{"collection":"Northern European Mythology","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/browse/neu/beo/beo29.htm","path":"neu/beo/beo29.htm","source_url":"https://sacred-texts.com/neu/beo/beo29.htm","text":"HASTENED the hardy one, henchmen with him,\nsandy strand of the sea to tread\nand widespread ways. The world's great candle,\nsun shone from south. They strode along\nwith sturdy steps to the spot they knew\nwhere the battle-king young, his burg within,\nslayer of Ongentheow, shared the rings,\nshelter-of-heroes. To Hygelac\nBeowulf's coming was quickly told, --\nthat there in the court the clansmen's refuge,\nthe shield-companion sound and alive,\nhale from the hero-play homeward strode.\nWith haste in the hall, by highest order,\nroom for the rovers was readily made.\nBy his sovran he sat, come safe from battle,\nkinsman by kinsman. His kindly lord\nhe first had greeted in gracious form,\nwith manly words. The mead dispensing,\ncame through the high hall Haereth's daughter,\nwinsome to warriors, wine-cup bore\nto the hands of the heroes. Hygelac then\nhis comrade fairly with question plied\nin the lofty hall, sore longing to know\nwhat manner of sojourn the Sea-Geats made.\n\"What came of thy quest, my kinsman Beowulf,\nwhen thy yearnings suddenly swept thee yonder\nbattle to seek o'er the briny sea,\ncombat in Heorot? Hrothgar couldst thou\naid at all, the honored chief,\nin his wide-known woes? With waves of care\nmy sad heart seethed; I sore mistrusted\nmy loved one's venture: long I begged thee\nby no means to seek that slaughtering monster,\nbut suffer the South-Danes to settle their feud\nthemselves with Grendel. Now God be thanked\nthat safe and sound I can see thee now!\"\nBeowulf spake, the bairn of Ecgtheow:--\n\"'Tis known and unhidden, Hygelac Lord,\nto many men, that meeting of ours,\nstruggle grim between Grendel and me,\nwhich we fought on the field where full too many\nsorrows he wrought for the Scylding-Victors,\nevils unending. These all I avenged.\nNo boast can be from breed of Grendel,\nany on earth, for that uproar at dawn,\nfrom the longest-lived of the loathsome race\nin fleshly fold! -- But first I went\nHrothgar to greet in the hall of gifts,\nwhere Healfdene's kinsman high-renowned,\nsoon as my purpose was plain to him,\nassigned me a seat by his son and heir.\nThe liegemen were lusty; my life-days never\nsuch merry men over mead in hall\nhave I heard under heaven! The high-born queen,\npeople's peace-bringer, passed through the hall,\ncheered the young clansmen, clasps of gold,\nere she sought her seat, to sundry gave.\nOft to the heroes Hrothgar's daughter,\nto earls in turn, the ale-cup tendered, --\nshe whom I heard these hall-companions\nFreawaru name, when fretted gold\nshe proffered the warriors. Promised is she,\ngold-decked maid, to the glad son of Froda.\nSage this seems to the Scylding's-friend,\nkingdom's-keeper: he counts it wise\nthe woman to wed so and ward off feud,\nstore of slaughter. But seldom ever\nwhen men are slain, does the murder-spear sink\nbut briefest while, though the bride be fair![1]\n\"Nor haply will like it the Heathobard lord,\nand as little each of his liegemen all,\nwhen a thane of the Danes, in that doughty throng,\ngoes with the lady along their hall,\nand on him the old-time heirlooms glisten\nhard and ring-decked, Heathobard's treasure,\nweapons that once they wielded fair\nuntil they lost at the linden-play[2]\nliegeman leal and their lives as well.\nThen, over the ale, on this heirloom gazing,\nsome ash-wielder old who has all in mind\nthat spear-death of men,[3] -- he is stern of mood,\nheavy at heart, -- in the hero young\ntests the temper and tries the soul\nand war-hate wakens, with words like these:--\nCanst thou not, comrade, ken that sword\nwhich to the fray thy father carried\nin his final feud, 'neath the fighting-mask,\ndearest of blades, when the Danish slew him\nand wielded the war-place on Withergild's fall,\nafter havoc of heroes, those hardy Scyldings?\nNow, the son of a certain slaughtering Dane,\nproud of his treasure, paces this hall,\njoys in the killing, and carries the jewel[4]\nthat rightfully ought to be owned by thee!_\nThus he urges and eggs him all the time\nwith keenest words, till occasion offers\nthat Freawaru's thane, for his father's deed,\nafter bite of brand in his blood must slumber,\nlosing his life; but that liegeman flies\nliving away, for the land he kens.\nAnd thus be broken on both their sides\noaths of the earls, when Ingeld's breast\nwells with war-hate, and wife-love now\nafter the care-billows cooler grows.\n\"So[5] I hold not high the Heathobards' faith\ndue to the Danes, or their during love\nand pact of peace. -- But I pass from that,\nturning to Grendel, O giver-of-treasure,\nand saying in full how the fight resulted,\nhand-fray of heroes. When heaven's jewel\nhad fled o'er far fields, that fierce sprite came,\nnight-foe savage, to seek us out\nwhere safe and sound we sentried the hall.\nTo Hondscio then was that harassing deadly,\nhis fall there was fated. He first was slain,\ngirded warrior. Grendel on him\nturned murderous mouth, on our mighty kinsman,\nand all of the brave man's body devoured.\nYet none the earlier, empty-handed,\nwould the bloody-toothed murderer, mindful of bale,\noutward go from the gold-decked hall:\nbut me he attacked in his terror of might,\nwith greedy hand grasped me. A glove hung by him[6]\nwide and wondrous, wound with bands;\nand in artful wise it all was wrought,\nby devilish craft, of dragon-skins.\nMe therein, an innocent man,\nthe fiendish foe was fain to thrust\nwith many another. He might not so,\nwhen I all angrily upright stood.\n'Twere long to relate how that land-destroyer\nI paid in kind for his cruel deeds;\nyet there, my prince, this people of thine\ngot fame by my fighting. He fled away,\nand a little space his life preserved;\nbut there staid behind him his stronger hand\nleft in Heorot; heartsick thence\non the floor of the ocean that outcast fell.\nMe for this struggle the Scyldings'-friend\npaid in plenty with plates of gold,\nwith many a treasure, when morn had come\nand we all at the banquet-board sat down.\nThen was song and glee. The gray-haired Scylding,\nmuch tested, told of the times of yore.\nWhiles the hero his harp bestirred,\nwood-of-delight; now lays he chanted\nof sooth and sadness, or said aright\nlegends of wonder, the wide-hearted king;\nor for years of his youth he would yearn at times,\nfor strength of old struggles, now stricken with age,\nhoary hero: his heart surged full\nwhen, wise with winters, he wailed their flight.\nThus in the hall the whole of that day\nat ease we feasted, till fell o'er earth\nanother night. Anon full ready\nin greed of vengeance, Grendel's mother\nset forth all doleful. Dead was her son\nthrough war-hate of Weders; now, woman monstrous\nwith fury fell a foeman she slew,\navenged her offspring. From Aeschere old,\nloyal councillor, life was gone;\nnor might they e'en, when morning broke,\nthose Danish people, their death-done comrade\nburn with brands, on balefire lay\nthe man they mourned. Under mountain stream\nshe had carried the corpse with cruel hands.\nFor Hrothgar that was the heaviest sorrow\nof all that had laden the lord of his folk.\nThe leader then, by thy life, besought me\n(sad was his soul) in the sea-waves' coil\nto play the hero and hazard my being\nfor glory of prowess: my guerdon he pledged.\nI then in the waters -- 'tis widely known --\nthat sea-floor-guardian savage found.\nHand-to-hand there a while we struggled;\nbillows welled blood; in the briny hall\nher head I hewed with a hardy blade\nfrom Grendel's mother, -- and gained my life,\nthough not without danger. My doom was not yet.\nThen the haven-of-heroes, Healfdene's son,\ngave me in guerdon great gifts of price.\n[1] Beowulf gives his uncle the king not mere gossip of his journey, but a\nstatesmanlike forecast of the outcome of certain policies at the Danish court.\nTalk of interpolation here is absurd. As both Beowulf and Hygelac know, --\nand the folk for whom the Beowulf was put together also knew, -- Froda\nwas king of the Heathobards (probably the Langobards, once near neigh-\nbors of Angle and Saxon tribes on the continent), and had fallen in fight\nwith the Danes. Hrothgar will set aside this feud by giving his daughter\nas \"peace-weaver\" and wife to the young king Ingeld, son of the slain\nFroda. But Beowulf, on general principles and from his observation of the\nparticular case, foretells trouble.\n[2] Play of shields, battle. A Danish warrior cuts down Froda in the fight,\nand takes his sword and armor, leaving them to a son. This son is selected\nto accompany his mistress, the young princess Freawaru, to her new home\nwhen she is Ingeld's queen. Heedlessly he wears the sword of Froda in\nhall. An old warrior points it out to Ingeld, and eggs him on to vengeance.\nAt his instigation the Dane is killed; but the murderer, afraid of results,\nand knowing the land, escapes. So the old feud must break out again.\n[3] That is, their disastrous battle and the slaying of their king.\n[4] The sword.\n[5] Beowulf returns to his forecast. Things might well go somewhat as\nfollows, he says; sketches a little tragic story; and with this prophecy by\nillustration returns to the tale of his adventure.\n[6] Not an actual glove, but a sort of bag.","title":"Beowulf: Part XXVIII","type":"page"}