Beowulf

XXXVII: The Fatal Struggle—Beowulf’s Last Moments

Then I heard that at need of the king of the people The upstanding earlman exhibited prowess, Vigor and courage, as suited his nature; He his head did not guard, but the high-minded liegeman’s Hand was consumed, when he succored his kinsman, So he struck the strife-bringing strange-comer lower, Earl-thane in armor, that in went the weapon Gleaming and plated, that ’gan then the fire Later to lessen. The liegelord himself then Retained his consciousness, brandished his war-knife, Battle-sharp, bitter, that he bare on his armor: The Weder-lord cut the worm in the middle. They had felled the enemy (life drove out then Puissant prowess), the pair had destroyed him, Land-chiefs related: so a liegeman should prove him, A thaneman when needed. To the prince ’twas the last of His era of conquest by his own great achievements, The latest of world-deeds. The wound then began Which the earth-dwelling dragon erstwhile had wrought him To burn and to swell. He soon then discovered That bitterest bale-woe in his bosom was raging, Poison within. The atheling advanced then, That along by the wall, he prudent of spirit Might sit on a settle; he saw the giant-work, How arches of stone strengthened with pillars The earth-hall eternal inward supported. Then the long-worthy liegeman laved with his hand the Far-famous chieftain, gory from sword-edge, Refreshing the face of his friend-lord and ruler, Sated with battle, unbinding his helmet. Beowulf answered, of his injury spake he, His wound that was fatal (he was fully aware He had lived his allotted life-days enjoying The pleasures of earth; then past was entirely His measure of days, death very near): “My son I would give now my battle-equipments, Had any of heirs been after me granted, Along of my body. This people I governed Fifty of winters: no king ’mong my neighbors Dared to encounter me with comrades-in-battle, Try me with terror. The time to me ordered I bided at home, mine own kept fitly, Sought me no snares, swore me not many Oaths in injustice. Joy over all this I’m able to have, though ill with my death-wounds; Hence the Ruler of Earthmen need not charge me With the killing of kinsmen, when cometh my life out Forth from my body. Fare thou with haste now To behold the hoard ’neath the hoar-grayish stone, Well-lovèd Wiglaf, now the worm is a-lying, Sore-wounded sleepeth, disseized of his treasure. Go thou in haste that treasures of old I, Gold-wealth may gaze on, together see lying The ether-bright jewels, be easier able, Having the heap of hoard-gems, to yield my Life and the land-folk whom long I have governed.”

XXXVIII: Wiglaf Plunders the Dragon’s Den—Beowulf’s Death

Then heard I that Wihstan’s son very quickly, These words being uttered, heeded his liegelord Wounded and war-sick, went in his armor, His well-woven ring-mail, ’neath the roof of the barrow. Then the trusty retainer treasure-gems many Victorious saw, when the seat he came near to, Gold-treasure sparkling spread on the bottom, Wonder on the wall, and the worm-creature’s cavern, The ancient dawn-flier’s, vessels a-standing, Cups of the ancients of cleansers bereavèd, Robbed of their ornaments: there were helmets in numbers, Old and rust-eaten, arm-bracelets many, Artfully woven. Wealth can easily, Gold on the sea-bottom, turn into vanity Each one of earthmen, arm him who pleaseth! And he saw there lying an all-golden banner High o’er the hoard, of hand-wonders greatest, Linkèd with lacets: a light from it sparkled, That the floor of the cavern he was able to look on, To examine the jewels. Sight of the dragon Not any was offered, but edge offcarried him. Then I heard that the hero the hoard-treasure plundered, The giant-work ancient reaved in the cavern, Bare on his bosom the beakers and platters, As himself would fain have it, and took off the standard, The brightest of beacons; the bill had erst injured (Its edge was of iron), the old-ruler’s weapon, Him who long had watched as ward of the jewels, Who fire-terror carried hot for the treasure, Rolling in battle, in middlemost darkness, Till murdered he perished. The messenger hastened, Not loth to return, hurried by jewels: Curiosity urged him if, excellent-mooded, Alive he should find the lord of the Weders Mortally wounded, at the place where he left him. ’Mid the jewels he found then the famous old chieftain, His liegelord belovèd, at his life’s-end gory: He thereupon ’gan to lave him with water, Till the point of his word piercèd his breast-hoard. Beowulf spake (the gold-gems he noticed), The old one in sorrow: “For the jewels I look on Thanks do I utter for all to the Ruler, Wielder of Worship, with words of devotion, The Lord everlasting, that He let me such treasures Gain for my people ere death overtook me. Since I’ve bartered the agèd life to me granted For treasure of jewels, attend ye henceforward The wants of the war-thanes; I can wait here no longer. The battle-famed bid ye to build them a grave-hill, Bright when I’m burned, at the brim-current’s limit; As a memory-mark to the men I have governed, Aloft it shall tower on Whale’s-Ness uprising, That earls of the ocean hereafter may call it Beowulf’s barrow, those who barks ever-dashing From a distance shall drive o’er the darkness of waters.” The bold-mooded troop-lord took from his neck then The ring that was golden, gave to his liegeman, The youthful war-hero, his gold-flashing helmet, His collar and war-mail, bade him well to enjoy them: “Thou art latest left of the line of our kindred, Of Waegmunding people: Weird hath offcarried All of my kinsmen to the Creator’s glory, Earls in their vigor: I shall after them fare.” ’Twas the aged liegelord’s last-spoken word in His musings of spirit, ere he mounted the fire, The battle-waves burning: from his bosom departed His soul to seek the sainted ones’ glory.

XXXIX: The Dead Foes—Wiglaf’s Bitter Taunts

It had woefully chanced then the youthful retainer To behold on earth the most ardent-belovèd At his life-days’ limit, lying there helpless. The slayer too lay there, of life all bereavèd, Horrible earth-drake, harassed with sorrow: The round-twisted monster was permitted no longer To govern the ring-hoards, but edges of war-swords Mightily seized him, battle-sharp, sturdy Leavings of hammers, that still from his wounds The flier-from-farland fell to the earth Hard by his hoard-house, hopped he at midnight Not e’er through the air, nor exulting in jewels Suffered them to see him: but he sank then to earthward Through the hero-chief’s handwork. I heard sure it throve then But few in the land of liegemen of valor, Though of every achievement bold he had proved him, To run ’gainst the breath of the venomous scather, Or the hall of the treasure to trouble with hand-blows, If he watching had found the ward of the hoard-hall On the barrow abiding. Beowulf’s part of The treasure of jewels was paid for with death; Each of the twain had attained to the end of Life so unlasting. Not long was the time till The tardy-at-battle returned from the thicket, The timid truce-breakers ten all together, Who durst not before play with the lances In the prince of the people’s pressing emergency; But blushing with shame, with shields they betook them, With arms and armor where the old one was lying: They gazed upon Wiglaf. He was sitting exhausted, Foot-going fighter, not far from the shoulders Of the lord of the people, would rouse him with water; No whit did it help him; though he hoped for it keenly, He was able on earth not at all in the leader Life to retain, and nowise to alter The will of the Wielder; the World-Ruler’s power Would govern the actions of each one of heroes, As yet He is doing. From the young one forthwith then Could grim-worded greeting be got for him quickly Whose courage had failed him. Wiglaf discoursed then, Weohstan his son, sad-mooded hero, Looked on the hated: “He who soothness will utter Can say that the liegelord who gave you the jewels, The ornament-armor wherein ye are standing, When on ale-bench often he offered to hall-men Helmet and burnie, the prince to his liegemen, As best upon earth he was able to find him— That he wildly wasted his war-gear undoubtedly When battle o’ertook him. The troop-king no need had To glory in comrades; yet God permitted him, Victory-Wielder, with weapon unaided Himself to avenge, when vigor was needed. I life-protection but little was able To give him in battle, and I ’gan, notwithstanding, Helping my kinsman (my strength overtaxing): He waxed the weaker when with weapon I smote on My mortal opponent, the fire less strongly Flamed from his bosom. Too few of protectors Came round the king at the critical moment. Now must ornament-taking and weapon-bestowing, Home-joyance all, cease for your kindred, Food for the people; each of your warriors Must needs be bereavèd of rights that he holdeth In landed possessions, when faraway nobles Shall learn of your leaving your lord so basely, The dastardly deed. Death is more pleasant To every earlman than infamous life is!”

XL: The Messenger of Death

Then he charged that the battle be announced at the hedge Up o’er the cliff-edge, where the earl-troopers bided The whole of the morning, mood-wretched sat them, Bearers of battle-shields, both things expecting, The end of his lifetime and the coming again of The liegelord belovèd. Little reserved he Of news that was known, who the ness-cliff did travel, But he truly discoursed to all that could hear him: “Now the free-giving friend-lord of the folk of the Weders, The folk-prince of Geatmen, is fast in his death-bed, By the deeds of the dragon in death-bed abideth; Along with him lieth his life-taking foeman Slain with knife-wounds: he was wholly unable To injure at all the ill-planning monster With bite of his sword-edge. Wiglaf is sitting, Offspring of Wihstan, up over Beowulf, Earl o’er another whose end-day hath reached him, Head-watch holdeth o’er heroes unliving, For friend and for foeman. The folk now expecteth A season of strife when the death of the folk-king To Frankmen and Frisians in far-lands is published. The war-hatred waxed warm ’gainst the Hugmen, When Higelac came with an army of vessels Faring to Friesland, where the Frankmen in battle Humbled him and bravely with overmight ’complished That the mail-clad warrior must sink in the battle, Fell ’mid his folk-troop: no fret-gems presented The atheling to earlmen; aye was denied us Merewing’s mercy. The men of the Swedelands For truce or for truth trust I but little; But widely ’twas known that near Ravenswood Ongentheow Sundered Haethcyn the Hrethling from life-joys, When for pride overweening the War-Scylfings first did Seek the Geatmen with savage intentions. Early did Ohthere’s age-laden father, Old and terrible, give blow in requital, Killing the sea-king, the queen-mother rescued, The old one his consort deprived of her gold, Onela’s mother and Ohthere’s also, And then followed the feud-nursing foemen till hardly, Reaved of their ruler, they Ravenswood entered. Then with vast-numbered forces he assaulted the remnant, Weary with wounds, woe often promised The livelong night to the sad-hearted war-troop: Said he at morning would kill them with edges of weapons, Some on the gallows for glee to the fowls. Aid came after to the anxious-in-spirit At dawn of the day, after Higelac’s bugle And trumpet-sound heard they, when the good one proceeded And faring followed the flower of the troopers.

XLI: The Messenger’s Retrospect

“The blood-stainèd trace of Swedes and Geatmen, The death-rush of warmen, widely was noticed, How the folks with each other feud did awaken. The worthy one went then with well-beloved comrades, Old and dejected to go to the fastness, Ongentheo earl upward then turned him; Of Higelac’s battle he’d heard on inquiry, The exultant one’s prowess, despaired of resistance, With earls of the ocean to be able to struggle, ’Gainst sea-going sailors to save the hoard-treasure, His wife and his children; he fled after thenceward Old ’neath the earth-wall. Then was offered pursuance To the braves of the Swedemen, the banner to Higelac. They fared then forth o’er the field-of-protection, When the Hrethling heroes hedgeward had thronged them. Then with edges of irons was Ongentheow driven, The gray-haired to tarry, that the troop-ruler had to Suffer the power solely of Eofor: Wulf then wildly with weapon assaulted him, Wonred his son, that for swinge of the edges The blood from his body burst out in currents, Forth ’neath his hair. He feared not however, Gray-headed Scylfing, but speedily quited The wasting wound-stroke with worse exchange, When the king of the thane-troop thither did turn him: The wise-mooded son of Wonred was powerless To give a return-blow to the age-hoary man, But his head-shielding helmet first hewed he to pieces, That flecked with gore perforce he did totter, Fell to the earth; not fey was he yet then, But up did he spring though an edge-wound had reached him. Then Higelac’s vassal, valiant and dauntless, When his brother lay dead, made his broad-bladed weapon, Giant-sword ancient, defence of the giants, Bound o’er the shield-wall; the folk-prince succumbed then, Shepherd of people, was pierced to the vitals. There were many attendants who bound up his kinsman, Carried him quickly when occasion was granted That the place of the slain they were suffered to manage. This pending, one hero plundered the other, His armor of iron from Ongentheow ravished, His hard-sword hilted and helmet together; The old one’s equipments he carried to Higelac. He the jewels received, and rewards ’mid the troopers Graciously promised, and so did accomplish: The king of the Weders requited the war-rush, Hrethel’s descendant, when home he repaired him, To Eofor and Wulf with wide-lavished treasures, To each of them granted a hundred of thousands In land and rings wrought out of wire: None upon mid-earth needed to twit him With the gifts he gave them, when glory they conquered; And to Eofor then gave he his one only daughter, The honor of home, as an earnest of favor. That’s the feud and hatred—as ween I ’twill happen— The anger of earthmen, that earls of the Swedemen Will visit on us, when they hear that our leader Lifeless is lying, he who longtime protected His hoard and kingdom ’gainst hating assailers, Who on the fall of the heroes defended of yore The deed-mighty Scyldings, did for the troopers What best did avail them, and further moreover Hero-deeds ’complished. Now is haste most fitting, That the lord of liegemen we look upon yonder, And that one carry on journey to death-pyre Who ring-presents gave us. Not aught of it all Shall melt with the brave one—there’s a mass of bright jewels, Gold beyond measure, gruesomely purchased And ending it all ornament-rings too Bought with his life; these fire shall devour, Flame shall cover, no earlman shall wear A jewel-memento, nor beautiful virgin Have on her neck rings to adorn her, But wretched in spirit bereavèd of gold-gems She shall oft with others be exiled and banished, Since the leader of liegemen hath laughter forsaken, Mirth and merriment. Hence many a war-spear Cold from the morning shall be clutched in the fingers, Heaved in the hand, no harp-music’s sound shall Waken the warriors, but the wan-coated raven Fain over fey ones freely shall gabble, Shall say to the eagle how he sped in the eating, When, the wolf his companion, he plundered the slain.” So the high-minded hero was rehearsing these stories Loathsome to hear; he lied as to few of Weirds and of words. All the war-troop arose then, ’Neath the Eagle’s Cape sadly betook them, Weeping and woeful, the wonder to look at. They saw on the sand then soulless a-lying, His slaughter-bed holding, him who rings had given them In days that were done; then the death-bringing moment Was come to the good one, that the king very warlike, Wielder of Weders, with wonder-death perished. First they beheld there a creature more wondrous, The worm on the field, in front of them lying, The foeman before them: the fire-spewing dragon, Ghostly and grisly guest in his terrors, Was scorched in the fire; as he lay there he measured Fifty of feet; came forth in the night-time To rejoice in the air, thereafter departing To visit his den; he in death was then fastened, He would joy in no other earth-hollowed caverns. There stood round about him beakers and vessels, Dishes were lying and dear-valued weapons, With iron-rust eaten, as in earth’s mighty bosom A thousand of winters there they had rested: That mighty bequest then with magic was guarded, Gold of the ancients, that earlman not any The ring-hall could touch, save Ruling-God only, Sooth-king of Vict’ries gave whom He wished to (He is earth-folk’s protector) to open the treasure, E’en to such among mortals as seemed to Him proper.

XLII: Wiglaf’s Sad Story—The Hoard Carried Off

Then ’twas seen that the journey prospered him little Who wrongly within had the ornaments hidden Down ’neath the wall. The warden erst slaughtered Some few of the folk-troop: the feud then thereafter Was hotly avengèd. ’Tis a wonder where, When the strength-famous trooper has attained to the end of Life-days allotted, then no longer the man may Remain with his kinsmen where mead-cups are flowing. So to Beowulf happened when the ward of the barrow, Assaults, he sought for: himself had no knowledge How his leaving this life was likely to happen. So to doomsday, famous folk-leaders down did Call it with curses—who ’complished it there— That that man should be ever of ill-deeds convicted, Confined in foul-places, fastened in hell-bonds, Punished with plagues, who this place should e’er ravage. He cared not for gold: rather the Wielder’s Favor preferred he first to get sight of. Wiglaf discoursed then, Wihstan his son: “Oft many an earlman on one man’s account must Sorrow endure, as to us it hath happened. The liegelord belovèd we could little prevail on, Kingdom’s keeper, counsel to follow, Not to go to the guardian of the gold-hoard, but let him Lie where he long was, live in his dwelling Till the end of the world. Met we a destiny Hard to endure: the hoard has been looked at, Been gained very grimly; too grievous the fate that The prince of the people pricked to come thither. I was therein and all of it looked at, The building’s equipments, since access was given me, Not kindly at all entrance permitted Within under earth-wall. Hastily seized I And held in my hands a huge-weighing burden Of hoard-treasures costly, hither out bare them To my liegelord belovèd: life was yet in him, And consciousness also; the old one discoursed then Much and mournfully, commanded to greet you, Bade that remembering the deeds of your friend-lord Ye build on the fire-hill of corpses a lofty Burial-barrow, broad and far-famous, As ’mid world-dwelling warriors he was widely most honored While he reveled in riches. Let us rouse us and hasten Again to see and seek for the treasure, The wonder ’neath wall. The way I will show you, That close ye may look at ring-gems sufficient And gold in abundance. Let the bier with promptness Fully be fashioned, when forth we shall come, And lift we our lord, then, where long he shall tarry, Well-beloved warrior, ’neath the Wielder’s protection.” Then the son of Wihstan bade orders be given, Mood-valiant man, to many of heroes, Holders of homesteads, that they hither from far, Leaders of liegemen, should look for the good one With wood for his pyre: “The flame shall now swallow (The wan fire shall wax) the warriors’ leader Who the rain of the iron often abided, When, sturdily hurled, the storm of the arrows Leapt o’er linden-wall, the lance rendered service, Furnished with feathers followed the arrow.” Now the wise-mooded son of Wihstan did summon The best of the braves from the band of the ruler Seven together; ’neath the enemy’s roof he Went with the seven; one of the heroes Who fared at the front, a fire-blazing torch-light Bare in his hand. No lot then decided Who that hoard should havoc, when hero-earls saw it Lying in the cavern uncared-for entirely, Rusting to ruin: they rued then but little That they hastily hence hauled out the treasure, The dear-valued jewels; the dragon eke pushed they, The worm o’er the wall, let the wave-currents take him, The waters enwind the ward of the treasures. There wounden gold on a wain was uploaded, A mass unmeasured, the men-leader off then, The hero hoary, to Whale’s-Ness was carried.

XLIII: The Burning of Beowulf

The folk of the Geatmen got him then ready A pile on the earth strong for the burning, Behung with helmets, hero-knights’ targets, And bright-shining burnies, as he begged they should have them; Then wailing war-heroes their world-famous chieftain, Their liegelord beloved, laid in the middle. Soldiers began then to make on the barrow The largest of dead-fires: dark o’er the vapor The smoke-cloud ascended, the sad-roaring fire, Mingled with weeping (the wind-roar subsided) Till the building of bone it had broken to pieces, Hot in the heart. Heavy in spirit They mood-sad lamented the men-leader’s ruin; And mournful measures the much-grieving widow ⋮ ⋮ ⋮ ⋮ ⋮ ⋮ The men of the Weders made accordingly A hill on the height, high and extensive, Of sea-going sailors to be seen from a distance, And the brave one’s beacon built where the fire was, In ten-days’ space, with a wall surrounded it, As wisest of world-folk could most worthily plan it. They placed in the barrow rings and jewels, All such ornaments as erst in the treasure War-mooded men had won in possession: The earnings of earlmen to earth they entrusted, The gold to the dust, where yet it remaineth As useless to mortals as in foregoing eras. ’Round the dead-mound rode then the doughty-in-battle, Bairns of all twelve of the chiefs of the people, More would they mourn, lament for their ruler, Speak in measure, mention him with pleasure, Weighed his worth, and his warlike achievements Mightily commended, as ’tis meet one praise his Liegelord in words and love him in spirit, When forth from his body he fares to destruction. So lamented mourning the men of the Geats, Fond-loving vassals, the fall of their lord, Said he was kindest of kings under heaven, Gentlest of men, most winning of manner, Friendliest to folk-troops and fondest of honor.