Beowulf - Delphi Poets Series

by Beowulf

  2735 who war would wage me with ‘warriors’-friends’

  “þē mec gūð-winum grētan dorste,

  “egesan þēon. Ic on earde bād

  “mǣl-gesceafta, hēold mīn tela,

  “ne sōhte searo-nīðas, nē mē swōr fela

  2740 “āða on unriht. Ic þæs ealles mæg,

  and threat me with horrors. At home I bided

  what fate might come, and I cared for mine own;

  feuds I sought not, nor falsely swore

  ever on oath. For all these things,

  2740 though fatally wounded, fain am I!

  “feorh-bennum sēoc, gefēan habban:

  “forþām mē wītan ne þearf waldend fīra

  “morðor-bealo māga, þonne mīn sceaceð

  “līf of līce. Nū þū lungre

  2745 “geong, hord scēawian under hārne stān,

  From the Ruler-of-Man no wrath shall seize me,

  when life from my frame must flee away,

  for killing of kinsmen! Now quickly go

  and gaze on that hoard ‘neath the hoary rock,

  2745 Wiglaf loved, now the worm lies low,

  “Wīglāf lēofa, nū se wyrm ligeð,

  “swefeð sāre wund, since berēafod.

  “Bīo nū on ofoste, þæt ic ǣr-welan,

  “gold-ǣht ongite, gearo scēawige

  2750 “swegle searo-gimmas, þæt ic þy¯ sēft mǣge

  sleeps, heart-sore, of his spoil bereaved.

  And fare in haste. I would fain behold

  the gorgeous heirlooms, golden store,

  have joy in the jewels and gems, lay down

  2750 softlier for sight of this splendid hoard

  “æfter māððum-welan mīn ālǣtan

  “līf and lēod-scipe, þone ic longe hēold.”

  my life and the lordship I long have held.”

  XXXVIII. THE JEWEL-HOARD. THE PASSING OF BEOWULF.

  Þā ic snūde gefrægn sunu Wīhstānes

  æfter word-cwydum wundum dryhtne

  2755 hy¯ran heaðo-sīocum, hring-net beran,

  I have heard that swiftly the son of Weohstan

  at wish and word of his wounded king, —

  war-sick warrior, — woven mail-coat,

  2755 battle-sark, bore ‘neath the barrow’s roof.

  brogdne beadu-sercean under beorges hrōf.

  Geseah þā sige-hrēðig, þā hē bī sesse gēong,

  mago-þegn mōdig māððum-sigla fela,

  gold glitinian grunde getenge,

  2760 wundur on wealle and þæs wyrmes denn,

  Then the clansman keen, of conquest proud,

  passing the seat, saw store of jewels

  and glistening gold the ground along;

  by the wall were marvels, and many a vessel

  2760 in the den of the dragon, the dawn-flier old:

  ealdes ūht-flogan, orcas stondan,

  fyrn-manna fatu feormend-lēase,

  hyrstum behrorene: þǣr wæs helm monig,

  eald and ōmig, earm-bēaga fela,

  2765 searwum gesǣled. Sinc ēaðe mæg,

  unburnished bowls of bygone men

  reft of richness; rusty helms

  of the olden age; and arm-rings many

  wondrously woven. — Such wealth of gold,

  2765 booty from barrow, can burden with pride

  gold on grunde, gumena cynnes

  gehwone ofer-hīgian, hy¯de sē þe wylle!

  Swylce hē siomian geseah segn eall-gylden

  hēah ofer horde, hond-wundra mǣst,

  2770 gelocen leoðo-cræftum: of þām lēoma stōd,

  each human wight: let him hide it who will! —

  His glance too fell on a gold-wove banner

  high o’er the hoard, of handiwork noblest,

  brilliantly broidered; so bright its gleam,

  2770 all the earth-floor he easily saw

  þæt hē þone grund-wong ongitan meahte,

  wrǣte giond-wlītan. Næs þæs wyrmes þǣr

  onsy¯n ǣnig, ac hyne ecg fornam.

  Þā ic on hlǣwe gefrægn hord rēafian,

  2775 eald enta geweorc ānne mannan,

  and viewed all these vessels. No vestige now

  was seen of the serpent: the sword had ta’en him.

  Then, I heard, the hill of its hoard was reft,

  old work of giants, by one alone;

  2775 he burdened his bosom with beakers and plate

  him on bearm hladan bunan and discas

  sylfes dōme, segn ēac genom,

  bēacna beorhtost; bill ǣr-gescōd

  (ecg wæs īren) eald-hlāfordes

  2780 þām þāra māðma mund-bora wæs

  at his own good will, and the ensign took,

  brightest of beacons. — The blade of his lord

  — its edge was iron — had injured deep

  one that guarded the golden hoard

  2780 many a year and its murder-fire

  longe hwīle, līg-egesan wæg

  hātne for horde, hioro-weallende,

  middel-nihtum, oð þæt hē morðre swealt.

  Ār wæs on ofoste eft-sīðes georn,

  2785 frætwum gefyrðred: hyne fyrwet bræc,

  spread hot round the barrow in horror-billows

  at midnight hour, till it met its doom.

  Hasted the herald, the hoard so spurred him

  his track to retrace; he was troubled by doubt,

  2785 high-souled hero, if haply he’d find

  hwæðer collen-ferð cwicne gemētte

  in þām wong-stede Wedra þēoden,

  ellen-sīocne, þǣr hē hine ǣr forlēt.

  Hē þā mid þām māðmum mǣrne þīoden,

  2790 dryhten sīnne drīorigne fand

  alive, where he left him, the lord of Weders,

  weakening fast by the wall of the cave.

  So he carried the load. His lord and king

  he found all bleeding, famous chief,

  2790 at the lapse of life. The liegeman again

  ealdres æt ende: hē hine eft ongon

  wæteres weorpan, oð þæt wordes ord

  brēost-hord þurhbræc. Bēowulf maðelode,

  gomel on giohðe (gold scēawode):

  2795 “Ic þāra frætwa frēan ealles þanc

  plashed him with water, till point of word

  broke through the breast-hoard. Beowulf spake,

  sage and sad, as he stared at the gold: —

  “For the gold and treasure, to God my thanks,

  2795 to the Wielder-of-Wonders, with words I say,

  “wuldur-cyninge wordum secge,

  “ēcum dryhtne, þē ic hēr on starie,

  “þæs þe ic mōste mīnum lēodum

  “ǣr swylt-dæge swylc gestry¯nan.

  2800 “Nū ic on māðma hord mīne bebohte

  for what I behold, to Heaven’s Lord,

  for the grace that I give such gifts to my folk

  or ever the day of my death be run!

  Now I’ve bartered here for booty of treasure

  2800 the last of my life, so look ye well

  “frōde feorh-lege, fremmað gē nū

  “lēoda þearfe; ne mæg ic hēr leng wesan.

  “Hātað heaðo-mǣre hlǣw gewyrcean,

  “beorhtne æfter bǣle æt brimes nosan;

  2805 “se scel tō gemyndum mīnum lēodum

  to the needs of my land! No longer I tarry.

  A barrow bid ye the battle-famed raise

  for my ashes. ‘Twill shine by the shore of the flood,

  to folk of mine memorial fair

  2805 on Hronës Headland high uplifted,

  “hēah hlīfian on Hrones næsse,

  “þæt hit sǣ-līðend syððan hātan

  “Bīowulfes biorh, þā þe brentingas

  “ofer flōda genipu feorran drīfað.”

  2810 Dyde him of healse hring gyldenne

  that ocean-wanderers oft may hail

>   Beowulf’s Barrow, as back from far

  they drive their keels o’er the darkling wave.”

  From his neck he unclasped the collar of gold,

  2810 valorous king, to his vassal gave it

  þīoden þrīst-hy¯dig, þegne gesealde,

  geongum gār-wigan, gold-fāhne helm,

  bēah and byrnan, hēt hyne brūcan well:

  “Þū eart ende-lāf ūsses cynnes,

  2815 “Wǣgmundinga; ealle Wyrd forswēof,

  with bright-gold helmet, breastplate, and ring,

  to the youthful thane: bade him use them in joy.

  “Thou art end and remnant of all our race,

  the Wægmunding name. For Wyrd hath swept them,

  2815 all my line, to the land of doom,

  “mīne māgas tō metod-sceafte,

  “eorlas on elne: ic him æfter sceal.”

  Þæt wæs þām gomelan gingeste word

  brēost-gehygdum, ǣr hē bǣl cure,

  2820 hāte heaðo-wylmas: him of hreðre gewāt

  sāwol sēcean sōð-fæstra dōm.

  earls in their glory: I after them go.”

  This word was the last which the wise old man

  harbored in heart ere hot death-waves

  of balefire he chose. From his bosom fled

  2820 his soul to seek the saints’ reward.

  XXXIX. THE COWARD-THANES.

  Þā wæs gegongen guman unfrōdum

  earfoðlīce, þæt hē on eorðan geseah

  þone lēofestan līfes æt ende

  2825 blēate gebǣran. Bona swylce læg,

  It was heavy hap for that hero young

  on his lord beloved to look and find him

  lying on earth with life at end,

  sorrowful sight. But the slayer too,

  2825 awful earth-dragon, empty of breath,

  egeslīc eorð-draca, ealdre berēafod,

  bealwe gebǣded: bēah-hordum leng

  wyrm wōh-bogen wealdan ne mōste,

  ac him īrenna ecga fornāmon,

  2830 hearde heaðo-scearpe homera lāfe,

  lay felled in fight, nor, fain of its treasure,

  could the writhing monster rule it more.

  For edges of iron had ended its days,

  hard and battle-sharp, hammers’ leaving;

  2830 and that flier-afar had fallen to ground

  þæt se wīd-floga wundum stille

  hrēas on hrūsan hord-ærne nēah,

  nalles æfter lyfte lācende hwearf

  middel-nihtum, māðm-ǣhta wlonc

  2835 ansy¯n y¯wde: ac hē eorðan gefēoll

  hushed by its hurt, its hoard all near,

  no longer lusty aloft to whirl

  at midnight, making its merriment seen,

  proud of its prizes: prone it sank

  2835 by the handiwork of the hero-king.

  for þæs hild-fruman hond-geweorce.

  Hūru þæt on lande ly¯t manna þāh

  mægen-āgendra mīne gefrǣge,

  þēah þe hē dǣda gehwæs dyrstig wǣre,

  2840 þæt hē wið attor-sceaðan oreðe gerǣsde,

  Forsooth among folk but few achieve,

  — though sturdy and strong, as stories tell me,

  and never so daring in deed of valor, —

  the perilous breath of a poison-foe

  2840 to brave, and to rush on the ring-hoard hall,

  oððe hring-sele hondum styrede,

  gif hē wæccende weard onfunde

  būan on beorge. Bīowulfe wearð

  dryht-māðma dǣl dēaðe forgolden;

  2845 hæfde ǣghwæðer ende gefēred

  whenever his watch the warden keeps

  bold in the barrow. Beowulf paid

  the price of death for that precious hoard;

  and each of the foes had found the end

  2845 of this fleeting life.

  lǣnan līfes. Næs þā lang tō þon,

  þæt þā hild-latan holt ofgēfan,

  ty¯dre trēow-logan ty¯ne ætsomne,

  þā ne dorston ǣr dareðum lācan

  2850 on hyra man-dryhtnes miclan þearfe;

  Befell erelong

  that the laggards in war the wood had left,

  trothbreakers, cowards, ten together,

  fearing before to flourish a spear

  in the sore distress of their sovran lord.

  2580 Now in their shame their shields they carried,

  ac hy¯ scamiende scyldas bǣran,

  gūð-gewǣdu, þǣr se gomela læg:

  wlitan on Wīglāf. Hē gewērgad sæt,

  fēðe-cempa frēan eaxlum nēah,

  2855 wehte hyne wætre; him wiht ne spēow;

  armor of fight, where the old man lay;

  and they gazed on Wiglaf. Wearied he sat

  at his sovran’s shoulder, shieldsman good,

  to wake him with water. Nowise it availed.

  2855 Though well he wished it, in world no more

  ne meahte hē on eorðan, þēah hē ūðe wēl,

  on þām frum-gāre feorh gehealdan,

  nē þæs wealdendes willan wiht oncirran;

  wolde dōm godes dǣdum rǣdan

  2860 gumena gehwylcum, swā hē nū gēn dēð.

  could he barrier life for that leader-of-battles

  nor baffle the will of all-wielding God.

  Doom of the Lord was law o’er the deeds

  of every man, as it is to-day.

  2860 Grim was the answer, easy to get,

  Þā wæs æt þām geongan grim andswaru

  ēð-begēte þām þe ǣr his elne forlēas.

  Wīglāf maðelode, Wēohstānes sunu,

  secg sārig-ferð seah on unlēofe:

  2865 “Þæt lā mæg secgan, sē þe wyle sōð sprecan,

  from the youth for those that had yielded to fear!

  Wiglaf spake, the son of Weohstan, —

  mournful he looked on those men unloved: —

  “Who sooth will speak, can say indeed

  2865 that the ruler who gave you golden rings

  “þæt se mon-dryhten, se ēow þā māðmas geaf,

  “ēored-geatwe, þē gē þǣr on standað,

  “þonne hē on ealu-bence oft gesealde

  “heal-sittendum helm and byrnan,

  2870 “þēoden his þegnum, swylce hē þry¯ðlīcost

  and the harness of war in which ye stand

  — for he at ale-bench often-times

  bestowed on hall-folk helm and breastplate,

  lord to liegemen, the likeliest gear

  2870 which near or far he could find to give, —

  “ōhwǣr feor oððe nēah findan meahte,

  “þæt hē gēnunga gūð-gewǣdu

  “wrāðe forwurpe. Þā hyne wīg beget,

  “nealles folc-cyning fyrd-gesteallum

  2875 “gylpan þorfte; hwæðre him god ūðe,

  threw away and wasted these weeds of battle,

  on men who failed when the foemen came!

  Not at all could the king of his comrades-in-arms

  venture to vaunt, though the Victory-Wielder,

  2875 God, gave him grace that he got revenge

  “sigora waldend, þæt hē hyne sylfne gewræc

  “āna mid ecge, þā him wæs elnes þearf,

  “Ic him līf-wraðe ly¯tle meahte

  “ætgifan æt gūðe and ongan swā þēah

  2880 “ofer mīn gemet mǣges helpan:

  sole with his sword in stress and need.

  To rescue his life, ’twas little that I

  could serve him in struggle; yet shift I made

  (hopeless it seemed) to help my kinsman.

  2880 Its strength ever waned, when with weapon I struck

  “symle wæs þy¯ sǣmra, þonne ic sweorde drep

  “ferhð-genīðlan, fy¯r unswīðor

  “wēoll of gewitte. Wergendra tō ly¯t

  “þrong ymbe þēoden, þā hyne sīo þrāg becwōm.
>
  2885 “Nū sceal sinc-þego and swyrd-gifu

  that fatal foe, and the fire less strongly

  flowed from its head. — Too few the heroes

  in throe of contest that thronged to our king!

  Now gift of treasure and girding of sword,

  2885 joy of the house and home-delight

  “eall ēðel-wyn ēowrum cynne,

  “lufen ālicgean: lond-rihtes mōt

  “þǣre mǣg-burge monna ǣghwylc

  “īdel hweorfan, syððan æðelingas

  2890 “feorran gefricgean flēam ēowerne,

  shall fail your folk; his freehold-land

  every clansman within your kin

  shall lose and leave, when lords highborn

  hear afar of that flight of yours,

  2890 a fameless deed. Yea, death is better

  “dōm-lēasan dǣd. Dēað bið sēlla

  “eorla gehwylcum þonne edwīt-līf!”

  for liegemen all than a life of shame!”

  XL. THE SOLDIER’S DIRGE AND PROPHECY.

  Heht þā þæt heaðo-weorc tō hagan bīodan

  up ofer ēg-clif, þǣr þæt eorl-weorod

  2895 morgen-longne dæg mōd-giōmor sæt,

  That battle-toil bade he at burg to announce,

  at the fort on the cliff, where, full of sorrow,

  all the morning earls had sat,

  2895 daring shieldsmen, in doubt of twain:

  bord-hæbbende, bēga on wēnum

  ende-dōgores and eft-cymes

  lēofes monnes. Ly¯t swīgode

  nīwra spella, sē þe næs gerād,

  2900 ac hē sōðlīce sægde ofer ealle;

  would they wail as dead, or welcome home,

  their lord belovéd? Little kept back

  of the tidings new, but told them all,

  the herald that up the headland rode. —

  2900 “Now the willing-giver to Weder folk

  “Nū is wil-geofa Wedra lēoda,

  “dryhten Gēata dēað-bedde fæst,

  “wunað wæl-reste wyrmes dǣdum;

  “him on efn ligeð ealdor-gewinna,

  2905 “siex-bennum sēoc: sweorde ne meahte

  in death-bed lies, the Lord of Geats

  on the slaughter-bed sleeps by the serpent’s deed!

  And beside him is stretched that slayer-of-men

  with knife-wounds sick: no sword availed

  2905 on the awesome thing in any wise

  “on þām āglǣcean ǣnige þinga

  “wunde gewyrcean. Wīglāf siteð

  “ofer Bīowulfe, byre Wīhstānes,

  “eorl ofer ōðrum unlifigendum,

  2910 “healdeð hige-mēðum hēafod-wearde

  to work a wound. There Wiglaf sitteth,

  Weohstan’s bairn, by Beowulf’s side,

  the living earl by the other dead,

  and heavy of heart a head-watch keeps

  2910 o’er friend and foe. — Now our folk may look