Beowulf
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of land and goldrings—no good hall-thane
could envy that treasure earned with heartstrength—
and to Eofor gave his only daughter
a princess for valor and a pledge of favor.
For that we will pay those proud survivors
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for slaughter of kin killed in their homeland
when young Swede-warriors strike once again
learn that Beowulf our beloved warleader
lies lifeless now his last breath-moment
vanished into time a tale for mead-benches
songs for a king who crushed hell-monsters
stepped up to a throne served his people there
held high his promise. Now haste will be best
that we go to find him guide him at last
from that fire-black field where he fell deathwards
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to his final bedrest. Those fine gold-treasures
will melt with his heart that mighty dragon-hoard
shall all go with him grimly purchased
with his own lifeblood—for the last time now
he has paid for goldrings. Pyre-flames shall eat them
flame-roof shall thatch them no thane shall wear them
treasures so dear no dressed hall-maidens
shall wear on their bosoms wound-gold necklaces
but grief will adorn them of gold-love bereft
as they wander in exile through alien domains
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now that our lord has laid down his laughter
songs and hall-joys. Now spears will be lifted
grim and morning-cold gripped in anguish
with frost-numbing hands. No harp’s sweet sounding
will waken bench-warriors but the black-gleaming raven
circling with fate will say many things
describe to the eagle ample corpse-banquets
how he shared with the wolf wondrous slaughter-meals.”
So that grim messenger gave his report
his unfrivolous news nor did he lie much
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in words or warnings. Warriors all rose
uneagerly shuffled under Earnanaes
lagging with sorrow to look upon death.
They found on the sand their soulless gift-lord
still and wordless there who served and ruled them
for fifty winters—the final life-day
had come for the good one—the Geats’ hall-master
dear warrior-king died a wonder-death.
There they discovered that cooling fire-snake
stretched upon the earth, seething no more
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with foul flame-death flying no longer
with burning bellows, blackened with death.
Fifty long feet was his full length-measure
stretched on the fire-field. He flew in hate-joy
seared through the nights then soared at daybreak
to his grayrock den—now death stilled him
ended his slumber in that stony barrow.
By him were heaped bracelets and gem-cups
jeweled gold-dishes great treasure-swords
darkened with rust from their deep earth-home
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a thousand winters walled against light.
Those ancient heirlooms earned much curse-power
old gold-treasure gripped in a spell—
no one might touch them those nameless stone-riches
no good or bad man unless God himself
the great Glory-King might give to someone
to open that hoard that heap of treasures,
a certain warrior as seemed meet to him.
They found no happiness who first buried there
wealth in the ground—again it was hidden
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by an only survivor till an angered serpent
singed for a cup till swords cooled him
sent him deathwards. Strange are the ways
how the king of a country will come to the end
of his loaned life-span when at last he vanishes
gone from the meadhall his gold and his kin.
So it was with Beowulf when he bore his shield
to that roaring night-flyer. He could not foretell
how his great throne-days would gutter to darkness.
Those ancient sorcerers swore a greed-spell
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baneful warriors who buried their treasure
so that all plunderers would be punished with misery
confined in an idol-grove fast in hell-bonds
scourged with torture who tread on that ground—
unless for gold-need he was granted in fee
the gold-owner’s favor with full pardon.
Wiglaf spoke then son of Weohstan:
“Oft shall warriors through the will of one
come to heartgrief heavy mind-sorrow.
Our eldest wisemen could not win with speech
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convince with their words the ward of our kingdom
to give to destiny that goldhoard’s keeper
leave him coiled there where he long had slumbered
wrapped in that barrow till the world’s end-day.
He held to his name—the hoard is opened
grimly purchased—too great was that fate
that brought our hall-king to that baleful place.
I stepped inside there saw all around me
the wealth of that hoard walled by cliffrock—
the price for that entrance was paid heavily
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by monster and man. From that mound I gathered
grabbed with my hands a great treasure-pile
bright gold and gemstones bore them out then
to my suffering king. Still quick I found him
proud of his winnings wavering in thought.
Old and weakening he offered you greetings
asked that you build in honor of his deeds
over the balefire an arching barrow-mound
high above the sea hailing his name there
greatest of warriors through this wide earthyard
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landlord of our hearts homestead and glory.
Now comes the time to tame this gold-curse
open and plunder that ancient treasure-pile
wonders under wall-stone—the way is clear now,
come to gaze at it curious jewel-cups
rings and broad-gold. Let the bier be lifted
raised and flame-ready for ritual of death.
We will fetch our hall-lord to that final gift-throne
our beloved people-king where he long shall rest
fast in the Wielder’s wonderful embrace.”
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He sent word then that son of Weohstan
man of command now to many a homestead
Geats from everywhere to gather up bale-wood
fetch from afar funeral branch-logs
for that final departure: “Now the fire shall rise
dark flames roaring with our dear gift-lord
who held against war-hail hard iron-showers
when storms of arrows angrily impelled
shot over shieldwall when shafts of ash-wood
straight with feather-gear followed the arrowheads.”
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Then that young warrior Weohstan’s offspring
picked from his men proud warrior-thanes
seven of his best strong Geat-champions
went one of eight under that rock-roof
best of shield-bearers—one bore in his hand
a pitch-bright pinetorch pushed back the darkness.
There was no dawdling by that dragon’s greed-hoard
when they found unguarded such gold and gemstones
wondrous treasures waiting in that hall
lying about them—little did they wait
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but hurried to
gather haul to daylight
those dark wonderworks. The dragon they shoved
over the cliffwall into cold wave-water
let the sea mellow that miser of wealth.
Then a wagon was loaded with wound goldrings
numberless bracelets borne beside the warrior
whose heart paid for them to Hronesnaes point.
They raised skyward ready for their king
a pyre on that point for their proud warleader
hung it with helmets hard shield-bosses
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bright mesh-corselets as he bade them do.
They laid in the middle their beloved gift-friend
lifted with heartgrief the helm of their land.
On the cliff they kindled a king’s balefire
wavering death-flames—woodsmoke mounted
rose up darkly over roaring pitch-flames
wailing to the sky. The wind lay low
till that fire had broken the body’s flesh-cover
conquering that heart. With heavy memories
they mourned their mind-care their manlord’s going.
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By the embers of grief an old Geat-woman
with bound mourning-hair bowed down by years
sang a sorrow-song said to the heavens
that she dreaded from then days of misery
dark war-slaughter wailing and death-tears
heart-weary wandering. Heaven took the smoke.
Then that king’s followers formed a mound there
a huge barrow-grave high and broad-based
sighted from afar by foam-borne sailors.
They timbered on top in ten workdays
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a towering beacon on that balefire’s leavings
wrapped it with a wall as worthiest craftsmen
cleverest artisans could cause to be built.
In that barrow they placed bracelets and gems
ancient smith-work of old nameless ones
brought from the rock-den—each beaker and dish
went back to the earth bright gold and meadcups
stored once again where they still lie waiting
as useless to man as they ever had been.
Around the barrow-base rode the lost ones
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twelve good spearmen circled the mound
mourned their hall-lord hailed their good king
spoke of his courage sang their word-songs
praised his earlship and his proud throne-years
as good men should when their shieldman has gone.
A good wine-lord needs words of praise
love from his people when he leaves this earth
when breath is borne from his body at last.
So the Geats went grieving gathered by the mound.
Hearth-companions praised their lost one
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named him the ablest of all world-kings
mildest of men and most compassionate
most lithe to his people most loving of praise.
Genealogies
Selected Proper Names
Members of the royal families, other important names, and names appearing more than once
AESCHERE: Hrothgar’s beloved counselor, carried away by Grendel’s mother.
BEAW: Son of Scyld Scefing; father of Healfdene.
BEOWULF: Hero of the poem; both a Waegmunding and a Geat by birth (see genealogies).
BRECA: Beowulf’s companion in a daring youthful swimming contest described by both Unferth and Beowulf.
CAIN: Biblical son of Adam and slayer of his brother, Abel; begetter of monsters.
DAEGHREFN: A warrior of the Hugas killed by Beowulf during Hygelac’s fatal expedition to the Rhine; Beowulf apparently took his sword, Naegling, and used it until his death day.
EADGILS: Swedish prince, son of Ohthere; later Swedish king.
EANMUND: Brother of Eadgils; slain by Wiglaf’s father, Weohstan, who served Eanmund’s uncle, Onela, for a time.
ECGLAF: Father of Unferth.
ECGTHEOW: Beowulf’s father, a Waegmunding who married Hygelac’s sister.
EOFOR: Geatish warrior; slayer of Ongentheow; brother of Wulf.
FINN: Frisian king, married to the Danish princess Hildeburh; initiated the Battle of Finnsburuh when Hildeburh’s brother Hnaef came to his court for a visit; later killed by Hengest.
FITELA: In Beowulf, nephew of Sigemund the dragon slayer.
FRANKS: Prominent West Germanic tribe.
FREAWARU: Hrothgar’s daughter; betrothed to Ingeld, prince of the Heathobards.
FRISIANS: Prominent West Germanic tribe.
FRODA: King of the Heathobards; father of Ingeld.
GRENDEL: Anthropomorphic monster who ravaged Heorot for twelve years; killed by Beowulf and avenged by Grendel’s Mother, also killed by Beowulf. Both were descendants of Cain by way of Noah’s son Ham, according to early medieval tradition.
HAERETH: Father of Hygd.
HAETHCYN: Elder brother of Hygelac; accidentally killed his brother Herebeald with an arrow, causing his father, Hrethel, to die of grief.
HALGA: Younger brother of Hrothgar; father of Hrothulf; dead before Beowulf’s arrival at Heorot.
HEALFDENE: Father of Hrothgar; son of Beaw.
HEARDRED: Son of Hygelac; a young boy when Hygelac was killed, became king of the Geats under Beowulf’s protection; was later killed for harboring Swedish fugitives Eanmund and Eadgils.