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Beowulf (Bilingual Edition)

Page 22

by Seamus Heaney


  to keep the keen-ground cutting edge

  from damaging it when danger threatened

  and the man was battling behind his shield.

  Next the king ordered eight horses

  with gold bridles to be brought through the yard

  into the hall. The harness of one

  included a saddle of sumptuous design,

  the battle-seat where the son of Halfdane

  rode when he wished to join the sword-play:

  1040 wherever the killing and carnage were the worst,

  he would be to the fore, fighting hard.

  Then the Danish prince, descendant of Ing,

  handed over both the arms and the horses,

  urging Beowulf to use them well.

  And so their leader, the lord and guard

  of coffer and strongroom, with customary grace

  bestowed upon Beowulf both sets of gifts.

  A fair witness can see how well each one behaved.

  The other Geats are rewarded

  The chieftain went on to reward the others:

  1050 each man on the bench who had sailed with Beowulf

  and risked the voyage received a bounty,

  some treasured possession. And compensation,

  a price in gold, was settled for the Geat

  Grendel had cruelly killed earlier—

  as he would have killed more, had not mindful God

  and one man’s daring prevented that doom.

  Past and present, God’s will prevails.

  Hence, understanding is always best

  and a prudent mind. Whoever remains

  1060 for long here in this earthly life

  will enjoy and endure more than enough.

  Another performance by the minstrel

  They sang then and played to please the hero,

  words and music for their warrior prince,

  harp tunes and tales of adventure:

  there were high times on the hall benches

  and the king’s poet performed his part

  with the saga of Finn and his sons, unfolding

  the tale of the fierce attack in Friesland

  where Hnaef, king of the Danes, met death.

  Hildeburh, a Danish princess married to the Frisian King Finn, loses her son (unnamed here) and her brother Hnaef in a fight at Finn’s hall

  1070 Hildeburh

  had little cause

  to credit the Jutes:

  son and brother,

  she lost them both

  on the battlefield.

  She, bereft

  and blameless, they

  foredoomed, cut down

  and spear-gored. She,

  the woman in shock,

  waylaid by grief,

  Hoc’s daughter—

  how could she not

  lament her fate

  when morning came

  and the light broke

  on her murdered dears?

  And so farewell

  delight on earth,

  1080 war carried away

  Finn’s troop of thanes,

  all but a few.

  How then could Finn

  hold the line

  or fight on

  The Danish attack is bloody but indecisive. Hnaef is killed, Hengest takes charge and makes a truce with Finn and the Frisians

  to the end with Hengest,

  how save

  the rump of his force

  from that enemy chief?

  So a truce was offered

  as follows: first

  separate quarters

  to be cleared for the Danes,

  hall and throne

  to be shared with the Frisians.

  Then, second:

  every day

  at the dole-out of gifts

  Finn, son of Focwald,

  1090 should honour the Danes,

  bestow with an even

  hand to Hengest

  and Hengest’s men

  the wrought-gold rings,

  bounty to match

  the measure he gave

  his own Frisians—

  to keep morale

  in the beer-hall high.

  The Danish survivors to be quartered and given parity of treatment with the Frisians and their allies, the Jutes

  Both sides then

  sealed their agreement.

  With oaths to Hengest

  Finn swore

  openly, solemnly,

  that the battle survivors

  would be guaranteed

  honour and status.

  No infringement

  by word or deed,

  1100 no provocation

  would be permitted.

  Their own ring-giver

  after all

  was dead and gone,

  they were leaderless,

  in forced allegiance

  to his murderer.

  So if any Frisian

  stirred up bad blood

  with insinuations

  or taunts about this,

  the blade of the sword

  would arbitrate it.

  A funeral pyre

  was then prepared,

  effulgent gold

  brought out from the hoard.

  The pride and prince

  of the Shieldings lay

  1110 awaiting the flame.

  Everywhere

  there were blood-plastered

  coats of mail.

  The pyre was heaped

  with boar-shaped helmets

  forged in gold,

  with the gashed corpses

  of well-born Danes—

  many had fallen.

  Then Hildeburh

  ordered her own

  son’s body

  be burnt with Hnaef’s,

  the flesh on his bones

  to sputter and blaze

  beside his uncle’s.

  The woman wailed

  and sang keens,

  the warrior went up.

  The bodies of the slain burnt on the pyre

  1120 Carcass flame

  swirled and fumed,

  they stood round the burial

  mound and howled

  as heads melted,

  crusted gashes

  spattered and ran

  bloody matter.

  The glutton element

  flamed and consumed

  the dead of both sides.

  Their great days were gone.

  Warriors scattered

  to homes and forts

  all over Friesland,

  fewer now, feeling

  loss of friends.

  Hengest stayed,

  lived out that whole

  resentful, blood-sullen

  1130 winter with Finn,

  homesick and helpless.

  The Danes, homesick and resentful, spend a winter in exile

  No ring-whorled prow

  could up then

  and away on the sea.

  Wind and water

  raged with storms,

  wave and shingle

  were shackled in ice

  until another year

  appeared in the yard

  as it does to this day,

  the seasons constant,

  the wonder of light

  coming over us.

  Spring comes

  Then winter was gone,

  earth’s lap grew lovely,

  longing woke

  in the cooped-up exile

  for a voyage home—

  1140 but more for vengeance,

  some way of bringing

  things to a head:

  his sword arm hankered

  to greet the Jutes.

  So he did not balk

  once Hunlafing

  placed on his lap

  Dazzle-the-Duel,

  the best sword of all,

  whose edges Jutes

  knew only too well.

  Danish warrio
rs spur themselves to renew the feud. Finn is killed, his stronghold looted, his widow, Hildeburh, carried back to Denmark

  Thus blood was spilled,

  the gallant Finn

  slain in his home

  after Guthlaf and Oslaf

  back from their voyage

  made old accusation:

  the brutal ambush,

  the fate they had suffered,

  1150 all blamed on Finn.

  The wildness in them

  had to brim over.

  The hall ran red

  with blood of enemies.

  Finn was cut down,

  the queen brought away

  and everything

  the Shieldings could find

  inside Finn’s walls—

  the Frisian king’s

  gold collars and gemstones—

  swept off to the ship.

  Over sea-lanes then

  back to Daneland

  the warrior troop

  bore that lady home.

  The poem was over,

  the poet had performed, a pleasant murmur

  1160 started on the benches, stewards did the rounds

  with wine in splendid jugs, and Wealhtheow came to sit

  in her gold crown between two good men,

  uncle and nephew, each one of whom

  still trusted the other; and the forthright Unferth,

  admired by all for his mind and courage

  although under a cloud for killing his brothers,

  reclined near the king.

  The queen spoke:

  “Enjoy this drink, my most generous lord;

  raise up your goblet, entertain the Geats

  1170 duly and gently, discourse with them,

  be open-handed, happy and fond.

  Relish their company, but recollect as well

  all of the boons that have been bestowed on you.

  The bright court of Heorot has been cleansed

  and now the word is that you want to adopt

  this warrior as a son. So, while you may,

  bask in your fortune, and then bequeath

  kingdom and nation to your kith and kin,

  before your decease. I am certain of Hrothulf.

  1180 He is noble and will use the young ones well.

  He will not let you down. Should you die before him,

  he will treat our children truly and fairly.

  He will honour, I am sure, our two sons,

  repay them in kind when he recollects

  all the good things we gave him once,

  the favour and respect he found in his childhood.”

  She turned then to the bench where her boys sat,

  Hrethric and Hrothmund, with other nobles’ sons,

  all the youth together; and that good man,

  1190 Beowulf the Geat, sat between the brothers.

  Gifts presented, including a torque: Beowulf will present it in due course to King Hygelac, who will die wearing it

  The cup was carried to him, kind words

  spoken in welcome and a wealth of wrought gold

  graciously bestowed: two arm bangles,

  a mail-shirt and rings, and the most resplendent

  torque of gold I ever heard tell of

  anywhere on earth or under heaven.

  There was no hoard like it since Hama snatched

  the Brosings’ neck-chain and bore it away

  with its gems and settings to his shining fort,

  1200 away from Eormenric’s wiles and hatred,

  and thereby ensured his eternal reward.

  Hygelac the Geat, grandson of Swerting,

  wore this neck-ring on his last raid;

  at bay under his banner, he defended the booty,

  treasure he had won. Fate swept him away

  because of his proud need to provoke

  a feud with the Frisians. He fell beneath his shield,

  in the same gem-crusted, kingly gear

  he had worn when he crossed the frothing wave-vat.

  1210 So the dead king fell into Frankish hands.

  They took his breast-mail, also his neck-torque,

  and punier warriors plundered the slain

  when the carnage ended; Geat corpses

  covered the field.

  Applause filled the hall.

  Then Wealhtheow pronounced in the presence of the company:

  “Take delight in this torque, dear Beowulf,

  wear it for luck and wear also this mail

  from our people’s armoury: may you prosper in them!

  Be acclaimed for strength, for kindly guidance

  1220 to these two boys, and your bounty will be sure.

  You have won renown: you are known to all men

  far and near, now and forever.

  Your sway is wide as the wind’s home,

  as the sea around cliffs. And so, my prince,

  I wish you a lifetime’s luck and blessings

  to enjoy this treasure. Treat my sons

 

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