BEOWULF spake, bairn of Ecgtheow
Have mind, thou honored offspring of Healfdene
gold-friend of men, now I go on this quest
sovran wise, what once was said
if in thy cause it came that I
should lose my life, thou wouldst loyal bide
to me, though fallen, in father’s place
Be guardian, thou, to this group of my thanes
my warrior-friends, if War should seize me
and the goodly gifts thou gavest me
Hrothgar beloved, to Hygelac send
Geatland’s king may ken by the gold
Hrethel’s son see, when he stares at the treasure
that I got me a friend for goodness famed
and joyed while I could in my jewel-bestower.
And let Unferth wield this wondrous sword
earl far-honored, this heirloom precious
hard of edge: with Hrunting I
seek doom of glory, or Death shall take me.
After these words the Weder-Geat lord
boldly hastened, biding never
answer at all: the ocean floods
closed o’er the hero. Long while of the day
fled ere he felt the floor of the sea.
Soon found the fiend who the flood-domain
sword-hungry held these hundred winters
greedy and grim, that some guest from above
some man, was raiding her monster-realm.
She grasped out for him with grisly claws
and the warrior seized; yet scathed she not
his body hale; the breastplate hindered
as she strove to shatter the sark of war
the linked harness, with loathsome hand.
Then bore this brine-wolf, when bottom she touched
the lord of rings to the lair she haunted
whiles vainly he strove, though his valor held
weapon to wield against wondrous monsters
that sore beset him; sea-beasts many
tried with fierce tusks to tear his mail
and swarmed on the stranger. But soon he marked
he was now in some hall, he knew not which
where water never could work him harm
nor through the roof could reach him ever
fangs of the flood. Firelight he saw
beams of a blaze that brightly shone.
Then the warrior was ware of that wolf-of-the-deep
mere-wife monstrous. For mighty stroke
he swung his blade, and the blow withheld not.
Then sang on her head that seemly blade
its war-song wild. But the warrior found
the light-of-battle 64 was loath to bite
to harm the heart: its hard edge failed
the noble at need, yet had known of old
strife hand to hand, and had helmets cloven
doomed men’s fighting-gear. First time, this
for the gleaming blade that its glory fell.
Firm still stood, nor failed in valor
heedful of high deeds, Hygelac’s kinsman
flung away fretted sword, featly jewelled
the angry earl; on earth it lay
steel-edged and stiff. His strength he trusted
hand-gripe of might. So man shall do
whenever in war he weens to earn him
lasting fame, nor fears for his life
Seized then by shoulder, shrank not from combat
the Geatish war-prince Grendel’s mother.
Flung then the fierce one, filled with wrath
his deadly foe, that she fell to ground.
Swift on her part she paid him back
with grisly grasp, and grappled with him.
Spent with struggle, stumbled the warrior
fiercest of fighting-men, fell adown.
On the hall-guest she hurled herself, hent her short sword
broad and brown-edged, 65 the bairn to avenge
the sole-born son. — On his shoulder lay
braided breast-mail, barring death
withstanding entrance of edge or blade.
Life would have ended for Ecgtheow’s son
under wide earth for that earl of Geats
had his armor of war not aided him
battle-net hard, and holy God
wielded the victory, wisest Maker.
The Lord of Heaven allowed his cause
and easily rose the earl erect.