The Dragon Megapack

by Wildside Press

  The battle-steep war-helm, the byrny all hoary,

  The sword stately-good, and spell after he said:

  This raiment of war Hrothgar gave to my hand,

  The wise of the kings, and therewithal bade me,

  That I first of all of his favour should flit thee;

  He quoth that first had it King Heorogar of old,

  The king of the Scyldings, a long while of time;

  But no sooner would he give it unto his son,

  Heoroward the well-whet, though kind to him were he,

  This weed of the breast. Do thou brook it full well.

  On these fretworks, so heard I, four horses therewith,

  All alike, close followed after the track,

  Steeds apple-fallow. Fair grace he gave him

  Of horses and treasures. E’en thus shall do kinsman,

  And nowise a wile-net shall weave for another

  With craft of the darkness, or do unto death

  His very hand-fellow. But now unto Hygelac

  The bold in the battle was his nephew full faithful,

  And either to other of good deeds was mindful.

  I heard that the neck-ring to Hygd did he give,

  E’en the wonder-gem well-wrought, that Wealh-theow gave him,

  The king’s daughter; gave he three steeds therewithal

  Slender, and saddle-bright; sithence to her was,

  After the ring-gift, the breast well beworthy’d.

  Thus boldly he bore him, the Ecgtheow’s bairn,

  The groom kenned in battle, in good deeds a-doing;

  After due doom he did, and ne’er slew he the drunken

  Hearth-fellows of him: naught rough was his heart;

  But of all men of mankind with the greatest of might

  The gift fully and fast set, which had God to him given,

  That war-deer did hold. Long was he contemned,

  While the bairns of the Geats naught told him for good,

  Nor him on the mead-bench worthy of mickle

  The lord of the war-hosts would be a-making.

  Weened they strongly that he were but slack then,

  An atheling unkeen; then came about change

  To the fame-happy man for every foul harm.

  Bade then the earls’ burg in to be bringing,

  The king battle-famed, the leaving of Hrethel,

  All geared with gold; was not ’mid the Geats then

  A treasure-gem better of them of the sword-kind,

  That which then on Beowulf’s harm there he laid;

  And gave to him there seven thousand in gift,

  A built house and king-stool; to both them together

  Was in that folkship land that was kindly,

  Father-right, home; to the other one rather

  A wide realm, to him who was there the better.

  But thereafter it went so in days later worn

  Through the din of the battle, sithence Hygelac lay low

  And unto Heardred swords of the battle

  Under the war-board were for a bane;

  When fell on him midst of this victory-folk

  The hard battle-wolves, the Scyldings of war,

  And by war overwhelmed the nephew of Hereric;

  That sithence unto Beowulf turned the broad realm

  All into his hand. Well then did he hold it

  For a fifty of winters; then was he an old king,

  An old fatherland’s warder; until one began

  Through the dark of the night-tide, a drake, to hold sway.

  In a howe high aloft watched over an hoard,

  A stone-burg full steep; thereunder a path sty’d

  Unknown unto men, and therewithin wended

  Who of men do I know not; for his lust there took he,

  From the hoard of the heathen his hand took away

  A hall-bowl gem-flecked, nowise back did he give it

  Though the herd of the hoard him sleeping beguil’d he

  With thief-craft; and this then found out the king,

  The best of folk-heroes, that wrath-bollen was he.

  XXXII. HOW THE WORM CAME TO THE HOWE, AND HOW HE WAS ROBBED OF A CUP; AND HOW HE FELL ON THE FOLK.

  Not at all with self-wielding the craft of the worm-hoards

  He sought of his own will, who sore himself harmed;

  But for threat of oppression a thrall, of I wot not

  Which bairn of mankind, from blows wrathful fled,

  House-needy forsooth, and hied him therein,

  A man by guilt troubled. Then soon it betided

  That therein to the guest there stood grisly terror;

  However the wretched, of every hope waning

  ········

  The ill-shapen wight, whenas the fear gat him,

  The treasure-vat saw; of such there was a many

  Up in that earth-house of treasures of old,

  As them in the yore-days, though what man I know not,

  The huge leavings and loom of a kindred of high ones,

  Well thinking of thoughts there had hidden away.

  Dear treasures. But all them had death borne away

  In the times of erewhile; and the one at the last

  Of the doughty of that folk that there longest lived,

  There waxed he friend-sad, yet ween’d he to tarry,

  That he for a little those treasures the longsome

  Might brook for himself. But a burg now all ready

  Wonn’d on the plain nigh the waves of the water,

  New by a ness, by narrow-crafts fasten’d;

  Within there then bare of the treasures of earls

  That herd of the rings a deal hard to carry,

  Of gold fair beplated, and few words he quoth:

  Hold thou, O earth, now, since heroes may hold not,

  The owning of earls. What! it erst within thee

  Good men did get to them; now war-death hath gotten,

  Life-bale the fearful, each man and every

  Of my folk; e’en of them who forwent the life:

  The hall-joy had they seen. No man to wear sword

  I own, none to brighten the beaker beplated,

  The dear drink-vat; the doughty have sought to else-whither.

  Now shall the hard war-helm bedight with the gold

  Be bereft of its plating; its polishers sleep,

  They that the battle-mask erewhile should burnish:

  Likewise the war-byrny, which abode in the battle

  O’er break of the war-boards the bite of the irons,

  Crumbles after the warrior; nor may the ring’d byrny

  After the war-leader fare wide afield

  On behalf of the heroes: nor joy of the harp is,

  No game of the glee-wood; no goodly hawk now

  Through the hall swingeth; no more the swift horse

  Beateth the burg-stead. Now hath bale-quelling

  A many of life-kin forth away sent.

  Suchwise sad-moody moaned in sorrow

  One after all, unblithely bemoaning

  By day and by night, till the welling of death

  Touch’d at his heart. The old twilight-scather

  Found the hoard’s joyance standing all open,

  E’en he that, burning, seeketh to burgs,

  The evil drake, naked, that flieth a night-tide,

  With fire encompass’d; of him the earth-dwellers

  Are strongly adrad; wont is he to seek to

  The hoard in the earth, where he the gold heathen

  Winter-old wardeth; nor a whit him it betters.

  So then the folk-scather for three hundred winters

  Held in the earth a one of hoard-houses

  All-eked of craft, until him there anger’d

  A man in his mood, who bare to his man-lord

  A beaker beplated, and bade him peace-warding

  Of his lord: then was lightly the hoard searched over,

  And the ring-hoard off borne; and the boon it wa
s granted

  To that wretched-wrought man. There then the lord saw

  That work of men foregone the first time of times.

  Then awaken’d the Worm, and anew the strife was;

  Along the stone stank he, the stout-hearted found

  The foot-track of the foe; he had stept forth o’er-far

  With dark craft, over-nigh to the head of the drake.

  So may the man unfey full easily outlive

  The woe and the wrack-journey, he whom the Wielder’s

  Own grace is holding. Now sought the hoard-warden

  Eager over the ground; for the groom he would find

  Who unto him sleeping had wrought out the sore:

  Hot and rough-moody oft he turn’d round the howe

  All on the outward; but never was any man

  On the waste; but however in war he rejoiced,

  In battle-work. Whiles he turn’d back to his howe

  And sought to his treasure-vat; soon he found this,

  That one of the grooms had proven the gold,

  The high treasures; then the hoard-warden abided,

  But hardly forsooth, until come was the even,

  And all anger-bollen was then the burg-warden,

  And full much would the loath one with the fire-flame pay back

  For his drink-vat the dear. Then day was departed

  E’en at will to the Worm, and within wall no longer

  Would he bide, but awayward with burning he fared,

  All dight with the fire: it was fearful beginning

  To the folk in the land, and all swiftly it fell

  On their giver of treasure full grievously ended.

  XXXIII. THE WORM BURNS BEOWULF’S HOUSE, AND BEOWULF GETS READY TO GO AGAINST HIM. BEOWULF’S EARLY DEEDS IN BATTLE WITH THE HETWARE TOLD OF.

  Began then the guest to spew forth of gleeds,

  The bright dwellings to burn; stood the beam of the burning

  For a mischief to menfolk; now nothing that quick was

  The loathly lift-flier would leave there forsooth;

  The war of the Worm was wide to be seen there,

  The narrowing foe’s hatred anigh and afar,

  How he, the fight-scather, the folk of the Geats

  Hated and harm’d; shot he back to the hoard,

  His dark lordly hall, ere yet was the day’s while;

  The land-dwellers had he in the light low encompass’d

  With bale and with brand; in his burg yet he trusted,

  His war-might and his wall: but his weening bewray’d him.

  Then Beowulf was done to wit of the terror

  Full swiftly forsooth, that the house of himself,

  Best of buildings, was molten in wellings of fire,

  The gift-stool of the Geats. To the good one was that

  A grief unto heart; of mind-sorrows the greatest.

  Weened the wise one, that Him, e’en the Wielder,

  The Lord everlasting, against the old rights

  He had bitterly anger’d; the breast boil’d within him

  With dark thoughts, that to him were naught duly wonted.

  Now had the fire-drake the own fastness of folk,

  The water-land outward, that ward of the earth,

  With gleeds to ground wasted; so therefore the war-king,

  The lord of the Weder-folk, learned him vengeance.

  Then he bade be work’d for him, that fence of the warriors,

  And that all of iron, the lord of the earls,

  A war-board all glorious, for wissed he yarely

  That the holt-wood hereto might help him no whit,

  The linden ’gainst fire-flame. Of fleeting days now

  The Atheling exceeding good end should abide,

  The end of the world’s life, and the Worm with him also,

  Though long he had holden the weal of the hoard.

  Forsooth scorned then the lord of the rings

  That he that wide-flier with war-band should seek,

  With a wide host; he fear’d not that war for himself,

  Nor for himself the Worm’s war accounted one whit,

  His might and his valour, for that he erst a many

  Strait-daring of battles had bided, and liv’d,

  Clashings huge of the battle, sithence he of Hrothgar,

  He, the man victory-happy, had cleansed the hall,

  And in war-tide had gripped the kindred of Grendel,

  The loathly of kindreds; nor was that the least

  Of hand-meetings, wherein erst was Hygelac slain,

  Sithence the Geats’ king in the onrush of battle,

  The lord-friend of the folks, down away in the Frieslands,

  The offspring of Hrethel, died, drunken of sword-drinks,

  All beaten of bill. Thence Beowulf came forth

  By his own craft forsooth, dreed the work of the swimming;

  He had on his arm, he all alone, thirty

  Of war-gears, when he to the holm went adown.

  Then nowise the Hetware needed to joy them

  Over the foot-war, wherein forth against him

  They bore the war-linden: few went back again

  From that wolf of the battle to wend to their homes.

  O’erswam then the waters’ round Ecgtheow’s son,

  Came all wretched and byrd-alone back to his people,

  Whereas offer’d him Hygd then the kingdom and hoard,

  The rings and the king-stool: trowed naught in the child,

  That he ’gainst folks outland the fatherland-seats

  Might can how to hold, now was Hygelac dead:

  Yet no sooner therefor might the poor folk prevail

  To gain from the Atheling in any of ways

  That he unto Heardred would be for a lord,

  Or eke that that kingdom henceforward should choose;

  Yet him midst of the folk with friend-lore he held,

  All kindly with honour till older he waxed

  And wielded the Weder-Geats. To him men-waifs thereafter

  Sought from over the sea, the sons they of Ohthere,

  For they erst had withstood the helm of the Scylfings,

  E’en him that was best of the kings of the sea,

  Of them that in Swede-realm dealt out the treasure,

  The mighty of princes. Unto him ’twas a life-mark;

  To him without food there was fated the life-wound,

  That Hygelac’s son, by the swinging of swords;

  And him back departed Ongentheow’s bairn,

  To go seek to his house, sithence Heardred lay dead,

  And let Beowulf hold the high seat of the king

  And wield there the Geats. Yea, good was that king.

  XXXIV. BEOWULF GOES AGAINST THE WORM. HE TELLS OF HEREBEALD AND HÆTHCYN.

  Of that fall of the folk-king he minded the payment

  In days that came after: unto Eadgils he was

  A friend to him wretched; with folk he upheld him

  Over the wide sea, that same son of Ohthere,

  With warriors and weapons. Sithence had he wreaking

  With cold journeys of care: from the king took he life.

  Now each one of hates thus had he outlived,

  And of perilous slaughters, that Ecgtheow’s son,

  All works that be doughty, until that one day

  When he with the Worm should wend him to deal.

  So twelvesome he set forth all swollen with anger,

  The lord of the Geats, the drake to go look on.

  Aright had he learnt then whence risen the feud was,

  The bale-hate against men-folk: to his barm then had come

  The treasure-vat famous by the hand of the finder;

  He was in that troop of men the thirteenth

  Who the first of that battle had set upon foot,

  The thrall, the sad-minded; in shame must he thenceforth

  Wise the way to the plain; and against his will went he

  Thereunto,
where the earth-hall the one there he wist,

  The howe under earth anigh the holm’s welling,

  The wave-strife: there was it now full all within

  With gems and with wires; the monster, the warden,

  The yare war-wolf, he held him therein the hoard golden,

  The old under the earth: it was no easy cheaping

  To go and to gain for any of grooms.

  Sat then on the ness there the strife-hardy king

  While farewell he bade to his fellows of hearth,

  The gold-friend of the Geats; sad was gotten his soul,

  Wavering, death-minded; weird nigh beyond measure,

  Which him old of years gotten now needs must be greeting,

  Must seek his soul’s hoard and asunder must deal

  His life from his body: no long while now was

  The life of the Atheling in flesh all bewounden.

  Now spake out Beowulf, Ecgtheow’s bairn:

  Many a one in my youth of war-onsets I outliv’d,

  And the whiles of the battle: all that I remember.

  Seven winters had I when the wielder of treasures,

  The lord-friend of folk, from my father me took,

  Held me and had me Hrethel the king,

  Gave me treasure and feast, and remember’d the friendship.

  For life thence I was not to him a whit loather,

  A berne in his burgs than his bairns were, or each one,

  Herebeald, or Hæthcyn, or Hygelac mine.

  For the eldest there was in unseemly wise

  By the mere deed of kinsman a murder-bed strawen,

  Whenas him did Hæthcyn from out of his horn-bow,

  His lord and his friend, with shaft lay alow:

  His mark he miss’d shooting, and shot down his kinsman,

  One brother another with shaft all bebloody’d;

  That was fight feeless by fearful crime sinned,

  Soul-weary to heart, yet natheless then had

  The atheling from life all unwreak’d to be ceasing.

  So sad-like it is for a carle that is aged

  To be biding the while that his boy shall be riding

  Yet young on the gallows; then a lay should he utter,

  A sorrowful song whenas hangeth his son

  A gain unto ravens, and naught good of avail

  May he, old and exceeding old, anywise frame.

  Ever will he be minded on every each morning

  Of his son’s faring otherwhere; nothing he heedeth

  Of abiding another withinward his burgs,

  An heritage-warder, then whenas the one

  By the very death’s need hath found out the ill.

  Sorrow-careful he seeth within his son’s bower

  The waste wine-hall, the resting-place now of the winds,

  All bereft of the revel; the riders are sleeping,