe þū mē sealdest,

Hrōðgār lēofa, Higelāce onsend.

Mæg þonne on þǣm golde ongitan Gēata dryhten,

gesēon sunu Hrǣdles, þonne hē on þæt sinc starað,

þæt ic gum-cystum gōdne funde

bēaga bryttan, brēac þonne mōste.

Ond þū Unferð lǣt ealde lāfe,

wrǣtlīc wǣg-sweord, wīd-cūðne man

1490

heard-ecg habban; ic mē mid Hruntinge

dōm gewyrce, oþðe mec dēað nimeð.”

Æfter þǣm wordum Weder-Gēata lēod

efste mid elne, nalas andsware

bīdan wolde; brim-wylm onfēng

hilde-rince. Đā wæs hwīl dæges,

ǣr hē þone grund-wong ongytan mehte.

Sōna þæt onfunde, sē ðe flōda begong

heoro-gīfre behēold hund missēra,

grim ond grǣdig, þæt þǣr gumena sum

1500

æl-wihta eard ufan cunnode.

Grāp þā tōgēanes; gūð-rinc gefēng

atolan clommum; nō þȳ ǣr in gescōd

hālan līce; hring ūtan ymb-bearh,

þæt hēo þone fyrd-hom ðurhfōn ne mihte,

locene leoðo-syrcan lāþan fingrum.

Bær þā sēo brim-wylf, þā hēo tō botme cōm,

hringa þengel tō hofe sīnum,

swā hē ne mihte, nō hē þæs mōdig wæs,

wǣpna gewealdan; ac hine wundra þæs fela

1510

swencte on sunde, sǣ-dēor monig

hilde-tūxum here-syrcan bræc,

ēhton āglǣcan. Đā se eorl ongeat,

þæt hē in nīð-sele nāt-hwylcum wæs,

þǣr him nǣnig wæter wihte ne sceþede,

nē him for hrōf-sele hrīnan ne mehte

fǣr-gripe flōdes: fȳr-lēoht geseah,

blācne lēoman beorhte scīnan.

Ongeat þā se gōda grund-wyrgenne,

mere-wīf mihtig; mægen-rǣs forgeaf

1520

hilde-bille, hond sweng ne oftēah,

þæt hire on hafelan hring-mǣl āgōl

grǣdig gūð-lēoð. Đā se gist onfand,

þæt se beado-lēoma bītan nolde,

aldre sceþðan, ac sēo ecg geswāc

ðēodne æt þearfe; ðolode ǣr fela

hond-gemōta, helm oft gescær,

fǣges fyrd-hrægl; ðā wæs forma sīð

dēorum mādme, þæt his dōm ālæg.

Eft wæs ān-rǣd, nalas elnes læt,

1530

mǣrða gemyndig mǣg Hȳlāces.

Wearp ðā wunden-mǣl wrǣttum gebunden

yrre ōretta, þæt hit on eorðan læg,

stīð ond stȳl-ecg; strenge getruwode,

mund-gripe mægenes. Swā sceal man dōn,

þonne hē æt gūðe gegān þenceð

longsumne lof; nā ymb his līf cearað.

Gefēng þā be eaxle —nalas for fǣhðe mearn—

Gūð-Gēata lēod Grendles mōdor;

brægd þā beadwe heard, þā hē gebolgen wæs,

1540

feorh-genīðlan, þæt hēo on flet gebēah.

Hēo him eft hraþe andlēan forgeald

grimman grāpum, ond him tōgēanes fēng.

Oferwearp þā wērig-mōd wigena strengest,

fēþe-cempa, þæt hē on fylle wearð.

Ofsæt þā þone sele-gyst ond hyre seax getēah,

brād, brūn-ecg; wolde hire bearn wrecan,

āngan eaferan. Him on eaxle læg

brēost-net brōden; þæt gebearh fēore,

wið ord ond wið ecge ingang forstōd.

1550

Hæfde ðā forsīðod sunu Ecgþēowes

under gynne grund, Gēata cempa,

nemne him heaðo-byrne helpe gefremede,

here-net hearde, ond hālig God

gewēold wīg-sigor, wītig Drihten,

rodera Rǣdend, hit on ryht gescēd

ȳðelīce, syþðan hē eft āstōd.

Geseah ðā on searwum sige-ēadig bil,

eald-sweord eotenisc ecgum þȳhtig,

wigena weorð-mynd; þæt wæs wǣpna cyst,

1560

būton hit wæs māre ðonne ǣnig mon ōðer

tō beadu-lāce ætberan meahte,

gōd ond geatolīc, gīganta geweorc.

Hē gefēng þā fetel-hilt, freca Scyldinga,

hrēoh ond heoro-grim, hring-mǣl gebrægd

aldres orwēna, yrringa slōh,

þæt hire wið halse heard grāpode,

bān-hringas bræc; bil eal ðurhwōd

fǣgne flǣsc-homan; hēo on flet gecrong,

sweord wæs swātig, secg weorce gefeh.

1570

Līxte se lēoma, lēoht inne stōd,

efne swā of hefene hādre scīneð

rodores candel. Hē æfter recede wlāt;

hwearf þā be wealle, wǣpen hafenade

heard be hiltum Higelāces ðegn,

yrre ond ān-rǣd. Næs sēo ecg fracod

hilde-rince, ac hē hraþe wolde

Grendle forgyldan gūð-rǣsa fela,

ðāra þe hē geworhte tō West-Denum

oftor micle ðonne on ǣnne sīð

1580

þonne hē Hrōðgāres heorð-genēatas

slōh on sweofote, slǣpende frǣt

folces Denigea fȳf-tȳne men,

ond ōðer swylc ūt offerede,

lāðlicu lāc. Hē him þæs lēan forgeald,

rēþe cempa, tō ðæs þe hē on ræste geseah

gūð-wērigne Grendel licgan,

aldor-lēasne, swā him ǣr gescōd

hild æt Heorote. Hrā wīde sprong,

syþðan hē æfter dēaðe drepe þrōwade,

1590

heoro-sweng heardne, ond hine þā hēafde becearf.

Sōna þæt gesāwon snottre ceorlas,

þā ðe mid Hrōðgāre on holm wliton,

þæt wæs ȳð-geblond eal gemenged,

brim blōde fāh. Blonden-feaxe

gomele ymb gōdne ongeador sprǣcon

þæt hig þæs æðelinges eft ne wēndon,

þæt hē sige-hrēðig sēcean cōme

mǣrne þēoden; þā ðæs monige gewearð

þæt hine sēo brim-wylf ābroten hæfde.

1600

Đā cōm nōn dæges. Næs ofgēafon

hwate Scyldingas; gewāt him hām þonon

gold-wine gumena; gistas sētan

mōdes sēoce, ond on mere staredon;

wīston ond ne wēndon, þæt hīe heora wine-drihten

selfne gesāwon.

Þā þæt sweord ongan

æfter heaþo-swāte hilde-gicelum,

wīg-bil wanian. Þæt wæs wundra sum,

þæt hit eal gemealt īse gelīcost,

ðonne forstes bend Fæder onlǣteð,

1610

onwindeð wǣl-rāpas, sē geweald hafað

sǣla ond mǣla; þæt is sōð Metod.

Ne nōm hē in þǣm wīcum, Weder-Gēata lēod,

māðm-ǣhta mā, þēh hē þǣr monige geseah,

būton þone hafelan ond þā hilt somod,

since fāge; sweord ǣr gemealt,

forbarn brōden-mǣl; wæs þæt blōd tō þæs hāt,

ættren ellor-gǣst, sē þǣr inne swealt.

Sōna wæs on sunde, sē þe ǣr æt sæcce gebād

wīg-hryre wrāðra, wæter up þurhdeāf;

1620

wǣron ȳð-gebland eal gefælsod,

ēacne eardas, þā se ellor-gāst

oflēt līf-dagas ond þās lǣnan gesceaft.

Cōm þā tō lande lid-manna helm

swīð-mōd swymman, sǣ-lāce gefeah,

mægen-byrþenne þāra þe hē him mid hæfde.

Ēodon him þā tōgēanes, Gode þancodon,

ðrȳðlīc þegna hēap, þēodnes gefēgon,

þæs þe hī hyne gesundne gesēon mōston.

Đā wæs of þǣm hrōran helm ond byrne

1630

lungre ālȳsed. Lagu drūsade,

wæter under wolcnum, wæl-drēore fāg.

Fērdon forð þonon fēþe-lāstum,

ferhþum fægne, fold-weg mǣton,

cūþe strǣte; cyning-balde men

from þǣm holm-clife hafelan bǣron

earfoðlīce heora ǣghwæþrum

fela-mōdigra. Fēower scoldon

on þǣm wæl-stenge weorcum geferian

tō þǣm gold-sele Grendles hēafod,

1640

oþðæt semninga tō sele cōmon

frome, fyrd-hwate fēower-tȳne

Gēata gongan; gum-dryhten mid

mōdig on gemonge meodo-wongas træd.

Đā cōm in gān ealdor ðegna,

dǣd-cēne mon dōme gewurþad,

hæle hilde-dēor, Hrōðgār grētan.

Þā wæs be feaxe on flet boren

Grendles hēafod, þǣr guman druncon,

egeslīc for eorlum ond þǣre idese mid;

1650

wlite-sēon wrǣtlic weras on sāwon.

Bēowulf maþelode, bearn Ecgþēowes:

“Hwæt, wē þē þās sǣ-lāc, sunu Healfdenes,

lēod Scyldinga, lustum brōhton,

tīres tō tācne, þe þū hēr tō lōcast.

Ic þæt unsōfte ealdre gedīgde,

wigge under wætere, weorc genēþde

earfoðlīce; ætrihte wæs

gūð getwǣfed, nymðe mec God scylde.

Ne meahte ic æt hilde mid Hruntinge

1660

wiht gewyrcan, þēah þæt wǣpen duge;

ac mē geūðe ylda Waldend

þæt ic on wāge geseah wlitig hangian

eald-sweord ēacen —oftost wīsode

winigea lēasum— þæt ic ðȳ wǣpne gebrǣd.

Ofslōh ðā æt þǣre sæcce, þā mē sǣl āgeald,

hūses hyrdas. Þā þæt hilde-bil

forbarn, brogden-mǣl, swā þæt blōd gesprang,

hātost heaþo-swāta. Ic þæt hilt þanan

fēondum ætferede, fyren-dǣda wræc,

1670

dēað-cwealm Denigea, swā hit gedēfe wæs.

Ic hit þē þonne gehāte, þæt þū on Heorote mōst

sorh-lēas swefan mid þīnra secga gedryht,

ond þegna gehwylc þīnra lēoda,

duguðe ond iogoþe, þæt hū him ondrǣdan ne þearft,

þēoden Scyldinga, on þā healfe,

aldor-bealu eorlum, swā þū ǣr dydest.”

Đā wæs gylden hilt gamelum rince,

hārum hild-fruman on hand gyfen,

enta ǣr-geweorc; hit on ǣht gehwearf

1680

æfter dēofla hryre Denigea frēan,

wundor-smiþa geweorc; ond þā þās worold ofgeaf

grom-heort guma, Godes andsaca,

morðres scyldig, ond his mōdor ēac;

on geweald gehwearf worold-cyninga

ðǣm sēlestan be sǣm twēonum,

ðāra þe on Sceden-igge sceattas dǣlde.

Hrōðgār maðelode, hylt scēawode,

ealde lāfe. On ðǣm wæs ōr writen

fyrn-gewinnes, syðþan flōd ofslōh,

1690

gifen gēotende, gīganta cyn;

frēcne gefērdon; þæt wæs fremde þēod

ēcean Dryhtne; him þæs ende-lēan

þurh wæteres wylm Waldend sealde.

Swā wæs on ðǣm scennum scīran goldes

þurh rūn-stafas rihte gemearcod,

geseted ond gesǣd, hwām þæt sweord geworht,

īrena cyst, ǣrest wǣre,

wreoþen-hilt ond wyrm-fāh. Đā se wīsa spræc,

sunu Healfdenes —swīgedon ealle—:

1700

“Þæt lā mæg secgan, sē þe sōð ond riht

fremeð on folce, feor eal gemon,

eald ēðel-weard, þæt ðes eorl wǣre

geboren betera! Blǣd is ārǣred

geond wīd-wegas, wine mīn Bēowulf,

ðīn ofer þēoda gehwylce. Eal þū hit geþyldum healdest,

mægen mid mōdes snyttrum. Ic þē sceal mīne gelǣstan

frēode, swā wit furðum sprǣcon. Đū scealt tō frōfre

weorþan

eal lang-twīdig lēodum þīnum

hæleðum tō helpe.

Ne wearð Heremōd swā

1710

eaforum Ecgwelan, Ār-Scyldingum;

ne gewēox hē him tō willan, ac tō wæl-fealle

ond tō dēað-cwalum Deniga lēodum.

Brēat bolgen-mōd bēod-genēatas,

eaxl-gesteallan, oþþæt hē āna hwearf,

mǣre, þēoden, mon-drēamum from,

ðēah þe hine mihtig God mægenes wynnum,

eafeþum stēpte, ofer ealle men

forð gefremede. Hwæþere him on ferhþe grēow

brēost-hord blōd-rēow; nallas bēagas geaf

1720

Denum æfter dōme. Drēam-lēas gebād,

þæt hē þæs gewinnes weorc þrōwade,

lēod-bealo longsum. Đū þē lǣr be þon,

gum-cyste ongit! Ic þis gid be þē

āwræc wintrum frōd.

Wundor is tō secganne,

hū mihtig God manna cynne

þurh sīdne sefan snyttru bryttað,

eard ond eorlscipe; hē āh ealra geweald.

Hwīlum hē on lufan lǣteð hworfan

monnes mōd-geþonc mǣran cynnes,

1730

seleð him on ēþle eorþan wynne

tō healdanne, hlēo-burh wera;

gedēð him swā gewealdene worolde dǣlas,

sīde rīce, þæt hē his selfa ne mæg

for his unsnyttrum ende geþencean.

Wunað hē on wiste, nō hine wiht dweleð

ādl nē yldo, nē him inwit-sorh

on sefan sweorceð, nē gesacu ōhwǣr

ecg-hete ēoweð, ac him eal worold

wendeð on willan. Hē þæt wyrse ne con,

1740

oðþæt him on innan ofer-hygda dǣl

weaxeð ond wrīdað, þonne se weard swefeð,

sāwele hyrde; bið se slǣp tō fæst,

bisgum begunden; bona swīðe nēah,

sē þe of flān-bogan fyrenum scēoteð.

Þonne bið on hreþre under helm drepen

biteran strǣle— him bebeorgan ne con—

wōm wundor-bebodum wergan gāstes.

Þinceð him tō lȳtel þæt hē tō lange hēold;

gȳtsað grom-hȳdig, nallas on gylp seleð

1750

fǣtte bēagas; ond hē þā forð-gesceaft

forgyteð ond forgȳmeð, þæs þe him ǣr God sealde,

wuldres Waldend, weorð-mynda dǣl.

Hit on ende-stæf eft gelimpeð,

þæt se līc-homa lǣne gedrēoseð,

fǣge gefealleð; fēhð ōþer tō,

sē þe unmurnlīce mādmas dǣleþ

eorles ǣr-gestrēon, egesan ne gȳmeð.

Bebeorh þē ðone bealo-nīð, Bēowulf lēofa,

secg betsta, ond þē þæt sēlre gecēos,

1760

ēce rǣdas; ofer-hȳda ne gȳm,

mǣre cempa! Nū is þines mægnes blǣd

āne hwīle; eft sōna bið

þæt þec ādl oððe ecg eafoþes getwǣfeð,

oððe fȳres feng oððe flōdes wylm

oððe gripe mēces oððe gāres fliht

oððe atol yldo, oððe ēagena bearhtm

forsiteð ond forsworceð; semninga bið,

þæt ðec, dryht-guma, dēað oferswȳðeð.

“Swā ic Hring-Dena hund missēra

1770

wēold under wolcnum, ond hig wigge belēac

manigum mǣgþa geond þysne middan-geard,

æscum ond ecgum, þæt ic mē ǣnigne

under swegles begong gesacan ne tealde.

Hwæt mē þæs on ēþle edwenden cwōm,

gyrn æfter gomene, seoþðan Grendel wearð,

eald-gewinna, ingenga mīn;

ic þǣre sōcne singāles wæg

mōd-ceare micle. Þæs sig Metode þanc,

ēcean Dryhtne, þæs ðe ic on aldre gebād,

1780

þæt ic on þone hafelan heoro-drēorigne

ofer eald gewin ēagum starige!

Gā nū tō setle, symbel-wynne drēoh,

wīg-geweorþad; unc sceal worn fela

māþma gemǣnra, siþðan morgen bið.”

Gēat wæs glæd-mōd, gēong sōna tō,

setles nēosan, swā se snottra heht.

Þā wæs eft swā ǣr ellen-rōfum,

flet-sittendum fægere gereorded

nīowan stefne. Niht-helm geswearc

1790

deorc ofer dryht-gumum. Duguð eal ārās;

wolde blonden-feax beddes nēosan,

gamela Scylding. Gēat unigmetes wēl,

rōfne rand-wigan, restan lyste.

Sōna him sele-þegn sīðes wērgum,

feorran-cundum forð wīsade,

sē for andrysnum ealle beweotede

þegnes þearfe, swylce þȳ dōgore

heaþo-līðende habban scoldon.

Reste hine þā rūm-heort; reced hlīuade

1800

gēap ond gold-fāh; gæst inne swæf,

oþþæt hrefn blaca heofones wynne

blīð-heort bodode. Đā cōm beorht scacan

scīma æfter sceadwe. Scaþan ōnetton,

wǣron æþelingas eft tō lēodum

fūse tō farenne; wolde feor þanon

cuma collen-ferhð cēoles nēosan.

Heht þā se hearda Hrunting beran

sunu Ecglāfes, heht his sweord niman,

lēoflīc īren; sægde him þæs lēanes þanc,

1810

cwæð, hē þone gūð-wine gōdne tealde,

wīg-cræftigne, nales wordum lōg

mēces ecge: þæt wæs mōdig secg.

Ond þā sīð-frome, searwum gearwe

wīgend wǣron; ēode weorð Denum

æþeling tō yppan, þǣr se ōþer wæs,

hæle hilde-dēor Hrōðgār grētte.

Bēowulf maþelode, bearn Ecgþēowes:

“Nū wē sǣ-līðend secgan wyllað,

feorran cumene, þæt wē fundiaþ

1820

Higelāc sēcan. Wǣron hēr tela,

willum bewenede; þū ūs wēl dohtest.

Gif ic þonne on eorþan ōwihte mæg

þīnre mōd-lufan māran tilian,

gumena dryhten, ðonne ic gȳt dyde,

gūð-geweorca, ic bēo gearo sōna.

Gif ic þæt gefricge ofer flōda begang,

þæt þec ymb-sittend egesan þȳwað,

swā þec hetende hwīlum dydon,

ic ðē þūsenda þegna bringe,

1830

hæleþa tō helpe. Ic on Higelāc wāt,

Gēata dryhten, þēah ðe hē geong sȳ,

folces hyrde, þæt hē mec fremman wile

wordum ond weorcum, þæt ic þē wēl herige

ond þē tō gēoce gār-holt bere,

mægenes fultum, þǣr ðē bið manna þearf.

Gif him þonne Hreþric to hofum Geata

geþingeð, þēodnes bearn, hē mæg þǣr fela

frēonda findan; feor-cȳþðe bēoð

sēlran gesōhte þǣm þe him selfa dēah.”

1840

Hrōðgār maþelode him on andsware:

“Þē þā word-cwydas wigtig Drihten

on sefan sende; ne hȳrde ic snotorlīcor

on swā geongum feore guman þingian.

Þū eart mægenes strang ond on mōde frōd,

wīs word-cwida. Wēn ic talige,

gif þæt gegangeð, þæt ðe gār nymeð,

hild heoru-grimme Hrēþles eaferan,

ādl oþðe īren ealdor ðīnne,

folces hyrde, ond þū þīn feorh hafast,

1850

þæt þē Sǣ-Gēatas sēlran næbben

tō gecēosenne cyning ǣnigne,

hord-weard hæleþa, gyf þū healdan wylt

māga rīce. Mē þīn mōd-sefa

līcað leng swā wēl, lēofa Bēowulf.

Hafast þū gefēred þæt þām folcum sceal,

Gēata lēodum ond Gār-Denum,

sib gemǣne ond sacu restan,

inwit-nīþas, þē hīe ǣr drugon,

wesan, þenden ic wealde wīdan rīces,

1860

māþmas gemǣne, manig ōþerne

gōdum gegrēttan ofer ganotes bæð;

sceal hring-naca ofer heafu bringan

lāc ond luf-tācen. Ic þā lēode wāt

gē wið fēond gē wið frēond fæste geworhte,

ǣghwæs untǣle ealde wīsan.”

Đā gīt him eorla hlēo inne gesealde,

mago Healfdenes māþmas twelfe,

hēt hine mid þǣm lācum lēode swǣse

sēcean on gesyntum, snūde eft cuman.

1870

Gecyste þā cyning æþelum gōd,

þēoden Scyldinga ðegn betstan

ond be healse genam; hruron him tēaras,

blonden-feaxum. Him wæs bēga wēn,

ealdum, infrōdum, ōþres swīðor,

þæt hīe seoððan nā gesēon mōston,

mōdige on meþle. Wæs him se man tō þon lēof,

þæt hē þone brēost-wylm forberan ne mehte;

ac him on hreþre hyge-bendum fæst

æfter dēorum men dyrne langað

1880

beorn wið blōde. Him Bēowulf þanan,

gūð-rinc gold-wlanc, græs-moldan træd,

since hrēmig. Sǣ-genga bād

āgend-frēan, sē þe on ancre rād.

Þā wæs on gange gifu Hrōðgāres

oft geæhted. Þæt wæs ān cyning,

ǣghwæs orleahtre, oþþæt hine yldo benam

mægenes wynnum sē þe oft mangeum scōd.

Cwōm þā tō flōde fela-mōdigra

hæg-stealdra hēap; hring-net bǣron,

1890

locene leoðo-syrcan. Land-weard onfand

eft-sīð eorla, swā he ǣr dyde;

nō hē mid hearme of hliðes nosan

gæstas grētte, ac him tōgēanes rād;

cwæð þæt wil-cuman Wedera lēodum

scaþan scīr-hame tō scipe fōron.

Þā wæs on sande sǣ-gēap naca

hladen here-wǣdum, hringed-stefna

mēarum ond māðmum; mæst hlīfade

ofer Hrōðgāres hord-gestrēonum.

1900

Hē þǣm bāt-wearde bunden golde

swurd gesealde, þæt hē syðþan wæs

on meodu-bence māþme þȳ weorþra,

yrfe-lāfe. Gewāt him on naca,

drēfan dēop wæter, Dena land ofgeaf.

Þā wæs be mæste mere-hrægla sum,

segl sāle fæst; sund-wudu þunede;

nō þǣr wēg-flotan wind ofer ȳðum

sīðes getwǣfde. Sǣ-genga fōr,

flēat fāmig-heals forð ofer ȳðe,

1910

bunden-stefna ofer brim-strēamas,

þæt hīe Gēata clifu ongitan meahton,

cūþe næssas; cēol up geþrang

lyft-geswenced, on lande stōd.

Hraþe wæs æt holme bȳð-weard geara,

sē þe ǣr lange tīd lēofra manna

fūs æt faroðe feor wlātode.

Sǣlde tō sande sīd-fæþme scip

oncer-bendum fæst, þȳ lǣs hym ȳþa ðrym

wudu wynsuman forwrecan meahte.

1920

Hēt þā up beran æþelinga gestrēon,

frætwe ond fǣt-gold; næs him feor þanon

tō gesēcanne sinces bryttan,

Higelāc Hrēþling, þǣr æt hām wunað

selfa mid gesīðum sǣ-wealle nēah.

Bold wæs betlīc, brego-rōf cyning,

hēah on healle, Hygd swīðe geong,

wīs, wēl-þungen, þēah ðe wintra lȳt

under burh-locan gebiden hæbbe,

Hæreþes dohtor; næs hīo hnāh swā þēah,

1930

nē tō gnēað gifa Gēata lēodum

māþm-gestrēona; Mōdþrȳðo wæg

fremu folces cwēn, firen’ ondrysne.

Nǣnig þæt dorste dēor genēþan

swǣsra gesīða, nefne sin-frēa,

þæt hire an dæges ēagum starede;

ac him wæl-bende weotode tealde,

hand-gewriþene; hraþe seoþðan wæs

æfter mund-gripe mēce geþinged,

þæt hit sceāden-mǣl scȳran mōste,

1940

cwealm-bealu cȳðan. Ne bið swylc cwēnlīc þēaw

idese tō efnanne, þēah ðe hīo ǣnlicu sȳ,

þætte freoðu-webbe fēores onsǣce

æfter lige-torne lēofne mannan.

Hūru þæt onhōhsnode Hemminges mǣg.

Ealo-drincende ōðer sǣdan,

þæt hīo lēod-bealewa lǣs gefremede,

inwit-nīða, syððan ǣrest wearð

gyfen gold-hroden geongum cempan,

æðelum dīore, syððan hīo Offan flet

1950

ofer fealone flōd be fæder lāre

sīðe gesōhte. Đǣr hīo syððan well

in gum-stōle, gōde mǣre,

līf-gesceafta lifigende brēac,

hīold hēah-lufan wið hæleþa brego,

ealles mon-cynnes mīne gefrǣge

þone sēlestan bī sǣm twēonum,

eormen-cynnes. Forðām Offa wæs

geofum ond gūðum, gār-cēne man

wīde geweorðod; wīsdōme hēold

1960

ēðel sīnne. Þonon Ēomēr wōc

hæleðum tō helpe, Hemminges mǣg,

nefa Gārmundes, nīða cræftig.

Gewāt him ðā se hearda mid his hond-scole

sylf æfter sande sǣ-wong tredan,

wīde waroðas; woruld-candel scān,

sigel sūðan fūs. Hī sīð drugon,

elne geēodon, tō ðæs ðe eorla hlēo,

bonan Ongenþēoes burgum in innan,

geongne gūð-cyning gōdne gefrūnon

1970

hringas dǣlan. Higelāce wæs

sīð Bēowulfes snūde gecȳðed,

þæt ðǣr on worðig wīgendra hlēo,

lind-gestealla lifigende cwōm,

heaðo-lāces hāl tō hofe gongan.

Hraðe wæs gerȳmed, swā se rīca bebēad,

fēðe-gestum flet innanweard.

Gesæt þā wið sylfne, sē ðā sæcce genæs,

mǣg wið mǣge, syððan man-dryhten

þurh hlēoðor-cwyde holdne gegrētte

1980

mēaglum wordum. Meodu-scencum

hwearf geond þæt heal-reced Hæreðes dohtor,

lufode ðā lēode, līð-wǣge bær

Hǣðnum tō handa. Higelāc ongan

sīnne geseldan in sele þām hēan

fægre fricgcean; hyne fyrwet bræc,

hwylce Sǣ-Gēata sīðas wǣron:

“Hū lomp ēow on lāde, lēofa Bīowulf,

þā ðū fǣringa feorr gehogodest

sæcce sēcean ofer sealt wæter,

1990

hilde tō Hiorote? Ac ðū Hrōðgāre

wīd-cūðne wēan wihte gebēttest,

mǣrum ðēodne? Ic ðæs mōd-ceare

sorh-wylmum sēað, sīðe ne truwode

lēofes mannes. Ic ðē lange bæd,

þæt ðū þone wæl-gǣst wihte ne grētte,

lēte Sūð-Dene sylfe geweorðan

gūðe wið Grendel. Gode ic þanc secge,

þæs ðe ic ðē gesundne gesēon mōste.”

Bīowulf maðelode, bearn Ecgðīoes:

2000

“Þæt is undyrne, dryhten Higelāc,

mǣru gemēting monegum fīra,

hwylc orleg-hwīl uncer Grendles

wearð on ðām wange, þǣr hē worna fela

Sige-Scyldingum sorge gefremede,

yrmðe tō aldre; ic ðæt eall gewræc,

swā begylpan ne þearf Grendeles māga

ǣnig ofer eorðan ūht-hlem þone,

sē ðe lengest leofað lāðan cynnes,

fācne bifongen. Ic ðǣr furðum cwōm

2010

tō ðām hring-sele Hrōðgār grētan;

sōna mē se mǣra mago Healfdenes,

syððan hē mōd-sefan mīnne cūðe,

wið his sylfes sunu setl getǣhte.

Weorod wæs on wynne: ne seah ic wīdan feorh

under heofones hwealf heal-sittendra

medu-drēam māran. Hwīlum mǣru cwēn,

friðu-sibb folca, flet eall geondhwearf,

bǣdde byre geonge; oft hīo bēah-wriðan

secge sealde, ǣr hīe tō setle gēong;

2020

hwīlum for duguðe dohtor Hrōðgāres

eorlum on ende ealu-wǣge bær,

þā ic Frēaware flet-sittende

nemnan hȳrde, þǣr hīo nægled-sinc

hæleðum sealde. Sīo gehāten is

geong, gold-hroden, gladum suna Frōdan;

hafað þæs geworden wine Scyldinga,

rīces hyrde, ond þæt rǣd talað

þæt hē mid ðȳ wīfe wæl-fǣhða dǣl,

sæcca gesette. Oft seldan hwǣr

2030

æfter lēod-hryre lȳtle hwīle

bon-gār būgeð, þēah sēo brȳd duge!

“Mæg þæs þonne ofþyncan ðēodne Heaðobeardna

ond þegna gehwām þāra lēoda,

þonne hē mid fǣmnan on flett gǣð

dryht-bearn Dena, duguða biwenede.

On him gladiað gomelra lāfe,

heard ond hring-mǣl Heaðabeardna gestrēon,

þenden hīe ðam wǣpnum wealdan mōston,

oððæt hīe forlǣddan tō ðām lind-plegan

2040

swǣse gesīðas ond hyra sylfra feorh.

Þonne cwið æt bēore, sē þe bēah gesyhð,

eald æsc-wiga, sē ðe eall geman

gār-cwealm gumena —him bið grim sefa—

onginneð geōmor-mōd geongum cempan

þurh hreðra gehygd, higes cunnian,

wīg-bealu weccean, ond þæt word ācwyð:

“ ‘Meaht ðū, mīn wine, mēce gecnāwan,

þone þīn fæder tō gefeohte bær

under here-grīman hindeman sīðe,

2050

dȳre īren, þǣr hyne Dene slōgon,

wēoldon wæl-stōwe, syððan Wiðergyld læg,

æfter hæleþa hryre, hwate Scyldungas?

Nū hēr þāra banena byre nāt-hwylces

frætwum hrēmig on flet gǣð,

morðres gylpeð ond þone māðþum byreð,

þone þe ðū mid rihte rǣdan sceoldest!’

Manað swa ond myndgað mǣla gehwylce

sārum wordum, oððæt sǣl cymeð,

þæt se fǣmnan þegn fore fæder dǣdum

2060

æfter billes bite blōd-fāg swefeð,

ealdres scyldig; him se ōðer þonan

losað lifigende, con him land geare.

Þonne bīoð ābrocene on bā healfe

āð-sweorð eorla; syððan Ingelde

weallað wæl-nīðas ond him wīf-lufan

æfter cear-wælmum cōlran weorðað.

Þȳ ic Heaðobeardna hyldo ne telge,

dryht-sibbe dǣl Denum unfǣcne,

frēondscipe fæstne.

Ic sceal forð sprecan,

2070

gēn ymbe Grendel, þæt ðū geare cunne,

sinces brytta, tō hwan syððan wearð

hond-rǣs hæleða. Syððan heofones gim

glād ofer grundas, gǣst yrre cwōm,

eatol ǣfen-grom, ūser nēosan,

ðǣr wē gesunde sæl weardodon.

Þǣr wæs Hondsciō hild onsǣge,

feorh-bealu fǣgum; hē fyrmest læg,

gyrded cempa; him Grendel wearð,

mǣrum magu-þegne, tō mūð-bonan,

2080

lēofes mannes līc eall forswealg.

Nō ðȳ ǣr ūt ðā gēn īdel-hende

bona blōdig-tōð bealewa gemyndig,

of ðām gold-sele gongan wolde,

ac hē mægnes rōf mīn costode,

grāpode gearo-folm. Glōf hangode

sīd ond syllīc, searo-bendum fæst;

sīo wæs orðoncum eall gegyrwed,

dēofles cræftum ond dracan fellum.

Hē mec þǣr on innan unsynnigne,

2090

dīor dǣd-fruma, gedōn wolde

manigra sumne; hyt ne mihte swā,

syððan ic on yrre upp-riht āstōd.

Tō lang ys tō reccenne, hū ic ðām lēod-sceaðan

yfla gehwylces ondlēan forgeald,

þǣr ic, þēoden mīn, þīne lēode

weorðode weorcum. Hē on weg losade,

lȳtle hwīle līf-wynna brēac;

hwæþre him sīo swīðre swaðe weardade

hand on Hiorte, ond hē hēan ðonan,

2100

mōdes geōmor mere-grund gefēoll.

“Mē þone wæl-rǣs wine Scildunga

fǣttan golde fela lēanode,

manegum māðmum, syððan mergen cōm

ond wē tō symble geseten hæfdon.

Þǣr wæs gidd ond glēo; gomela Scilding,

fela fricgende, feorran rehte;

hwīlum hilde-dēor hearpan wynne,

gomen-wudu grētte, hwīlum gyd āwræc

sōð ond sārlīc, hwīlum syllīc spell

2110

rehte æfter rihte rūm-heort cyning;

hwīlum eft ongan eldo gebunden

gomel gūð-wiga gioguðe cwīðan,

hilde-strengo; hreðer inne wēoll,

þonne hē wintrum frōd worn gemunde.

“Swā wē þǣr inne andlangne dæg

nīode nāman, oððæt niht becwōm

ōðer tō yldum. Þā wæs eft hraðe

gearo gyrn-wræce Grendeles mōdor,

sīðode sorh-full; sunu dēað fornam,

2120

wīg-hete Wedra. Wīf unhȳre

hyre bearn gewræc, beorn ācwealde

ellenlīce; þǣr wæs Æschere,

frōdan fyrn-witan, feorh ūðgenge.

Nōðer hȳ hine ne mōston, syððan mergen cwōm,

dēað-wērigne, Denia lēode

bronde forbærnan, nē on bǣl hladan

lēofne mannan; hīo þæt līc ætbær

fēondes fæðmum under firgen-strēam.

Þæt wæs Hrōðgāre hrēowa tornost,

2130

þāra þe lēod-fruman lange begēate.

Þā se ðēoden mec ðīne līfe

healsode hrēoh-mōd, þæt ic on holma geþring

eorlscipe efnde, ealdre genēðde,

mǣrðo fremede; hē mē mēde gehēt.

Ic ðā ðæs wælmes, þē is wīde cūð,

grimne gryrelīcne grund-hyrde fond.

Þǣr unc hwīle wæs hand gemǣne;

holm heolfre wēoll, ond ic hēafde becearf

in ðām gūð-sele Grendeles mōdor

2140

ēacnum ecgum. Unsōfte þonan

feorh oðferede; næs ic fǣge þā gȳt;

ac mē eorla hlēo eft gesealde

māðma menigeo, maga Healfdenes.

“Swā se ðēod-kyning þēawum lyfde;

nealles ic ðām lēanum forloren hæfde,

mægnes mēde, ac hē mē māðmas geaf,

sunu Healfdenes, on mīnne sylfes dōm;

ðā ic ðē, beorn-cyning, bringan wylle,

ēstum geȳwan. Gēn is eall æt ðē

2150

lissa gelong; ic lȳt hafo

hēafod-māga, nefne Hygelāc ðec!”

Hēt ðā in beran eafor, hēafod-segn,

heaðo-stēapne helm, hāre byrnan,

gūð-sweord geatolīc, gyd æfter wræc:

“Mē ðis hilde-sceorp Hrōðgār sealde,

snotra fengel; sume worde hēt,

þæt ic his ǣrest ðē ēst gesægde:

cwæð þæt hyt hæfde Hiorogār cyning,

lēod Scyldunga, lange hwīle.

2160

Nō ðȳ ǣr suna sīnum syllan wolde,

hwatum Heorowearde, þēah hē him hold wǣre,

brēost-gewǣdu. Brūc ealles well!”

Hȳrde ic, þæt þām frætwum fēower mēaras,

lungre, gelīce lāst weardode,

æppel-fealuwe; hē him ēst getēah

mēara ond māðma. Swā sceal mǣg dōn,

nealles inwit-net ōðrum bregdon

dyrnum cræfte, dēað rēnian

hond-gesteallan. Hygelāce wæs,

2170

nīða heardum, nefa swȳðe hold

ond gehwæðer ōðrum hrōþra gemyndig.

Hȳrde ic þæt hē ðone heals-bēah Hygde gesealde,

wrǣtlīcne wundur-māððum, ðone þe him Wealhðēo

geaf,

ðēodnes dohtor, þrīo wicg somod

swancor ond sadol-beorht; hyre syððan wæs

æfter bēah-ðege breost geweorðod.

Swā bealdode bearn Ecgðēowes,

guma gūðum cūð, gōdum dǣdum,

drēah æfter dōme, nealles druncne slōg

2180

heorð-genēatas; næs him hrēoh sefa,

ac hē man-cynnes mǣste cræfte,

gin-fæstan gife, þe him God sealde,

hēold hilde-dēor. Hēan wæs lange,

swā hyne Gēata bearn gōdne ne tealdon,

nē hyne on medo-bence micles wyrðne

drihten Wedera gedōn wolde;

swȳðe wēndon, þæt hē slēac wǣre,

æðeling unfrom. Edwenden cwōm

tīr-ēadigum menn torna gehwylces.

2190

Hēt ðā eorla hlēo in gefetian,

heaðo-rōf cyning, Hrēðles lāfe,

golde gegyrede; næs mid Gēatum ðā

sinc-māðþum sēlra on sweordes hād;

þæt hē on Bīowulfes bearm ālegde,

ond him gesealde seofan þūsendo,

bold ond brego-stōl. Him wæs bām samod

on ðām lēodscipe lond gecynde,

eard, ēðel-riht, ōðrum swīðor,

sīde rīce, þām ðǣr sēlra wæs.

2200

Eft þæt geīode ufaran dōgrum

hilde-hlæmmum, syððan Hygelāc læg

ond Heardrēde hilde-mēceas

under bord-hrēoðan tō bonan wurdon,

ðā hyne gesōhtan on sige-þēode

hearde hild-frecan, Heaðo-Scilfingas,

nīða genǣgdan nefan Hererīces:

syððan Bēowulfe brāde rīce

on hand gehwearf. Hē gehēold tela

fīftig wintra— wæs ðā frōd cyning,

2210

eald ēþel-weard— oððæt ān ongan

deorcum nihtum, draca rīcsian

sē ðe on hēaum hofe hord beweotode,

stān-beorh stēapne; stīg under læg

eldum uncūð; þǣr on innan gīong

niða nāt-hwylc . . . . . . gefēng

hǣðnum horde hond . . . . . . . . . . .

since fāhne hē þæt syððan . . . . . .

þēah ðe hē slǣpende besyred wurde

þēofes cræfte; þæt sīe ðīod onfand,

2220

bū-folc beorna, þæt hē gebolgen wæs.

Nealles mid gewealdum wyrm-hord ābræc,

sylfes willum, sē ðe him sāre gesceōd,

ac for þrēa-nēdlan þēow nāt-hwylces

hæleða bearna hete-swengeas flēoh,

ærnes þearfa, ond ðǣr inne fealh,

secg syn-bysig. Sōna onfunde,

þæt . . . . . ðām gyste gryre-brōga stōd;

hwæðre earm-sceapen . . . . . . . . . .

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . sceapen

2230

. . . . . . þā hyne se fǣr begeat,

sinc-fæt . . . . . þǣr wæs swylcra fela

in ðām eorð-hūse ǣr-gestrēona,

swā hȳ on geār-dagum gumena nāt-hwylc,

eormen-lāfe æþelan cynnes,

þanc-hycgende þǣr gehȳdde,

dēore māðmas. Ealle hīe dēað fornam

ǣrran mǣlum, ond se ān ðā gēn

lēoda duguðe, sē ðǣr lengest hwearf,

weard wine-geōmor, wēnde þæs ylcan

2240

þæt hē lȳtel fæc long-gestrēona

brūcan mōste. Beorh eall-gearo

wunode on wonge wæter-ȳðum nēah,

nīwe be næsse, nearo-cræftum fæst.

Þǣr on innan bær eorl-gestrēona

hringa hyrde hord-wyrðne dǣl,

fǣttan goldes, fēa worda cwæð:

“Heald þū nū, hrūse, nū hæleð ne mōstan,

eorla ǣhte! Hwæt hyt ǣr on ðē

gōde begēaton. Gūð-dēað fornam,

2250

feorh-bealo frēcne, fȳra gehwylcne

lēoda mīnra, þāra ðe þis līf ofgeaf,

gesāwon sele-drēam; nāh, hwā sweord wege

oððe feormie fǣted wǣge,

drync-fæt dēore; duguð ellor scōc.

Sceal se hearda helm, hyrsted golde

fǣtum befeallen; feormynd swefað,

þā ðe beado-grīman bȳwan sceoldon;

gē swylce sēo here-pād, sīo æt hilde gebād

ofer borda gebræc bite īrena,

2260

brosnað æfter beorne; ne mæg byrnan hring

æfter wīg-fruman wīde fēran

hæleðum be healfe. Næs hearpan wyn,

gomen glēo-bēames, nē gōd hafoc

geond sæl swingeð, nē se swifta mearh

burh-stede bēateð. Bealo-cwealm hafað

fela feorh-cynna forð onsended!”

Swā giōmor-mōd giohðo mǣnde,

ān æfter eallum, unblīðe hwearf,

dæges ond nihtes, oððæt dēaðes wylm

2270

hrān æt heortan. Hord-wynne fond

eald ūht-sceaða opene standan,

sē ðe byrnende biorgas sēceð,

nacod nīð-draca, nihtes flēogeð

fȳre befangen; hyne fold-būend

swiðe ondrǣdað. Hē gesēcean sceall

hord on hrūsan, þǣr hē hǣðen gold

warað wintrum frōd; ne byð him wihte ðȳ sēl.

Swā se ðēod-sceaða þrēo hund wintra

hēold on hrūsan hord-ærna sum

2280

ēacen-cræftig, oððæt hyne ān ābealch

mon on mōde; man-dryhtne bær

fǣted wǣge, frioðo-wǣre bæd

hlāford sīnne. Đā wæs hord rāsod,

onboren bēaga hord, bēne getīðad

fēasceaftum men. Frēa scēawode

fīra fyrn-geweorc forman sīðe.

Þā se wyrm onwōc, wrōht wæs genīwad;

stonc ðā æfter stāne, stearc-heort onfand

fēondes fōt-lāst; hē tō forð gestōp

2290

dyrnan cræfte, dracan hēafde nēah.

Swā mæg unfæge ēaðe gedīgan

wēan ond wrǣc-sīð, sē ðe Waldendes

hyldo gehealdeþ. Hord-weard sōhte

georne æfter grunde, wolde guman findan,

þone þe him on sweofote sāre getēode;

hāt ond hrēoh-mōd hlǣw oft ymbe-hwearf,

ealne ūtanweardne; nē ðǣr ǣnig mon

on þǣre wēstenne; hwæðre wīges gefeh,

beaduwe weorces; hwīlum on beorh æthwearf,

2300

sinc-fæt sōhte; hē þæt sōna onfand,

ðæt hæfde gumena sum goldes gefandod,

hēah-gestrēona. Hord-weard onbād

earfoðlīce, oððæt ǣfen cwōm.

Wæs ðā gebolgen beorges hyrde,

wolde se lāða līge forgyldan

drinc-fæt dȳre. Þā wæs dæg sceacen

wyrme on willan; nō on wealle læng

bīdan wolde, ac mid bǣle fōr,

fȳre gefȳsed. Wæs se fruma egeslīc

2310

lēodum on lande, swā hyt lungre wearð

on hyra sinc-gifan sāre geendod.

Đā se gæst ongan glēdum spīwan,

beorht hofu bærnan; bryne-lēoma stōd

eldum on andan; nō ðǣr āht cwices

lāð lyft-floga lǣfan wolde.

Wæs þæs wyrmes wīg wīde gesȳne,

nearo-fāges nīð nēan ond feorran,

hū se gūð-sceaða Geata lēode

hatode ond hȳnde. Hord eft gescēat

2320

dryht-sele dyrnne ǣr dæges hwīle.

Hæfde land-wara līge befangen,

bǣle ond bronde; beorges getruwode,

wīges ond wealles; him sēo wēn gelēah.

Þā wæs Bīowulfe brōga gecȳðed

snūde tō sōðe, þæt his sylfes hām,

bolda sēlest, bryne-wylmum mealt,

gif-stōl Gēata. Þæt ðām gōdan wæs

hrēow on hreðre, hyge-sorga mǣst.

Wēnde se wīsa, þæt hē Wealdende

2330

ofer ealde riht, ēcean Dryhtne,

bitre gebulge; brēost innan wēoll

þēostrum geþoncum, swā him geþȳwe ne wæs.

Hæfde līg-draca lēoda fæsten,

ēa-lond ūtan, eorð-weard ðone

glēdum forgrunden; him ðæs gūð-kyning,

Wedera þīoden, wræce leornode.

Heht him þā gewyrcean wīgendra hlēo

eall-īrenne, eorla dryhten,

wīg-bord wrǣtlīc; wisse hē gearwe,

2340

þæt him holt-wudu helþan ne meahte,

lind wið līge. Sceolde lǣn-daga

æþeling ǣr-gōd ende gebīdan,

worulde līfes, ond se wyrm somod,

þēah ðe hord-welan hēolde lange.

Oferhogode ðā hringa fengel,

þæt hē þone wīd-flogan weorode gesōhte,

sīdan herge; nō hē him þā sæcce ondrēd,

nē him þæs wyrmes wīg for wiht dyde,

eafoð ond ellen, forðon hē ǣr fela

2350

nearo nēðende nīða gedīgde,

hilde-hlemma, syððan hē Hrōðgāres,

sigor-ēadig secg, sele fǣlsode

ond æt gūðe forgrāp Grendeles mǣgum

lāðan cynnes.

Nō þæt lǣsest wæs

hond-gemōta, þǣr mon Hygelāc slōh,

syððan Gēata cyning gūðe rǣsum,

frēa-wine folca Frēs-londum on,

Hrēðles eafora hiora-dryncum swealt,

bille gebēaten. Þonan Bīowulf cōm

2360

sylfes cræfte, sund-nytte drēah;

hæfde him on earme āna þrītig

hilde-geatwa, þā hē tō holme stāg.

Nealles Hetware hrēmge þorfton

fēðe-wīges, þē him foran ongēan

linde bǣron; lȳt eft becwōm

fram þām hild-frecan hāmes nīosan.

Oferswam ðā sioleða bigong sunu Ecgðēowes,

earm ān-haga eft tō lēodum;

þǣr him Hygd gebēad hord ond rīce,

2370

bēagas ond brego-stōl; bearne ne truwode,

þæt hē wið æl-fylcum ēþel-stōlas

healdan cūðe, ðā wæs Hygelāc dēad.

Nō ðȳ ǣr fēasceafte findan meahton

æt ðām æðelinge ǣnige ðinga,

þæt hē Heardrēde hlāford wǣre,

oððe þone cynedōm cīosan wolde.

Hwæðre hē hine on folce frēond-lārum hēold,

ēstum mid āre, oððæt hē yldra wearð,

Weder-Gēatum wēold. Hyne wrǣc-mæcgas

2380

ofer sǣ sōhtan, suna Ōhteres;

hæfdon hȳ forhealden helm Scylfinga,

þone sēlestan sǣ-cyninga,

þāra ðe in Swīo-rīce sinc brytnade,

mǣrne þēoden. Him þæt tō mearce wearð;

hē þǣr for feorme feorh-wunde hlēat,

sweordes swengum, sunu Hygelāces;

ond him eft gewāt Ongenðīoes bearn

hāmes nīosan, syððan Heardrēd læg,

lēt ðone brego-stōl Bīowulf healdan,

2390

Gēatum wealdan; þæt wæs gōd cyning.

Sē ðæs lēod-hryres lēan gemunde

uferan dōgrum, Ēadgilse wearð,

fēasceaftum frēond; folce gestēpte

ofer sǣ sīde sunu Ōhteres,

wigum ond wǣpnum; hē gewræc syððan

cealdum cear-sīðum, cyning ealdre binēat.

Swā hē nīða gehwane genesen hæfde,

slīðra geslyhta, sunu Ecgðīowes,

ellen-weorca, oð ðone ānne dæg,

2400

þē hē wið þām wyrme gewegan sceolde.

Gewāt þā twelfa sum, torne gebolgen,

dryhten Gēata dracan scēawian.

Hæfde þā gefrūnen, hwanan sīo fǣhð ārās,

bealo-nīð biorna; him tō bearme cwōm

māðþum-fæt mǣre þurh ðæs meldan hond.

Sē wæs on ðām ðrēate þrēottēoða secg,

sē ðæs orleges ōr onstealde,

hæft hyge-giōmor, sceolde hēan ðonon

wong wīsian. Hē ofer willan gīong,

2410

tō ðæs ðe hē eorð-sele ānne wisse,

hlǣw under hrūsan holm-wylme nēh,

ȳð-gewinne, sē wæs innan full

wrǣtta ond wīra. Weard unhīore,

gearo gūð-freca gold-māðmas hēold,

eald under eorðan; næs þæt ȳðe cēap

tō gegangenne gumena ǣnigum.

Gesæt ðā on næsse nīð-heard cyning

þenden hǣlo ābēad heorð-genēatum,

gold-wine Gēata. Him wæs geōmor sefa,

2420

wǣfre ond wæl-fūs, wyrd ungemete nēah,

sē ðone gomelan grētan sceolde,

sēcean sāwle hord, sundur gedǣlan

līf wið līce; nō þon lange wæs

feorh æþelinges flǣsce bewunden.

Bīowulf maþelade, bearn Ecgðēowes:

“Fela ic on giogoðe gūð-rǣsa genæs,

orleg-hwīla; ic þæt eall gemon.

Ic wæs syfan-wintre, þā mec sinca baldor,

frēa-wine folca æt mīnum fæder genam.

2430

Hēold mec ond hæfde Hrēðel cyning,

geaf mē sinc ond symbel, sibbe gemunde;

næs ic him tō līfe lāðra ōwihte

beorn in burgum þonne his bearna hwylc,

Herebeald ond Hæðcyn, oððe Hygelāc mīn.

Wæs þām yldestan ungedēfelīce

mǣges dǣdum morþor-bed strēd,

syððan hyne Hæðcyn of horn-bogan,

his frēa-wine flāne geswencte,

miste mercelses ond his mǣg ofscēt,

2440

brōðor ōðerne, blōdigan gāre.

Þæt wæs feoh-lēas gefeoht, fyrenum gesyngad,

hreðre hyge-mēðe; sceolde hwæðre swā þēah

æðeling unwrecen ealdres linnan.

“Swā bið geōmorlīc gomelum ceorle

tō gebīdanne, þæt his byre rīde

giong on galgan. Þonne hē gyd wrece,

sārigne sang, þonne his sunu hangað

hrefne tō hrōðre ond hē him helpe ne mæg,

eald ond infrōd, ǣnige gefremman.

2450

Symble bið gemyndgad morna gehwylce

eaforan ellor-sīð; ōðres ne gȳmeð

tō gebīdanne burgum in innan

yrfe-weardas, þonne se ān hafað

þurh dēaðes nȳd dǣda gefondad.

Gesyhð sorh-cearig on his suna būre

wīn-sele wēstne, wind-gereste,

rēote berofene; rīdend swefað,

hæleð in hoðman; nis þǣr hearpan swēg,

gomen in geardum, swylce ðǣr iū wǣron.

2460

“Gewīteð þonne on sealman, sorh-lēoð gæleð,

ān æfter ānum; þūhte him eall tō rūm,

wongas ond wīc-stede. Swā Wedra helm

æfter Herebealde heortan sorge

weallinde wæg; wihte ne meahte

on ðām feorh-bonan fǣghðe gebētan;

nō ðȳ ǣr hē þone heaðo-rinc hatian ne meahte

lāðum dǣdum, þēah him lēof ne wæs.

Hē ðā mid þǣre sorhge, sīo þe him sāre belamp,

gum-drēam ofgeaf, Godes lēoht gecēas;

2470

eaferum lǣfde, swā dēð ēadig mon,

lond ond lēod-byrig, þā hē of līfe gewāt.

“Þā wæs synn ond sacu Swēona ond Gēata;

ofer wīd wæter wrōht gemǣne,

here-nīð hearda, syððan Hrēðel swealt,

oððe him Ongenðēowes eaferan wǣran

frome, fyrd-hwate; frēode ne woldon

ofer heafo healdan, ac ymb Hrēosna-beorh

eatolne inwit-scear oft gefremedon.

Þæt mǣg-wine mīne gewrǣcan,

2480

fǣhðe ond fyrene, swā hyt gefrǣge wæs,

þēah ðe ōðer his ealdre gebohte,

heardan cēape; Hæðcynne wearð,

Gēata dryhtne, gūð onsǣge.

Þā ic on morgne gefrægn mǣg ōðerne

billes ecgum on bonan stǣlan,

þǣr Ongenþēow Eofores nīosað;

gūð-helm tōglād, gomela Scylfing

hrēas heoro-blāc; hond gemunde

fǣhðo genōge, feorh-sweng ne oftēah.

2490

“Ic him þā māðmas, þe hē mē sealde,

geald æt gūðe, swā mē gifeðe wæs,

lēohtan sweorde; hē mē lond forgeaf,

eard, ēðel-wyn. Næs him ǣnig þearf,

þæt hē tō Gifðum oððe tō Gār-Denum

oððe in Swīo-rīce sēcean þurfe

wyrsan wīg-frecan, weorðe gecȳpan.

Symle ic him on fēðan beforan wolde,

āna on orde, ond swā tō aldre sceall

sæcce fremman, þenden þis sweord þolað,

2500

þæt mec ǣr ond sīð oft gelǣste,

syððan ic for dugeðum Dæghrefne wearð

tō hand-bonan, Hūga cempan.

Nalles hē ðā frætwe Frēs-cyninge,

brēost-weorðunge bringan mōste,

ac in campe gecrong cumbles hyrde,

æþeling on elne; ne wæs ecg bona,

ac him hilde-grāp heortan wylmas,

bān-hūs gebræc. Nū sceall billes ecg,

hond ond heard sweord ymb hord wīgan.”

2510

Bēowulf maðelode, bēot-wordum spræc

nīehstan sīðe: “Ic genēðde fela

gūða on geogoðe; gȳt ic wylle,

frōd folces weard, fǣhðe sēcan,

mǣrðu fremman, gif mec se mān-sceaða

of eorð-sele ūt gesēceð!”

Gegrētte ðā gumena gehwylcne,

hwate helm-berend hindeman sīðe,

swǣse gesīðas: “Nolde ic sweord beran,

wǣpen tō wyrme, gif ic wiste hū

2520

wið ðām āglǣcean elles meahte

gylpe wiðgrīpan, swā ic giō wið Grendle dyde;

ac ic ðǣr heaðu-fȳres hātes wēne,

oreðes ond attres; forðon ic mē on hafu

bord ond byrnan. Nelle ic beorges weard

oferflēon fōtes trem, ac unc furður sceal

weorðan æt wealle, swā unc wyrd getēoð

Metod manna gehwæs. Ic eom on mōde from,

þæt ic wið þone gūð-flogan gylp ofersitte.

Gebīde gē on beorge, byrnum werede,

2530

secgas on searwum, hwæðer sēl mæge

æfter wæl-rǣse wunde gedȳgan

uncer twēga. Nis þæt ēower sīð,

nē gemet mannes, nefne mīn ānes

þæt hē wið āglǣcean eofoðo dǣle,

eorlscype efne. Ic mid elne sceall

gold gegangan, oððe gūð nimeð,

feorh-bealu frēcne, frēan ēowerne!”

Ārās ðā bī ronde rōf ōretta,

heard under helme, hioro-sercean bær

2540

under stān-cleofu, strengo getruwode

ānes mannes; ne bið swylc earges sīð!

Geseah ðā be wealle, sē ðe worna fela,

gum-cystum gōd, gūða gedīgde,

hilde-hlemma, þonne hnitan fēðan,

stondan stān-bogan, strēam ūt þonan

brecan of beorge; wæs þǣre burnan wælm

heaðo-fȳrum hāt; ne meahte horde nēah

unbyrnende ǣnige hwīle

dēop gedȳgan for dracan lēge.

2550

Lēt ðā of brēostum, ðā hē gebolgen wæs,

Weder-Gēata lēod word ūt faran,

stearc-heort styrmde; stefn in becōm

heaðo-torht hlynnan under hārne stān.

Hete wæs onhrēred, hord-weard oncnīow

mannes reorde; næs ðǣr māra fyrst

frēode tō friclan. From ǣrest cwōm

oruð āglǣcean ūt of stāne,

hāt hilde-swāt; hrūse dynede.

Biorn under beorge bord-rand onswāf

2560

wið ðām gryre-gieste, Gēata dryhten;

ðā wæs hring-bogan heorte gefȳsed

sæcce tō sēceanne. Sweord ǣr gebrǣd

gōd gūð-cyning, gomele lāfe,

ecgum ungleaw; ǣghwæðrum wæs

bealo-hycgendra brōga fram ōðrum.

Stīð-mōd gestōd wið stēapne rond

winia bealdor, ðā se wyrm gebēah

snūde tōsomne; hē on searwum bād.

Gewāt ðā byrnende gebogen scrīðan,

2570

tō gescipe scyndan. Scyld wēl gebearg

līfe ond līce lǣssan hwīle

mǣrum þēodne þonne his myne sōhte;

ðǣr hē þȳ fyrste forman dōgore

wealdan mōste, swā him wyrd ne gescrāf

hrēð æt hilde. Hond up ābrǣd

Gēata dryhten, gryre-fāhne slōh

incge-lāfe, þæt sīo ecg gewāc,

brūn on bāne, bāt unswīðor

þonne his ðīod-cyning þearfe hæfde,

2580

bysigum gebǣded. Þā wæs beorges weard

æfter heaðu-swenge on hrēoum mōde,

wearp wæl-fȳre, wīde sprungon

hilde-lēoman. Hrēð-sigora ne gealp

gold-wine Gēata; gūð-bill geswāc,

nacod æt nīðe, swā hyt nō sceolde,

īren ǣr-gōd. Ne wæs þæt ēðe sīð,

þæt se mǣra maga Ecgðēowes

grund-wong þone ofgyfan wolde;

sceolde ofer willan wīc eardian

2590

elles hwergen, swā sceal ǣghwylc mon

ālǣtan lǣn-dagas. Næs ðā long tō ðon,

þæt ða āglǣcean hȳ eft gemētton.

Hyrte hyne hord-weard —hreðer ǣðme wēoll—

nīwan stefne; nearo ðrōwode,

fȳre befongen, sē ðe ǣr folce wēold.

Nealles him on hēape hand-gesteallan,

æðelinga bearn ymbe gestōdon

hilde-cystum, ac hȳ on holt bugon,

ealdre burgan. Hiora in ānum wēoll

2600

sefa wið sorgum. Sibb ǣfre ne mæg

wiht onwendan þām ðe wēl þenceð.

Wīglāf wæs hāten, Wēoxstānes sunu,

lēoflīc lind-wiga, lēod Scylfinga,

mǣg Ælfheres; geseah his mon-dryhten

under here-grīman hāt þrōwian.

Gemunde ðā ðā āre þē hē him ǣr forgeaf,

wīc-stede weligne Wǣgmundinga,

folc-rihta gehwylc, swā his fæder āhte;

ne mihte ðā forhabban, hond rond gefēng,

2610

geolwe linde; gomel swyrd getēah,

þæt wæs mid eldum Ēanmundes lāf,

suna Ōhteres. Þām æt sæcce wearð,

wræccan wine-lēasum, Wēohstān bana

mēces ecgum, ond his māgum ætbær

brūn-fāgne helm, hringde byrnan,

eald-sweord etonisc. Þæt him Onela forgeaf,

his gædelinges gūð-gewǣdu,

fyrd-searo fūslīc; nō ymbe ðā fǣhðe spræc,

þēah ðe hē his brōðor bearn ābredwade.

2620

Hē frætwe gehēold fela missēra,

bill ond byrnan, oððæt his byre mihte

eorlscipe efnan swā his ǣr-fæder;

geaf him ðā mid Gēatum gūð-gewǣda

ǣghwæs unrīm, þā hē of ealdre gewāt,

frōd on forð-weg. Þā wæs forma sīð

geongan cempan, þæt hē gūðe rǣs

mid his frēo-dryhtne fremman sceolde.

Ne gemealt him se mōd-sefa, nē his mǣges lāf

gewāc æt wīge. Þæt se wyrm onfand,

2630

syððan hīe tōgædre gegān hæfdon.

Wīglāf maðelode, word-rihta fela

sægde gesīðum —him wæs sefa geōmor.

“Ic ðæt mǣl geman, þǣr wē medu þēgun,

þonne wē gehēton ūssum hlāforde

in bīor-sele, ðe ūs ðās bēagas geaf,

þæt wē him ðā gūð-getāwa gyldan woldon,

gif him þyslicu þearf gelumpe,

helmas ond heard sweord. Đē hē ūsic on herge gecēas

tō ðyssum sīð-fate sylfes willum,

2640

onmunde ūsic mǣrða, ond mē þās māðmas geaf,

þē hē ūsic gār-wīgend gōde tealde,

hwate helm-berend, þēah ðe hlāford ūs

þis ellen-weorc āna āðōhte

tō gefremmanne, folces hyrde,

forðām hē manna mǣst mǣrða gefremede,

dǣda dollīcra. Nū is sē dæg cumen

þæt ūre man-dryhten mægenes behōfað,

gōdra gūð-rinca; wutun gongan tō,

helpan hild-fruman, þenden hyt sȳ,

2650

glēd-egesa grim! God wāt on mec,

þǣt mē is micle lēofre, þæt mīnne līc-haman

mid mīnne gold-gyfan glēd fæðmie.

Ne þynceð mē gerysne, þæt wē rondas beren

eft tō earde, nemne wē ǣror mægen

fāne gefyllan, feorh ealgian

Wedra ðēodnes. Ic wāt geare,

þæt nǣron eald-gewyrht, þæt hē āna scyle

Gēata duguðe gnorn þrōwian,

gesīgan æt sæcce; ūrum sceal sweord ond helm,

2660

byrne ond beadu-scrūd bām gemǣne.”

Wōd þā þurh þone wæl-rēc, wīg-heafolan bær

frēan on fultum, fēa worda cwæð:

“Lēofa Bīowulf, lǣst eall tela,

swā ðū on geoguð-fēore geāra gecwǣde,

þæt ðū ne ālǣte be ðē lifigendum

dōm gedrēosan; scealt nū dǣdum rōf,

æðeling ān-hȳdig, ealle mægene

feorh ealgian; ic ðē ful-lǣstu!”

Æfter ðām wordum wyrm yrre cwōm,

2670

atol inwit-gæst, ōðre sīðe,

fȳr-wylmum fāh, fīonda nīosian,

lāðra manna; līg ȳðum fōr,

born bord wið rond; byrne ne meahte

geongum gār-wigan gēoce gefremman;

ac se maga geonga under his mǣgas scyld

elne geēode, þā his āgen wæs

glēdum forgrunden. Þā gēn gūð-cyning

mǣrða gemunde, mægen-strengo slōh

hilde-bille, þæt hyt on heafolan stōd

2680

nīþe genȳded; Nægling forbærst,

geswāc æt sæcce sweord Bīowulfes,

gomol ond grǣg-mǣl. Him þæt gifeðe ne wæs,

þæt him īrenna ecge mihton

helpan æt hilde; wæs sīo hond tō strong,

sē ðe mēca gehwane, mīne gefrǣge,

swenge ofersōhte, þonne hē tō sæcce bær

wǣpen wundum heard; næs him wihte ðē sēl.

Þā wæs þēod-sceaða þriddan sīðe,

frēcne fȳr-draca fǣhða gemyndig,

2690

rǣsde on ðone rōfan, þā him rūm āgeald:

hāt ond heaðo-grim, heals ealne ymbefēng

biteran bānum; hē geblōdegod wearð

sāwul-drīore; swāt ȳðum wēoll.

Đā ic æt þearfe gefrægn þēod-cyninges

andlongne eorl ellen cȳðan,

cræft ond cēnðu, swā him gecynde wæs.

Ne hēdde hē þæs heafolan, ac sīo hand gebarn

mōdiges mannes, þǣr hē his mǣges healp

þæt hē þone nīð-gæst nioðor hwēne slōh,

2700

secg on searum, þæt ðæt sweord gedēaf,

fāh ond fǣted, þæt ðæt fȳr ongon

sweðrian syððan. Þā gēn sylf cyning

gewēold his gewitte, wæll-seaxe gebrǣd,

biter ond beadu-scearp, þæt hē on byrnan wæg;

forwrāt Wedra helm wyrm on middan.

Fēond gefyldan —ferh ellen wræc—

ond hī hyne þā bēgen ābroten hæfdon,

sib-æðelingas. Swylc sceolde secg wesan,

þegn æt ðearfe!—

Þæt ðām þēodne wæs

2710

sīðast sige-hwīle sylfes dǣdum,

worlde geweorces. Đā sīo wund ongon,

þe him se eorð-draca ǣr geworhte,

swelan ond swellan; hē þæt sōna onfand,

þæt him on brēostum bealo-nīðe wēoll

attor on innan. Đā se æðeling gīong,

þæt hē bī wealle, wīs-hycgende,

gesæt on sesse; seah on enta geweorc,

hū ðā stān-bogan stapulum fæste

ēce eorð-reced innan healde.

2720

Hyne þā mid handa, heoro-drēorigne,

þēoden mǣrne, þegn ungemete till,

wine-dryhten his wætere gelafede,

hilde-sædne, ond his helm onspēon.

Bīowulf maþelode —hē ofer benne spræc,

wunde wæl-blēate; wisse hē gearwe,

þæt hē dæg-hwīla gedrogen hæfde,

eorðan wynne; ðā wæs eall sceacen

dōgor-gerīmes, dēað ungemete nēah:—

“Nū ic suna mīnum syllan wolde

2730

gūð-gewǣdu, þǣr mē gifeðe swā

ǣnig yrfe-weard æfter wurde,

līce gelenge. Ic ðās lēode hēold

fīftig wintra; næs se folc-cyning,

ymbe-sittendra ǣnig ðāra,

þe mec gūð-winum grētan dorste,

egesan ðēon. Ic on earde bād

mǣl-gesceafta, hēold mīn tela,

ne sōhte searo-nīðas, nē mē swōr fela

āða on unriht. Ic ðæs ealles mæg,

2740

feorh-bennum sēoc, gefēan habban;

forðām mē wītan ne ðearf Waldend fīra

morðor-bealo māga, þonne mīn sceaceð

līf of līce. Nū ðū lungre geong

hord scēawian under hārne stān,

Wīglāf lēofa, nū se wyrm ligeð,

swefeð sāre wund, since berēafod.

Bīo nū on ofoste, þæt ic ǣr-welan,

gold-ǣht ongite, gearo scēawige

swegle searo-gimmas, þæt ic ðȳ sēft mæge

2750

æfter māððum-welan mīn ālǣtan,

līf ond lēodscipe, þone ic longe hēold.”

Đā ic snūde gefrægn sunu Wīhstānes

æfter word-cwydum wundum dryhtne

hȳran heaðo-sīocum, hring-net beran,

brogdne beadu-sercean under beorges hrōf.

Geseah ðā sige-hrēðig, þā hē bī sesse gēong,

mago-þegn mōdig māððum-sigla fealo,

gold glitinian grunde getenge,

wundur on wealle, ond þæs wyrmes denn,

2760

ealdes ūht-flogan, orcas stondan,

fyrn-manna fatu, feormend-lēase,

hyrstum behrorene. Þær wæs helm monig,

eald ond ōmig, earm-bēaga fela,

searwum gesǣled. Sinc ēaðe mæg,

gold on grunde, gum-cynnes gehwone

oferhīgian; hȳde sē ðe wylle!

Swylce hē siomian geseah segn eall-gylden

hēah ofer horde, hond-wundra mǣst,

gelocen leoðo-cræftum; of ðām lēoma stōd,

2770

þæt hē þone grund-wong ongitan meahte,

wrǣte giondwlītan. Næs ðæs wyrmes þǣr

onsȳn ǣnig, ac hyne ecg fornam.

Đā ic on hlǣwe gefrægn hord rēafian,

eald enta geweorc ānne mannan,

him on bearm hladon bunan ond discas

sylfes dōme; segn ēac genōm,

bēacna beorhtost. Bill ǣr gescōd

—ecg wæs īren— eald-hlāfordes

þām ðāra māðma mund-bora wæs

2780

longe hwīle, līg-egesan wæg

hātne for horde, hioro-weallende

middel-nihtum, oðþæt hē morðre swealt.

Ār wæs on ofoste, eft-sīðes georn,

frætwum gefyrðred; hyne fyrwet bræc,

hwæðer collen-ferð cwicne gemētte

in ðām wong-stede Wedra þēoden

ellen-sīocne, þǣr hē hine ǣr forlēt.

Hē ðā mid þām māðmum mǣrne þīoden,

dryhten sīnne drīorigne fand,

2790

ealdres æt ende; hē hine eft ongon

wæteres weorpan, oðþæt wordes ord

brēost-hord þurhbræc. Þā se beorn gespræc,

gomel on giohðe: —gold scēawode—

“Ic ðāra frætwa Frēan ealles ðanc,

Wuldur-cyninge, wordum secge,

ēcum Dryhtne, þe ic hēr on starie,

þæs ðe ic mōste mīnum lēodum

ǣr swylt-dæge swylc gestrȳnan.

Nū ic on māðma hord mīne bebohte

2800

frōde feorh-lege, fremmað gēna

lēoda þearfe! Ne mæg ic hēr leng wesan.

Hātað heaðo-mǣre hlǣw gewyrcean,

beorhtne æfter bǣle æt brimes nosan;

sē scel tō gemyndum mīnum lēodum

hēah hlīfian on Hrones-næsse,

þæt hit sǣ-līðend syððan hātan

Bīowulfes biorh, ðā ðe brentingas

ofer flōda genipu feorran drīfað.”

Dyde him of healse hring gyldenne

2810

þīoden þrīst-hȳdig, þegne gesealde,

geongum gār-wigan, gold-fāhne helm,

bēah ond byrnan, hēt hyne brūcan well:

“Þū eart ende-lāf ūsses cynnes,

Wǣgmundinga; ealle wyrd forspēon

mīne māgas tō meodsceafte,

eorlas on elne; ic him æfter sceal.”

Þæt wæs þām gomelan gingæste word

brēost-gehygdum, ǣr hē bǣl cure,

hāte heaðo-wylmas; him of hwæðre gewāt

2820

sāwol sēcean sōð-fæstra dōm.

Đā wæs gegongen guman unfrōdum

earfoðlīce, þæt hē on eorðan geseah

þone lēofestan līfes æt ende,

blēate gebǣran. Bona swylce læg,

egeslīc eorð-draca, ealdre berēafod,

bealwe gebǣded. Bēah-hordum leng

wyrm wōh-bogen wealdan ne mōste,

ac hine īrenna ecga fornāmon,

hearde, heaðo-scearde, homera lāfe,

2830

þæt se wīd-floga wundum stille

hrēas on hrūsan hord-ærne nēah.

Nalles æfter lyfte lācende hwearf

middel-nihtum, māðm-ǣhta wlonc

ansȳn ȳwde; ac hē eorðan gefēoll

for ðæs hild-fruman hond-geweorce.

Hūru þæt on lande lȳt manna ðāh,

mægen-āgendra, mīne gefrǣge,

þēah ðe hē dǣda gehwæs dyrstig wǣre,

þæt hē wið attor-sceaðan oreðe geræsde,

2840

oððe hring-sele hondum styrede,

gif hē wæccende weard onfunde

būon on beorge. Bīowulfe wearð

dryht-māðma dǣl dēaðe forgolden;

hæfde æghwæðer ende gefēred

lǣnan līfes.

Næs ðā lang tō ðon,

þæt ðā hild-latan holt ofgēfan,

tȳdre trēow-logan, tȳne ætsomne,

ðā ne dorston ǣr dareðum lācan

on hyra man-dryhtnes miclan þearfe;

2850

ac hȳ scamiende scyldas bǣran,

gūð-gewǣdu, þǣr se gomela læg;

wlitan on Wīlāf. Hē gewērgad sæt,

fēðe-cempa, frēan eaxlum nēah;

wehte hyne wætre, him wiht ne spēow.

Ne meahte hē on eorðan, ðēah hē ūðe wēl,

on ðām frum-gāre feorh gehealdan,

nē ðæs Wealdendes wiht oncirran.

Wolde dōm Godes dǣdum rǣdan

gumena gehwylcum, swā hē nū gēn dēð.

2860

Þā wæs æt ðām geongan grim andswaru

ēð-begēte þām ðe ǣr his elne forlēas.

Wīglāf maðelode, Wēohstānes sunu,

sēc sārig-ferð —seah on unlēofe—:

“Þæt lā mæg secgan, sē ðe wyle sōð specan,

þæt se mon-dryhten, sē ēow ðā māðmas geaf,

ēored-geatwe, þe gē þǣr on standað,

þonne hē on ealu-bence oft gesealde

heal-sittendum helm ond byrnan,

þēoden his þegnum, swylce hē þrȳdlīcost

2870

ōwer feor oððe nēah findan meahte,

þæt hē gēnunga gūð-gewǣdu

wrāðe forwurpe, ðā hyne wīg beget.

Nealles folc-cyning fyrd-gesteallum

gylpan þorfte; hwæðre him God ūðe,

sigora Waldend, þæt hē hyne sylfne gewræc,

āna mid ecge, þā him wæs elnes þearf.

Ic him līf-wraðe, lȳtyle meahte

ætgifan æt gūðe, ond ongan swā þēah

ofer mīn gemet mǣges helpan.

2880

Symle wæs þȳ sǣmra, þonne ic sweorde drep

ferhð-genīðlan, fȳr unswīðor

wēoll of gewitte. Wergendra tō lȳt

þrong ymbe þēoden, þā hyne sīo þrāg becwōm.

Nū sceal sinc-þego ond swyrd-gifu,

eall ēðel-wyn ēowrum cynne,

lufen ālicgean; lond-rihtes mōt

þǣre mǣg-burge monna ǣghwylc

īdel hweorfan, syððan æðelingas

feorran gefricgean flēam ēowerne,

2890

dōm-lēasan dǣd. Dēað bið sēlla

eorla gehwylcum þonne edwīt-līf!”

Heht ðā þæt heaðo-weorc tō hagan bīodan

up ofer ecg-clif, þǣr þæt eorl-weorod

morgen-longne dæg mōd-giōmor sæt,

bord-hæbbende, bēga on wēnum,

ende-dōgores ond eft-cymes

lēofes monnes. Lȳt swīgode

nīwra spella, sē ðe næs gerād,

ac hē sōðlīce sægde ofer ealle:

2900

“Nū is wil-geofa Wedra lēoda,

dryhten Gēata dēað-bedde fæst,

wunað wæl-reste wyrmes dǣdum:

him on efn ligeð ealdor-gewinna

siex-bennum sēoc; sweorde ne meahte

on ðām āglǣcean ǣnige þinga

wunde gewyrcean. Wīglāf siteð

ofer Bīowulfe, byre Wīhstānes,

eorl ofer ōðrum unlifigendum,

healdeð hige-mǣðum hēafod-wearde,

2910

lēofes ond lāðes. Nū ys lēodum wēn

orleg-hwīle, syððan underne

Froncum ond Frȳsum fyll cyninges

wīde weorðeð. Wæs sīo wrōht scepen

heard wið Hūgas, syððan Higelāc cwōm

faran flot-herge on Frēsna land,

þǣr hyne Hetware hilde genǣgdon,

elne geēodon mid ofer-mægene,

þæt se byrn-wiga būgan sceolde,

fēoll on fēðan; nalles frætwe geaf

2920

ealdor dugoðe. Ūs wæs ā syððan

Merewīoingas milts ungyfeðe.

“Nē ic te Swēo-ðēode sibbe oððe trēowe

wihte ne wēne; ac wæs wīde cūð,

þætte Ongenðīo ealdre besnyðede

Hæðcen Hrēþling wið Hrefna-wudu,

þā for onmēdlan ǣrest gesōhton

Gēata lēode Gūð-Scilfingas.

Sōna him se frōda fæder Ōhtheres,

eald ond eges-full ondslyht āgeaf,

2930

ābrēot brim-wīsan, brȳd āheorde,

gomela iō-mēowlan golde berofene,

Onelan mōdor ond Ōhtheres;

ond ðā folgode feorh-genīðlan,

oððæt hī oðēodon earfoðlīce

in Hrefnes-holt hlāford-lēase.

Besæt ðā sin-herge sweorda lāfe

wundum wērge; wēan oft gehēt

earmre teohhe ondlonge niht,

cwæð hē on mergenne mēces ecgum

2940

gētan wolde, sum’ on galg-trēowum

fuglum tō gamene. Frōfor eft gelamp

sārig-mōdum somod ǣr-dæge,

syððan hīe Hygelāces horn ond bȳman,

gealdor ongēaton, þā se gōda cōm

lēoda dugoðe on lāst faran.

“Wæs sīo swāt-swaðu Swēona ond Gēata,

wæl-rǣs weora wīde gesȳne,

hū ðā folc mid him fǣhðe tōwehton.

Gewāt him ðā se gōda mid his gædelingum,

2950

frōd fela-geōmor fæsten sēcean,

eorl Ongenþīo ufor oncirde;

hæfde Higelāces hilde gefrūnen,

wlonces wīg-cræft; wiðres ne truwode,

þæt hē sǣ-mannum onsacan mihte,

heaðo-līðendum, hord forstandan,

bearn ond brȳde; bēah eft þonan

eald under eorð-weall. Þā wæs ǣht boden

Swēona lēodum, segn Higelāces

freoðo-wong þone forð oferēodon,

2960

syððan Hrēðlingas tō hagan þrungon.

Þǣr wearð Ongenðīow ecgum sweorda,

blonden-fexa on bid wrecen,

þæt se þēod-cyning ðafian sceolde

Eafores ānne dōm. Hyne yrringa

Wulf Wonrēding wǣpne gerǣhte,

þæt him for swenge swāt ǣdrum sprong

forð under fexe. Næs hē forht swā ðēh,

gomela Scilfing, ac forgeald hraðe

wyrsan wrixle wæl-hlem þone,

2970

syððan ðēod-cyning þyder oncirde.

Ne meahte se snella sunu Wonrēdes

ealdum ceorle ondslyht giofan,

ac hē him on hēafde helm ǣr gescer,

þæt hē blōde fāh būgan sceolde,

fēoll on foldan; næs hē fǣge þā gīt,

ac hē hyne gewyrpte, þēah ðe him wund hrine.

Lēt se hearda Higelāces þegn

brādne mēce, þā his brōðor læg,

eald-sweord eotonisc, entiscne helm

2980

brecan ofer bord-weal; ðā gebēah cyning,

folces hyrde, wæs in feorh dropen.

Đā wǣron monige, þe his mǣg wriðon,

ricone ārǣrdon, ðā him gerȳmed wearð,

þæt hīe wæl-stōwe wealdan mōston.

Þenden rēafode rinc ōðerne,

nam on Ongenðīo īren-byrnan,

heard swyrd hilted ond his helm somod;

hāres hyrste Higelāce bær.

Hē ðām frætwum fēng ond him fægre gehēt

2990

lēana mid lēodum, ond gelǣste swā;

geald þone gūð-rǣs Gēata dryhten,

Hrēðles eafora, þā hē tō hām becōm,

Iofore ond Wulfe mid ofer-māðmum;

sealde hiora gehwæðrum hund þūsenda

landes ond locenra bēaga —ne ðorfte him ðā lēan

oðwītan

mon on middan-gearde— syððan hīe ðā mǣrða

geslōgon;

ond ðā Iofore forgeaf āngan dohtor,

hām-weorðunge, hyldo tō wedde.

“Þæt ys sīo fǣhðo ond se fēondscipe,

3000

wæl-nīð wera, ðæs ðe ic wēn hafo,

þē ūs sēceað tō Swēona lēoda,

syððan hīe gefricgeað frēan ūserne

ealdor-lēasne, þone ðe ǣr gehēold

wið hettendum hord ond rīce

æfter hæleða hryre, hwate Scildingas,

folc-rēd fremede oððe furður gēn

eorlscipe efnde.

Nū is ofost betost,

þæt wē þēod-cyning þǣr scēawian

ond þone gebringan, þe ūs bēagas geaf,

3010

on ād-fære. Ne scel ānes hwæt

meltan mid þām mōdigan, ac þǣr is māðma hord,

gold unrīme, grimme gecēapod;

ond nū æt sīðestan sylfes fēore

bēagas gebohte: þā sceall brond fretan,

ǣlad þeccean, nalles eorl wegan

māððum tō gemyndum, nē mægð scȳne

habban on healse hring-weorðunge,

ac sceal geōmor-mōd, golde berēafod,

oft, nalles ǣne, elland tredan,

3020

nū se here-wīsa hleahtor ālegde,

gamen ond glēo-drēam. Forðon sceall gār wesan

monig morgen-ceald mundum bewunden,

hæfen on handa, nalles hearpan swēg

wīgend weccean, ac se wonna hrefn

fūs ofer fǣgum fela reordian,

earne secgan, hū him æt ǣte spēow,

þenden hē wið wulf wæl rēafode.”

Swā se secg hwata secggende wæs

lāðra spella; hē ne lēag fela

3030

wyrda nē worda. Weorod eall ārās,

ēodon unblīðe under Earna-næs,

wollen-teāre, wundur scēawian.

Fundon ðā on sande sāwul-lēasne

hlim-bed healdan, þone þe him hringas geaf

ǣrran mǣlum; þā wæs ende-dæg

gōdum gegongen, þæt se gūð-cyning,

Wedra þēoden, wundor-dēaðe swealt.

Ǣr hī þǣr gesēgan syllīcran wiht,

wyrm on wonge wiðer-ræhtes þǣr,

3040

lāðne licgean: wæs se lēg-draca,

grimlīc gryre-fāh, glēdum beswǣled.

Sē wæs fīftiges fōt-gemearces

lang on legere; lyft-wynne hēold

nihtes hwīlum, nyðer eft gewāt

dennes nīosian; wæs ðā dēaðe fæst,

hæfde eorð-scrafa ende genyttod.

Him big stōdan bunan ond orcas,

discas lāgon ond dȳre swyrd,

ōmige, þurhetone, swā hīe wið eorðan fæðm

3050

þūsend wintra þǣr eardodon.

Þonne wæs þæt yrfe ēacen-cræftig,

iū-monna gold, galdre bewunden,

þæt ðām hring-sele hrīnan ne mōste

gumena ǣnig, nefne God sylfa,

sigora Sōð-cyning, sealde þām ðe hē wolde

—hē is manna gehyld— hord openian,

efne swā hwylcum manna, swā him gemet ðūhte.

Þā wæs gesȳne, þæt se sīð ne ðāh

þām ðe unrihte inne gehȳdde

3060

wrǣte under wealle; weard ǣr ofslōh

fēara sumne; þā sīo fǣhð gewearð

gewrecen wrāðlīce. Wundur hwār þonne

eorl ellen-rōf ende gefēre

līf-gesceafta, þonne leng ne mæg

mon mid his māgum medu-seld būan.

Swā wæs Bīowulfe, þā hē biorges weard

sōhte, searo-nīðas; seofa ne cūðe

þurh hwæt his worulde-gedāl weorðan sceolde;

swā hit oð dōmes dæg dīope benemdon

3070

þēodnas mǣre, þā ðæt þǣr dydon,

þæt se secg wǣre synnum scildig,

hergum geheaðerod, hell-bendum fæst,

wommum gewītnad, sē ðone wong strude;

næs hē gold-hwæte gearwor hæfde

āgendes ēst ǣr gescēawod.

Wīglāf maðelode, Wīhstānes sunu:

“Oft sceall eorl monig ānes willan

wrǣc ādrēogan, swā ūs geworden is.

Ne meahton wē gelǣran lēofne þēoden.

3080

rīces hyrde rǣd ǣnigne,

þæt hē ne grētte gold-weard þone,

lēte hyne licgean þǣr hē longe wæs,

wīcum wunian oð woruld-ende;

hēold on hēah-gesceap. Hord ys gescēawod,

grimme gegongen; wæs þæt gifeðe tō swīð.

þē ðone þēod-cyning þyder ontyhte.

Ic wæs þǣr inne ond þæt eall geondseh,

recedes geatwa, þā mē gerȳmed wæs,

nealles swǣslīce sīð ālȳfed

3090

inn under eorð-weall. Ic on ofoste gefēng

micle mid mundum mægen-byrðenne

hord-gestrēona, hider ūt ætbær

cyninge mīnum: cwico wæs þā gēna,

wīs ond gewittig. Worn eall gespræc

gomol on gehðo ond ēowic grētan hēt,

bæd þæt gē geworhton æfter wines dǣdum

in bǣl-stede beorh þone hēan,

micelne ond mǣrne, swā hē manna wæs

wīgend weorð-fullost wīde geond eorðan,

3100

þenden hē burh-welan brūcan mōste.

Uton nū efstan ōðre sīðe

sēon ond sēcean searo-gimma geþræc,

wundur under wealle; ic ēow wīsige,

þæt gē genōge nēon scēawiað

bēagas ond brād gold. Sīe sīo bǣr gearo,

ǣdre geæfned, þonne wē ūt cymen,

ond þonne geferian frēan ūserne,

lēofne mannan, þǣr hē longe sceal

on ðæs Waldendes wǣre geþolian.”

3110

Hēt ðā gebēodan byre Wīhstānes,

hæle hilde-dīor, hæleða monegum,

bold-āgendra, þæt hīe bǣl-wudu

feorran feredon, folc-āgende,

gōdum tōgēnes: “Nū sceal glēd fretan,

—weaxan wonna lēg— wigena strengel,

þone ðe oft gebād īsern-scūre,

þonne strǣla storm strengum gebǣded

scōc ofer scild-weall, sceft nytte hēold,

fæðer-gearwum fūs, flāne fullēode.”

3120

Hūru se snotra sunu Wīhstānes

ācīgde of corðre cyniges þegnas,

syfone ætsomne, þā sēlestan,

ēode eahta sum under inwit-hrōf

hilde-rinca; sum on handa bær

ǣled-lēoman, sē ðe on orde gēong.

Næs ðā on hlytme, hwā þæt hord strude,

syððan orwearde, ǣnigne dǣl,

secgas gesēgon on sele wunian,

lǣne licgan; lȳt ǣnig mearn,

3130

þæt hī ofostlīce ūt geferedon

dȳre māðmas; dracan ēc scufun,

wyrm ofer weall-clif, lēton wēg niman,

flōd fæðmian frætwa hyrde.

Þā wæs wunden gold on wǣn hladen,

ǣghwæs unrīm, æþelingc boren,

hār hilde-rinc tō Hrones-næsse.

Him ðā gegiredan Gēata lēode

ād on eorðan unwāclīcne,

helmum behongen, hilde-bordum,

3140

beorhtum byrnum, swā hē bēna wæs;

ālegdon ðā tōmiddes mǣrne þēoden

hæleð hīofende, hlāford lēofne.

Ongunnon þā on beorge bǣl-fȳra mǣst

wīgend weccan: wudu-rēc āstāh

sweart ofer swioðole, swōgende lēg,

wōpe bewunden —wind-blond gelæg—

oðþæt hē ðā bān-hūs gebrocen hæfde,

hāt on hreðre. Higum unrōte

mōd-ceare mǣndon, mon-dryhtnes cwealm;

3150

swylce giōmor-gyd Gēatisc mēowle

. . . . . . . . . . . . bunden-heorde

song sorg-cearig. Sǣde geneahhe,

þæt hīo hyre here-geongas hearde ondrēde

wæl-fylla worn, werudes egesan,

hȳnðo ond hæft-nȳd. Heofon rēce swealg.

Geworhton ðā Wedra lēode

hlēo on hōe, sē wæs hēah ond brād,

wēg-līðendum wīde gesȳne,

ond betimbredon on tȳn dagum

3160

beadu-rōfes bēcn; bronda lāfe

wealle beworhton, swā hyt weorðlīcost

fore-snotre men findan mihton.

Hī on beorg dydon bēg ond siglu,

eall swylce hyrsta, swylce on horde ǣr

nīð-hēdige men genumen hæfdon;

forlēton eorla gestrēon eorðan healdan,

gold on grēote, þǣr hit nū gēn lifað

eldum swā unnyt, swa hit ǣror wæs.

Þā ymbe hlǣw riodan hilde-dēore,

3170

æþelinga bearn, ealra twelfe,

woldon ceare cwīðan, kyning mǣnan,

word-gyd wrecan ond ymb wer sprecan:

eahtodan eorlscipe ond his elle-weorc;

duguðum dēmdon, swā hit gedēfe bið

þæt mon his wine-dryhten wordum herge,

ferhðum frēoge, þonne hē forð scile

of līc-haman lǣded weorðan.

Swā begnornodon Gēata lēode

hlāfordes hryre, heorð-genēatas;

3180

cwǣdon þæt hē wǣre wyruld-cyninga,

manna mildust ond mon-ðwǣrust,

lēodum līðost ond lof-geornost.

Translation

So. The Spear-Danes in days gone by

and the kings who ruled them had courage and greatness.

We have heard of those princes’ heroic campaigns.

The Danes have legends about their warrior kings. The most famous was Shield Sheafson, who founded the ruling house

There was Shield Sheafson, scourge of many tribes,

a wrecker of mead-benches, rampaging among foes.

This terror of the hall-troops had come far.

A foundling to start with, he would flourish later on

as his powers waxed and his worth was proved.

In the end each clan on the outlying coasts

10

beyond the whale-road had to yield to him

and begin to pay tribute. That was one good king.

Afterwards a boy-child was born to Shield,

a cub in the yard, a comfort sent

by God to that nation. He knew what they had tholed,

the long times and troubles they’d come through

without a leader; so the Lord of Life,

the glorious Almighty, made this man renowned.

Shield had fathered a famous son:

Beow’s name was known through the north.

20

And a young prince must be prudent like that,

giving freely while his father lives

so that afterwards in age when fighting starts

steadfast companions will stand by him

and hold the line. Behaviour that’s admired

is the path to power among people everywhere.

Shield’s funeral

Shield was still thriving when his time came

and he crossed over into the Lord’s keeping.

His warrior band did what he bade them

when he laid down the law among the Danes:

30

they shouldered him out to the sea’s flood,

the chief they revered who had long ruled them.

A ring-whorled prow rode in the harbour,

ice-clad, outbound, a craft for a prince.

They stretched their beloved lord in his boat,

laid out by the mast, amidships,

the great ring-giver. Far-fetched treasures

were piled upon him, and precious gear.

I never heard before of a ship so well furbished

with battle tackle, bladed weapons

40

and coats of mail. The massed treasure

was loaded on top of him: it would travel far

on out into the ocean’s sway.

They decked his body no less bountifully

with offerings than those first ones did

who cast him away when he was a child

and launched him alone out over the waves.

And they set a gold standard up

high above his head and let him drift

to wind and tide, bewailing him

50

and mourning their loss. No man can tell,

no wise man in hall or weathered veteran

knows for certain who salvaged that load.

Then it fell to Beow to keep the forts.

Shield’s heirs: his son Beow succeeded by Halfdane, Halfdane by Hrothgar

He was well regarded and ruled the Danes

for a long time after his father took leave

of his life on earth. And then his heir,

the great Halfdane, held sway

for as long as he lived, their elder and warlord.

He was four times a father, this fighter prince:

60

one by one they entered the world,

Heorogar, Hrothgar, the good Halga

and a daughter, I have heard, who was Onela’s queen,

a balm in bed to the battle-scarred Swede.

King Hrothgar builds Heorot Hall

The fortunes of war favoured Hrothgar.

Friends and kinsmen flocked to his ranks,

young followers, a force that grew

to be a mighty army. So his mind turned

to hall-building: he handed down orders

for men to work on a great mead-hall

70

meant to be a wonder of the world forever;

it would be his throne-room and there he would dispense

his God-given goods to young and old—

but not the common land or people’s lives.

Far and wide through the world, I have heard,

orders for work to adorn that wallstead

were sent to many peoples. And soon it stood there,

finished and ready, in full view,

the hall of halls. Heorot was the name

he had settled on it, whose utterance was law.

80

Nor did he renege, but doled out rings

and torques at the table. The hall towered,

its gables wide and high and awaiting

a barbarous burning. That doom abided,

but in time it would come: the killer instinct

unleashed among in-laws, the blood-lust rampant.

Heorot is threatened

Then a powerful demon, a prowler through the dark,

nursed a hard grievance. It harrowed him

to hear the din of the loud banquet

every day in the hall, the harp being struck

90

and the clear song of a skilled poet

telling with mastery of man’s beginnings,

how the Almighty had made the earth

a gleaming plain girdled with waters;

in His splendour He set the sun and the moon

to be earth’s lamplight, lanterns for men,

and filled the broad lap of the world

with branches and leaves; and quickened life

in every other thing that moved.

Grendel, a monster descended from “Cain’s clan,” begins to prowl

So times were pleasant for the people there

100

until finally one, a fiend out of hell,

began to work his evil in the world.

Grendel was the name of this grim demon

haunting the marches, marauding round the heath

and the desolate fens; he had dwelt for a time

in misery among the banished monsters,

Cain’s clan, whom the Creator had outlawed

and condemned as outcasts. For the killing of Abel

the Eternal Lord had exacted a price:

Cain got no good from committing that murder

110

because the Almighty made him anathema

and out of the curse of his exile there sprang

ogres and elves and evil phantoms

and the giants too who strove with God

time and again until He gave them their reward.

Grendel attacks Heorot

So, after nightfall, Grendel set out

for the lofty house, to see how the Ring-Danes

were settling into it after their drink,

and there he came upon them, a company of the best

asleep from their feasting, insensible to pain

120

and human sorrow. Suddenly then

the God-cursed brute was creating havoc:

greedy and grim, he grabbed thirty men

from their resting places and rushed to his lair,

flushed up and inflamed from the raid,

blundering back with the butchered corpses.

Then as dawn brightened and the day broke

Grendel’s powers of destruction were plain:

their wassail was over, they wept to heaven

and mourned under morning. Their mighty prince,

130

the storied leader, sat stricken and helpless,

humiliated by the loss of his guard,

bewildered and stunned, staring aghast

at the demon’s trail, in deep distress.

He was numb with grief, but got no respite

for one night later merciless Grendel

struck again with more gruesome murders.

Malignant by nature, he never showed remorse.

It was easy then to meet with a man

shifting himself to a safer distance

140

to bed in the bothies, for who could be blind

to the evidence of his eyes, the obviousness

of that hall-watcher’s hate? Whoever escaped

kept a weather-eye open and moved away.

King Hrothgar’s distress and helplessness

So Grendel ruled in defiance of right,

one against all, until the greatest house

in the world stood empty, a deserted wallstead.

For twelve winters, seasons of woe,

the lord of the Shieldings suffered under

his load of sorrow; and so, before long,

150

the news was known over the whole world.

Sad lays were sung about the beset king,

the vicious raids and ravages of Grendel,

his long and unrelenting feud,

nothing but war; how he would never

parley or make peace with any Dane

nor stop his death-dealing nor pay the death-price.

No counsellor could ever expect

fair reparation from those rabid hands.

All were endangered; young and old

160

were hunted down by that dark death-shadow

who lurked and swooped in the long nights

on the misty moors; nobody knows

where these reavers from hell roam on their errands.

So Grendel waged his lonely war,

inflicting constant cruelties on the people,

atrocious hurt. He took over Heorot,

haunted the glittering hall after dark,

but the throne itself, the treasure-seat,

he was kept from approaching; he was the Lord’s outcast.

The Danes, hard-pressed, turn for help to heathen gods

170

These were hard times, heart-breaking

for the prince of the Shieldings; powerful counsellors,

the highest in the land, would lend advice,

plotting how best the bold defenders

might resist and beat off sudden attacks.

Sometimes at pagan shrines they vowed

offerings to idols, swore oaths

that the killer of souls might come to their aid

and save the people. That was their way,

their heathenish hope; deep in their hearts

180

they remembered hell. The Almighty Judge

of good deeds and bad, the Lord God,

Head of the Heavens and High King of the World,

was unknown to them. Oh, cursed is he

who in time of trouble has to thrust his soul

in the fire’s embrace, forfeiting help;

he has nowhere to turn. But blessed is he

who after death can approach the Lord

and find friendship in the Father’s embrace.

So that troubled time continued, woe

190

that never stopped, steady affliction

for Halfdane’s son, too hard an ordeal.

There was panic after dark, people endured

raids in the night, riven by the terror.

At the court of King Hygelac, a Geat warrior prepares to help Hrothgar

When he heard about Grendel, Hygelac’s thane

was on home ground, over in Geatland.

There was no one else like him alive.

In his day, he was the mightiest man on earth,

high-born and powerful. He ordered a boat

that would ply the waves. He announced his plan:

200

to sail the swan’s road and search out that king,

the famous prince who needed defenders.

Nobody tried to keep him from going,

no elder denied him, dear as he was to them.

Instead, they inspected omens and spurred

his ambition to go, whilst he moved about

like the leader he was, enlisting men,

the best he could find; with fourteen others

the warrior boarded the boat as captain,

a canny pilot along coast and currents.

The hero and his troop sail from the land of the Geats

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Time went by, the boat was on water,

in close under the cliffs.

Men climbed eagerly up the gangplank,

sand churned in surf, warriors loaded

a cargo of weapons, shining war-gear

in the vessel’s hold, then heaved out,

away with a will in their wood-wreathed ship.

Over the waves, with the wind behind her

and foam at her neck, she flew like a bird

until her curved prow had covered the distance

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and on the following day, at the due hour,

those seafarers sighted land,

sunlit cliffs, sheer crags

and looming headlands, the landfall they sought.

It was the end of their voyage and the Geats vaulted

over the side, out on to the sand,

and moored their ship. There was a clash of mail

and a thresh of gear. They thanked God

for that easy crossing on a calm sea.

The Danish coast-guard challenges the outsiders

When the watchman on the wall, the Shieldings’ lookout

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whose job it was to guard the sea-cliffs,

saw shields glittering on the gangplank

and battle-equipment being unloaded

he had to find out who and what

the arrivals were. So he rode to the shore,

this horseman of Hrothgar’s, and challenged them

in formal terms, flourishing his spear:

“What kind of men are you who arrive

rigged out for combat in coats of mail,

sailing here over the sea-lanes

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in your steep-hulled boat? I have been stationed

as lookout on this coast for a long time.

My job is to watch the waves for raiders,

any danger to the Danish shore.

Never before has a force under arms

disembarked so openly—not bothering to ask

if the sentries allowed them safe passage

or the clan had consented. Nor have I seen

a mightier man-at-arms on this earth

than the one standing here: unless I am mistaken,

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he is truly noble. This is no mere

hanger-on in a hero’s armour.

So now, before you fare inland

as interlopers, I have to be informed

about who you are and where you hail from.

Outsiders from across the water,

I say it again: the sooner you tell

where you come from and why, the better.”

The Geat hero announces himself and explains his mission

The leader of the troop unlocked his word-hoard;

the distinguished one delivered this answer:

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“We belong by birth to the Geat people

and owe allegiance to Lord Hygelac.

In his day, my father was a famous man,

a noble warrior-lord named Ecgtheow.

He outlasted many a long winter

and went on his way. All over the world

men wise in counsel continue to remember him.

We come in good faith to find your lord

and nation’s shield, the son of Halfdane.

Give us the right advice and direction.

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We have arrived here on a great errand

to the lord of the Danes, and I believe therefore

there should be nothing hidden or withheld between us.

So tell us if what we have heard is true

about this threat, whatever it is,

this danger abroad in the dark nights,

this corpse-maker mongering death

in the Shieldings’ country. I come to proffer

my wholehearted help and counsel.

I can show the wise Hrothgar a way

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to defeat his enemy and find respite—

if any respite is to reach him, ever.

I can calm the turmoil and terror in his mind.

Otherwise, he must endure woes

and live with grief for as long as his hall

stands at the horizon, on its high ground.”

The coast-guard allows the Geats to pass

Undaunted, sitting astride his horse,

the coast-guard answered, “Anyone with gumption

and a sharp mind will take the measure

of two things: what’s said and what’s done.

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I believe what you have told me: that you are a troop

loyal to our king. So come ahead

with your arms and your gear, and I will guide you.

What’s more, I’ll order my own comrades

on their word of honour to watch your boat

down there on the strand—keep her safe

in her fresh tar, until the time comes

for her curved prow to preen on the waves

and bear this hero back to Geatland.

May one so valiant and venturesome

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come unharmed through the clash of battle.”

So they went on their way. The ship rode the water,

broad-beamed, bound by its hawser

and anchored fast. Boar-shapes flashed

above their cheek-guards, the brightly forged

work of goldsmiths, watching over

those stern-faced men. They marched in step,

hurrying on till the timbered hall

rose before them, radiant with gold.

Nobody on earth knew of another

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building like it. Majesty lodged there,

its light shone over many lands.

So their gallant escort guided them

to that dazzling stronghold and indicated

the shortest way to it; then the noble warrior

wheeled on his horse and spoke these words:

“It is time for me to go. May the Almighty

Father keep you and in His kindness

watch over your exploits. I’m away to the sea,

back on alert against enemy raiders.”

They arrive at Heorot

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It was a paved track, a path that kept them

in marching order. Their mail-shirts glinted,

hard and hand-linked; the high-gloss iron

of their armour rang. So they duly arrived

in their grim war-graith and gear at the hall,

and, weary from the sea, stacked wide shields

of the toughest hardwood against the wall,

then collapsed on the benches; battle-dress

and weapons clashed. They collected their spears

in a seafarers’ stook, a stand of greyish

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tapering ash. And the troops themselves

were as good as their weapons.

Then a proud warrior

questioned the men concerning their origins:

“Where do you come from, carrying these

decorated shields and shirts of mail,

these cheek-hinged helmets and javelins?

I am Hrothgar’s herald and officer.

I have never seen so impressive or large

an assembly of strangers. Stoutness of heart,

bravery not banishment, must have brought you to
Hrothgar.”

Beowulf announces his name

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The man whose name was known for courage,

the Geat leader, resolute in his helmet,

answered in return: “We are retainers

from Hygelac’s band. Beowulf is my name.

If your lord and master, the most renowned

son of Halfdane, will hear me out

and graciously allow me to greet him in person,

I am ready and willing to report my errand.”

Formalities are observed

Wulfgar replied, a Wendel chief

renowned as a warrior, well known for his wisdom

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and the temper of his mind: “I will take this message,

in accordance with your wish, to

our noble king, our dear lord, friend of the Danes,

the giver of rings. I will go and ask him

about your coming here, then hurry back

with whatever reply it pleases him to give.”

With that he turned to where Hrothgar sat,

an old man among retainers;

the valiant follower stood four-square

in front of his king: he knew the courtesies.

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Wulfgar addressed his dear lord:

“People from Geatland have put ashore.

They have sailed far over the wide sea.

They call the chief in charge of their band

by the name of Beowulf. They beg, my lord,

an audience with you, exchange of words

and formal greeting. Most gracious Hrothgar,

do not refuse them, but grant them a reply.

From their arms and appointment, they appear well born

and worthy of respect, especially the one

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who has led them this far: he is formidable indeed.”

Hrothgar recognizes Beowulf’s name and approves his arrival

Hrothgar, protector of Shieldings, replied:

“I used to know him when he was a young boy.

His father before him was called Ecgtheow.

Hrethel the Geat gave Ecgtheow

his daughter in marriage. This man is their son,

here to follow up an old friendship.

A crew of seamen who sailed for me once

with a gift-cargo across to Geatland

returned with marvellous tales about him:

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a thane, they declared, with the strength of thirty

in the grip of each hand. Now Holy God

has, in His goodness, guided him here

to the West-Danes, to defend us from Grendel.

This is my hope; and for his heroism

I will recompense him with a rich treasure.

Go immediately, bid him and the Geats

he has in attendance to assemble and enter.

Say, moreover, when you speak to them,

they are welcome to Denmark.”

At the door of the hall,

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Wulfgar duly delivered the message:

“My lord, the conquering king of the Danes,

bids me announce that he knows your ancestry;

also that he welcomes you here to Heorot

and salutes your arrival from across the sea.

You are free now to move forward

to meet Hrothgar, in helmets and armour,

but shields must stay here and spears be stacked

until the outcome of the audience is clear.”

Beowulf enters Heorot. He gives an account of his heroic exploits

The hero arose, surrounded closely

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by his powerful thanes. A party remained

under orders to keep watch on the arms;

the rest proceeded, led by their prince

under Heorot’s roof. And standing on the hearth

in webbed links that the smith had woven,

the fine-forged mesh of his gleaming mail-shirt,

resolute in his helmet, Beowulf spoke:

“Greetings to Hrothgar. I am Hygelac’s kinsman,

one of his hall-troop. When I was younger,

I had great triumphs. Then news of Grendel,

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hard to ignore, reached me at home:

sailors brought stories of the plight you suffer

in this legendary hall, how it lies deserted,

empty and useless once the evening light

hides itself under heaven’s dome.

So every elder and experienced councilman

among my people supported my resolve

to come here to you, King Hrothgar,

because all knew of my awesome strength.

They had seen me boltered in the blood of enemies

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when I battled and bound five beasts,

raided a troll-nest and in the night-sea

slaughtered sea-brutes. I have suffered extremes

and avenged the Geats (their enemies brought it

upon themselves, I devastated them).

Now I mean to be a match for Grendel,

settle the outcome in single combat.

He declares he will fight Grendel

And so, my request, O king of Bright-Danes,

dear prince of the Shieldings, friend of the people

and their ring of defence, my one request

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is that you won’t refuse me, who have come this far,

the privilege of purifying Heorot,

with my own men to help me, and nobody else.

I have heard moreover that the monster scorns

in his reckless way to use weapons;

therefore, to heighten Hygelac’s fame

and gladden his heart, I hereby renounce

sword and the shelter of the broad shield,

the heavy war-board: hand-to-hand

is how it will be, a life-and-death

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fight with the fiend. Whichever one death fells

must deem it a just judgement by God.

If Grendel wins, it will be a gruesome day;

he will glut himself on the Geats in the war-hall,

swoop without fear on that flower of manhood

as on others before. Then my face won’t be there

to be covered in death: he will carry me away

as he goes to ground, gorged and bloodied;

he will run gloating with my raw corpse

and feed on it alone, in a cruel frenzy,

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fouling his moor-nest. No need then

to lament for long or lay out my body:

if the battle takes me, send back

this breast-webbing that Weland fashioned

and Hrethel gave me, to Lord Hygelac.

Fate goes ever as fate must.”

Hrothgar recollects a friendship and tells of Grendel’s raids

Hrothgar, the helmet of Shieldings, spoke:

“Beowulf, my friend, you have travelled here

to favour us with help and to fight for us.

There was a feud one time, begun by your father.

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With his own hands he had killed Heatholaf,

who was a Wulfing; so war was looming

and his people, in fear of it, forced him to leave.

He came away then over rolling waves

to the South-Danes here, the sons of honour.

I was then in the first flush of kingship,

establishing my sway over all the rich strongholds

of this heroic land. Heorogar,

my older brother and the better man,

also a son of Halfdane’s, had died.

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Finally I healed the feud by paying:

I shipped a treasure-trove to the Wulfings

and Ecgtheow acknowledged me with oaths of allegiance.

“It bothers me to have to burden anyone

with all the grief Grendel has caused

and the havoc he has wreaked upon us in Heorot,

our humiliations. My household-guard

are on the wane, fate sweeps them away

into Grendel’s clutches—
but God can easily

halt these raids and harrowing attacks!

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“Time and again, when the goblets passed

and seasoned fighters got flushed with beer

they would pledge themselves to protect Heorot

and wait for Grendel with whetted swords.

But when dawn broke and day crept in

over each empty, blood-spattered bench,

the floor of the mead-hall where they had feasted

would be slick with slaughter. And so they died,

faithful retainers, and my following dwindled.

“Now take your place at the table, relish

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the triumph of heroes to your heart’s content.”

A feast in Heorot

Then a bench was cleared in that banquet hall

so the Geats could have room to be together

and the party sat, proud in their bearing,

strong and stalwart. An attendant stood by

with a decorated pitcher, pouring bright

helpings of mead. And the minstrel sang,

filling Heorot with his head-clearing voice,

gladdening that great rally of Geats and Danes.

Unferth strikes a discordant note

From where he crouched at the king’s feet,

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Unferth, a son of Ecglaf’s, spoke

contrary words. Beowulf’s coming,

his sea-braving, made him sick with envy:

he could not brook or abide the fact

that anyone else alive under heaven

might enjoy greater regard than he did:

“Are you the Beowulf who took on Breca

in a swimming match on the open sea,

risking the water just to prove that you could win?

It was sheer vanity made you venture out

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on the main deep. And no matter who tried,

friend or foe, to deflect the pair of you,

neither would back down: the sea-test obsessed you.

Unferth’s version of a swimming contest

You waded in, embracing water,

taking its measure, mastering currents,

riding on the swell. The ocean swayed,

winter went wild in the waves, but you vied

for seven nights; and then he outswam you,

came ashore the stronger contender.

He was cast up safe and sound one morning

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among the Heathoreams, then made his way

to where he belonged in Bronding country,

home again, sure of his ground

in strongroom and bawn. So Breca made good

his boast upon you and was proved right.

No matter, therefore, how you may have fared

in every bout and battle until now,

this time you’ll be worsted; no one has ever

outlasted an entire night against Grendel.”

Beowulf corrects Unferth

Beowulf, Ecgtheow’s son, replied:

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“Well, friend Unferth, you have had your say

about Breca and me. But it was mostly beer

that was doing the talking. The truth is this:

when the going was heavy in those high waves,

I was the strongest swimmer of all.

We’d been children together and we grew up

daring ourselves to outdo each other,

boasting and urging each other to risk

our lives on the sea. And so it turned out.

Each of us swam holding a sword,

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a naked, hard-proofed blade for protection

against the whale-beasts. But Breca could never

move out farther or faster from me

than I could manage to move from him.

Shoulder to shoulder, we struggled on

for five nights, until the long flow

and pitch of the waves, the perishing cold,

night falling and winds from the north

drove us apart. The deep boiled up

and its wallowing sent the sea-brutes wild.

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My armour helped me to hold out;

my hard-ringed chain-mail, hand-forged and linked,

a fine, close-fitting filigree of gold,

kept me safe when some ocean creature

pulled me to the bottom. Pinioned fast

and swathed in its grip, I was granted one

final chance: my sword plunged

and the ordeal was over. Through my own hands,

the fury of battle had finished off the sea-beast.

Beowulf tells of his ordeal in the sea

“Time and again, foul things attacked me,

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lurking and stalking, but I lashed out,

gave as good as I got with my sword.

My flesh was not for feasting on,

there would be no monsters gnawing and gloating

over their banquet at the bottom of the sea.

Instead, in the morning, mangled and sleeping

the sleep of the sword, they slopped and floated

like the ocean’s leavings. From now on

sailors would be safe, the deep-sea raids

were over for good. Light came from the east,

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bright guarantee of God, and the waves

went quiet; I could see headlands

and buffeted cliffs. Often, for undaunted courage,

fate spares the man it has not already marked.

However it occurred, my sword had killed

nine sea-monsters. Such night-dangers

and hard ordeals I have never heard of

nor of a man more desolate in surging waves.

But worn out as I was, I survived,

came through with my life. The ocean lifted

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and laid me ashore, I landed safe

on the coast of Finland.

Now I cannot recall
any fight you entered, Unferth,

that bears comparison. I don’t boast when I say

that neither you nor Breca were ever much

celebrated for swordsmanship

or for facing danger on the field of battle.

Unferth rebuked. Beowulf reaffirms his determination to defeat Grendel

You killed your own kith and kin,

so for all your cleverness and quick tongue,

you will suffer damnation in the depths of hell.

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The fact is, Unferth, if you were truly

as keen or courageous as you claim to be

Grendel would never have got away with

such unchecked atrocity, attacks on your king,

havoc in Heorot and horrors everywhere.

But he knows he need never be in dread

of your blade making a mizzle of his blood

or of vengeance arriving ever from this quarter—

from the Victory-Shieldings, the shoulderers of the spear.

He knows he can trample down you Danes

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to his heart’s content, humiliate and murder

without fear of reprisal. But he will find me different.

I will show him how Geats shape to kill

in the heat of battle. Then whoever wants to

may go bravely to mead, when morning light,

scarfed in sun-dazzle, shines forth from the south

and brings another daybreak to the world.”

Wealhtheow, Hrothgar’s queen, graces the banquet

Then the grey-haired treasure-giver was glad;

far-famed in battle, the prince of Bright-Danes

and keeper of his people counted on Beowulf,

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on the warrior’s steadfastness and his word.

So the laughter started, the din got louder

and the crowd was happy. Wealhtheow came in,

Hrothgar’s queen, observing the courtesies.

Adorned in her gold, she graciously saluted

the men in hall, then handed the cup

first to Hrothgar, their homeland’s guardian,

urging him to drink deep and enjoy it

because he was dear to them. And he drank it down

like the warlord he was, with festive cheer.

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So the Helming woman went on her rounds,

queenly and dignified, decked out in rings,

offering the goblet to all ranks,

treating the household and the assembled troop

until it was Beowulf’s turn to take it from her hand.

With measured words she welcomed the Geat

and thanked God for granting her wish

that a deliverer she could believe in would arrive

to ease their afflictions. He accepted the cup,

a daunting man, dangerous in action

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and eager for it always. He addressed Wealhtheow;

Beowulf, son of Ecgtheow, said:

“I had a fixed purpose when I put to sea.

Beowulf’s formal boast

As I sat in the boat with my band of men,

I meant to perform to the uttermost

what your people wanted or perish in the attempt,

in the fiend’s clutches. And I shall fulfil that purpose,

prove myself with a proud deed

or meet my death here in the mead-hall.”

This formal boast by Beowulf the Geat

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pleased the lady well and she went to sit

by Hrothgar, regal and arrayed with gold.

Hrothgar leaves Heorot in Beowulf’s keeping

Then it was like old times in the echoing hall,

proud talk and the people happy,

loud and excited; until soon enough

Halfdane’s heir had to be away

to his night’s rest. He realized

that the demon was going to descend on the hall,

that he had plotted all day, from dawn-light

until darkness gathered again over the world

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and stealthy night-shapes came stealing forth

under the cloud-murk. The company stood

as the two leaders took leave of each other:

Hrothgar wished Beowulf health and good luck,

named him hall-warden and announced as follows:

“Never, since my hand could hold a shield

have I entrusted or given control

of the Danes’ hall to anyone but you.

Ward and guard it, for it is the greatest of houses.

Be on your mettle now, keep in mind your fame,

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beware of the enemy. There’s nothing you wish for

that won’t be yours if you win through alive.”

Hrothgar departed then with his house-guard.

The lord of the Shieldings, their shelter in war,

left the mead-hall to lie with Wealhtheow,

his queen and bedmate. The King of Glory

(as people learned) had posted a lookout

who was a match for Grendel, a guard against monsters,

special protection to the Danish prince.

And the Geat placed complete trust

670

in his strength of limb and the Lord’s favour.

He began to remove his iron breast-mail,

took off the helmet and handed his attendant

the patterned sword, a smith’s masterpiece,

ordering him to keep the equipment guarded.

And before he bedded down, Beowulf,

that prince of goodness, proudly asserted:

“When it comes to fighting, I count myself

as dangerous any day as Grendel.

Beowulf renounces the use of weapons

So it won’t be a cutting edge I’ll wield

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to mow him down, easily as I might.

He has no idea of the arts of war,

of shield or sword-play, although he does possess

a wild strength. No weapons, therefore,

for either this night: unarmed he shall face me

if face me he dares. And may the Divine Lord

in His wisdom grant the glory of victory

to whichever side He sees fit.”

The Geats await Grendel’s attack

Then down the brave man lay with his bolster

under his head and his whole company

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of sea-rovers at rest beside him.

None of them expected he would ever see

his homeland again or get back

to his native place and the people who reared him.

They knew too well the way it was before,

how often the Danes had fallen prey

to death in the mead-hall. But the Lord was weaving

a victory on His war-loom for the Weather-Geats.

Through the strength of one they all prevailed;

they would crush their enemy and come through

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in triumph and gladness. The truth is clear:

Almighty God rules over mankind

and always has.

Then out of the night
came the shadow-stalker, stealthy and swift;

the hall-guards were slack, asleep at their posts,

all except one; it was widely understood

that as long as God disallowed it,

the fiend could not bear them to his shadow-bourne.

One man, however, was in fighting mood,

awake and on edge, spoiling for action.

Grendel strikes

710

In off the moors, down through the mist bands

God-cursed Grendel came greedily loping.

The bane of the race of men roamed forth,

hunting for a prey in the high hall.

Under the cloud-murk he moved towards it

until it shone above him, a sheer keep

of fortified gold. Nor was that the first time

he had scouted the grounds of Hrothgar’s dwelling—

although never in his life, before or since,

did he find harder fortune or hall-defenders.

720

Spurned and joyless, he journeyed on ahead

and arrived at the bawn. The iron-braced door

turned on its hinge when his hands touched it.

Then his rage boiled over, he ripped open

the mouth of the building, maddening for blood,

pacing the length of the patterned floor

with his loathsome tread, while a baleful light,

flame more than light, flared from his eyes.

He saw many men in the mansion, sleeping,

a ranked company of kinsmen and warriors

730

quartered together. And his glee was demonic,

picturing the mayhem: before morning

he would rip life from limb and devour them,

feed on their flesh; but his fate that night

was due to change, his days of ravening

had come to an end.

A Geat warrior perishes

Mighty and canny,

Hygelac’s kinsman was keenly watching

for the first move the monster would make.

Nor did the creature keep him waiting

but struck suddenly and started in;

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he grabbed and mauled a man on his bench,

bit into his bone-lappings, bolted down his blood

and gorged on him in lumps, leaving the body

utterly lifeless, eaten up

hand and foot. Venturing closer,

his talon was raised to attack Beowulf

where he lay on the bed; he was bearing in

with open claw when the alert hero’s

comeback and armlock forestalled him utterly.

Beowulf’s fight with Grendel

The captain of evil discovered himself

750

in a handgrip harder than anything

he had ever encountered in any man

on the face of the earth. Every bone in his body

quailed and recoiled, but he could not escape.

He was desperate to flee to his den and hide

with the devil’s litter, for in all his days

he had never been clamped or cornered like this.

Then Hygelac’s trusty retainer recalled

his bedtime speech, sprang to his feet

and got a firm hold. Fingers were bursting,

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the monster back-tracking, the man overpowering.

The dread of the land was desperate

to escape, to take a roundabout road and flee

to his lair in the fens. The latching power

in his fingers weakened; it was the worst trip

the terror-monger had taken to Heorot.

And now the timbers trembled and sang,

a hall-session that harrowed every Dane

inside the stockade: stumbling in fury,

the two contenders crashed through the building.

770

The hall clattered and hammered, but somehow

survived the onslaught and kept standing:

it was handsomely structured, a sturdy frame

braced with the best of blacksmith’s work

inside and out. The story goes

that as the pair struggled, mead-benches were smashed

and sprung off the floor, gold fittings and all.

Before then, no Shielding elder would believe

there was any power or person upon earth

capable of wrecking their horn-rigged hall

780

unless the burning embrace of a fire

engulf it in flame. Then an extraordinary

wail arose, and bewildering fear

came over the Danes. Everyone felt it

who heard that cry as it echoed off the wall,

a God-cursed scream and strain of catastrophe,

the howl of the loser, the lament of the hell-serf

keening his wound. He was overwhelmed,

manacled tight by the man who of all men

was foremost and strongest in the days of this life.

Beowulf’s thanes defend him

790

But the earl-troop’s leader was not inclined

to allow his caller to depart alive:

he did not consider that life of much account

to anyone anywhere. Time and again,

Beowulf’s warriors worked to defend

their lord’s life, laying about them

as best they could with their ancestral blades.

Stalwart in action, they kept striking out

on every side, seeking to cut

straight to the soul. When they joined the struggle

800

there was something they could not have known at the
time,

that no blade on earth, no blacksmith’s art

could ever damage their demon opponent.

He had conjured the harm from the cutting edge

of every weapon. But his going away

out of this world and the days of his life

would be agony to him, and his alien spirit

would travel far into fiends’ keeping.

Grendel is defeated, Beowulf fulfils his boast

Then he who had harrowed the hearts of men

with pain and affliction in former times

810

and had given offence also to God

found that his bodily powers failed him.

Hygelac’s kinsman kept him helplessly

locked in a handgrip. As long as either lived,

he was hateful to the other. The monster’s whole

body was in pain, a tremendous wound

appeared on his shoulder. Sinews split

and the bone-lappings burst. Beowulf was granted

the glory of winning; Grendel was driven

under the fen-banks, fatally hurt,

820

to his desolate lair. His days were numbered,

the end of his life was coming over him,

he knew it for certain; and one bloody clash

had fulfilled the dearest wishes of the Danes.

The man who had lately landed among them,

proud and sure, had purged the hall,

kept it from harm; he was happy with his nightwork

and the courage he had shown. The Geat captain

had boldly fulfilled his boast to the Danes:

he had healed and relieved a huge distress,

830

unremitting humiliations,

the hard fate they’d been forced to undergo,

no small affliction. Clear proof of this

could be seen in the hand the hero displayed

high up near the roof: the whole of Grendel’s

shoulder and arm, his awesome grasp.

The morning after: relief and rejoicings

Then morning came and many a warrior

gathered, as I’ve heard, around the gift-hall,

clan-chiefs flocking from far and near

down wide-ranging roads, wondering greatly

840

at the monster’s footprints. His fatal departure

was regretted by no-one who witnessed his trail,

the ignominious marks of his flight

where he’d skulked away, exhausted in spirit

and beaten in battle, bloodying the path,

hauling his doom to the demons’ mere.

The bloodshot water wallowed and surged,

there were loathsome upthrows and overturnings

of waves and gore and wound-slurry.

With his death upon him, he had dived deep

850

into his marsh-den, drowned out his life

and his heathen soul: hell claimed him there.

Then away they rode, the old retainers

with many a young man following after,

a troop on horseback, in high spirits

on their bay steeds. Beowulf’s doings

were praised over and over again.

Nowhere, they said, north or south

between the two seas or under the tall sky

on the broad earth was there anyone better

860

to raise a shield or to rule a kingdom.

Yet there was no laying of blame on their lord,

the noble Hrothgar; he was a good king.

Hrothgar’s minstrel sings about Beowulf

At times the war-band broke into a gallop,

letting their chestnut horses race

wherever they found the going good

on those well-known tracks. Meanwhile, a thane

of the king’s household, a carrier of tales,

a traditional singer deeply schooled

in the lore of the past, linked a new theme

870

to a strict metre. The man started

to recite with skill, rehearsing Beowulf’s

triumphs and feats in well-fashioned lines,

entwining his words.

The tale of Sigemund, the dragon-slayer. Appropriate for Beowulf, who has defeated Grendel

He told what he’d heard
repeated in songs about Sigemund’s exploits,

all of those many feats and marvels,

the struggles and wanderings of Waels’s son,

things unknown to anyone

except to Fitela, feuds and foul doings

confided by uncle to nephew when he felt

880

the urge to speak of them: always they had been

partners in the fight, friends in need.

They killed giants, their conquering swords

had brought them down.

After his death
Sigemund’s glory grew and grew

because of his courage when he killed the dragon,

the guardian of the hoard. Under grey stone

he had dared to enter all by himself

to face the worst without Fitela.

But it came to pass that his sword plunged

890

right through those radiant scales

and drove into the wall. The dragon died of it.

His daring had given him total possession

of the treasure hoard, his to dispose of

however he liked. He loaded a boat:

Waels’s son weighted her hold

with dazzling spoils. The hot dragon melted.

King Heremod remembered and contrasted with Beowulf

Sigemund’s name was known everywhere.

He was utterly valiant and venturesome,

a fence round his fighters and flourished therefore

900

after King Heremod’s prowess declined

and his campaigns slowed down. The king was betrayed,

ambushed in Jutland, overpowered

and done away with. The waves of his grief

had beaten him down, made him a burden,

a source of anxiety to his own nobles:

that expedition was often condemned

in those earlier times by experienced men,

men who relied on his lordship for redress,

who presumed that the part of a prince was to thrive

910

on his father’s throne and defend the nation,

the Shielding land where they lived and belonged,

its holdings and strongholds. Such was Beowulf

in the affection of his friends and of everyone alive.

But evil entered into Heremod.

Meanwhile, the Danes kept racing their mounts

down sandy lanes. The light of day

broke and kept brightening. Bands of retainers

galloped in excitement to the gabled hall

to see the marvel; and the king himself,

920

guardian of the ring-hoard, goodness in person,

walked in majesty from the women’s quarters

with a numerous train, attended by his queen

and her crowd of maidens, across to the mead-hall.

King Hrothgar gives thanks for the relief of Heorot and adopts Beowulf “in his heart”

When Hrothgar arrived at the hall, he spoke,

standing on the steps, under the steep eaves,

gazing at the roofwork and Grendel’s talon:

“First and foremost, let the Almighty Father

be thanked for this sight. I suffered a long

harrowing by Grendel. But the Heavenly Shepherd

930

can work His wonders always and everywhere.

Not long since, it seemed I would never

be granted the slightest solace or relief

from any of my burdens: the best of houses

glittered and reeked and ran with blood.

This one worry outweighed all others—

a constant distress to counsellors entrusted

with defending the people’s forts from assault

by monsters and demons. But now a man,

with the Lord’s assistance, has accomplished something

940

none of us could manage before now

for all our efforts. Whoever she was

who brought forth this flower of manhood,

if she is still alive, that woman can say

that in her labour the Lord of Ages

bestowed a grace on her. So now, Beowulf,

I adopt you in my heart as a dear son.

Nourish and maintain this new connection,

you noblest of men; there’ll be nothing you’ll want for,

no worldly goods that won’t be yours.

950

I have often honoured smaller achievements,

recognized warriors not nearly as worthy,

lavished rewards on the less deserving.

But you have made yourself immortal

by your glorious action. May the God of Ages

continue to keep and requite you well.”

Beowulf’s account of the fight

Beowulf, son of Ecgtheow, spoke:

“We have gone through with a glorious endeavour

and been much favoured in this fight we dared

against the unknown. Nevertheless,

960

if you could have seen the monster himself

where he lay beaten, I would have been better pleased.

My plan was to pounce, pin him down

in a tight grip and grapple him to death—

have him panting for life, powerless and clasped

in my bare hands, his body in thrall.

But I couldn’t stop him from slipping my hold.

The Lord allowed it, my lock on him

wasn’t strong enough, he struggled fiercely

and broke and ran. Yet he bought his freedom

970

at a high price, for he left his hand

and arm and shoulder to show he had been here,

a cold comfort for having come among us.

And now he won’t be long for this world.

He has done his worst but the wound will end him.

He is hasped and hooped and hirpling with pain,

limping and looped in it. Like a man outlawed

for wickedness, he must await

the mighty judgement of God in majesty.”

The trophy: Grendel’s shoulder and claw

There was less tampering and big talk then

980

from Unferth the boaster, less of his blather

as the hall-thanes eyed the awful proof

of the hero’s prowess, the splayed hand

up under the eaves. Every nail,

claw-scale and spur, every spike

and welt on the hand of that heathen brute

was like barbed steel. Everybody said

there was no honed iron hard enough

to pierce him through, no time-proofed blade

that could cut his brutal, blood-caked claw.

The damaged hall repaired

990

Then the order was given for all hands

to help to refurbish Heorot immediately:

men and women thronging the wine-hall,

getting it ready. Gold thread shone

in the wall-hangings, woven scenes

that attracted and held the eye’s attention.

But iron-braced as the inside of it had been,

that bright room lay in ruins now.

The very doors had been dragged from their hinges.

Only the roof remained unscathed

1000

by the time the guilt-fouled fiend turned tail

in despair of his life. But death is not easily

escaped from by anyone:

all of us with souls, earth-dwellers

and children of men, must make our way

to a destination already ordained

where the body, after the banqueting,

sleeps on its deathbed.

A victory feast

Then the due time arrived
for Halfdane’s son to proceed to the hall.

The king himself would sit down to feast.

1010

No group ever gathered in greater numbers

or better order around their ring-giver.

The benches filled with famous men

who fell to with relish; round upon round

of mead was passed; those powerful kinsmen,

Hrothgar and Hrothulf, were in high spirits

in the raftered hall. Inside Heorot

there was nothing but friendship. The Shielding nation

was not yet familiar with feud and betrayal.

Victory gifts presented to Beowulf

Then Halfdane’s son presented Beowulf

1020

with a gold standard as a victory gift,

an embroidered banner; also breast-mail

and a helmet; and a sword carried high,

that was both precious object and token of honour.

So Beowulf drank his drink, at ease;

it was hardly a shame to be showered with such gifts

in front of the hall-troops. There haven’t been many

moments, I am sure, when men exchanged

four such treasures at so friendly a sitting.

An embossed ridge, a band lapped with wire

1030

arched over the helmet: head-protection

to keep the keen-ground cutting edge

from damaging it when danger threatened

and the man was battling behind his shield.

Next the king ordered eight horses

with gold bridles to be brought through the yard

into the hall. The harness of one

included a saddle of sumptuous design,

the battle-seat where the son of Halfdane

rode when he wished to join the sword-play:

1040

wherever the killing and carnage were the worst,

he would be to the fore, fighting hard.

Then the Danish prince, descendant of Ing,

handed over both the arms and the horses,

urging Beowulf to use them well.

And so their leader, the lord and guard

of coffer and strongroom, with customary grace

bestowed upon Beowulf both sets of gifts.

A fair witness can see how well each one behaved.

The other Geats are rewarded

The chieftain went on to reward the others:

1050

each man on the bench who had sailed with Beowulf

and risked the voyage received a bounty,

some treasured possession. And compensation,

a price in gold, was settled for the Geat

Grendel had cruelly killed earlier—

as he would have killed more, had not mindful God

and one man’s daring prevented that doom.

Past and present, God’s will prevails.

Hence, understanding is always best

and a prudent mind. Whoever remains

1060

for long here in this earthly life

will enjoy and endure more than enough.

Another performance by the minstrel

They sang then and played to please the hero,

words and music for their warrior prince,

harp tunes and tales of adventure:

there were high times on the hall benches

and the king’s poet performed his part

with the saga of Finn and his sons, unfolding

the tale of the fierce attack in Friesland

where Hnaef, king of the Danes, met death.

Hildeburh, a Danish princess married to the Frisian King Finn, loses her son (unnamed here) and her brother Hnaef in a fight at Finn’s hall

1070

Hildeburh
had little cause

to credit the Jutes:

son and brother,

she lost them both
on the battlefield.

She, bereft
and blameless, they

foredoomed, cut down
and spear-gored. She,

the woman in shock,
waylaid by grief,

Hoc’s daughter—
how could she not

lament her fate
when morning came

and the light broke

on her murdered dears?

And so farewell
delight on earth,

1080

war carried away

Finn’s troop of thanes,

all but a few.

How then could Finn

hold the line
or fight on

The Danish attack is bloody but indecisive. Hnaef is killed, Hengest takes charge and makes a truce with Finn and the Frisians

to the end with Hengest,
how save

the rump of his force
from that enemy chief?

So a truce was offered
as follows: first

separate quarters
to be cleared for the Danes,

hall and throne
to be shared with the Frisians.

Then, second:

every day

at the dole-out of gifts

Finn, son of Focwald,

1090

should honour the Danes,
bestow with an even

hand to Hengest
and Hengest’s men

the wrought-gold rings,
bounty to match

the measure he gave
his own Frisians—

to keep morale
in the beer-hall high.

The Danish survivors to be quartered and given parity of treatment with the Frisians and their allies, the Jutes

Both sides then
sealed their agreement.

With oaths to Hengest

Finn swore

openly, solemnly,
that the battle survivors

would be guaranteed
honour and status.

No infringement
by word or deed,

1100

no provocation
would be permitted.

Their own ring-giver
after all

was dead and gone,
they were leaderless,

in forced allegiance
to his murderer.

So if any Frisian
stirred up bad blood

with insinuations
or taunts about this,

the blade of the sword
would arbitrate it.

A funeral pyre
was then prepared,

effulgent gold
brought out from the hoard.

The pride and prince
of the Shieldings lay

1110

awaiting the flame.

Everywhere

there were blood-plastered
coats of mail.

The pyre was heaped
with boar-shaped helmets

forged in gold,
with the gashed corpses

of well-born Danes—
many had fallen.

Then Hildeburh
ordered her own

son’s body
be burnt with Hnaef’s,

the flesh on his bones
to sputter and blaze

beside his uncle’s.

The woman wailed

and sang keens,
the warrior went up.

The bodies of the slain burnt on the pyre

1120

Carcass flame
swirled and fumed,

they stood round the burial
mound and howled

as heads melted,
crusted gashes

spattered and ran
bloody matter.

The glutton element
flamed and consumed

the dead of both sides.

Their great days were gone.

Warriors scattered
to homes and forts

all over Friesland,
fewer now, feeling

loss of friends.

Hengest stayed,

lived out that whole
resentful, blood-sullen

1130

winter with Finn,
homesick and helpless.

The Danes, homesick and resentful, spend a winter in exile

No ring-whorled prow
could up then

and away on the sea.

Wind and water

raged with storms,
wave and shingle

were shackled in ice
until another year

appeared in the yard
as it does to this day,

the seasons constant,
the wonder of light

coming over us.

Spring comes

Then winter was gone,

earth’s lap grew lovely,
longing woke

in the cooped-up exile
for a voyage home—

1140

but more for vengeance,
some way of bringing

things to a head:

his sword arm hankered

to greet the Jutes.

So he did not balk

once Hunlafing
placed on his lap

Dazzle-the-Duel,
the best sword of all,

whose edges Jutes
knew only too well.

Danish warriors spur themselves to renew the feud. Finn is killed, his stronghold looted, his widow, Hildeburh, carried back to Denmark

Thus blood was spilled,
the gallant Finn

slain in his home
after Guthlaf and Oslaf

back from their voyage
made old accusation:

the brutal ambush,
the fate they had suffered,

1150

all blamed on Finn.

The wildness in them

had to brim over.

The hall ran red

with blood of enemies.

Finn was cut down,

the queen brought away
and everything

the Shieldings could find
inside Finn’s walls—

the Frisian king’s
gold collars and gemstones—

swept off to the ship.

Over sea-lanes then

back to Daneland
the warrior troop

bore that lady home.

The poem was over,
the poet had performed, a pleasant murmur

1160

started on the benches, stewards did the rounds

with wine in splendid jugs, and Wealhtheow came to sit

in her gold crown between two good men,

uncle and nephew, each one of whom

still trusted the other; and the forthright Unferth,

admired by all for his mind and courage

although under a cloud for killing his brothers,

reclined near the king.

The queen spoke:

“Enjoy this drink, my most generous lord;

raise up your goblet, entertain the Geats

1170

duly and gently, discourse with them,

be open-handed, happy and fond.

Relish their company, but recollect as well

all of the boons that have been bestowed on you.

The bright court of Heorot has been cleansed

and now the word is that you want to adopt

this warrior as a son. So, while you may,

bask in your fortune, and then bequeath

kingdom and nation to your kith and kin,

before your decease. I am certain of Hrothulf.

1180

He is noble and will use the young ones well.

He will not let you down. Should you die before him,

he will treat our children truly and fairly.

He will honour, I am sure, our two sons,

repay them in kind when he recollects

all the good things we gave him once,

the favour and respect he found in his childhood.”

She turned then to the bench where her boys sat,

Hrethric and Hrothmund, with other nobles’ sons,

all the youth together; and that good man,

1190

Beowulf the Geat, sat between the brothers.

Gifts presented, including a torque: Beowulf will present it in due course to King Hygelac, who will die wearing it

The cup was carried to him, kind words

spoken in welcome and a wealth of wrought gold

graciously bestowed: two arm bangles,

a mail-shirt and rings, and the most resplendent

torque of gold I ever heard tell of

anywhere on earth or under heaven.

There was no hoard like it since Hama snatched

the Brosings’ neck-chain and bore it away

with its gems and settings to his shining fort,

1200

away from Eormenric’s wiles and hatred,

and thereby ensured his eternal reward.

Hygelac the Geat, grandson of Swerting,

wore this neck-ring on his last raid;

at bay under his banner, he defended the booty,

treasure he had won. Fate swept him away

because of his proud need to provoke

a feud with the Frisians. He fell beneath his shield,

in the same gem-crusted, kingly gear

he had worn when he crossed the frothing wave-vat.

1210

So the dead king fell into Frankish hands.

They took his breast-mail, also his neck-torque,

and punier warriors plundered the slain

when the carnage ended; Geat corpses

covered the field.

Applause filled the hall.

Then Wealhtheow pronounced in the presence of the company:

“Take delight in this torque, dear Beowulf,

wear it for luck and wear also this mail

from our people’s armoury: may you prosper in them!

Be acclaimed for strength, for kindly guidance

1220

to these two boys, and your bounty will be sure.

You have won renown: you are known to all men

far and near, now and forever.

Your sway is wide as the wind’s home,

as the sea around cliffs. And so, my prince,

I wish you a lifetime’s luck and blessings

to enjoy this treasure. Treat my sons

with tender care, be strong and kind.

Here each comrade is true to the other,

loyal to lord, loving in spirit.

1230

The thanes have one purpose, the people are ready:

having drunk and pledged, the ranks do as I bid.”

Bedtime in Heorot

She moved then to her place. Men were drinking wine

at that rare feast; how could they know fate,

the grim shape of things to come,

the threat looming over many thanes

as night approached and King Hrothgar prepared

to retire to his quarters? Retainers in great numbers

were posted on guard as so often in the past.

Benches were pushed back, bedding gear and bolsters

1240

spread across the floor, and one man

lay down to his rest, already marked for death.

At their heads they placed their polished timber

battle-shields; and on the bench above them,

each man’s kit was kept to hand:

a towering war-helmet, webbed mail-shirt

and great-shafted spear. It was their habit

always and everywhere to be ready for action,

at home or in the camp, in whatever case

and at whatever time the need arose

1250

to rally round their lord. They were a right people.

Another threat is lurking in the night

They went to sleep. And one paid dearly

for his night’s ease, as had happened to them often,

ever since Grendel occupied the gold-hall,

committing evil until the end came,

death after his crimes. Then it became clear,

obvious to everyone once the fight was over,

that an avenger lurked and was still alive,

grimly biding time. Grendel’s mother,

monstrous hell-bride, brooded on her wrongs.

1260

She had been forced down into fearful waters,

the cold depths, after Cain had killed

his father’s son, felled his own

brother with a sword. Branded an outlaw,

marked by having murdered, he moved into the wilds,

shunned company and joy. And from Cain there sprang

misbegotten spirits, among them Grendel,

the banished and accursed, due to come to grips

with that watcher in Heorot waiting to do battle.

The monster wrenched and wrestled with him

1270

but Beowulf was mindful of his mighty strength,

the wondrous gifts God had showered on him:

He relied for help on the Lord of All,

on His care and favour. So he overcame the foe,

brought down the hell-brute. Broken and bowed,

outcast from all sweetness, the enemy of mankind

made for his death-den. But now his mother

had sallied forth on a savage journey,

grief-racked and ravenous, desperate for revenge.

Grendel’s mother attacks

She came to Heorot. There, inside the hall,

1280

Danes lay asleep, earls who would soon endure

a great reversal, once Grendel’s mother

attacked and entered. Her onslaught was less

only by as much as an amazon warrior’s

strength is less than an armed man’s

when the hefted sword, its hammered edge

and gleaming blade slathered in blood,

razes the sturdy boar-ridge off a helmet.

Then in the hall, hard-honed swords

were grabbed from the bench, many a broad shield

1290

lifted and braced; there was little thought of helmets

or woven mail when they woke in terror.

The hell-dam was in panic, desperate to get out,

in mortal terror the moment she was found.

She had pounced and taken one of the retainers

in a tight hold, then headed for the fen.

To Hrothgar, this man was the most beloved

of the friends he trusted between the two seas.

She had done away with a great warrior,

ambushed him at rest.

Beowulf was elsewhere.

1300

Earlier, after the award of the treasure,

the Geat had been given another lodging.

There was uproar in Heorot. She had snatched their
trophy,

Grendel’s bloodied hand. It was a fresh blow

to the afflicted bawn. The bargain was hard,

both parties having to pay

with the lives of friends. And the old lord,

the grey-haired warrior, was heartsore and weary

when he heard the news: his highest-placed adviser,

his dearest companion, was dead and gone.

Beowulf is summoned

1310

Beowulf was quickly brought to the chamber:

the winner of fights, the arch-warrior,

came first-footing in with his fellow troops

to where the king in his wisdom waited,

still wondering whether Almighty God

would ever turn the tide of his misfortunes.

So Beowulf entered with his band in attendance

and the wooden floor-boards banged and rang

as he advanced, hurrying to address the prince of

the Ingwins, asking if he’d rested

1320

since the urgent summons had come as a surprise.

Hrothgar laments the death of his counsellor. He knows Grendel’s mother must avenge her son

Then Hrothgar, the Shieldings’ helmet, spoke:

“Rest? What is rest? Sorrow has returned.

Alas for the Danes! Aeschere is dead.

He was Yrmenlaf’s elder brother

and a soul-mate to me, a true mentor,

my right-hand man when the ranks clashed

and our boar-crests had to take a battering

in the line of action. Aeschere was everything

the world admires in a wise man and a friend.

1330

Then this roaming killer came in a fury

and slaughtered him in Heorot. Where she is hiding,

glutting on the corpse and glorying in her escape,

I cannot tell; she has taken up the feud

because of last night, when you killed Grendel,

wrestled and racked him in ruinous combat

since for too long he had terrorized us

with his depredations. He died in battle,

paid with his life; and now this powerful

other one arrives, this force for evil

1340

driven to avenge her kinsman’s death.

Or so it seems to thanes in their grief,

in the anguish every thane endures

at the loss of a ring-giver, now

that the hand that bestowed so richly has been stilled in death.

The country people’s tales about the monsters

“I have heard it said by my people in hall,

counsellors who live in the upland country,

that they have seen two such creatures

prowling the moors, huge marauders

from some other world. One of these things,

1350

as far as anyone ever can discern,

looks like a woman; the other, warped

in the shape of a man, moves beyond the pale

bigger than any man, an unnatural birth

called Grendel by country people

in former days. They are fatherless creatures,

and their whole ancestry is hidden in a past

of demons and ghosts. They dwell apart

among wolves on the hills, on windswept crags

and treacherous keshes, where cold streams

1360

pour down the mountain and disappear

under mist and moorland.

The haunted mere

A few miles from here

a frost-stiffened wood waits and keeps watch

above a mere; the overhanging bank

is a maze of tree-roots mirrored in its surface.

At night there, something uncanny happens:

the water burns. And the mere bottom

has never been sounded by the sons of men.

On its bank, the heather-stepper halts:

the hart in flight from pursuing hounds

1370

will turn to face them with firm-set horns

and die in the wood rather than dive

beneath its surface. That is no good place.

When wind blows up and stormy weather

makes clouds scud and the skies weep,

out of its depths a dirty surge

is pitched towards the heavens. Now help depends

again on you and on you alone.

The gap of danger where the demon waits

is still unknown to you. Seek it if you dare.

1380

I will compensate you for settling the feud

as I did the last time with lavish wealth,

coffers of coiled gold, if you come back.”

Beowulf bolsters Hrothgar’s courage. He proclaims the heroic code that guides their lives

Beowulf, son of Ecgtheow, spoke:

“Wise sir, do not grieve. It is always better

to avenge dear ones than to indulge in mourning.

For every one of us, living in this world

means waiting for our end. Let whoever can

win glory before death. When a warrior is gone,

that will be his best and only bulwark.

1390

So arise, my lord, and let us immediately

set forth on the trail of this troll-dam.

I guarantee you: she will not get away,

not to dens under ground nor upland groves

nor the ocean floor. She’ll have nowhere to flee to.

Endure your troubles to-day. Bear up

and be the man I expect you to be.”

The expedition to the mere

With that the old lord sprang to his feet

and praised God for Beowulf’s pledge.

Then a bit and halter were brought for his horse

1400

with the plaited mane. The wise king mounted

the royal saddle and rode out in style

with a force of shield-bearers. The forest paths

were marked all over with the monster’s tracks,

her trail on the ground wherever she had gone

across the dark moors, dragging away

the body of that thane, Hrothgar’s best

counsellor and overseer of the country.

So the noble prince proceeded undismayed

up fells and screes, along narrow footpaths

1410

and ways where they were forced into single file,

ledges on cliffs above lairs of water-monsters.

He went in front with a few men,

good judges of the lie of the land,

and suddenly discovered the dismal wood,

mountain trees growing out at an angle

above grey stones: the bloodshot water

surged underneath. It was a sore blow

to all of the Danes, friends of the Shieldings,

a hurt to each and every one

1420

of that noble company when they came upon

Aeschere’s head at the foot of the cliff.

Everybody gazed as the hot gore

kept wallowing up and an urgent war-horn

repeated its notes: the whole party

sat down to watch. The water was infested

with all kinds of reptiles. There were writhing sea-dragons

and monsters slouching on slopes by the cliff,

serpents and wild things such as those that often

surface at dawn to roam the sail-road

1430

and doom the voyage. Down they plunged,

ashing in anger at the loud call

of the battle-bugle. An arrow from the bow

of the Geat chief got one of them

as he surged to the surface: the seasoned shaft

stuck deep in his flank and his freedom in the water

got less and less. It was his last swim.

He was swiftly overwhelmed in the shallows,

prodded by barbed boar-spears,

cornered, beaten, pulled up on the bank,

1440

a strange lake-birth, a loathsome catch

men gazed at in awe.

Beowulf arms for the underwater fight

Beowulf got ready,
donned his war-gear, indifferent to death;
his mighty, hand-forged, fine-webbed mail

would soon meet with the menace underwater.

It would keep the bone-cage of his body safe:

no enemy’s clasp could crush him in it,

no vicious armlock choke his life out.

To guard his head he had a glittering helmet

that was due to be muddied on the mere bottom

1450

and blurred in the upswirl. It was of beaten gold,

princely headgear hooped and hasped

by a weapon-smith who had worked wonders

in days gone by and adorned it with boar-shapes;

since then it had resisted every sword.

And another item lent by Unferth

at that moment of need was of no small importance:

the brehon handed him a hilted weapon,

a rare and ancient sword named Hrunting.

The iron blade with its ill-boding patterns

1460

had been tempered in blood. It had never failed

the hand of anyone who hefted it in battle,

anyone who had fought and faced the worst

in the gap of danger. This was not the first time

it had been called to perform heroic feats.

When he lent that blade to the better swordsman,

Unferth, the strong-built son of Ecglaf,

could hardly have remembered the ranting speech

he had made in his cups. He was not man enough

to face the turmoil of a fight under water

1470

and the risk to his life. So there he lost

fame and repute. It was different for the other

rigged out in his gear, ready to do battle.

Beowulf takes his leave

Beowulf, son of Ecgtheow, spoke:

“Wisest of kings, now that I have come

to the point of action, I ask you to recall

what we said earlier: that you, son of Halfdane

and gold-friend to retainers, that you, if I should fall

and suffer death while serving your cause,

would act like a father to me afterwards.

1480

If this combat kills me, take care

of my young company, my comrades in arms.

And be sure also, my beloved Hrothgar,

to send Hygelac the treasures I received.

Let the lord of the Geats gaze on that gold,

let Hrethel’s son take note of it and see

that I found a ring-giver of rare magnificence

and enjoyed the good of his generosity.

And Unferth is to have what I inherited:

to that far-famed man I bequeath my own

1490

sharp-honed, wave-sheened wonderblade.

With Hrunting I shall gain glory or die.”

After these words, the prince of the Weather-Geats

was impatient to be away and plunged suddenly:

without more ado, he dived into the heaving

depths of the lake. It was the best part of a day

before he could see the solid bottom.

Beowulf is captured by Grendel’s mother

Quickly the one who haunted those waters,

who had scavenged and gone her gluttonous rounds

for a hundred seasons, sensed a human

1500

observing her outlandish lair from above.

So she lunged and clutched and managed to catch him

in her brutal grip; but his body, for all that,

remained unscathed: the mesh of the chain-mail

saved him on the outside. Her savage talons

failed to rip the web of his warshirt.

Then once she touched bottom, that wolfish swimmer

carried the ring-mailed prince to her court

so that for all his courage he could never use

the weapons he carried; and a bewildering horde

1510

came at him from the depths, droves of sea-beasts

who attacked with tusks and tore at his chain-mail

in a ghastly onslaught. The gallant man

could see he had entered some hellish turn-hole

and yet the water did not work against him

because the hall-roofing held off the force of

the current; then he saw firelight,

a gleam and flare-up, a glimmer of brightness.

His sword fails to do damage

The hero observed that swamp-thing from hell,

the tarn-hag in all her terrible strength,

1520

then heaved his war-sword and swung his arm:

the decorated blade came down ringing

and singing on her head. But he soon found

his battle-torch extinguished: the shining blade

refused to bite. It spared her and failed

the man in his need. It had gone through many

hand-to-hand fights, had hewed the armour

and helmets of the doomed, but here at last

the fabulous powers of that heirloom failed.

Hygelac’s kinsman kept thinking about

1530

his name and fame: he never lost heart.

Then, in a fury, he flung his sword away.

He fights back with his bare hands

The keen, inlaid, worm-loop-patterned steel

was hurled to the ground: he would have to rely

on the might of his arm. So must a man do

who intends to gain enduring glory

in a combat. Life doesn’t cost him a thought.

Then the prince of War-Geats, warming to this fight

with Grendel’s mother, gripped her shoulder

and laid about him in a battle frenzy:

1540

he pitched his killer opponent to the floor

but she rose quickly and retaliated,

grappled him tightly in her grim embrace.

The sure-footed fighter felt daunted,

the strongest of warriors stumbled and fell.

So she pounced upon him and pulled out

a broad, whetted knife: now she would avenge

her only child. But the mesh of chain-mail

on Beowulf’s shoulder shielded his life,

turned the edge and tip of the blade.

1550

The son of Ecgtheow would have surely perished

and the Geats lost their warrior under the wide earth

had the strong links and locks of his war-gear

not helped to save him: holy God

decided the victory. It was easy for

the Lord, the Ruler of Heaven, to redress the balance

once Beowulf got back up on his feet.

Beowulf discovers a mighty sword and slays his opponent

Then he saw a blade that boded well,

a sword in her armoury, an ancient heirloom

from the days of the giants, an ideal weapon,

1560

one that any warrior would envy,

but so huge and heavy of itself

only Beowulf could wield it in a battle.

So the Shieldings’ hero, hard-pressed and enraged,

took a firm hold of the hilt and swung

the blade in an arc, a resolute blow

that bit deep into her neck-bone

and severed it entirely, toppling the doomed

house of her flesh; she fell to the floor.

The sword dripped blood, the swordsman was elated.

He proceeds to behead Grendel’s corpse

1570

A light appeared and the place brightened

the way the sky does when heaven’s candle

is shining clearly. He inspected the vault:

with sword held high, its hilt raised

to guard and threaten, Hygelac’s thane

scouted by the wall in Grendel’s wake.

Now the weapon was to prove its worth.

The warrior determined to take revenge

for every gross act Grendel had committed—

and not only for that one occasion

1580

when he’d come to slaughter the sleeping troops,

fifteen of Hrothgar’s house-guards

surprised on their benches and ruthlessly devoured,

and as many again carried away,

a brutal plunder. Beowulf in his fury

now settled that score: he saw the monster

in his resting place, war-weary and wrecked,

a lifeless corpse, a casualty

of the battle in Heorot. The body gaped

at the stroke dealt to it after death:

1590

Beowulf cut the corpse’s head off.

Forebodings of those on the shore

Immediately the counsellors keeping a lookout

with Hrothgar, watching the lake water,

saw a heave-up and surge of waves

and blood in the backwash. They bowed grey heads,

spoke in their sage, experienced way

about the good warrior, how they never again

expected to see that prince returning

in triumph to their king. It was clear to many

that the wolf of the deep had destroyed him forever.

1600

The ninth hour of the day arrived.

The brave Shieldings abandoned the cliff-top

and the king went home; but sick at heart,

staring at the mere, the strangers held on.

They wished, without hope, to behold their lord,

Beowulf himself.

The sword blade melts

Meanwhile, the sword
began to wilt into gory icicles,
to slather and thaw. It was a wonderful thing,

the way it all melted as ice melts

when the Father eases the fetters off the frost

1610

and unravels the water-ropes. He who wields power

over time and tide: He is the true Lord.

Beowulf returns with the sword’s hilt and Grendel’s head

The Geat captain saw treasure in abundance

but carried no spoils from those quarters

except for the head and the inlaid hilt

embossed with jewels; its blade had melted

and the scrollwork on it burnt, so scalding was the blood

of the poisonous fiend who had perished there.

Then away he swam, the one who had survived

the fall of his enemies, flailing to the surface.

1620

The wide water, the waves and pools

were no longer infested once the wandering fiend

let go of her life and this unreliable world.

The seafarers’ leader made for land,

resolutely swimming, delighted with his prize,

the mighty load he was lugging to the surface.

His thanes advanced in a troop to meet him,

thanking God and taking great delight

in seeing their prince back safe and sound.

Quickly the hero’s helmet and mail-shirt

1630

were loosed and unlaced. The lake settled,

clouds darkened above the bloodshot depths.

With high hearts they headed away

along footpaths and trails through the fields,

roads that they knew, each of them wrestling

with the head they were carrying from the lakeside cliff,

men kingly in their courage and capable

of difficult work. It was a task for four

to hoist Grendel’s head on a spear

and bear it under strain to the bright hall.

1640

But soon enough they neared the place,

fourteen Geats in fine fettle,

striding across the outlying ground

in a delighted throng around their leader.

He displays Grendel’s head in Heorot

In he came then, the thane’s commander,

the arch-warrior, to address Hrothgar:

his courage was proven, his glory was secure.

Grendel’s head was hauled by the hair,

dragged across the floor where the people were drinking,

a horror for both queen and company to behold.

1650

They stared in awe. It was an astonishing sight.

A brief account of the fight

Beowulf, son of Ecgtheow, spoke:

“So, son of Halfdane, prince of the Shieldings,

we are glad to bring this booty from the lake.

It is a token of triumph and we tender it to you.

I barely survived the battle under water.

It was hard-fought, a desperate affair

that could have gone badly; if God had not helped me,

the outcome would have been quick and fatal.

Although Hrunting is hard-edged,

1660

I could never bring it to bear in battle.

But the Lord of Men allowed me to behold—

for He often helps the unbefriended—

an ancient sword shining on the wall,

a weapon made for giants, there for the wielding.

Then my moment came in the combat and I struck

the dwellers in that den. Next thing the damascened

sword blade melted; it bloated and it burned

in their rushing blood. I have wrested the hilt

from the enemies’ hand, avenged the evil

1670

done to the Danes; it is what was due.

And this I pledge, O prince of the Shieldings:

you can sleep secure with your company of troops

in Heorot Hall. Never need you fear

for a single thane of your sept or nation,

young warriors or old, that laying waste of life

that you and your people endured of yore.”

Beowulf presents the sword-hilt to Hrothgar

Then the gold hilt was handed over

to the old lord, a relic from long ago

for the venerable ruler. That rare smithwork

1680

was passed on to the prince of the Danes

when those devils perished; once death removed

that murdering, guilt-steeped, God-cursed fiend,

eliminating his unholy life

and his mother’s as well, it was willed to that king

who of all the lavish gift-lords of the north

was the best regarded between the two seas.

Hrothgar spoke; he examined the hilt,

that relic of old times. It was engraved all over

and showed how war first came into the world

1690

and the flood destroyed the tribe of giants.

They suffered a terrible severance from

the Lord; the Almighty made the waters rise,

drowned them in the deluge for retribution.

In pure gold inlay on the sword-guards

there were rune-markings correctly incised,

stating and recording for whom the sword

had been first made and ornamented

with its scrollworked hilt. Then everyone hushed

as the son of Halfdane spoke this wisdom.

Hrothgar’s address to Beowulf

1700

“A protector of his people, pledged to uphold

truth and justice and to respect tradition,

is entitled to affirm that this man

was born to distinction. Beowulf, my friend,

your fame has gone far and wide,

you are known everywhere. In all things you are even-
tempered,

prudent and resolute. So I stand firm by the promise of
friendship

we exchanged before. Forever you will be

your people’s mainstay and your own warriors’

helping hand.

He contrasts Beowulf with King Heremod

Heremod was different,

1710

the way he behaved to Ecgwala’s sons.

His rise in the world brought little joy

to the Danish people, only death and destruction.

He vented his rage on men he caroused with,

killed his own comrades, a pariah king

who cut himself off from his own kind,

even though Almighty God had made him

eminent and powerful and marked him from the start

for a happy life. But a change happened,

he grew bloodthirsty, gave no more rings

1720

to honour the Danes. He suffered in the end

for having plagued his people for so long:

his life lost happiness.

So learn from this
and understand true values. I who tell you
have wintered into wisdom.

Hrothgar’s discourse on the dangers of power

It is a great wonder
how Almighty God in His magnificence
favours our race with rank and scope

and the gift of wisdom; His sway is wide.

Sometimes He allows the mind

of a man of distinguished birth to follow its bent,

1730

grants him fulfilment and felicity on earth

and forts to command in his own country.

He permits him to lord it in many lands

until the man in his unthinkingness

forgets that it will ever end for him.

He indulges his desires; illness and old age

mean nothing to him; his mind is untroubled

by envy or malice or the thought of enemies

with their hate-honed swords. The whole world

conforms to his will, he is kept from the worst

1740

until an element of overweening

enters him and takes hold

while the soul’s guard, its sentry, drowses,

grown too distracted. A killer stalks him,

an archer who draws a deadly bow.

And then the man is hit in the heart,

the arrow flies beneath his defences,

the devious promptings of the demon start.

His old possessions seem paltry to him now.

He covets and resents; dishonours custom

1750

and bestows no gold; and because of good things

that the Heavenly Powers gave him in the past

he ignores the shape of things to come.

Then finally the end arrives

when the body he was lent collapses and falls

prey to its death; ancestral possessions

and the goods he hoarded are inherited by another

who lets them go with a liberal hand.

Beowulf is exhorted to be mindful of the fragility of life

“O flower of warriors, beware of that trap.

Choose, dear Beowulf, the better part,

1760

eternal rewards. Do not give way to pride.

For a brief while your strength is in bloom

but it fades quickly; and soon there will follow

illness or the sword to lay you low,

or a sudden fire or surge of water

or jabbing blade or javelin from the air

or repellent age. Your piercing eye

will dim and darken; and death will arrive,

dear warrior, to sweep you away.

No life is immune to danger: Hrothgar’s experience proves it

“Just so I ruled the Ring-Danes’ country

1770

for fifty years, defended them in wartime

with spear and sword against constant assaults

by many tribes: I came to believe

my enemies had faded from the face of the earth.

Still, what happened was a hard reversal

from bliss to grief. Grendel struck

after lying in wait. He laid waste to the land

and from that moment my mind was in dread

of his depredations. So I praise God

in His heavenly glory that I lived to behold

1780

this head dripping blood and that after such harrowing

I can look upon it in triumph at last.

Take your place, then, with pride

and pleasure and move to the feast. To-morrow morning

our treasure will be shared and showered upon you.”

A feast. The warriors rest

The Geat was elated and gladly obeyed

the old man’s bidding; he sat on the bench.

And soon all was restored, the same as before.

Happiness came back, the hall was thronged,

and a banquet set forth; black night fell

1790

and covered them in darkness.

Then the company rose
for the old campaigner: the grey-haired prince

was ready for bed. And a need for rest

came over the brave shield-bearing Geat.

He was a weary seafarer, far from home,

so immediately a house-guard guided him out,

one whose office entailed looking after

whatever a thane on the road in those days

might need or require. It was noble courtesy.

That great heart rested. The hall towered,

1800

gold-shingled and gabled, and the guest slept in it

until the black raven with raucous glee

announced heaven’s joy, and a hurry of brightness

overran the shadows. Warriors rose quickly,

impatient to be off: their own country

was beckoning the nobles; and the bold voyager

longed to be aboard his distant boat.

Then that stalwart fighter ordered Hrunting

to be brought to Unferth, and bade Unferth

take the sword and thanked him for lending it.

1810

He said he had found it a friend in battle

and a powerful help; he put no blame

on the blade’s cutting edge. He was a considerate man.

Beowulf and his band prepare to depart

And there the warriors stood in their war-gear,

eager to go, while their honoured lord

approached the platform where the other sat.

The undaunted hero addressed Hrothgar.

Beowulf, son of Ecgtheow, spoke:

“Now we who crossed the wide sea

have to inform you that we feel a desire

1820

to return to Hygelac. Here we have been welcomed

and thoroughly entertained. You have treated us well.

If there is any favour on earth I can perform

beyond deeds of arms I have done already,

anything that would merit your affections more,

I shall act, my lord, with alacrity.

If ever I hear from across the ocean

that people on your borders are threatening battle

as attackers have done from time to time,

I shall land with a thousand thanes at my back

1830

to help your cause. Hygelac may be young

to rule a nation, but this much I know

about the king of the Geats: he will come to my aid

and want to support me by word and action

in your hour of need, when honour dictates

that I raise a hedge of spears around you.

Then if Hrethric should think about travelling

as a king’s son to the court of the Geats,

he will find many friends. Foreign places

yield more to one who is himself worth meeting.”

Hrothgar declares that Beowulf is fit to be king of the Geats

1840

Hrothgar spoke and answered him:

“The Lord in His wisdom sent you those words

and they came from the heart. I have never heard

so young a man make truer observations.

You are strong in body and mature in mind,

impressive in speech. If it should come to pass

that Hrethel’s descendant dies beneath a spear,

if deadly battle or the sword blade or disease

fells the prince who guards your people

and you are still alive, then I firmly believe

1850

the seafaring Geats won’t find a man

worthier of acclaim as their king and defender

than you, if only you would undertake

the lordship of your homeland. My liking for you

deepens with time, dear Beowulf.

What you have done is to draw two peoples,

the Geat nation and us neighbouring Danes,

into shared peace and a pact of friendship

in spite of hatreds we have harboured in the past.

For as long as I rule this far-flung land

1860

treasures will change hands and each side will treat

the other with gifts; across the gannet’s bath,

over the broad sea, whorled prows will bring

presents and tokens. I know your people

are beyond reproach in every respect,

steadfast in the old way with friend or foe.”

Gifts presented, farewells taken

Then the earls’ defender furnished the hero

with twelve treasures and told him to set out,

sail with those gifts safely home

to the people he loved, but to return promptly.

1870

And so the good and grey-haired Dane,

that high-born king, kissed Beowulf

and embraced his neck, then broke down

in sudden tears. Two forebodings

disturbed him in his wisdom, but one was stronger:

nevermore would they meet each other

face to face. And such was his affection

that he could not help being overcome:

his fondness for the man was so deep-founded,

it warmed his heart and wound the heartstrings

1880

tight in his breast.

The embrace ended
and Beowulf, glorious in his gold regalia,

stepped the green earth. Straining at anchor

and ready for boarding, his boat awaited him.

So they went on their journey, and Hrothgar’s generosity

was praised repeatedly. He was a peerless king

until old age sapped his strength and did him

mortal harm, as it has done so many.

The Geats march back to the shore

Down to the waves then, dressed in the web

of their chain-mail and warshirts the young men marched

1890

in high spirits. The coast-guard spied them,

thanes setting forth, the same as before.

His salute this time from the top of the cliff

was far from unmannerly; he galloped to meet them

and as they took ship in their shining gear,

he said how welcome they would be in Geatland.

Then the broad hull was beached on the sand

to be cargoed with treasure, horses and war-gear.

The curved prow motioned; the mast stood high

above Hrothgar’s riches in the loaded hold.

1900

The guard who had watched the boat was given

a sword with gold fittings and in future days

that present would make him a respected man

at his place on the mead-bench.

Then the keel plunged
and shook in the sea; and they sailed from Denmark.

They sail from Denmark

Right away the mast was rigged with its sea-shawl;

sail-ropes were tightened, timbers drummed

and stiff winds kept the wave-crosser

skimming ahead; as she heaved forward,

her foamy neck was fleet and buoyant,

1910

a lapped prow loping over currents,

until finally the Geats caught sight of coastline

and familiar cliffs. The keel reared up,

wind lifted it home, it hit on the land.

They arrive at Hygelac’s stronghold

The harbour guard came hurrying out

to the rolling water: he had watched the offing

long and hard, on the lookout for those friends.

With the anchor cables, he moored their craft

right where it had beached, in case a backwash

might catch the hull and carry it away.

1920

Then he ordered the prince’s treasure-trove

to be carried ashore. It was a short step

from there to where Hrethel’s son and heir,

Hygelac the gold-giver, makes his home

on a secure cliff, in the company of retainers.

Queen Hygd introduced. The story of Queen Modthryth, Hygd’s opposite, is told by the poet

The building was magnificent, the king majestic,

ensconced in his hall; and although Hygd, his queen,

was young, a few short years at court,

her mind was thoughtful and her manners sure.

Haereth’s daughter behaved generously

1930

and stinted nothing when she distributed

bounty to the Geats.

Great Queen Modthryth
perpetrated terrible wrongs.

If any retainer ever made bold

to look her in the face, if an eye not her lord’s

stared at her directly during daylight,

the outcome was sealed: he was kept bound

in hand-tightened shackles, racked, tortured

until doom was pronounced—death by the sword,

slash of blade, blood-gush and death qualms

1940

in an evil display. Even a queen

outstanding in beauty must not overstep like that.

A queen should weave peace, not punish the innocent

with loss of life for imagined insults.

But Hemming’s kinsman put a halt to her ways

and drinkers round the table had another tale:

she was less of a bane to people’s lives,

less cruel-minded, after she was married

to the brave Offa, a bride arrayed

in her gold finery, given away

1950

by a caring father, ferried to her young prince

over dim seas. In days to come

she would grace the throne and grow famous

for her good deeds and conduct of life,

her high devotion to the hero king

who was the best king, it has been said,

between the two seas or anywhere else

on the face of the earth. Offa was honoured

far and wide for his generous ways,

his fighting spirit and his far-seeing

1960

defence of his homeland; from him there sprang Eomer,

Garmund’s grandson, kinsman of Hemming,

his warriors’ mainstay and master of the field.

Beowulf and his troop are welcomed in Hygelac’s hall

Heroic Beowulf and his band of men

crossed the wide strand, striding along

the sandy foreshore; the sun shone,

the world’s candle warmed them from the south

as they hastened to where, as they had heard,

the young king, Ongentheow’s killer

and his people’s protector, was dispensing rings

1970

inside his bawn. Beowulf’s return

was reported to Hygelac as soon as possible,

news that the captain was now in the enclosure,

his battle-brother back from the fray

alive and well, walking to the hall.

Room was quickly made, on the king’s orders,

and the troops filed across the cleared floor.

After Hygelac had offered greetings

to his loyal thane in lofty speech,

he and his kinsman, that hale survivor,

1980

sat face to face. Haereth’s daughter

moved about with the mead-jug in her hand,

taking care of the company, filling the cups

that warriors held out. Then Hygelac began

to put courteous questions to his old comrade

in the high hall. He hankered to know

every tale the Sea-Geats had to tell.

Hygelac questions Beowulf

“How did you fare on your foreign voyage,

dear Beowulf, when you abruptly decided

to sail away across the salt water

1990

and fight at Heorot? Did you help Hrothgar

much in the end? Could you ease the prince

of his well-known troubles? Your undertaking

cast my spirits down, I dreaded the outcome

of your expedition and pleaded with you

long and hard to leave the killer be,

let the South-Danes settle their own

blood-feud with Grendel. So God be thanked

I am granted this sight of you, safe and sound.”

Beowulf tells what happened in the land of the Danes

Beowulf, son of Ecgtheow, spoke:

2000

“What happened, Lord Hygelac, is hardly a secret

any more among men in this world—

myself and Grendel coming to grips

on the very spot where he visited destruction

on the Victory-Shieldings and violated

life and limb, losses I avenged

so no earthly offspring of Grendel’s

need ever boast of that bout before dawn,

no matter how long the last of his evil

family survives.

When I first landed

2010

I hastened to the ring-hall and saluted Hrothgar.

Once he discovered why I had come

the son of Halfdane sent me immediately

to sit with his own sons on the bench.

It was a happy gathering. In my whole life

I have never seen mead enjoyed more

in any hall on earth. Sometimes the queen

herself appeared, peace-pledge between nations,

to hearten the young ones and hand out

a torque to a warrior, then take her place.

2020

Sometimes Hrothgar’s daughter distributed

ale to older ranks, in order on the benches:

I heard the company call her Freawaru

as she made her rounds, presenting men

with the gem-studded bowl, young bride-to-be

to the gracious Ingeld, in her gold-trimmed attire.

He foresees the grim consequence of a proposed marriage

The friend of the Shieldings favours her betrothal:

the guardian of the kingdom sees good in it

and hopes this woman will heal old wounds

and grievous feuds.

But generally the spear

2030

is prompt to retaliate when a prince is killed,

no matter how admirable the bride may be.

When the Danes appear at Freawaru’s wedding, their hosts, the Heathobards, will be stirred to avenge an old defeat

“Think how the Heathobards will be bound to feel,

their lord, Ingeld, and his loyal thanes,

when he walks in with that woman to the feast:

Danes are at the table, being entertained,

honoured guests in glittering regalia,

burnished ring-mail that was their hosts’ birthright,

looted when the Heathobards could no longer wield

their weapons in the shield-clash, when they went down

2040

with their beloved comrades and forfeited their lives.

Then an old spearman will speak while they are drinking,

having glimpsed some heirloom that brings alive

memories of the massacre; his mood will darken

and heart-stricken, in the stress of his emotion,

he will begin to test a young man’s temper

and stir up trouble, starting like this:

‘Now, my friend, don’t you recognize

your father’s sword, his favourite weapon,

the one he wore when he went out in his war-mask

2050

to face the Danes on that final day?

After Wethergeld died and his men were doomed

the Shieldings quickly claimed the field,

and now here’s a son of one or other

of those same killers coming through our hall

overbearing us, mouthing boasts,

and rigged in armour that by right is yours.’

And so he keeps on, recalling and accusing,

working things up with bitter words

until one of the lady’s retainers lies

2060

spattered in blood, split open

on his father’s account. The killer knows

the lie of the land and escapes with his life.

Then on both sides the oath-bound lords

will break the peace, a passionate hate

will build up in Ingeld and love for his bride

will falter in him as the feud rankles.

I therefore suspect the good faith of the Heathobards,

the truth of their friendship and the trustworthiness

of their alliance with the Danes.

The tale of the fight with Grendel resumed

But now, my lord,

2070

I shall carry on with my account of Grendel,

the whole story of everything that happened

in the hand-to-hand fight.

After heaven’s gem
had gone mildly to earth, that maddened spirit,

the terror of those twilights, came to attack us

where we stood guard, still safe inside the hall.

There deadly violence came down on Handscio

and he fell as fate ordained, the first to perish,

rigged out for the combat. A comrade from our ranks

had come to grief in Grendel’s maw:

2080

he ate up the entire body.

There was blood on his teeth, he was bloated and furious,

all roused up, yet still unready

to leave the hall empty-handed;

renowned for his might, he matched himself against me,

wildly reaching. He had this roomy pouch,

a strange accoutrement, intricately strung

and hung at the ready, a rare patchwork

of devilishly fitted dragon-skins.

I had done him no wrong, yet the raging demon

wanted to cram me and many another

2090

into this bag—but it was not to be

once I got to my feet in a blind fury.

It would take too long to tell how I repaid

the terror of the land for every life he took

and so won credit for you, my king,

and for all your people. And although he got away

to enjoy life’s sweetness for a while longer,

his right hand stayed behind him in Heorot,

evidence of his miserable overthrow

2100

as he dived into murk on the mere bottom.

Beowulf recalls the feast in Heorot

“I got lavish rewards from the lord of the Danes

for my part in the battle, beaten gold

and much else, once morning came

and we took our places at the banquet table.

There was singing and excitement: an old reciter,

a carrier of stories, recalled the early days.

At times some hero made the timbered harp

tremble with sweetness, or related true

and tragic happenings; at times the king

2110

gave the proper turn to some fantastic tale,

or a battle-scarred veteran, bowed with age,

would begin to remember the martial deeds

of his youth and prime and be overcome

as the past welled up in his wintry heart.

He tells about Grendel’s mother

“We were happy there the whole day long

and enjoyed our time until another night

descended upon us. Then suddenly

the vehement mother avenged her son

and wreaked destruction. Death had robbed her,

2120

Geats had slain Grendel, so his ghastly dam

struck back and with bare-faced defiance

laid a man low. Thus life departed

from the sage Aeschere, an elder wise in counsel.

But afterwards, on the morning following,

the Danes could not burn the dead body

nor lay the remains of the man they loved

on his funeral pyre. She had fled with the corpse

and taken refuge beneath torrents on the mountain.

It was a hard blow for Hrothgar to bear,

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harder than any he had undergone before.

And so the heartsore king beseeched me

in your royal name to take my chances

underwater, to win glory

and prove my worth. He promised me rewards.

Hence, as is well known, I went to my encounter

with the terror-monger at the bottom of the tarn.

For a while it was hand-to-hand between us,

then blood went curling along the currents

and I beheaded Grendel’s mother in the hall

2140

with a mighty sword. I barely managed

to escape with my life; my time had not yet come.

But Halfdane’s heir, the shelter of those earls,

again endowed me with gifts in abundance.

“Thus the king acted with due custom.

I was paid and recompensed completely,

given full measure and the freedom to choose

from Hrothgar’s treasures by Hrothgar himself.

These, King Hygelac, I am happy to present

to you as gifts. It is still upon your grace

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that all favour depends. I have few kinsmen

who are close, my king, except for your kind self.”

Beowulf presents Hygelac with the treasures he has won

Then he ordered the boar-framed standard to be brought,

the battle-topping helmet, the mail-shirt grey as hoar-frost

and the precious war-sword; and proceeded with his
speech.

“When Hrothgar presented this war-gear to me

he instructed me, my lord, to give you some account

of why it signifies his special favour.

He said it had belonged to his older brother,

King Heorogar, who had long kept it,

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but that Heorogar had never bequeathed it

to his son Heoroweard, that worthy scion, speach

loyal as he was.

Enjoy it well.”

I heard four horses were handed over next.

Beowulf bestowed four bay steeds

to go with the armour, swift gallopers,

all alike. So ought a kinsman act,

instead of plotting and planning in secret

to bring people to grief, or conspiring to arrange

the death of comrades. The warrior king

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was uncle to Beowulf and honoured by his nephew:

each was concerned for the other’s good.

I heard he presented Hygd with a gorget,

the priceless torque that the prince’s daughter,

Wealhtheow, had given him; and three horses,

supple creatures, brilliantly saddled.

The bright necklace would be luminous on Hygd’s breast.

Beowulf’s exemplary life is extolled

Thus Beowulf bore himself with valour;

he was formidable in battle yet behaved with honour

and took no advantage; never cut down

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a comrade who was drunk, kept his temper

and, warrior that he was, watched and controlled

his God-sent strength and his outstanding

natural powers. He had been poorly regarded

for a long time, was taken by the Geats

for less than he was worth: and their lord too

had never much esteemed him in the mead-hall.

They firmly believed that he lacked force,

that the prince was a weakling; but presently

every affront to his deserving was reversed.

Hygelac presents Beowulf with a sword and great tracts of land

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The battle-famed king, bulwark of his earls,

ordered a gold-chased heirloom of Hrethel’s

to be brought in; it was the best example

of a gem-studded sword in the Geat treasury.

This he laid on Beowulf’s lap

and then rewarded him with land as well,

seven thousand hides, and a hall and a throne.

Both owned land by birth in that country,

ancestral grounds; but the greater right

and sway were inherited by the higher born.

Time passes Beowulf rules the Geats for fifty years

2200

A lot was to happen in later days

in the fury of battle. Hygelac fell

and the shelter of Heardred’s shield proved useless

against the fierce aggression of the Shylfings:

ruthless swordsmen, seasoned campaigners,

they came against him and his conquering nation,

and with cruel force cut him down

so that afterwards

the wide kingdom

reverted to Beowulf. He ruled it well

for fifty winters, grew old and wise

2210

as warden of the land

until one began

to dominate the dark, a dragon on the prowl

from the steep vaults of a stone-roofed barrow

where he guarded a hoard; there was a hidden passage,

unknown to men, but someone managed

to enter by it and interfere

with the heathen trove. He had handled and removed

a gem-studded goblet; it gained him nothing,

though with a thief’s wiles he had outwitted

the sleeping dragon; that drove him into rage,

2220

as the people of that country would soon discover.

A dragon awakes. An accidental theft provokes his wrath

The intruder who broached the dragon’s treasure

and moved him to wrath had never meant to.

It was desperation on the part of a slave

fleeing the heavy hand of some master,

guilt-ridden and on the run,

going to ground. But he soon began

to shake with terror;………in shock

the wretch….….….……….….….….

….….….……….….….…. panicked and ran

2230

away with the precious….………

metalwork. There were many other

heirlooms heaped inside the earth-house,

because long ago, with deliberate care,

somebody now forgotten

had buried the riches of a high-born race

in this ancient cache. Death had come

and taken them all in times gone by

and the only one left to tell their tale,

the last of their line, could look forward to nothing

2240

but the same fate for himself: he foresaw that his joy

in the treasure would be brief.

Long ago, a hoard was hidden in the earth-house by the last survivor of a forgotten race

A newly constructed

barrow stood waiting, on a wide headland

close to the waves, its entryway secured.

Into it the keeper of the hoard had carried

all the goods and golden ware

worth preserving. His words were few:

“Now, earth, hold what earls once held

and heroes can no more; it was mined from you first

by honourable men. My own people

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have been ruined in war; one by one

they went down to death, looked their last

on sweet life in the hall. I am left with nobody

to bear a sword or burnish plated goblets,

put a sheen on the cup. The companies have departed.

The hard helmet, hasped with gold,

will be stripped of its hoops; and the helmet-shiner

who should polish the metal of the war-mask sleeps;

the coat of mail that came through all fights,

through shield-collapse and cut of sword,

2260

decays with the warrior. Nor may webbed mail

range far and wide on the warlord’s back

beside his mustered troops. No trembling harp,

no tuned timber, no tumbling hawk

swerving through the hall, no swift horse

pawing the courtyard. Pillage and slaughter

have emptied the earth of entire peoples.”

And so he mourned as he moved about the world,

deserted and alone, lamenting his unhappiness

day and night, until death’s flood

2270

brimmed up in his heart.

The dragon nests in the barrow and guards the gold

Then an old harrower of the dark

happened to find the hoard open,

the burning one who hunts out barrows,

the slick-skinned dragon, threatening the night sky

with streamers of fire. People on the farms

are in dread of him. He is driven to hunt out

hoards under ground, to guard heathen gold

through age-long vigils, though to little avail.

For three centuries, this scourge of the people

had stood guard on that stoutly protected

2280

underground treasury, until the intruder

unleashed its fury; he hurried to his lord

with the gold-plated cup and made his plea

to be reinstated. Then the vault was rifled,

the ring-hoard robbed, and the wretched man

had his request granted. His master gazed

on that find from the past for the first time.

The dragon in turmoil

When the dragon awoke, trouble flared again.

He rippled down the rock, writhing with anger

when he saw the footprints of the prowler who had stolen

2290

too close to his dreaming head.

So may a man not marked by fate

easily escape exile and woe

by the grace of God.

The hoard-guardian

scorched the ground as he scoured and hunted

for the trespasser who had troubled his sleep.

Hot and savage, he kept circling and circling

the outside of the mound. No man appeared

in that desert waste, but he worked himself up

by imagining battle; then back in he’d go

2300

in search of the cup, only to discover

signs that someone had stumbled upon

the golden treasures. So the guardian of

the mound, the hoard-watcher, waited for the gloaming

with fierce impatience; his pent-up fury

at the loss of the vessel made him long to hit back

and lash out in flames. Then, to his delight,

the day waned and he could wait no longer

behind the wall, but hurtled forth

in a fiery blaze. The first to suffer

2310

were the people on the land, but before long

it was their treasure-giver who would come to grief.

The dragon wreaks havoc on the Geats

The dragon began to belch out flames

and burn bright homesteads; there was a hot glow

that scared everyone, for the vile sky-winger

would leave nothing alive in his wake.

Everywhere the havoc he wrought was in evidence.

Far and near, the Geat nation

bore the brunt of his brutal assaults

and virulent hate. Then back to the hoard

2320

he would dart before daybreak, to hide in his den.

He had swinged the land, swathed it in flame,

in fire and burning, and now he felt secure

in the vaults of his barrow; but his trust was unavailing.

Beowulf’s ominous feelings about the dragon

Then Beowulf was given bad news,

a hard truth: his own home,

the best of buildings, had been burnt to a cinder,

the throne-room of the Geats. It threw the hero

into deep anguish and darkened his mood:

the wise man thought he must have thwarted

2330

ancient ordinance of the eternal Lord,

broken His commandment. His mind was in turmoil,

unaccustomed anxiety and gloom

confused his brain; the fire-dragon

had rased the coastal region and reduced

forts and earthworks to dust and ashes,

so the war-king planned and plotted his revenge.

The warriors’ protector, prince of the hall-troop,

ordered a marvellous all-iron shield

from his smithy works. He well knew

2340

that linden boards would let him down

and timber burn. After many trials,

he was destined to face the end of his days

in this mortal world; as was the dragon,

for all his long leasehold on the treasure.

Beowulf’s pride and prowess sustain him

Yet the prince of the rings was too proud

to line up with a large army

against the sky-plague. He had scant regard

for the dragon as a threat, no dread at all

of its courage or strength, for he had kept going

2350

often in the past, through perils and ordeals

of every sort, after he had purged

Hrothgar’s hall, triumphed in Heorot

and beaten Grendel. He outgrappled the monster

and his evil kin.

A flashback: Hygelac’s death, Beowulf’s rearguard action and escape across the sea

One of his cruellest

hand-to-hand encounters had happened

when Hygelac, king of the Geats, was killed

in Friesland: the people’s friend and lord,

Hrethel’s son, slaked a sword blade’s

thirst for blood. But Beowulf’s prodigious

2360

gifts as a swimmer guaranteed his safety:

he arrived at the shore, shouldering thirty

battle-dresses, the booty he had won.

There was little for the Hetware to be happy about

as they shielded their faces and fighting on the ground

began in earnest. With Beowulf against them,

few could hope to return home.

Beowulf acts as counsellor to Hygelac’s heir, Heardred

Across the wide sea, desolate and alone,

the son of Ecgtheow swam back to his people.

There Hygd offered him throne and authority

2370

as lord of the ring-hoard: with Hygelac dead,

she had no belief in her son’s ability

to defend their homeland against foreign invaders.

Yet there was no way the weakened nation

could get Beowulf to give in and agree

to be elevated over Heardred as his lord

or to undertake the office of kingship.

But he did provide support for the prince,

honoured and minded him until he matured

as the ruler of Geatland.

Heardred is implicated in Swedish feuds and slain

Then over sea-roads

2380

exiles arrived, sons of Ohthere.

They had rebelled against the best of all

the sea-kings in Sweden, the one who held sway

in the Shylfing nation, their renowned prince,

lord of the mead-hall. That marked the end

for Hygelac’s son: his hospitality

was mortally rewarded with wounds from a sword.

Heardred lay slaughtered and Onela returned

to the land of Sweden, leaving Beowulf

to ascend the throne, to sit in majesty

2390

and rule over the Geats. He was a good king.

Beowulf inherits the kingship, settles the feuding

In days to come, he contrived to avenge

the fall of his prince; he befriended Eadgils

when Eadgils was friendless, aiding his cause

with weapons and warriors over the wide sea,

sending him men. The feud was settled

on a comfortless campaign when he killed Onela.

And so the son of Ecgtheow had survived

every extreme, excelling himself in daring and

in danger, until the day arrived

2400

when he had to come face to face with the dragon.

The day of reckoning: Beowulf and his troop reconnoitre

The lord of the Geats took eleven comrades

and went in a rage to reconnoitre.

By then he had discovered the cause of the affliction

being visited on the people. The precious cup

had come to him from the hand of the finder,

the one who had started all this strife

and was now added as a thirteenth to their number.

They press-ganged and compelled this poor creature

to be their guide. Against his will

2410

he led them to the earth-vault he alone knew,

an underground barrow near the sea-billows

and heaving waves, heaped inside

with exquisite metalwork. The one who stood guard

was dangerous and watchful, warden of that trove

buried under earth: no easy bargain

would be made in that place by any man.

The veteran king sat down on the cliff-top.

Beowulf’s forebodings

He wished good luck to the Geats who had shared

his hearth and his gold. He was sad at heart,

2420

unsettled yet ready, sensing his death.

His fate hovered near, unknowable but certain:

it would soon claim his coffered soul,

part life from limb. Before long

the prince’s spirit would spin free from his body.

He recalls his early days as a ward at King Hrethel’s court

Beowulf, son of Ecgtheow, spoke:

“Many a skirmish I survived when I was young

and many times of war: I remember them well.

At seven, I was fostered out by my father,

left in the charge of my people’s lord.

2430

King Hrethel kept me and took care of me,

was open-handed, behaved like a kinsman.

While I was his ward, he treated me no worse

as a wean about the place than one of his own boys,

Herebeald and Haethcyn, or my own Hygelac.

An accidental killing and its sad consequences for Hrethel

For the eldest, Herebeald, an unexpected

deathbed was laid out, through a brother’s doing,

when Haethcyn bent his horn-tipped bow

and loosed the arrow that destroyed his life.

He shot wide and buried a shaft

2440

in the flesh and blood of his own brother.

That offence was beyond redress, a wrongfooting

of the heart’s affections; for who could avenge

the prince’s life or pay his death-price?

Hrethel’s loss reflected in “The Father’s Lament”

It was like the misery felt by an old man

who has lived to see his son’s body

swing on the gallows. He begins to keen

and weep for his boy, watching the raven

gloat where he hangs: he can be of no help.

The wisdom of age is worthless to him.

2450

Morning after morning, he wakes to remember

that his child is gone; he has no interest

in living on until another heir

is born in the hall, now that his first-born

has entered death’s dominion forever.

He gazes sorrowfully at his son’s dwelling,

the banquet hall bereft of all delight,

the windswept hearthstone; the horsemen are sleeping,

the warriors under ground; what was is no more.

No tunes from the harp, no cheer raised in the yard.

2460

Alone with his longing, he lies down on his bed

and sings a lament; everything seems too large ,

the steadings and the fields.

Such was the feeling

of loss endured by the lord of the Geats

after Herebeald’s death. He was helplessly placed

to set to rights the wrong committed,

could not punish the killer in accordance with the law

of the blood-feud, although he felt no love for him.

Heartsore, wearied, he turned away

from life’s joys, chose God’s light

2470

and departed, leaving buildings and lands

to his sons, as a man of substance will.

Beowulf continues his account of wars between the Geats and the Swedes

“Then over the wide sea Swedes and Geats

battled and feuded and fought without quarter.

Hostilities broke out when Hrethel died.

Ongentheow’s sons were unrelenting,

refusing to make peace, campaigning violently

from coast to coast, constantly setting up

terrible ambushes around Hreasnahill.

My own kith and kin avenged

2480

these evil events, as everybody knows,

but the price was high: one of them paid

with his life. Haethcyn, lord of the Geats,

met his fate there and fell in the battle.

The Swedish king, Ongentheow, dies at the hands of Eofor, one of Hygelac’s thanes

Then, as I have heard, Hygelac’s sword

was raised in the morning against Ongentheow,

his brother’s killer. When Eofor cleft

the old Swede’s helmet, halved it open,

he fell, death-pale: his feud-calloused hand

could not stave off the fatal stroke.

Beowulf recalls his proud days in Hygelac’s retinue

2490

“The treasures that Hygelac lavished on me

I paid for when I fought, as fortune allowed me,

with my glittering sword. He gave me land

and the security land brings, so he had no call

to go looking for some lesser champion,

some mercenary from among the Gifthas

or the Spear-Danes or the men of Sweden.

I marched ahead of him, always there

at the front of the line; and I shall fight like that

for as long as I live, as long as this sword

2500

shall last, which has stood me in good stead

late and soon, ever since I killed

Dayraven the Frank in front of the two armies.

He brought back no looted breastplate

to the Frisian king, but fell in battle,

their standard-bearer, high-born and brave.

No sword blade sent him to his death,

my bare hands stilled his heartbeats

and wrecked the bone-house. Now blade and hand,

sword and sword-stroke, will assay the hoard.”

Beowulf’s last boast

2510

Beowulf spoke, made a formal boast

for the last time: “I risked my life

often when I was young. Now I am old,

but as king of the people I shall pursue this fight

for the glory of winning, if the evil one will only

abandon his earth-fort and face me in the open.”

Then he addressed each dear companion

one final time, those fighters in their helmets,

resolute and high-born: “I would rather not

use a weapon if I knew another way

2520

to grapple with the dragon and make good my boast

as I did against Grendel in days gone by.

But I shall be meeting molten venom

in the fire he breathes, so I go forth

in mail-shirt and shield. I won’t shift a foot

when I meet the cave-guard: what occurs on the wall

between the two of us will turn out as fate,

overseer of men, decides. I am resolved.

I scorn further words against this sky-borne foe.

“Men at arms, remain here on the barrow,

2530

safe in your armour, to see which one of us

is better in the end at bearing wounds

in a deadly fray. This fight is not yours,

nor is it up to any man except me

to measure his strength against the monster

or to prove his worth. I shall win the gold

by my courage, or else mortal combat,

doom of battle, will bear your lord away.”

Beowulf fights the dragon

Then he drew himself up beside his shield.

The fabled warrior in his warshirt and helmet

2540

trusted in his own strength entirely

and went under the crag. No coward path.

Hard by the rock-face that hale veteran,

a good man who had gone repeatedly

into combat and danger and come through,

saw a stone arch and a gushing stream

that burst from the barrow, blazing and wafting

a deadly heat. It would be hard to survive

unscathed near the hoard, to hold firm

against the dragon in those flaming depths.

2550

Then he gave a shout. The lord of the Geats

unburdened his breast and broke out

in a storm of anger. Under grey stone

his voice challenged and resounded clearly.

Hate was ignited. The hoard-guard recognized

a human voice, the time was over

for peace and parleying. Pouring forth

in a hot battle-fume, the breath of the monster

burst from the rock. There was a rumble under ground.

Down there in the barrow, Beowulf the warrior

2560

lifted his shield: the outlandish thing

writhed and convulsed and viciously

turned on the king, whose keen-edged sword,

an heirloom inherited by ancient right,

was already in his hand. Roused to a fury,

each antagonist struck terror in the other.

Unyielding, the lord of his people loomed

by his tall shield, sure of his ground,

while the serpent looped and unleashed itself.

Swaddled in flames, it came gliding and flexing

2570

and racing towards its fate. Yet his shield defended

the renowned leader’s life and limb

for a shorter time than he meant it to:

that final day was the first time

when Beowulf fought and fate denied him

glory in battle. So the king of the Geats

raised his hand and struck hard

at the enamelled scales, but scarcely cut through:

the blade flashed and slashed yet the blow

was far less powerful than the hard-pressed king

2580

had need of at that moment. The mound-keeper

went into a spasm and spouted deadly flames:

when he felt the stroke, battle-fire

billowed and spewed. Beowulf was foiled

of a glorious victory. The glittering sword,

infallible before that day,

failed when he unsheathed it, as it never should have.

Beowulf’s sword fails him

For the son of Ecgtheow, it was no easy thing

to have to give ground like that and go

unwillingly to inhabit another home

2590

in a place beyond; so every man must yield

the leasehold of his days.

All but one of Beowulf’s band withdraw to safety

Before long

the fierce contenders clashed again.

The hoard-guard took heart, inhaled

and swelled up and got a new wind; he who had once ruled

was furled in fire and had to face the worst.

No help or backing was to be had then

from his high-born comrades; that hand-picked troop

broke ranks and ran for their lives

to the safety of the wood. But within one heart

2600

sorrow welled up: in a man of worth

the claims of kinship cannot be denied.

Wiglaf stands by his lord

His name was Wiglaf, a son of Weohstan’s,

a well-regarded Shylfing warrior

related to Aelfhere. When he saw his lord

tormented by the heat of his scalding helmet,

he remembered the bountiful gifts bestowed on him,

how well he lived among the Waegmundings,

the freehold he inherited from his father before him.

He could not hold back: one hand brandished

2610

the yellow-timbered shield, the other drew his sword—

an ancient blade that was said to have belonged

to Eanmund, the son of Ohthere, the one

Weohstan had slain when he was an exile without friends.

The deeds of Wiglaf’s father, Weohstan, recalled

He carried the arms to the victim’s kinfolk,

the burnished helmet, the webbed chain-mail

and that relic of the giants. But Onela returned

the weapons to him, rewarded Weohstan

with Eanmund’s war-gear. He ignored the blood-feud,

the fact that Eanmund was his brother’s son.

2620

Weohstan kept that war-gear for a lifetime,

the sword and the mail-shirt, until it was the son’s turn

to follow his father and perform his part.

Then, in old age, at the end of his days

among the Weather-Geats, he bequeathed to Wiglaf

innumerable weapons.

And now the youth

was to enter the line of battle with

his lord, his first time to be tested as a fighter.

His spirit did not break and the ancestral blade

would keep its edge, as the dragon discovered

2630

as soon as they came together in the combat.

Wiglaf’s speech to the shirkers

Sad at heart, addressing his companions,

Wiglaf spoke wise and fluent words:

“I remember that time when mead was flowing,

how we pledged loyalty to our lord in the hall,

promised our ring-giver we would be worth our price,

make good the gift of the war-gear,

those swords and helmets, as and when

his need required it. He picked us out

from the army deliberately, honoured us and judged us

2640

fit for this action, made me these lavish gifts—

and all because he considered us the best

of his arms-bearing thanes. And now, although

he wanted this challenge to be one he’d face

by himself alone—the shepherd of our land,

a man unequalled in the quest for glory

and a name for daring—now the day has come

when this lord we serve needs sound men

to give him their support. Let us go to him,

help our leader through the hot flame

2650

and dread of the fire. As God is my witness,

I would rather my body were robed in the same

burning blaze as my gold-giver’s body

than go back home bearing arms.

That is unthinkable, unless we have first

slain the foe and defended the life

of the prince of the Weather-Geats. I well know

the things he has done for us deserve better.

Should he alone be left exposed

to fall in battle? We must bond together,

2660

shield and helmet, mail-shirt and sword.”

Wiglaf goes to Beowulf’s aid

Then he waded the dangerous reek and went

under arms to his lord, saying only:

“Go on, dear Beowulf, do everything

you said you would when you were still young

and vowed you would never let your name and fame

be dimmed while you lived. Your deeds are famous,

so stay resolute, my lord, defend your life now

with the whole of your strength. I shall stand by you.”

The dragon attacks again

After those words, a wildness rose

2670

in the dragon again and drove it to attack,

heaving up fire, hunting for enemies,

the humans it loathed. Flames lapped the shield,

charred it to the boss, and the body armour

on the young warrior was useless to him.

But Wiglaf did well under the wide rim

Beowulf shared with him once his own had shattered

in sparks and ashes.

Inspired again

by the thought of glory, the war-king threw

his whole strength behind a sword-stroke

2680

and connected with the skull. And Naegling snapped.

Another setback

Beowulf’s ancient iron-grey sword

let him down in the fight. It was never his fortune

to be helped in combat by the cutting edge

of weapons made of iron. When he wielded a sword,

no matter how blooded and hard-edged the blade

his hand was too strong, the stroke he dealt

(I have heard) would ruin it. He could reap no advantage.

The dragon’s third onslaught. He draws blood

Then the bane of that people, the fire-breathing dragon,

was mad to attack for a third time.

2690

When a chance came, he caught the hero

in a rush of flame and clamped sharp fangs

into his neck. Beowulf’s body

ran wet with his life-blood: it came welling out.

Wiglaf gets past the flames and strikes

Next thing, they say, the noble son of Weohstan

saw the king in danger at his side

and displayed his inborn bravery and strength

He left the head alone, but his fighting hand

was burned when he came to his kinsman’s aid.

He lunged at the enemy lower down

2700

so that his decorated sword sank into its belly

and the flames grew weaker.

Beowulf delivers the fatal wound

Once again the king

gathered his strength and drew a stabbing knife

he carried on his belt, sharpened for battle.

He stuck it deep into the dragon’s flank.

Beowulf dealt it a deadly wound.

They had killed the enemy, courage quelled his life;

that pair of kinsmen, partners in nobility,

had destroyed the foe. So every man should act,

be at hand when needed; but now, for the king,

2710

this would be the last of his many labours

and triumphs in the world.

Then the wound

dealt by the ground-burner earlier began

to scald and swell; Beowulf discovered

deadly poison suppurating inside him,

surges of nausea, and so, in his wisdom,

the prince realized his state and struggled

towards a seat on the rampart. He steadied his gaze

on those gigantic stones, saw how the earthwork

was braced with arches built over columns.

2720

And now that thane unequalled for goodness

with his own hands washed his lord’s wounds,

swabbed the weary prince with water,

bathed him clean, unbuckled his helmet.

Beowulf senses that he is near death

Beowulf spoke: in spite of his wounds,

mortal wounds, he still spoke

for he well knew his days in the world

had been lived out to the end: his allotted time

was drawing to a close, death was very near.

He thinks back on his life

“Now is the time when I would have wanted

2730

to bestow this armour on my own son,

had it been my fortune to have fathered an heir

and live on in his flesh. For fifty years

I ruled this nation. No king

of any neighbouring clan would dare

face me with troops, none had the power

to intimidate me. I took what came,

cared for and stood by things in my keeping,

never fomented quarrels, never

swore to a lie. All this consoles me,

2740

doomed as I am and sickening for death;

because of my right ways, the Ruler of mankind

need never blame me when the breath leaves my body

for murder of kinsmen. Go now quickly,

dearest Wiglaf, under the grey stone

where the dragon is laid out, lost to his treasure;

hurry to feast your eyes on the hoard.

He bids Wiglaf to inspect the hoard and return with a portion of the treasure

Away you go: I want to examine

that ancient gold, gaze my fill

on those garnered jewels; my going will be easier

2750

for having seen the treasure, a less troubled letting-go

of the life and lordship I have long maintained.”

Wiglaf enters the dragon’s barrow

And so, I have heard, the son of Weohstan

quickly obeyed the command of his languishing

war-weary lord; he went in his chain-mail

under the rock-piled roof of the barrow,

exulting in his triumph, and saw beyond the seat

a treasure-trove of astonishing richness,

wall-hangings that were a wonder to behold,

glittering gold spread across the ground,

2760

the old dawn-scorching serpent’s den

packed with goblets and vessels from the past,

tarnished and corroding. Rusty helmets

all eaten away. Armbands everywhere,

artfully wrought. How easily treasure

buried in the ground, gold hidden

however skilfully, can escape from any man!

And he saw too a standard, entirely of gold,

hanging high over the hoard,

a masterpiece of filigree; it glowed with light

2770

so he could make out the ground at his feet

and inspect the valuables. Of the dragon there was no

remaining sign: the sword had despatched him.

Then, the story goes, a certain man

plundered the hoard in that immemorial howe,

filled his arms with flagons and plates,

anything he wanted; and took the standard also,

most brilliant of banners.

Already the blade

of the old king’s sharp killing-sword

had done its worst: the one who had for long

2780

minded the hoard, hovering over gold,

unleashing fire, surging forth

midnight after midnight, had been mown down.

He returns with treasure

Wiglaf went quickly, keen to get back,

excited by the treasure. Anxiety weighed

on his brave heart—he was hoping he would find

the leader of the Geats alive where he had left him

helpless, earlier, on the open ground.

So he came to the place, carrying the treasure,

and found his lord bleeding profusely,

2790

his life at an end; again he began

to swab his body. The beginnings of an utterance

broke out from the king’s breast-cage.

The old lord gazed sadly at the gold.

Beowulf gives thanks and orders the construction of a barrow to commemorate him

“To the everlasting Lord of All,

to the King of Glory, I give thanks

that I behold this treasure here in front of me,

that I have been allowed to leave my people

so well endowed on the day I die.

Now that I have bartered my last breath

2800

to own this fortune, it is up to you

to look after their needs. I can hold out no longer.

Order my troop to construct a barrow on a headland

on the coast, after my pyre has cooled.

It will loom on the horizon at Hronesness

and be a reminder among my people—

so that in coming times crews under sail

will call it Beowulf’s Barrow, as they steer

ships across the wide and shrouded waters.”

Then the king in his great-heartedness unclasped

2810

the collar of gold from his neck and gave it

to the young thane, telling him to use

it and the warshirt and the gilded helmet well.

Beowulf’s last words

“You are the last of us, the only one left

of the Waegmundings. Fate swept us away,

sent my whole brave high-born clan

to their final doom. Now I must follow them.”

That was the warrior’s last word.

He had no more to confide. The furious heat

of the pyre would assail him. His soul fled from his breast

2820

to its destined place among the steadfast ones.

The dragon too has been destroyed

It was hard then on the young hero,

having to watch the one he held so dear

there on the ground, going through

his death agony. The dragon from underearth,

his nightmarish destroyer, lay destroyed as well,

utterly without life. No longer would his snakefolds

ply themselves to safeguard hidden gold.

Hard-edged blades, hammered out

and keenly filed, had finished him

2830

so that the sky-roamer lay there rigid,

brought low beside the treasure-lodge.

Never again would he glitter

and glide and show himself off in midnight air,

exulting in his riches: he fell to earth

through the battle-strength in Beowulf’s arm.

There were few, indeed, as far as I have heard,

big and brave as they may have been,

few who would have held out if they had had to face

the outpourings of that poison-breather

2840

or gone foraging on the ring-hall floor

and found the deep barrow-dweller

on guard and awake.

The treasure had been won,

bought and paid for by Beowulf’s death.

Both had reached the end of the road

through the life they had been lent.

Before long

the battle-dodgers abandoned the wood,

the ones who had let down their lord earlier,

the tail-turners, ten of them together.

The battle-dodgers come back

When he needed them most, they had made off.

2850

Now they were ashamed and came behind shields,

in their battle-outfits, to where the old man lay.

They watched Wiglaf, sitting worn out,

a comrade shoulder to shoulder with his lord,

trying in vain to bring him round with water.

Much as he wanted to, there was no way

he could preserve his lord’s life on earth

or alter in the least the Almighty’s will.

What God judged right would rule what happened

to every man, as it does to this day.

2860

Then a stern rebuke was bound to come

from the young warrior to the ones who had been
cowards.

Wiglaf, son of Weohstan, spoke

disdainfully and in disappointment:

“Anyone ready to admit the truth

will surely realize that the lord of men

who showered you with gifts and gave

you the armour you are standing in—when he would distribute

helmets and mail-shirts to men on the mead-benches,

a prince treating his thanes in hall

2870

to the best he could find, far or near—

was throwing weapons uselessly away.

It would be a sad waste when the war broke out.

Beowulf had little cause to brag

about his armed guard; yet God who ordains

who wins or loses allowed him to strike

with his own blade when bravery was needed.

Wiglaf rebukes them

There was little I could do to protect his life

in the heat of the fray, yet I found new strength

welling up when I went to help him.

2880

Then my sword connected and the deadly assaults

of our foe grew weaker, the fire coursed

less strongly from his head. But when the worst happened

too few rallied around the prince.

He predicts that enemies will now attack the Geats

“So it is goodbye now to all you know and love

on your home ground, the open-handedness,

the giving of war-swords. Every one of you

with freeholds of land, our whole nation,

will be dispossessed, once princes from beyond

get tidings of how you turned and fled

2890

and disgraced yourselves. A warrior will sooner

die than live a life of shame.”

Then he ordered the outcome of the fight to be reported

to those camped on the ridge, that crowd of retainers

who had sat all morning, sad at heart,

shield-bearers wondering about

the man they loved: would this day be his last

or would he return? He told the truth

and did not balk, the rider who bore

news to the cliff-top. He addressed them all:

2900

“Now the people’s pride and love,

the lord of the Geats, is laid on his deathbed,

brought down by the dragon’s attack.

A messenger tells the people that Beowulf is dead

Beside him lies the bane of his life,

dead from knife-wounds. There was no way

Beowulf could manage to get the better

of the monster with his sword. Wiglaf sits

at Beowulf’s side, the son of Weohstan,

the living warrior watching by the dead,

keeping weary vigil, holding a wake

2910

for the loved and the loathed.

He foresees wars with the Franks and the Frisians

Now war is looming

over our nation, soon it will be known

to Franks and Frisians, far and wide,

that the king is gone. Hostility has been great

among the Franks since Hygelac sailed forth

at the head of a war-fleet into Friesland:

there the Hetware harried and attacked

and overwhelmed him with great odds.

The leader in his war-gear was laid low,

fell amongst followers; that lord did not favour

2920

his company with spoils. The Merovingian king

has been an enemy to us ever since.

The Swedes too will strike to avenge the slaughter of Ongentheow

“Nor do I expect peace or pact-keeping

of any sort from the Swedes. Remember:

at Ravenswood, Ongentheow

slaughtered Haethcyn, Hrethel’s son,

when the Geat people in their arrogance

first attacked the fierce Shylfings.

The return blow was quickly struck

by Ohthere’s father. Old and terrible,

2930

he felled the sea-king and saved his own

aged wife, the mother of Onela

and of Ohthere, bereft of her gold rings.

Ongentheow’s last engagement at Ravenswood: he cornered a Geatish force

Then he kept hard on the heels of the foe

and drove them, leaderless, lucky to get away,

in a desperate rout into Ravenswood.

His army surrounded the weary remnant

where they nursed their wounds; all through the night

he howled threats at those huddled survivors,

promised to axe their bodies open

2940

when dawn broke, dangle them from gallows

to feed the birds. But at first light

when their spirits were lowest, relief arrived.

They heard the sound of Hygelac’s horn,

his trumpet calling as he came to find them,

the hero in pursuit, at hand with troops.

Hygelac relieved the besieged Geats

“The bloody swathe that Swedes and Geats

cut through each other was everywhere.

No one could miss their murderous feuding.

Then the old man made his move,

2950

pulled back, barred his people in:

Ongentheow withdrew to higher ground.

Ongentheow withdrew

Hygelac’s pride and prowess as a fighter

were known to the earl; he had no confidence

that he could hold out against that horde of seamen,

defend wife and the ones he loved

from the shock of the attack. He retreated for shelter

behind the earthwall. Then Hygelac swooped

on the Swedes at bay, his banners swarmed

into their refuge, his Geat forces

2960

drove forward to destroy the camp.

There in his grey hairs, Ongentheow

was cornered, ringed around with swords.

The Swedish king fought for his life. He survived a blow from Wulf, hit back, but was killed by Wulf’s brother, Eofor

And it came to pass that the king’s fate

was in Eofor’s hands, and in his alone.

Wulf, son of Wonred, went for him in anger,

split him open so that blood came spurting

from under his hair. The old hero

still did not flinch, but parried fast,

hit back with a harder stroke:

2970

the king turned and took him on.

Then Wonred’s son, the brave Wulf,

could land no blow against the aged lord.

Ongentheow divided his helmet

so that he buckled and bowed his bloodied head

and dropped to the ground. But his doom held off.

Though he was cut deep, he recovered again.

“With his brother down, the undaunted Eofor,

Hygelac’s thane, hefted his sword

and smashed murderously at the massive helmet

2980

past the lifted shield. And the king collapsed,

The shepherd of people was sheared of life.

“Many then hurried to help Wulf,

bandaged and lifted him, now that they were left

masters of the blood-soaked battleground.

One warrior stripped the other,

looted Ongentheow’s iron mail-coat,

his hard sword-hilt, his helmet too,

and carried the graith to King Hygelac;

he accepted the prize, promised fairly

2990

that reward would come, and kept his word.

The victorious Geats returned home

For their bravery in action, when they arrived home

Eofor and Wulf were overloaded

by Hrethel’s son, Hygelac the Geat,

with gifts of land and linked rings

that were worth a fortune. They had won glory,

so there was no gainsaying his generosity.

And he gave Eofor his only daughter

to bide at home with him, an honour and a bond.

The messenger predicts that the Swedes will soon retaliate

“So this bad blood between us and the Swedes,

3000

this vicious feud, I am convinced,

is bound to revive; they will cross our borders

and attack in force when they find out

that Beowulf is dead. In days gone by

when our warriors fell and we were undefended

he kept our coffers and our kingdom safe.

He worked for the people, but as well as that

With Beowulf gone, a tragic future awaits

he behaved like a hero.

We must hurry now

to take a last look at the king

and launch him, lord and lavisher of rings,

3010

on the funeral road. His royal pyre

will melt no small amount of gold:

heaped there in a hoard, it was bought at heavy cost,

and that pile of rings he paid for at the end

with his own life will go up with the flame,

be furled in fire: treasure no follower

will wear in his memory, nor lovely woman

link and attach as a torque around her neck—

but often, repeatedly, in the path of exile

they shall walk bereft, bowed under woe,

3020

now that their leader’s laugh is silenced,

high spirits quenched. Many a spear

dawn-cold to the touch will be taken down

and waved on high; the swept harp

won’t waken warriors, but the raven winging

darkly over the doomed will have news,

tidings for the eagle of how he hoked and ate,

how the wolf and he made short work of the dead.”

Such was the drift of the dire report

that gallant man delivered. He got little wrong

3030

in what he told and predicted.

The whole troop

rose in tears, then took their way

to the uncanny scene under Earnaness.

There, on the sand, where his soul had left him,

they found him at rest, their ring-giver

from days gone by. The great man

had breathed his last. Beowulf the king

had indeed met with a marvellous death.

The Geats find the two bodies

But what they saw first was far stranger:

the serpent on the ground, gruesome and vile,

3040

lying facing him. The fire-dragon

was scaresomely burnt, scorched all colours.

From head to tail, his entire length

was fifty feet. He had shimmered forth

on the night air once, then winged back

down to his den; but death owned him now,

he would never enter his earth-gallery again.

Beside him stood pitchers and piled-up dishes,

silent flagons, precious swords

eaten through with rust, ranged as they had been

3050

while they waited their thousand winters under ground.

That huge cache, gold inherited

from an ancient race, was under a spell—

which meant no one was ever permitted

to enter the ring-hall unless God Himself,

mankind’s Keeper, True King of Triumphs,

allowed some person pleasing to Him—

and in His eyes worthy—to open the hoard.

What came about brought to nothing

the hopes of the one who had wrongly hidden

3060

riches under the rock-face. First the dragon slew

that man among men, who in turn made fierce amends

and settled the feud. Famous for his deeds

a warrior may be, but it remains a mystery

where his life will end, when he may no longer

dwell in the mead-hall among his own.

So it was with Beowulf, when he faced the cruelty

and cunning of the mound-guard. He himself was ignorant

of how his departure from the world would happen.

The high-born chiefs who had buried the treasure

3070

declared it until doomsday so accursed

that whoever robbed it would be guilty of wrong

and grimly punished for their transgression,

hasped in hell-bonds in heathen shrines.

Yet Beowulf’s gaze at the gold treasure

when he first saw it had not been selfish.

Wiglaf ponders Beowulf’s fate

Wiglaf, son of Weohstan, spoke:

“Often when one man follows his own will

many are hurt. This happened to us.

Nothing we advised could ever convince

3080

the prince we loved, our land’s guardian,

not to vex the custodian of the gold,

let him lie where he was long accustomed,

lurk there under earth until the end of the world.

He held to his high destiny. The hoard is laid bare,

but at a grave cost; it was too cruel a fate

that forced the king to that encounter.

I have been inside and seen everything

amassed in the vault. I managed to enter

although no great welcome awaited me

3090

under the earthwall. I quickly gathered up

a huge pile of the priceless treasures

handpicked from the hoard and carried them here

where the king could see them. He was still himself,

alive, aware, and in spite of his weakness

he had many requests. He wanted me to greet you

and order the building of a barrow that would crown

the site of his pyre, serve as his memorial,

in a commanding position, since of all men

to have lived and thrived and lorded it on earth

3100

his worth and due as a warrior were the greatest.

He reports Beowulf’s last wishes

Now let us again go quickly

and feast our eyes on that amazing fortune

heaped under the wall. I will show the way

and take you close to those coffers packed with rings

and bars of gold. Let a bier be made

and got ready quickly when we come out

and then let us bring the body of our lord,

the man we loved, to where he will lodge

for a long time in the care of the Almighty.”

3110

Then Weohstan’s son, stalwart to the end,

had orders given to owners of dwellings,

many people of importance in the land,

to fetch wood from far and wide

for the good man’s pyre.

Wiglaf gives orders for the building of a funeral pyre

“Now shall flame consume

our leader in battle, the blaze darken

round him who stood his ground in the steel-hail,

when the arrow-storm shot from bowstrings

pelted the shield-wall. The shaft hit home.

Feather-fledged, it finned the barb in flight.”

He goes with seven thanes to remove the treasure from the hoard

3120

Next the wise son of Weohstan

called from among the king’s thanes

a group of seven: he selected the best

and entered with them, the eighth of their number,

under the God-cursed roof; one raised

a lighted torch and led the way.

No lots were cast for who should loot the hoard

for it was obvious to them that every bit of it

lay unprotected within the vault,

there for the taking. It was no trouble

3130

to hurry to work and haul out

the priceless store. They pitched the dragon

over the clifftop, let tide’s flow

and backwash take the treasure-minder.

Then coiled gold was loaded on a cart

in great abundance, and the grey-haired leader,

the prince on his bier, borne to Hronesness.

Beowulf’s funeral

The Geat people built a pyre for Beowulf,

stacked and decked it until it stood four-square,

hung with helmets, heavy war-shields

3140

and shining armour, just as he had ordered.

Then his warriors laid him in the middle of it,

mourning a lord far-famed and beloved.

On a height they kindled the hugest of all

funeral fires; fumes of woodsmoke

billowed darkly up, the blaze roared

and drowned out their weeping, wind died down

and flames wrought havoc in the hot bone-house,

burning it to the core. They were disconsolate

and wailed aloud for their lord’s decease.

A Geat woman’s dread

3150

A Geat woman too sang out in grief;

with hair bound up, she unburdened herself

of her worst fears, a wild litany

of nightmare and lament: her nation invaded,

enemies on the rampage, bodies in piles,

slavery and abasement. Heaven swallowed the smoke.

Beowulf’s barrow

Then the Geat people began to construct

a mound on a headland, high and imposing,

a marker that sailors could see from far away,

and in ten days they had done the work.

3160

It was their hero’s memorial; what remained from the fire

they housed inside it, behind a wall

as worthy of him as their workmanship could make it.

And they buried torques in the barrow,

and jewels and a trove of such things as trespassing men

had once dared to drag from the hoard.

They let the ground keep that ancestral treasure,

gold under gravel, gone to earth,

as useless to men now as it ever was.

His people lament

Then twelve warriors rode around the tomb,

3170

chieftain’s sons, champions in battle,

all of them distraught, chanting in dirges,

mourning his loss as a man and a king.

They extolled his heroic nature and exploits

and gave thanks for his greatness; which was the proper
thing,

for a man should praise a prince whom he holds dear

and cherish his memory when that moment comes

when he has to be convoyed from his bodily home.

So the Geat people, his hearth companions,

sorrowed for the lord who had been laid low.

3180

They said that of all the kings upon the earth

he was the man most gracious and fair-minded,

kindest to his people and keenest to win fame.

Family Trees

Family trees of the Danish, Swedish, and Geatish dynasties.

Names given here are the ones used in this translation.

Acknowledgements

The proposal that I should translate Beowulf came in the early 1980S from the editors of The Norton Anthology of English Literature, so my first thanks go to M. H. Abrams and Jon Stallworthy, who encouraged the late John Benedict to commission some preliminary passages. Then, when I got going in earnest four years ago, Norton appointed Professor Alfred David to keep a learned eye on what I was making of the original, and without his annotations on the first draft and his many queries and suggested alternatives as the manuscript advanced towards completion, this translation would have been a weaker and a wobblier thing. Al’s responses were informed by scholarship and by a lifetime’s experience of teaching the poem, so they were invaluable. Nevertheless, I was often reluctant to follow his advice and persisted many times in what we both knew were erroneous ways, so he is not to be held responsible for any failures here in the construing of the original or for the different directions in which it is occasionally skewed.

I am also grateful to W. W. Norton & Co. for allowing the translation to be published by Faber and Faber in London and Farrar, Straus and Giroux in New York.

At Faber’s, I benefited greatly from Christopher Reid’s editorial pencil on the first draft and Paul Keegan’s on the second. I also had important encouragement and instruction in the latter stages of the work from colleagues at Harvard, who now include by happy coincidence the present Associate General Editor of The Norton Anthology, Professor Stephen Greenblatt. I remember with special pleasure a medievalists’ seminar where I finally recanted on the use of the word “gilly” in the presence of Professors Larry Benson, Dan Donoghue, Joseph Harris, and Derek Pearsall. Professor John R. Niles happened to attend that seminar and I was lucky to enjoy another, too brief discussion with him in Berkeley, worrying about word choices and wondering about the prejudice in favour of Anglo-Saxon over Latinate diction in translations of the poem.

Helen Vendler’s reading helped, as ever, in many points of detail, and I received other particular and important comments from Professor Mary Clayton and Peter Sacks.

Extracts from the first hundred lines of the translation appeared in The Haw Lantern (1987) and Causley at 70 (1987). Excerpts from the more recent work were published in Agni, The Sunday Times, The Threepenny Review, The Times Literary Supplement; also in A Parcel of Poems: For Ted Hughes on His Sixty-fifth Birthday and The Literary Man, Essays Presented to Donald W. Hannah. Lines 88–98 were printed in January 1999 by Bow & Arrow Press as a tribute to Professor William Alfred, himself a translator of the poem and, while he lived, one of the great teachers of it. Bits of the introduction first appeared in The Sunday Times and in an article entitled “Further Language” (Studies in the Literary Imagination, vol. XXX, no. 2). The epigraph to the introduction is from my poem “The Settle Bed” (Seeing Things, 1991). The broken lines on p. 151 indicate lacunae in the original text.

S.H.

Winner of the Whitbread Award

“How did he do it? How did Seamus Heaney fashion verses, singularly handsome verses that not only capture the somber grandeur and mythic vigor of the Anglo-Saxon original, but also reflect the rhythm and timbre of the English we speak today…. This newborn translation makes accessible to everyone the first supremely great poem to be written in the English language.”

—Colin Campbell, Christian Science Monitor

“Mr. Heaney’s translation beats with a recurring pulse, from homely and concrete to elevated and back again. The great battle scenes are rendered with a power and grisly horror both increased and made oddly transparent by a freshness and innocence of diction…. In sustaining contrast is the lyricism, quiet yet immediate, of the small passages.”

—Richard Eder, New York Times

“As vivid as a tabloid headline and as visceral as a nightmare. Heaney’s own poetic vernacular … is the perfect match for the Beowulf poet’s Anglo-Saxon. Heaney uses this idiom not to modernize the epic but to showcase its surprisingly contemporary feel…. As retooled by Heaney, Beowulf should easily be good for another millenium.”

—Malcolm Jones, Newsweek

“Heaney’s word choices succeed brilliantly in reconstructing a barbaric world…. Could well become the classroom standard for the 21st century.”

—Edward Southern, Atlanta Journal-Constitution

“Seamus Heaney’s splendid verse translation and bilingual edition of Beowulf bring the poem into focus again as a work of the greatest imaginative intensity…. Beowulf has an elemental grandeur, a ruthless beauty, and an incandescent dignity that belong only to the greatest poetry.”

—Edward Hirsch, Los Angeles Times Book Review, front-page review

“Heaney’s Beowulf is a rhythmic masterpiece. He employs a wonder-fully malleable ‘sprung’ or ‘broken’ tetrameter…. Heaney gleefully mixes the stresses, creating a thundering battle of anapests, iambs, amphibrachs and other accents as explosive as Beowulf’s brawl with the monster Grendel.”

—John Mark Eberhart, Miami Herald

“Credit for this surge of interest should rest squarely on the marvelous language that Heaney has found to set this old warhorse of a saga running again…. Heaney’s poetry makes eloquently persuasive the hero’s tragic stature…. [A] newly burnished treasure.”

—Paul Gray, Time

“Heaney’s alliterative translation marches to an ancient beat that drives the poem forward…. It’s hard to miss [Heaney’s] own flair, his grasp of language at once earthy and other-worldly, his bold descriptions and his loud exclamation. Beowulf is exciting again.”

—Deirdre Parker Smith, Salisbury (N.C.) Post

“Heaney has transformed Beowulf into a hit—a vivid, gripping tale written in an elegant flowing style…. Heaney’s version is flawless … And [his] marvelous introduction … is alone worth the price of the book.”

—Eve Claxton, Time Out N.Y.

“How powerful the oldest, most archetypical literary works remain, especially when newly rendered by so accomplished a hand…. A new standard for versions of the old epic.”

—Booklist

“Beowulf is a fantastic, crackling good yarn…. [An] astoundingly warm, briskly paced, blazingly readable reworking…. Thanks to Seamus Heaney, [the] tale feels as fresh today as it must have felt all those years ago around the campfire.”

—Dave Ferman, Star-Telegram

“Both casual readers and serious academics should find this new Beowulf extremely exciting. A great translation of a great poem must give us glimpses of the original’s greatness—but it must have its own particular kind of greatness. And Heaney’s does.”

—Ron Smith, Richmond Times-Dispatch

“Looking back, I wish I had been able to read a translation like Heaney’s. It has persuaded me that the poem is indeed a masterpiece.”

—D. M. Thomas, Toronto Globe and Mail

“[Heaney] has given us a grand, noble, and sorrowful book from a far distant world. To give ourselves up to that world wholly for the length of a concentrated reading can be a spiritual voyage that is profound and unforgettable.”

—Peter Neumeyer, San Diego Union Tribune

“Heaney’s 21-page introduction shines with characteristic clarity and freshness—and should well equip the unfamiliar reader to make a romp, if not a study, of the work itself…. [The] translation is utterly enchanting.”

—Micheal Pekenham, The Sun

“[Heaney] renders the poem in vigorous, fluent lines that read with the directness and ease of good prose. The result is a fresh work, moving and vivid….”

—Fritz Lanham, Houston Chronicle

“[A] stunning new translation … [that] makes this northern Gilgamesh gripping and racy, startlingly contemporary.”

—Cynthia L. Haven, San Francisco Sunday Examiner & Chronicle

“Heaney is inspired…. His introduction [is] itself a profound essay on the poem, and an immediate classic…. [A] brilliant millennial Beowulf.”

—Dan Chiasson, Boston Book Review

“An extraordinary accomplishment.”

—Newark Star-Ledger

“Heaney’s Introduction does everything it should…. The abiding impression is one of devotion and enthrallment. We end the Introduction sensing that Heaney might have found a great poetic ancestor, and touched hands with him across the centuries. And he has—no question.”

—Andrew Motion, British Poet Laureate, in The Financial Times

“Thanks to Seamus Heaney’s marvellous recreation—in both senses—this dark and gloomy work finally comes out into the light.”

—The Economist

“Heaney has turned to Beowulf, and the result is magnificent, breathtaking…. Heaney has created something imperishable and great that is stainless—stainless, because its force as poetry makes it untouchable by the claw of literalism: it lives singly, as an English language poem.”

—James Wood, The Guardian

“The translation itself rides boldly through the reefs of scholarship…. Beowulf, an elegy for heroism and a critique of feud and fratricide, is alive and well.”

—Michael Alexander, The Observer

“Heaney’s excellent translation has the virtue of being both direct and sophisticated, making previous versions look slightly flowery and antique by comparison. His intelligence, fine ear and obvious love of the poem bring Beowulf alive as melancholy masterpiece, a complex Christian-pagan lament about duty, glory, loss and transience…. Heaney has done it (and us) a great service.”

—Claire Harman, Evening Standard

Copyright © 2000 by Seamus Heaney

All rights reserved

Printed in the United States of America

Designed by Cynthia Krupat

First bilingual edition 2000 published by arrangement with Farrar, Straus and Giroux

First published as a Norton paperback 2001

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Beowulf. English & English (Old English)

Beowulf / [translated by] Seamus Heaney. — 1st ed.

p. cm.

Text in English and Old English.

1. Heroes—Scandinavia—Poetry. 2. Epic poetry, English (Old).

3. Monsters—Poetry. 4. Dragons—Poetry. I. Heaney, Seamus.

PE1583.H43 1999

829'.3—dc21 99-23209

ISBN 0-393-32097-9 pbk.

ISBN 978-0-393-06975-4 (e-book)

W. W. Norton & Company, Inc., 500 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10110
www.wwnorton.com

W. W. Norton & Company Ltd., 10 Coptic Street, London WC1A 1PU

The Old English text of the poem is based on Beowulf, with the
Finnesburg Fragment, edited by C. L. Wrenn and W. F. Bolton
(University of Exeter Press, 1988), and is printed here by kind
permission of W. F. Bolton and the University of Exeter Press.