The Dragon Megapack

by Wildside Press

  Then no better than thee may the Sea-Geats be having

  To choose for themselves, no one of the kings,

  Hoard-warden of heroes, if then thou wilt hold

  Thy kinsman’s own kingdom. Me liketh thy mood-heart,

  The longer the better, O Beowulf the lief;

  In such wise hast thou fared, that unto the folks now,

  The folk of the Geats and the Gar-Danes withal,

  In common shall peace be, and strife rest appeased

  And the hatreds the doleful which erst they have dreed;

  Shall become, whiles I wield it, this wide realm of ours,

  Treasures common to either folk: many a one other

  With good things shall greet o’er the bath of the gannet;

  And the ring’d bark withal over sea shall be bringing

  The gifts and love-tokens. The twain folks I know

  Toward foeman toward friend fast-fashion’d together,

  In every way blameless as in the old wise.

  Then the refuge of warriors, he gave him withal,

  Gave Healfdene’s son of treasures yet twelve;

  And he bade him with those gifts to go his own people

  To seek in all soundness, and swiftly come back.

  Then kissed the king, he of noble kin gotten,

  The lord of the Scyldings, that best of the thanes,

  By the halse then he took him; from him fell the tears

  From the blended of hoar hair. Of both things was there hoping

  To the old, the old wise one; yet most of the other,

  To wit, that they sithence each each might be seeing,

  The high-heart in council. To him so lief was he

  That he his breast-welling might nowise forbear,

  But there in his bosom, bound fast in his heart-bonds,

  After that dear man a longing dim-hidden

  Burn’d against blood-tie. So Beowulf thenceforth,

  The gold-proud of warriors, trod the mould grassy,

  Exulting in gold-store. The sea-ganger bided

  Its owning-lord whereas at anchor it rode.

  Then was there in going the gift of King Hrothgar

  Oft highly accounted; yea, that was a king

  In every wise blameless, till eld took from him eftsoon

  The joyance of might, as it oft scathes a many.

  XXVIII. BEOWULF COMES BACK TO HIS LAND. OF THE TALE OF THRYTHO.

  Came a many to flood then all mighty of mood,

  Of the bachelors were they, and ring-nets they bore,

  The limb-sarks belocked. The land-warden noted

  The earls’ aback-faring, as erst he beheld them;

  Then nowise with harm from the nose of the cliff

  The guests there he greeted, but rode unto themward,

  And quoth that full welcome to the folk of the Weders

  The bright-coated warriors were wending to ship.

  Then was on the sand there the bark the wide-sided

  With war-weed beladen, the ring-stemm’d as she lay there

  With mares and with treasure; uptower’d the mast

  High over Hrothgar’s wealth of the hoards.

  He then to the boat-warden handsel’d a gold-bounden

  Sword, so that sithence was he on mead-bench

  Worthy’d the more for that very same wealth,

  The heirloom. Sithence in the ship he departed

  To stir the deep water; the Dane-land he left.

  Then was by the mast there one of the sea-rails,

  A sail, with rope made fast; thunder’d the sound-wood.

  Not there the wave-floater did the wind o’er the billows

  Waft off from its ways; the sea-wender fared,

  Floated the foamy-neck’d forth o’er the waves,

  The bounden-stemm’d over the streams of the sea;

  Till the cliffs of the Geats there they gat them to wit,

  The nesses well kenned. Throng’d up the keel then

  Driven hard by the lift, and stood on the land.

  Then speedy at holm was the hythe-warden yare,

  E’en he who a long while after the lief men

  Eager at stream’s side far off had looked.

  To the sand thereon bound he the wide-fathom’d ship

  With anchor-bands fast, lest from them the waves’ might

  The wood that was winsome should drive thence awayward.

  Thereon bade he upbear the athelings’ treasures,

  The fretwork and wrought gold. Not far from them thenceforth

  To seek to the giver of treasures it was,

  E’en Hygelac, Hrethel’s son, where at home wonneth

  Himself and his fellows hard by the sea-wall.

  Brave was the builded house, bold king the lord was,

  High were the walls, Hygd very young,

  Wise and well-thriven, though few of winters

  Under the burg-locks had she abided,

  The daughter of Hæreth; naught was she dastard;

  Nowise niggard of gifts to the folk of the Geats,

  Of wealth of the treasures. But wrath Thrytho bore,

  The folk-queen the fierce, wrought the crime-deed full fearful.

  No one there durst it, the bold one, to dare,

  Of the comrades beloved, save only her lord,

  That on her by day with eyen he stare,

  But if to him death-bonds predestin’d he count on,

  Hand-wreathed; thereafter all rathely it was

  After the hand-grip the sword-blade appointed,

  That the cunning-wrought sword should show forth the deed,

  Make known the murder-bale. Naught is such queenlike

  For a woman to handle, though peerless she be,

  That a weaver of peace the life should waylay,

  For a shame that was lying, of a lief man of men;

  But the kinsman of Hemming, he hinder’d it surely.

  Yet the drinkers of ale otherwise said they;

  That folk-bales, which were lesser, she framed forsooth,

  Lesser enmity-malice, since thence erst she was

  Given gold-deck’d to the young one of champions,

  She the dear of her lineage, since Offa’s floor

  Over the fallow flood by the lore of her father

  She sought in her wayfaring. Well was she sithence

  There on the man-throne mighty with good;

  Her shaping of life well brooked she living;

  High love she held toward the lord of the heroes;

  Of all kindred of men by the hearsay of me

  The best of all was he the twain seas beside,

  Of the measureless kindred; thereof Offa was

  For gifts and for war, the spear-keen of men,

  Full widely beworthy’d, with wisdom he held

  The land of his heritage. Thence awoke Eomær

  For a help unto heroes, the kinsman of Hemming,

  The grandson of Garmund, the crafty in war-strife.

  XXIX. BEOWULF TELLS HYGELAC OF HROTHGAR: ALSO OF FREAWARU HIS DAUGHTER.

  Went his ways then the hard one, and he with his hand-shoal,

  Himself over the sand the sea-plain a-treading,

  The warths wide away; shone the world’s candle,

  The sun slop’d from the southward; so dreed they their journey,

  And went their ways stoutly unto where the earls’ refuge,

  The banesman of Ongentheow all in his burgs there,

  The young king of war, the good, as they heard it.

  Was dealing the rings. Aright unto Hygelac

  Was Beowulf’s speeding made knowen full swiftly,

  That there into the house-place that hedge of the warriors,

  His mate of the linden-board, living was come,

  Hale from the battle-play home to him houseward.

  Then rathe was beroomed, as the rich one was bidding,

  For the guests a-foot going the floor all withinward.

  Then sa
t in the face of him he from the fight sav’d,

  Kinsman by kinsman, whenas his man-lord

  In fair-sounding speech had greeted the faithful

  With mightyful words. With mead-skinking turned

  Through the high house adown the daughter of Hæreth:

  The people she loved: the wine-bucket bare she

  To the hands of the men. But now fell to Hygelac

  His very house-fellow in that hall the high

  To question full fairly, for wit-lust to-brake him,

  Of what like were the journeys the Sea-Geats had wended:

  How befell you the sea-lode, O Beowulf lief,

  When thou on a sudden bethoughtst thee afar

  Over the salt water the strife to be seeking,

  The battle in Hart? or for Hrothgar forsooth

  The wide-kenned woe some whit didst thou mend,

  For that mighty of lords? I therefore the mood-care

  In woe-wellings seethed; trow’d not in the wending

  Of thee the lief man. A long while did I pray thee

  That thou the death-guest there should greet not a whit;

  Wouldst let those same South-Danes their own selves to settle

  The war-tide with Grendel. Now to God say I thank

  That thee, and thee sound, now may I see.

  Out then spake Beowulf, Ecgtheow’s bairn:

  All undark it is, O Hygelac lord,

  That meeting the mighty, to a many of men;

  Of what like was the meeting of Grendel and me

  On that field of the deed, where he many a deal

  For the Victory-Scyldings of sorrow had framed,

  And misery for ever; but all that I awreaked,

  So that needeth not boast any kinsman of Grendel

  Any one upon earth of that uproar of dawn-dusk,

  Nay not who lives longest of that kindred the loathly

  Encompass’d of fenland. Thither first did I come

  Unto that ring-hall Hrothgar to greet;

  Soon unto me the great Healfdene’s son,

  So soon as my heart he was wotting forsooth.

  Right against his own son a settle there showed.

  All that throng was in joy, nor life-long saw I ever

  Under vault of the heavens amidst any hall-sitters

  More mirth of the mead. There the mighty Queen whiles,

  Peace-sib of the folk, went all over the floor,

  To the young sons bade heart up; oft she there the ring-wreath

  Gave unto a man ere to settle she wended.

  At whiles fore the doughty the daughter of Hrothgar

  To the earls at the end the ale-bucket bore;

  E’en she whom Freawaru the floor-sitters thereat

  Heard I to name; where she the nail’d treasure

  Gave to the warriors. She was behight then

  Youngling and gold-dight to the glad son of Froda.

  This hath seemed fair to the friend of the Scyldings,

  The herd of the realm, and good rede he accounts it,

  That he with that wife of death-feuds a deal

  And of strifes should allay. Oft unseldom eachwhere

  After a lord’s fall e’en but for a little

  Bows down the bane-spear, though doughty the bride be.

  XXX. BEOWULF FOREBODES ILL FROM THE WEDDING OF FREAWARU: HE TELLS OF GRENDEL AND HIS DAM.

  Ill-liking this may be to the lord of the Heathobards,

  And to each of the thanes of that same people.

  When he with fair bride on the floor of hall wendeth,

  That the Dane’s noble bairn his doughty should wait on,

  As on him glisten there the heirlooms of the aged,

  Hard and with rings bedight, Heathobards’ treasure,

  Whileas the weapons yet they might wield;

  Till astray did they lead there at the lind-play

  Their own fellows belov’d and their very own lives.

  For then saith at the beer, he who seeth the ring,

  An ancient ash-warrior who mindeth of all

  The spear-death of men; grim is he of mind;

  Sad of mood he beginneth to tell the young champion.

  Through the thought of his heart his mind there to try,

  The war-bale to waken, and sayeth this word:

  Mayest thou, friend mine, wot of the war-sword,

  That which thy father bore in the fight

  Under the war-mask e’en on the last time,

  That the dear iron, whereas the Danes slew him,

  Wielded the death-field, since Withergyld lay,

  After fall of the heroes, the keen-hearted Scyldings?

  Now here of those banesmen the son, whoseso he be,

  All merry in fretwork forth on floor fareth;

  Of the murder he boasteth, and that jewel he beareth,

  E’en that which of right thou shouldest arede.

  Thus he mindeth and maketh word every of times,

  With sore words he telleth, until the time cometh

  That the thane of the fair bride for the deeds of his father

  After bite of the bill sleepeth all blood-stain’d,

  All forfeit of life; but thenceforth the other

  Escapeth alive; the land well he kenneth;

  Then will be broken on both sides forsooth

  The oath-swearing of earls, whenas unto Ingeld

  Well up the death-hatreds, and the wife-loves of him

  Because of the care-wellings cooler become.

  Therefore the Heathobards’ faith I account not,

  Their deal of the folk-peace, unguileful to Danes,

  Their fast-bounden friendship. Henceforth must I speak on

  Again about Grendel, that thou get well to know it,

  O treasure-out-dealer, how sithence betided

  The hand-race of heroes: sithence heaven’s gem

  All over the grounds glided, came the wroth guest,

  The dire night-angry one us to go look on,

  Whereas we all sound were warding the hall.

  There then for Handshoe was battle abiding,

  Life-bale to the fey; he first lay alow,

  The war-champion girded; unto him became Grendel,

  To the great thane of kindreds, a banesman of mouth,

  Of the man well-beloved the body he swallow’d;

  Nor the sooner therefor out empty-handed

  The bloody-tooth’d banesman, of bales all bemindful,

  Out from that gold-hall yet would he get him;

  But he, mighty of main, made trial of me,

  And gripp’d ready-handed. His glove hung aloft,

  Wondrous and wide, in wily bands fast,

  With cunning wiles was it begeared forsooth,

  With crafts of the devils and fells of the dragons;

  He me withinwards there, me the unsinning,

  The doer of big deeds would do me to be

  As one of the many; but naught so it might be,

  Sithence in mine anger upright I stood.

  ‘Tis over-long telling how I to the folkscather

  For each one of evils out paid the hand-gild.

  There I, O my lord king, them thy leal people

  Worthy’d with works: but away he gat loosed

  Out thence for a little while, brooked yet life-joys;

  But his right hand held ward of his track howsoever,

  High upon Hart-hall, and thence away humble

  He sad of his mood to the mere-ground fell downward.

  Me for that slaughter-race the friend of the Scyldings

  With gold that beplated was mickle deal paid,

  With a many of treasures, sithence came the morning,

  And we to the feast-tide had sat us adown;

  Song was and glee there; the elder of Scyldings,

  Asking of many things, told of things o’erpast;

  Whiles hath the battle-deer there the harp’s joy,

  The wood of mirth greeted; whiles the lay s
aid he

  Soothfast and sorrowful; whiles a spell seldom told

  Told he by right, the king roomy-hearted;

  Whiles began afterward he by eld bounden,

  The aged hoar warrior, of his youth to bewail him,

  Its might of the battle; his breast well’d within him,

  When he, wont in winters, of many now minded.

  So we there withinward the livelong day’s wearing

  Took pleasure amongst us, till came upon men

  Another of nights; then eftsoons again

  Was yare for the harm-wreak the mother of Grendel:

  All sorry she wended, for her son death had taken,

  The war-hate of the Weders: that monster of women

  Awreaked her bairn, and quelled a warrior

  In manner all mighty. Then was there from Aeschere,

  The wise man of old, life waning away;

  Nor him might they even when come was the morning,

  That death-weary wight, the folk of the Danes

  Burn up with the brand, nor lade on the bale

  The man well-belov’d, for his body she bare off

  In her fathom the fiendly all under the fell-stream.

  That was unto Hrothgar of sorrows the heaviest

  Of them which the folk-chieftain long had befallen.

  Then me did the lord king, and e’en by thy life,

  Mood-heavy beseech me that I in the holm-throng

  Should do after earlship, my life to adventure,

  And frame me main-greatness, and meed he behight me.

  Then I of the welling flood, which is well kenned,

  The grim and the grisly ground-herder did find.

  There to us for a while was the blending of hands;

  The holm welled with gore, and the head I becarved

  In that hall of the ground from the Mother of Grendel

  With the all-eked edges; unsoftly out thence

  My life forth I ferry’d, for not yet was I fey.

  But the earls’ burg to me was giving thereafter

  Much sort of the treasures, e’en Healfdene’s son.

  XXXI. BEOWULF GIVES HROTHGAR’S GIFTS TO HYGELAC, AND BY HIM IS REWARDED. OF THE DEATH OF HYGELAC AND OF HEARDRED HIS SON, AND HOW BEOWULF IS KING OF THE GEATS: THE WORM IS FIRST TOLD OF.

  So therewith the folk-king far’d, living full seemly;

  By those wages forsooth ne’er a whit had I lost,

  By the meed of my main, but to me treasure gave he,

  The Healfdene’s son, to the doom of myself;

  Which to thee, king of bold ones, will I be a-bringing,

  And gladly will give thee; for of thee is all gotten

  Of favours along, and but little have I

  Of head-kinsmen forsooth, saving, Hygelac, thee.

  Then he bade them bear in the boar-shape, the head-sign,