Beowulf

XXXII: The Hoard and the Dragon

⋮ He sought of himself who sorely did harm him, But, for need very pressing, the servant of one of The sons of the heroes hate-blows evaded, Seeking for shelter and the sin-driven warrior Took refuge within there. He early looked in it, ⋮ ⋮ ⋮ when the onset surprised him, He a gem-vessel saw there: many of suchlike Ancient ornaments in the earth-cave were lying, As in days of yore some one of men of Illustrious lineage, as a legacy monstrous, There had secreted them, careful and thoughtful, Dear-valued jewels. Death had offsnatched them, In the days of the past, and the one man moreover Of the flower of the folk who fared there the longest, Was fain to defer it, friend-mourning warder, A little longer to be left in enjoyment Of long-lasting treasure. A barrow all-ready Stood on the plain the stream-currents nigh to, New by the ness-edge, unnethe of approaching: The keeper of rings carried within a Ponderous deal of the treasure of nobles, Of gold that was beaten, briefly he spake then: “Hold thou, O Earth, now heroes no more may, The earnings of earlmen. Lo! erst in thy bosom Worthy men won them; war-death hath ravished, Perilous life-bale, all my warriors, Liegemen belovèd, who this life have forsaken, Who hall-pleasures saw. No sword-bearer have I, And no one to burnish the gold-plated vessel, The high-valued beaker: my heroes are vanished. The hardy helmet behung with gilding Shall be reaved of its riches: the ring-cleansers slumber Who were charged to have ready visors-for-battle, And the burnie that bided in battle-encounter O’er breaking of war-shields the bite of the edges Moulds with the hero. The ring-twisted armor, Its lord being lifeless, no longer may journey Hanging by heroes; harp-joy is vanished, The rapture of glee-wood, no excellent falcon Swoops through the building, no swift-footed charger Grindeth the gravel. A grievous destruction No few of the world-folk widely hath scattered!” So, woeful of spirit one after all Lamented mournfully, moaning in sadness By day and by night, till death with its billows Dashed on his spirit. Then the ancient dusk-scather Found the great treasure standing all open, He who flaming and fiery flies to the barrows, Naked war-dragon, nightly escapeth Encompassed with fire; men under heaven Widely beheld him. ’Tis said that he looks for The hoard in the earth, where old he is guarding The heathenish treasure; he’ll be nowise the better. So three-hundred winters the waster of peoples Held upon earth that excellent hoard-hall, Till the forementioned earlman angered him bitterly: The beat-plated beaker he bare to his chieftain And fullest remission for all his remissness Begged of his liegelord. Then the hoard was discovered, The treasure was taken, his petition was granted The lorn-mooded liegeman. His lord regarded The old-work of earth-folk—’twas the earliest occasion. When the dragon awoke, the strife was renewed there; He snuffed ’long the stone then, stout-hearted found he The footprint of foeman; too far had he gone With cunning craftiness close to the head of The fire-spewing dragon. So undoomed he may ’scape from Anguish and exile with ease who possesseth The favor of Heaven. The hoard-warden eagerly Searched o’er the ground then, would meet with the person That caused him sorrow while in slumber reclining: Gleaming and wild he oft went round the cavern, All of it outward; not any of earthmen Was seen in that desert. Yet he joyed in the battle, Rejoiced in the conflict: oft he turned to the barrow, Sought for the gem-cup; this he soon perceived then That some man or other had discovered the gold, The famous folk-treasure. Not fain did the hoard-ward Wait until evening; then the ward of the barrow Was angry in spirit, the loathèd one wished to Pay for the dear-valued drink-cup with fire. Then the day was done as the dragon would have it, He no longer would wait on the wall, but departed Fire-impelled, flaming. Fearful the start was To earls in the land, as it early thereafter To their giver-of-gold was grievously ended.

XXXIII: Brave Though Aged—Reminiscences

The stranger began then to vomit forth fire, To burn the great manor; the blaze then glimmered For anguish to earlmen, not anything living Was the hateful air-goer willing to leave there. The war of the worm widely was noticed, The feud of the foeman afar and anear, How the enemy injured the earls of the Geatmen, Harried with hatred: back he hied to the treasure, To the well-hidden cavern ere the coming of daylight. He had circled with fire the folk of those regions, With brand and burning; in the barrow he trusted, In the wall and his war-might: the weening deceived him. Then straight was the horror to Beowulf published, Early forsooth, that his own native homestead, The best of buildings, was burning and melting, Gift-seat of Geatmen. ’Twas a grief to the spirit Of the good-mooded hero, the greatest of sorrows: The wise one weened then that wielding his kingdom ’Gainst the ancient commandments, he had bitterly angered The Lord everlasting: with lorn meditations His bosom welled inward, as was nowise his custom. The fire-spewing dragon fully had wasted The fastness of warriors, the water-land outward, The manor with fire. The folk-ruling hero, Prince of the Weders, was planning to wreak him. The warmen’s defender bade them to make him, Earlmen’s atheling, an excellent war-shield Wholly of iron: fully he knew then That wood from the forest was helpless to aid him, Shield against fire. The long-worthy ruler Must live the last of his limited earth-days, Of life in the world and the worm along with him, Though he long had been holding hoard-wealth in plenty. Then the ring-prince disdained to seek with a war-band, With army extensive, the air-going ranger; He felt no fear of the foeman’s assaults and He counted for little the might of the dragon, His power and prowess: for previously dared he A heap of hostility, hazarded dangers, War-thane, when Hrothgar’s palace he cleansèd, Conquering combatant, clutched in the battle The kinsmen of Grendel, of kindred detested. ’Twas of hand-fights not least where Higelac was slaughtered, When the king of the Geatmen with clashings of battle, Friend-lord of folks in Frisian dominions, Offspring of Hrethrel perished through sword-drink, With battle-swords beaten; thence Beowulf came then On self-help relying, swam through the waters; He bare on his arm, lone-going, thirty Outfits of armor, when the ocean he mounted. The Hetwars by no means had need to be boastful Of their fighting afoot, who forward to meet him Carried their war-shields: not many returned from The brave-mooded battle-knight back to their homesteads. Ecgtheow’s bairn o’er the bight-courses swam then, Lone-goer lorn to his land-folk returning, Where Hygd to him tendered treasure and kingdom, Rings and dominion: her son she not trusted, To be able to keep the kingdom devised him ’Gainst alien races, on the death of King Higelac. Yet the sad ones succeeded not in persuading the atheling In any way ever, to act as a suzerain To Heardred, or promise to govern the kingdom; Yet with friendly counsel in the folk he sustained him, Gracious, with honor, till he grew to be older, Wielded the Weders. Wide-fleeing outlaws, Ohthere’s sons, sought him o’er the waters: They had stirred a revolt ’gainst the helm of the Scylfings, The best of the sea-kings, who in Swedish dominions Distributed treasure, distinguished folk-leader. ’Twas the end of his earth-days; injury fatal By swing of the sword he received as a greeting, Offspring of Higelac; Ongentheow’s bairn Later departed to visit his homestead, When Heardred was dead; let Beowulf rule them, Govern the Geatmen: good was that folk-king.

XXXIV: Beowulf Seeks the Dragon—Beowulf’s Reminiscences

He planned requital for the folk-leader’s ruin In days thereafter, to Eadgils the wretched Becoming an enemy. Ohthere’s son then Went with a war-troop o’er the wide-stretching currents With warriors and weapons: with woe-journeys cold he After avenged him, the king’s life he took. So he came off uninjured from all of his battles, Perilous fights, offspring of Ecgtheow, From his deeds of daring, till that day most momentous When he fate-driven fared to fight with the dragon. With eleven companions the prince of the Geatmen Went lowering with fury to look at the fire-drake: Inquiring he’d found how the feud had arisen, Hate to his heroes; the highly-famed gem-vessel Was brought to his keeping through the hand of th’ informer. That in the throng was thirteenth of heroes, That caused the beginning of conflict so bitter, Captive and wretched, must sad-mooded thenceward Point out the place: he passed then unwillingly To the spot where he knew of the notable cavern, The cave under earth, not far from the ocean, The anger of eddies, which inward was full of Jewels and wires: a warden uncanny, Warrior weaponed, wardered the treasure, Old under earth; no easy possession For any of earth-folk access to get to. Then the battle-brave atheling sat on the naze-edge, While the gold-friend of Geatmen gracious saluted His fireside-companions: woe was his spirit, Death-boding, wav’ring; Weird very near him, Who must seize the old hero, his soul-treasure look for, Dragging aloof his life from his body: Not flesh-hidden long was the folk-leader’s spirit. Beowulf spake, Ecgtheow’s son: “I survived in my youth-days many a conflict, Hours of onset: that all I remember. I was seven-winters old when the jewel-prince took me, High-lord of heroes, at the hands of my father, Hrethel the hero-king had me in keeping, Gave me treasure and feasting, our kinship remembered; Not ever was I any less dear to him Knight in the boroughs, than the bairns of his household, Herebald and Haethcyn and Higelac mine. To the eldest unjustly by acts of a kinsman Was murder-bed strewn, since him Haethcyn from horn-bow His sheltering chieftain shot with an arrow, Erred in his aim and injured his kinsman, One brother the other, with blood-sprinkled spear: ’Twas a feeless fight, finished in malice, Sad to his spirit; the folk-prince however Had to part from existence with vengeance untaken. So to hoar-headed hero ’tis heavily crushing To live to see his son as he rideth Young on the gallows: then measures he chanteth, A song of sorrow, when his son is hanging For the raven’s delight, and aged and hoary He is unable to offer any assistance. Every morning his offspring’s departure Is constant recalled: he cares not to wait for The birth of an heir in his borough-enclosures, Since that one through death-pain the deeds hath experienced. He heart-grieved beholds in the house of his son the Wine-building wasted, the wind-lodging places Reaved of their roaring; the riders are sleeping, The knights in the grave; there’s no sound of the harp-wood, Joy in the yards, as of yore were familiar.

XXXV: Reminiscences (Continued)—Beowulf’s Last Battle

“He seeks then his chamber, singeth a woe-song One for the other; all too extensive Seemed homesteads and plains. So the helm of the Weders Mindful of Herebald heart-sorrow carried, Stirred with emotion, nowise was able To wreak his ruin on the ruthless destroyer: He was unable to follow the warrior with hatred, With deeds that were direful, though dear he not held him. Then pressed by the pang this pain occasioned him, He gave up glee, God-light elected; He left to his sons, as the man that is rich does, His land and fortress, when from life he departed. Then was crime and hostility ’twixt Swedes and Geatmen, O’er wide-stretching water warring was mutual, Burdensome hatred, when Hrethel had perished, And Ongentheow’s offspring were active and valiant, Wished not to hold to peace oversea, but Round Hreosna-beorh often accomplished Cruelest massacre. This my kinsman avengèd, The feud and fury, as ’tis found on inquiry, Though one of them paid it with forfeit of life-joys, With price that was hard: the struggle became then Fatal to Haethcyn, lord of the Geatmen. Then I heard that at morning one brother the other With edges of irons egged on to murder, Where Ongentheow maketh onset on Eofor: The helmet crashed, the hoary-haired Scylfing Sword-smitten fell, his hand then remembered Feud-hate sufficient, refused not the death-blow. The gems that he gave me, with jewel-bright sword I ’Quited in contest, as occasion was offered: Land he allowed me, life-joy at homestead, Manor to live on. Little he needed From Gepids or Danes or in Sweden to look for Trooper less true, with treasure to buy him; ’Mong foot-soldiers ever in front I would hie me, Alone in the vanguard, and evermore gladly Warfare shall wage, while this weapon endureth That late and early often did serve me When I proved before heroes the slayer of Daeghrefn, Knight of the Hugmen: he by no means was suffered To the king of the Frisians to carry the jewels, The breast-decoration; but the banner-possessor Bowed in the battle, brave-mooded atheling. No weapon was slayer, but war-grapple broke then The surge of his spirit, his body destroying. Now shall weapon’s edge make war for the treasure, And hand and firm-sword.” Beowulf spake then, Boast-words uttered—the latest occasion: “I braved in my youth-days battles unnumbered; Still am I willing the struggle to look for, Fame-deeds perform, folk-warden prudent, If the hateful despoiler forth from his cavern Seeketh me out!” Each of the heroes, Helm-bearers sturdy, he thereupon greeted Belovèd co-liegemen—his last salutation: “No brand would I bear, no blade for the dragon, Wist I a way my word-boast to ’complish Else with the monster, as with Grendel I did it; But fire in the battle hot I expect there, Furious flame-burning: so I fixed on my body Target and war-mail. The ward of the barrow I’ll not flee from a foot-length, the foeman uncanny. At the wall ’twill befall us as Fate decreeth, Each one’s Creator. I am eager in spirit, With the wingèd war-hero to away with all boasting. Bide on the barrow with burnies protected, Earls in armor, which of us two may better Bear his disaster, when the battle is over. ’Tis no matter of yours, and man cannot do it, But me and me only, to measure his strength with The monster of malice, might-deeds to ’complish. I with prowess shall gain the gold, or the battle, Direful death-woe will drag off your ruler!” The mighty champion rose by his shield then, Brave under helmet, in battle-mail went he ’Neath steep-rising stone-cliffs, the strength he relied on Of one man alone: no work for a coward. Then he saw by the wall who a great many battles Had lived through, most worthy, when foot-troops collided, Stone-arches standing, stout-hearted champion, Saw a brook from the barrow bubbling out thenceward: The flood of the fountain was fuming with war-flame: Not nigh to the hoard, for season the briefest Could he brave, without burning, the abyss that was yawning, The drake was so fiery. The prince of the Weders Caused then that words came from his bosom, So fierce was his fury; the firm-hearted shouted: His battle-clear voice came in resounding ’Neath the gray-colored stone. Stirred was his hatred, The hoard-ward distinguished the speech of a man; Time was no longer to look out for friendship. The breath of the monster issued forth first, Vapory war-sweat, out of the stone-cave: The earth re-echoed. The earl ’neath the barrow Lifted his shield, lord of the Geatmen, Tow’rd the terrible stranger: the ring-twisted creature’s Heart was then ready to seek for a struggle. The excellent battle-king first brandished his weapon, The ancient heirloom, of edges unblunted, To the death-planners twain was terror from other. The lord of the troopers intrepidly stood then ’Gainst his high-rising shield, when the dragon coiled him Quickly together: in corslet he bided. He went then in blazes, bended and striding, Hasting him forward. His life and body The targe well protected, for time-period shorter Than wish demanded for the well-renowned leader, Where he then for the first day was forced to be victor, Famous in battle, as Fate had not willed it. The lord of the Geatmen uplifted his hand then, Smiting the fire-drake with sword that was precious, That bright on the bone the blade-edge did weaken, Bit more feebly than his folk-leader needed, Burdened with bale-griefs. Then the barrow-protector, When the sword-blow had fallen, was fierce in his spirit, Flinging his fires, flamings of battle Gleamed then afar: the gold-friend of Weders Boasted no conquests, his battle-sword failed him Naked in conflict, as by no means it ought to, Long-trusty weapon. ’Twas no slight undertaking That Ecgtheow’s famous offspring would leave The drake-cavern’s bottom; he must live in some region Other than this, by the will of the dragon, As each one of earthmen existence must forfeit. ’Twas early thereafter the excellent warriors Met with each other. Anew and afresh The hoard-ward took heart (gasps heaved then his bosom): Sorrow he suffered encircled with fire Who the people erst governed. His companions by no means Were banded about him, bairns of the princes, With valorous spirit, but they sped to the forest, Seeking for safety. The soul-deeps of one were Ruffled by care: kin-love can never Aught in him waver who well doth consider.

XXXVI: Wiglaf the Trusty—Beowulf Is Deserted by Friends and by Sword

The son of Weohstan was Wiglaf entitled, Shield-warrior precious, prince of the Scylfings, Aelfhere’s kinsman: he saw his dear liegelord Enduring the heat ’neath helmet and visor. Then he minded the holding that erst he had given him, The Waegmunding warriors’ wealth-blessèd homestead, Each of the folk-rights his father had wielded; He was hot for the battle, his hand seized the target, The yellow-bark shield, he unsheathed his old weapon, Which was known among earthmen as the relic of Eanmund, Ohthere’s offspring, whom, exiled and friendless, Weohstan did slay with sword-edge in battle, And carried his kinsman the clear-shining helmet, The ring-made burnie, the old giant-weapon That Onela gave him, his boon-fellow’s armor, Ready war-trappings: he the feud did not mention, Though he’d fatally smitten the son of his brother. Many a half-year held he the treasures, The bill and the burnie, till his bairn became able, Like his father before him, fame-deeds to ’complish; Then he gave him ’mong Geatmen a goodly array of Weeds for his warfare; he went from life then Old on his journey. ’Twas the earliest time then That the youthful champion might charge in the battle Aiding his liegelord; his spirit was dauntless. Nor did kinsman’s bequest quail at the battle: This the dragon discovered on their coming together. Wiglaf uttered many a right-saying, Said to his fellows, sad was his spirit: “I remember the time when, tasting the mead-cup, We promised in the hall the lord of us all Who gave us these ring-treasures, that this battle-equipment, Swords and helmets, we’d certainly quite him, Should need of such aid ever befall him: In the war-band he chose us for this journey spontaneously, Stirred us to glory and gave me these jewels, Since he held and esteemed us trust-worthy spearmen, Hardy helm-bearers, though this hero-achievement Our lord intended alone to accomplish, Ward of his people, for most of achievements, Doings audacious, he did among earth-folk. The day is now come when the ruler of earthmen Needeth the vigor of valiant heroes: Let us wend us towards him, the war-prince to succor, While the heat yet rageth, horrible fire-fight. God wot in me, ’tis mickle the liefer The blaze should embrace my body and eat it With my treasure-bestower. Meseemeth not proper To bear our battle-shields back to our country, ’Less first we are able to fell and destroy the Long-hating foeman, to defend the life of The prince of the Weders. Well do I know ’tisn’t Earned by his exploits, he only of Geatmen Sorrow should suffer, sink in the battle: Brand and helmet to us both shall be common, Shield-cover, burnie.” Through the bale-smoke he stalked then, Went under helmet to the help of his chieftain, Briefly discoursing: “Beowulf dear, Perform thou all fully, as thou formerly saidst, In thy youthful years, that while yet thou livedst Thou wouldst let thine honor not ever be lessened. Thy life thou shalt save, mighty in actions, Atheling undaunted, with all of thy vigor; I’ll give thee assistance.” The dragon came raging, Wild-mooded stranger, when these words had been uttered (’Twas the second occasion), seeking his enemies, Men that were hated, with hot-gleaming fire-waves; With blaze-billows burned the board to its edges: The fight-armor failed then to furnish assistance To the youthful spear-hero: but the young-agèd stripling Quickly advanced ’neath his kinsman’s war-target, Since his own had been ground in the grip of the fire. Then the warrior-king was careful of glory, He soundly smote with sword-for-the-battle, That it stood in the head by hatred driven; Naegling was shivered, the old and iron-made Brand of Beowulf in battle deceived him. ’Twas denied him that edges of irons were able To help in the battle; the hand was too mighty Which every weapon, as I heard on inquiry, Outstruck in its stroke, when to struggle he carried The wonderful war-sword: it waxed him no better. Then the people-despoiler—third of his onsets— Fierce-raging fire-drake, of feud-hate was mindful, Charged on the strong one, when chance was afforded, Heated and war-grim, seized on his neck With teeth that were bitter; he bloody did wax with Soul-gore seething; sword-blood in waves boiled.