HASTENED the hardy one, henchmen with him
sandy strand of the sea to tread
and widespread ways. The world’s great candle
sun shone from south. They strode along
with sturdy steps to the spot they knew
where the battle-king young, his burg within
slayer of Ongentheow, shared the rings
shelter-of-heroes. To Hygelac
Beowulf’s coming was quickly told
that there in the court the clansmen’s refuge
the shield-companion sound and alive
hale from the hero-play homeward strode.
With haste in the hall, by highest order
room for the rovers was readily made.
By his sovran he sat, come safe from battle
kinsman by kinsman. His kindly lord
he first had greeted in gracious form
with manly words. The mead dispensing
came through the high hall Haereth’s daughter
winsome to warriors, wine-cup bore
to the hands of the heroes. Hygelac then
his comrade fairly with question plied
in the lofty hall, sore longing to know
what manner of sojourn the Sea-Geats made.
What came of thy quest, my kinsman Beowulf
when thy yearnings suddenly swept thee yonder
battle to seek o’er the briny sea
combat in Heorot? Hrothgar couldst thou
aid at all, the honored chief
in his wide-known woes? With waves of care
my sad heart seethed; I sore mistrusted
my loved one’s venture: long I begged thee
by no means to seek that slaughtering monster
but suffer the South-Danes to settle their feud
themselves with Grendel. Now God be thanked
that safe and sound I can see thee now
Beowulf spake, the bairn of Ecgtheow
Tis known and unhidden, Hygelac Lord
to many men, that meeting of ours
struggle grim between Grendel and me
which we fought on the field where full too many
sorrows he wrought for the Scylding-Victors
evils unending. These all I avenged.
No boast can be from breed of Grendel
any on earth, for that uproar at dawn
from the longest-lived of the loathsome race
in fleshly fold! — But first I went
Hrothgar to greet in the hall of gifts
where Healfdene’s kinsman high-renowned
soon as my purpose was plain to him
assigned me a seat by his son and heir.
The liegemen were lusty; my life-days never
such merry men over mead in hall
have I heard under heaven! The high-born queen
people’s peace-bringer, passed through the hall
cheered the young clansmen, clasps of gold
ere she sought her seat, to sundry gave.
Oft to the heroes Hrothgar’s daughter
to earls in turn, the ale-cup tendered
she whom I heard these hall-companions
Freawaru name, when fretted gold
she proffered the warriors. Promised is she
gold-decked maid, to the glad son of Froda.
Sage this seems to the Scylding’s-friend
kingdom’s-keeper: he counts it wise
the woman to wed so and ward off feud
store of slaughter. But seldom ever
when men are slain, does the murder-spear sink
but briefest while, though the bride be fair
Nor haply will like it the Heathobard lord
and as little each of his liegemen all
when a thane of the Danes, in that doughty throng
goes with the lady along their hall
and on him the old-time heirlooms glisten
hard and ring-decked, Heathobard’s treasure
weapons that once they wielded fair
until they lost at the linden-play
liegeman leal and their lives as well.
Then, over the ale, on this heirloom gazing
some ash-wielder old who has all in mind
that spear-death of men, 79 — he is stern of mood
heavy at heart, — in the hero young
tests the temper and tries the soul
and war-hate wakens, with words like these
Canst thou not, comrade, ken that sword
which to the fray thy father carried
in his final feud, ’neath the fighting-mask
dearest of blades, when the Danish slew him
and wielded the war-place on Withergild’s fall
after havoc of heroes, those hardy Scyldings
Now, the son of a certain slaughtering Dane
proud of his treasure, paces this hall
joys in the killing, and carries the jewel
that rightfully ought to be owned by thee
Thus he urges and eggs him all the time
with keenest words, till occasion offers
that Freawaru’s thane, for his father’s deed
after bite of brand in his blood must slumber
losing his life; but that liegeman flies
living away, for the land he kens.
And thus be broken on both their sides
oaths of the earls, when Ingeld’s breast
wells with war-hate, and wife-love now
after the care-billows cooler grows.
So 81 I hold not high the Heathobards’ faith
due to the Danes, or their during love
and pact of peace. — But I pass from that
turning to Grendel, O giver-of-treasure
and saying in full how the fight resulted
hand-fray of heroes. When heaven’s jewel
had fled o’er far fields, that fierce sprite came
night-foe savage, to seek us out
where safe and sound we sentried the hall.
To Hondscio then was that harassing deadly
his fall there was fated. He first was slain
girded warrior. Grendel on him
turned murderous mouth, on our mighty kinsman
and all of the brave man’s body devoured.
Yet none the earlier, empty-handed
would the bloody-toothed murderer, mindful of bale
outward go from the gold-decked hall
but me he attacked in his terror of might
with greedy hand grasped me. A glove hung by him
wide and wondrous, wound with bands
and in artful wise it all was wrought
by devilish craft, of dragon-skins.
Me therein, an innocent man
the fiendish foe was fain to thrust
with many another. He might not so
when I all angrily upright stood.
Twere long to relate how that land-destroyer
I paid in kind for his cruel deeds
yet there, my prince, this people of thine
got fame by my fighting. He fled away
and a little space his life preserved
but there staid behind him his stronger hand
left in Heorot; heartsick thence
on the floor of the ocean that outcast fell.
Me for this struggle the Scyldings’-friend
paid in plenty with plates of gold
with many a treasure, when morn had come
and we all at the banquet-board sat down.
Then was song and glee. The gray-haired Scylding
much tested, told of the times of yore.
Whiles the hero his harp bestirred
wood-of-delight; now lays he chanted
of sooth and sadness, or said aright
legends of wonder, the wide-hearted king
or for years of his youth he would yearn at times
for strength of old struggles, now stricken with age
hoary hero: his heart surged full
when, wise with winters, he wailed their flight.
Thus in the hall the whole of that day
at ease we feasted, till fell o’er earth
another night. Anon full ready
in greed of vengeance, Grendel’s mother
set forth all doleful. Dead was her son
through war-hate of Weders; now, woman monstrous
with fury fell a foeman she slew
avenged her offspring. From Aeschere old
loyal councillor, life was gone
nor might they e’en, when morning broke
those Danish people, their death-done comrade
burn with brands, on balefire lay
the man they mourned. Under mountain stream
she had carried the corpse with cruel hands.
For Hrothgar that was the heaviest sorrow
of all that had laden the lord of his folk.
The leader then, by thy life, besought me
sad was his soul) in the sea-waves’ coil
to play the hero and hazard my being
for glory of prowess: my guerdon he pledged.
I then in the waters — ’tis widely known
that sea-floor-guardian savage found.
Hand-to-hand there a while we struggled
billows welled blood; in the briny hall
her head I hewed with a hardy blade
from Grendel’s mother, — and gained my life
though not without danger. My doom was not yet.
Then the haven-of-heroes, Healfdene’s son
gave me in guerdon great gifts of price.