Beowulf (Bilingual Edition)

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Beowulf (Bilingual Edition) Page 23

by Seamus Heaney


  with tender care, be strong and kind.

  Here each comrade is true to the other,

  loyal to lord, loving in spirit.

  1230 The thanes have one purpose, the people are ready:

  having drunk and pledged, the ranks do as I bid.”

  Bedtime in Heorot

  She moved then to her place. Men were drinking wine

  at that rare feast; how could they know fate,

  the grim shape of things to come,

  the threat looming over many thanes

  as night approached and King Hrothgar prepared

  to retire to his quarters? Retainers in great numbers

  were posted on guard as so often in the past.

  Benches were pushed back, bedding gear and bolsters

  1240 spread across the floor, and one man

  lay down to his rest, already marked for death.

  At their heads they placed their polished timber

  battle-shields; and on the bench above them,

  each man’s kit was kept to hand:

  a towering war-helmet, webbed mail-shirt

  and great-shafted spear. It was their habit

  always and everywhere to be ready for action,

  at home or in the camp, in whatever case

  and at whatever time the need arose

  1250 to rally round their lord. They were a right people.

  Another threat is lurking in the night

  They went to sleep. And one paid dearly

  for his night’s ease, as had happened to them often,

  ever since Grendel occupied the gold-hall,

  committing evil until the end came,

  death after his crimes. Then it became clear,

  obvious to everyone once the fight was over,

  that an avenger lurked and was still alive,

  grimly biding time. Grendel’s mother,

  monstrous hell-bride, brooded on her wrongs.

  1260 She had been forced down into fearful waters,

  the cold depths, after Cain had killed

  his father’s son, felled his own

  brother with a sword. Branded an outlaw,

  marked by having murdered, he moved into the wilds,

  shunned company and joy. And from Cain there sprang

  misbegotten spirits, among them Grendel,

  the banished and accursed, due to come to grips

  with that watcher in Heorot waiting to do battle.

  The monster wrenched and wrestled with him

  1270 but Beowulf was mindful of his mighty strength,

  the wondrous gifts God had showered on him:

  He relied for help on the Lord of All,

  on His care and favour. So he overcame the foe,

  brought down the hell-brute. Broken and bowed,

  outcast from all sweetness, the enemy of mankind

  made for his death-den. But now his mother

  had sallied forth on a savage journey,

  grief-racked and ravenous, desperate for revenge.

  Grendel’s mother attacks

  She came to Heorot. There, inside the hall,

  1280 Danes lay asleep, earls who would soon endure

  a great reversal, once Grendel’s mother

  attacked and entered. Her onslaught was less

  only by as much as an amazon warrior’s

  strength is less than an armed man’s

  when the hefted sword, its hammered edge

  and gleaming blade slathered in blood,

  razes the sturdy boar-ridge off a helmet.

  Then in the hall, hard-honed swords

  were grabbed from the bench, many a broad shield

  1290 lifted and braced; there was little thought of helmets

  or woven mail when they woke in terror.

  The hell-dam was in panic, desperate to get out,

  in mortal terror the moment she was found.

  She had pounced and taken one of the retainers

  in a tight hold, then headed for the fen.

  To Hrothgar, this man was the most beloved

  of the friends he trusted between the two seas.

  She had done away with a great warrior,

  ambushed him at rest.

  Beowulf was elsewhere.

  1300 Earlier, after the award of the treasure,

  the Geat had been given another lodging.

  There was uproar in Heorot. She had snatched their

  trophy,

  Grendel’s bloodied hand. It was a fresh blow

  to the afflicted bawn. The bargain was hard,

  both parties having to pay

  with the lives of friends. And the old lord,

  the grey-haired warrior, was heartsore and weary

  when he heard the news: his highest-placed adviser,

  his dearest companion, was dead and gone.

  Beowulf is summoned

  1310 Beowulf was quickly brought to the chamber:

  the winner of fights, the arch-warrior,

  came first-footing in with his fellow troops

  to where the king in his wisdom waited,

  still wondering whether Almighty God

  would ever turn the tide of his misfortunes.

  So Beowulf entered with his band in attendance

  and the wooden floor-boards banged and rang

  as he advanced, hurrying to address the prince of

  the Ingwins, asking if he’d rested

  1320 since the urgent summons had come as a surprise.

  Hrothgar laments the death of his counsellor. He knows Grendel’s mother must avenge her son

  Then Hrothgar, the Shieldings’ helmet, spoke:

  “Rest? What is rest? Sorrow has returned.

  Alas for the Danes! Aeschere is dead.

  He was Yrmenlaf’s elder brother

  and a soul-mate to me, a true mentor,

  my right-hand man when the ranks clashed

  and our boar-crests had to take a battering

  in the line of action. Aeschere was everything

  the world admires in a wise man and a friend.

  1330 Then this roaming killer came in a fury

  and slaughtered him in Heorot. Where she is hiding,

  glutting on the corpse and glorying in her escape,

  I cannot tell; she has taken up the feud

  because of last night, when you killed Grendel,

  wrestled and racked him in ruinous combat

  since for too long he had terrorized us

  with his depredations. He died in battle,

  paid with his life; and now this powerful

  other one arrives, this force for evil

  1340 driven to avenge her kinsman’s death.

  Or so it seems to thanes in their grief,

  in the anguish every thane endures

  at the loss of a ring-giver, now

  that the hand that bestowed so richly has been stilled in death.

  The country people’s tales about the monsters

  “I have heard it said by my people in hall,

  counsellors who live in the upland country,

  that they have seen two such creatures

  prowling the moors, huge marauders

  from some other world. One of these things,

  1350 as far as anyone ever can discern,

  looks like a woman; the other, warped

  in the shape of a man, moves beyond the pale

  bigger than any man, an unnatural birth

  called Grendel by country people

  in former days. They are fatherless creatures,

  and their whole ancestry is hidden in a past

  of demons and ghosts. They dwell apart

  among wolves on the hills, on windswept crags

  and treacherous keshes, where cold streams

  1360 pour down the mountain and disappear

  under mist and moorland.

  The haunted mere

  A few miles from here

  a frost-sti
ffened wood waits and keeps watch

  above a mere; the overhanging bank

  is a maze of tree-roots mirrored in its surface.

  At night there, something uncanny happens:

  the water burns. And the mere bottom

  has never been sounded by the sons of men.

  On its bank, the heather-stepper halts:

  the hart in flight from pursuing hounds

  1370 will turn to face them with firm-set horns

  and die in the wood rather than dive

  beneath its surface. That is no good place.

  When wind blows up and stormy weather

  makes clouds scud and the skies weep,

  out of its depths a dirty surge

  is pitched towards the heavens. Now help depends

  again on you and on you alone.

  The gap of danger where the demon waits

  is still unknown to you. Seek it if you dare.

  1380 I will compensate you for settling the feud

  as I did the last time with lavish wealth,

  coffers of coiled gold, if you come back.”

  Beowulf bolsters Hrothgar’s courage. He proclaims the heroic code that guides their lives

  Beowulf, son of Ecgtheow, spoke:

  “Wise sir, do not grieve. It is always better

  to avenge dear ones than to indulge in mourning.

  For every one of us, living in this world

  means waiting for our end. Let whoever can

  win glory before death. When a warrior is gone,

  that will be his best and only bulwark.

  1390 So arise, my lord, and let us immediately

  set forth on the trail of this troll-dam.

  I guarantee you: she will not get away,

  not to dens under ground nor upland groves

  nor the ocean floor. She’ll have nowhere to flee to.

  Endure your troubles to-day. Bear up

  and be the man I expect you to be.”

  The expedition to the mere

  With that the old lord sprang to his feet

  and praised God for Beowulf’s pledge.

  Then a bit and halter were brought for his horse

  1400 with the plaited mane. The wise king mounted

  the royal saddle and rode out in style

  with a force of shield-bearers. The forest paths

  were marked all over with the monster’s tracks,

  her trail on the ground wherever she had gone

  across the dark moors, dragging away

  the body of that thane, Hrothgar’s best

  counsellor and overseer of the country.

  So the noble prince proceeded undismayed

  up fells and screes, along narrow footpaths

  1410 and ways where they were forced into single file,

  ledges on cliffs above lairs of water-monsters.

  He went in front with a few men,

  good judges of the lie of the land,

  and suddenly discovered the dismal wood,

  mountain trees growing out at an angle

  above grey stones: the bloodshot water

  surged underneath. It was a sore blow

  to all of the Danes, friends of the Shieldings,

  a hurt to each and every one

  1420 of that noble company when they came upon

  Aeschere’s head at the foot of the cliff.

  Everybody gazed as the hot gore

  kept wallowing up and an urgent war-horn

  repeated its notes: the whole party

  sat down to watch. The water was infested

  with all kinds of reptiles. There were writhing sea-dragons

  and monsters slouching on slopes by the cliff,

  serpents and wild things such as those that often

  surface at dawn to roam the sail-road

  1430 and doom the voyage. Down they plunged,

  ashing in anger at the loud call

  of the battle-bugle. An arrow from the bow

  of the Geat chief got one of them

  as he surged to the surface: the seasoned shaft

  stuck deep in his flank and his freedom in the water

  got less and less. It was his last swim.

  He was swiftly overwhelmed in the shallows,

  prodded by barbed boar-spears,

  cornered, beaten, pulled up on the bank,

 

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