The Tale of Beowulf

What! we of the Spear-Danes of yore days, so was it

That we learn'd of the fair fame of kings of the folks

And the athelings a-faring in framing of valour.

Oft then Scyld the Sheaf-son from the hosts of the scathers,

From kindreds a many the mead-settles tore;

It was then the earl fear'd them, sithence was he first

Found bare and all-lacking; so solace he bided,

Wax'd under the welkin in worship to thrive,

Until it was so that the round-about sitters

10 All over the whale-road must hearken his will

And yield him the tribute. A good king was that,

By whom then thereafter a son was begotten,

A youngling in garth, whom the great God sent thither

To foster the folk; and their crime-need he felt

The load that lay on them while lordless they lived

For a long while and long. He therefore, the Life-lord,

The Wielder of glory, world's worship he gave him:

Brim Beowulf waxed, and wide the weal upsprang

Of the offspring of Scyld in the parts of the Scede-lands.

20 Such wise shall a youngling with wealth be a-working

With goodly fee-gifts toward the friends of his father,

That after in eld-days shall ever bide with him,

Fair fellows well-willing when wendeth the war-tide,

Their lief lord a-serving. By praise-deeds it shall be

That in each and all kindreds a man shall have thriving.

Then went his ways Scyld when the shapen while was,

All hardy to wend him to the lord and his warding:

Out then did they bear him to the side of the sea-flood,

The dear fellows of him, as he himself pray'd them

30 While yet his word wielded the friend of the Scyldings,

The dear lord of the land; a long while had he own'd it.

With stem all be-ringed at the hythe stood the ship,

All icy and out-fain, the Atheling's ferry.

There then did they lay him, the lord well beloved,

The gold-rings' bestower, within the ship's barm,

The mighty by mast. Much there was the treasure,

From far ways forsooth had the fret-work been led:

Never heard I of keel that was comelier dighted

With weapons of war, and with weed of the battle,

40 With bills and with byrnies. There lay in his barm

Much wealth of the treasure that with him should be,

And he into the flood's might afar to depart.

No lesser a whit were the wealth-goods they dight him

Of the goods of the folk, than did they who aforetime,

When was the beginning, first sent him away

Alone o'er the billows, and he but a youngling.

Moreover they set him up there a sign golden

High up overhead, and let the holm bear him,

Gave all to the Spearman. Sad mind they had in them,

50 And mourning their mood was. Now never knew men,

For sooth how to say it, rede-masters in hall,

Or heroes 'neath heaven, to whose hands came the lading.

In the burgs then was biding Beowulf the Scylding,

Dear King of the people, for long was he dwelling

Far-famed of folks (his father turn'd elsewhere,

From his stead the Chief wended) till awoke to him after

Healfdene the high, and long while he held it,

Ancient and war-eager, o'er the glad Scyldings:

Of his body four bairns are forth to him rimed;

60 Into the world woke the leader of war-hosts

Heorogar; eke Hrothgar, and Halga the good;

Heard I that Elan queen was she of Ongentheow,

That Scylding of battle, the bed-mate behalsed.

Then was unto Hrothgar the war-speed given,

Such worship of war that his kin and well-willers

Well hearken'd his will till the younglings were waxen,

A kin-host a many. Then into his mind ran

That he would be building for him now a hall-house,

That men should be making a mead-hall more mighty

70 Than the children of ages had ever heard tell of:

And there within eke should he be out-dealing

To young and to old all things God had given,

Save the share of the folk and the life-days of men.

Then heard I that widely the work was a-banning

To kindreds a many the Middle-garth over

To fret o'er that folk-stead. So befell to him timely

Right soon among men that made was it yarely

The most of hall-houses, and Hart its name shap'd he,

Who wielded his word full widely around.

80 His behest he belied not; it was he dealt the rings,

The wealth at the high-tide. Then up rose the hall-house,

High up and horn-gabled. Hot surges it bided

Of fire-flame the loathly, nor long was it thenceforth

Ere sorely the edge-hate 'twixt Son and Wife's Father

After the slaughter-strife there should awaken.

Then the ghost heavy-strong bore with it hardly

E'en for a while of time, bider in darkness,

That there on each day of days heard he the mirth-tide

Loud in the hall-house. There was the harp's voice,

90 And clear song of shaper. Said he who could it

To tell the first fashion of men from aforetime;

Quoth how the Almighty One made the Earth's fashion,

The fair field and bright midst the bow of the Waters,

And with victory beglory'd set Sun and Moon,

Bright beams to enlighten the biders on land:

And how he adorned all parts of the earth

With limbs and with leaves; and life withal shaped

For the kindred of each thing that quick on earth wendeth.

So liv'd on all happy the host of the kinsmen

100 In game and in glee, until one wight began,

A fiend out of hell-pit, the framing of evil,

And Grendel forsooth the grim guest was hight,

The mighty mark-strider, the holder of moorland,

The fen and the fastness. The stead of the fifel

That wight all unhappy a while of time warded,

Sithence that the Shaper him had for-written.

On the kindred of Cain the Lord living ever

Awreaked the murder of the slaying of Abel.

In that feud he rejoic'd not, but afar him He banish'd,

110 The Maker, from mankind for the crime he had wrought.

But offspring uncouth thence were they awoken

Eotens and elf-wights, and ogres of ocean,

And therewith the Giants, who won war against God

A long while; but He gave them their wages therefor.

Now went he a-spying, when come was the night-tide,

The house on high builded, and how there the Ring-Danes

Their beer-drinking over had boune them to bed;

And therein he found them, the atheling fellows,

Asleep after feasting. Then sorrow they knew not

120 Nor the woe of mankind: but the wight of wealth's waning,

The grim and the greedy, soon yare was he gotten,

All furious and fierce, and he raught up from resting

A thirty of thanes, and thence aback got him

Right fain of his gettings, and homeward to fare,

Fulfilled of slaughter his stead to go look on.

Thereafter at dawning, when day was yet early,

The war-craft of Grendel to men grew unhidden,

And after his meal was the weeping uphoven,

Mickle voice of the morning-tide: there the Prince mighty,

130 The Atheling exceeding good, unblithe he sat,

Tholing the heavy woe; thane-sorrow dreed he

Since the slot of the loathly wight there they had look'd on,

The ghost all accursed. O'er grisly the strife was,

So loathly and longsome. No longer the frist was

But after the wearing of one night; then fram'd he

Murder-bales more yet, and nowise he mourned

The feud and the crime; over fast therein was he.

Then easy to find was the man who would elsewhere

Seek out for himself a rest was more roomsome,

Beds 140 end-long the bowers, when beacon'd to him was,

And soothly out told by manifest token,

The hate of the hell-thane. He held himself sithence

Further and faster who from the fiend gat him.

In such wise he rul'd it and wrought against right,

But one against all, until idle was standing

The best of hall-houses; and mickle the while was,

Twelve winter-tides' wearing; and trouble he tholed,

That friend of the Scyldings, of woes every one

And wide-spreading sorrows: for sithence it fell

150 That unto men's children unbidden 'twas known

Full sadly in singing, that Grendel won war

'Gainst Hrothgar a while of time, hate-envy waging,

And crime-guilts and feud for seasons no few,

And strife without stinting. For the sake of no kindness

Unto any of men of the main-host of Dane-folk

Would he thrust off the life-bale, or by fee-gild allay it,

Nor was there a wise man that needed to ween

The bright boot to have at the hand of the slayer.

The monster the fell one afflicted them sorely,

160 That death-shadow darksome the doughty and youthful

Enfettered, ensnared; night by night was he faring

The moorlands the misty. But never know men

Of spell-workers of Hell to and fro where they wander.

So crime-guilts a many the foeman of mankind,

The fell alone-farer, fram'd oft and full often,

Cruel hard shames and wrongful, and Hart he abode in,

The treasure-stain'd hall, in the dark of the night-tide;

But never the gift-stool therein might he greet,

The treasure before the Creator he trow'd not.

170 Mickle wrack was it soothly for the friend of the Scyldings,

Yea heart and mood breaking. Now sat there a many

Of the mighty in rune, and won them the rede

Of what thing for the strong-soul'd were best of all things

Which yet they might frame 'gainst the fear and the horror.

And whiles they behight them at the shrines of the heathen

To worship the idols; and pray'd they in words,

That he, the ghost-slayer, would frame for them helping

'Gainst the folk-threats and evil So far'd they their wont,

The hope of the heathen; nor hell they remember'd

In 180 mood and in mind. And the Maker they knew not,

The Doomer of deeds: nor of God the Lord wist they,

Nor the Helm of the Heavens knew aught how to hery,

The Wielder of Glory. Woe worth unto that man

Who through hatred the baneful his soul shall shove into

The fire's embrace; nought of fostering weens he,

Nor of changing one whit. But well is he soothly

That after the death-day shall seek to the Lord,

In the breast of the Father all peace ever craving.