Chapter 8

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UNFERTH spake, the son of Ecglaf
who sat at the feet of the Scyldings’ lord
unbound the battle-runes. 31 — Beowulf’s quest
sturdy seafarer’s, sorely galled him
ever he envied that other men
should more achieve in middle-earth
of fame under heaven than he himself.
Art thou that Beowulf, Breca’s rival
who emulous swam on the open sea
when for pride the pair of you proved the floods
and wantonly dared in waters deep
to risk your lives? No living man
or lief or loath, from your labor dire
could you dissuade, from swimming the main.
Ocean-tides with your arms ye covered
with strenuous hands the sea-streets measured
swam o’er the waters. Winter’s storm
rolled the rough waves. In realm of sea
a sennight strove ye. In swimming he topped thee
had more of main! Him at morning-tide
billows bore to the Battling Reamas
whence he hied to his home so dear
beloved of his liegemen, to land of Brondings
fastness fair, where his folk he ruled
town and treasure. In triumph o’er thee
Beanstan’s bairn 32 his boast achieved.
So ween I for thee a worse adventure
though in buffet of battle thou brave hast been
in struggle grim, — if Grendel’s approach
thou darst await through the watch of night
Beowulf spake, bairn of Ecgtheow
What a deal hast uttered, dear my Unferth
drunken with beer, of Breca now
told of his triumph! Truth I claim it
that I had more of might in the sea
than any man else, more ocean-endurance.
We twain had talked, in time of youth
and made our boast, — we were merely boys
striplings still, — to stake our lives
far at sea: and so we performed it.
Naked swords, as we swam along
we held in hand, with hope to guard us
against the whales. Not a whit from me
could he float afar o’er the flood of waves
haste o’er the billows; nor him I abandoned.
Together we twain on the tides abode
five nights full till the flood divided us
churning waves and chillest weather
darkling night, and the northern wind
ruthless rushed on us: rough was the surge.
Now the wrath of the sea-fish rose apace
yet me ’gainst the monsters my mailed coat
hard and hand-linked, help afforded
battle-sark braided my breast to ward
garnished with gold. There grasped me firm
and haled me to bottom the hated foe
with grimmest gripe. ’Twas granted me, though
to pierce the monster with point of sword
with blade of battle: huge beast of the sea
was whelmed by the hurly through hand of mine.
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