{"collection":"Northern European Mythology","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/browse/neu/beo/beo40.htm","path":"neu/beo/beo40.htm","source_url":"https://sacred-texts.com/neu/beo/beo40.htm","text":"\"THE bloody swath of Swedes and Geats\nand the storm of their strife, were seen afar,\nhow folk against folk the fight had wakened.\nThe ancient king with his atheling band\nsought his citadel, sorrowing much:\nOngentheow earl went up to his burg.\nHe had tested Hygelac's hardihood,\nthe proud one's prowess, would prove it no longer,\ndefied no more those fighting-wanderers\nnor hoped from the seamen to save his hoard,\nhis bairn and his bride: so he bent him again,\nold, to his earth-walls. Yet after him came\nwith slaughter for Swedes the standards of Hygelac\no'er peaceful plains in pride advancing,\ntill Hrethelings fought in the fenced town.[1]\nThen Ongentheow with edge of sword,\nthe hoary-bearded, was held at bay,\nand the folk-king there was forced to suffer\nEofor's anger. In ire, at the king\nWulf Wonreding with weapon struck;\nand the chieftain's blood, for that blow, in streams\nflowed 'neath his hair. No fear felt he,\nstout old Scylfing, but straightway repaid\nin better bargain that bitter stroke\nand faced his foe with fell intent.\nNor swift enough was the son of Wonred\nanswer to render the aged chief;\ntoo soon on his head the helm was cloven;\nblood-bedecked he bowed to earth,\nand fell adown; not doomed was he yet,\nand well he waxed, though the wound was sore.\nThen the hardy Hygelac-thane,[2]\nwhen his brother fell, with broad brand smote,\ngiants' sword crashing through giants'-helm\nacross the shield-wall: sank the king,\nhis folk's old herdsman, fatally hurt.\nThere were many to bind the brother's wounds\nand lift him, fast as fate allowed\nhis people to wield the place-of-war.\nBut Eofor took from Ongentheow,\nearl from other, the iron-breastplate,\nhard sword hilted, and helmet too,\nand the hoar-chief's harness to Hygelac carried,\nwho took the trappings, and truly promised\nrich fee 'mid folk, -- and fulfilled it so.\nFor that grim strife gave the Geatish lord,\nHrethel's offspring, when home he came,\nto Eofor and Wulf a wealth of treasure,\nEach of them had a hundred thousand[3]\nin land and linked rings; nor at less price reckoned\nmid-earth men such mighty deeds!\nAnd to Eofor he gave his only daughter\nin pledge of grace, the pride of his home.\n\"Such is the feud, the foeman's rage,\ndeath-hate of men: so I deem it sure\nthat the Swedish folk will seek us home\nfor this fall of their friends, the fighting-Scylfings,\nwhen once they learn that our warrior leader\nlifeless lies, who land and hoard\never defended from all his foes,\nfurthered his folk's weal, finished his course\na hardy hero. -- Now haste is best,\nthat we go to gaze on our Geatish lord,\nand bear the bountiful breaker-of-rings\nto the funeral pyre. No fragments merely\nshall burn with the warrior. Wealth of jewels,\ngold untold and gained in terror,\ntreasure at last with his life obtained,\nall of that booty the brands shall take,\nfire shall eat it. No earl must carry\nmemorial jewel. No maiden fair\nshall wreathe her neck with noble ring:\nnay, sad in spirit and shorn of her gold,\noft shall she pass o'er paths of exile\nnow our lord all laughter has laid aside,\nall mirth and revel. Many a spear\nmorning-cold shall be clasped amain,\nlifted aloft; nor shall lilt of harp\nthose warriors wake; but the wan-hued raven,\nfain o'er the fallen, his feast shall praise\nand boast to the eagle how bravely he ate\nwhen he and the wolf were wasting the slain.\"\nSo he told his sorrowful tidings,\nand little[4] he lied, the loyal man\nof word or of work. The warriors rose;\nsad, they climbed to the Cliff-of-Eagles,\nwent, welling with tears, the wonder to view.\nFound on the sand there, stretched at rest,\ntheir lifeless lord, who had lavished rings\nof old upon them. Ending-day\nhad dawned on the doughty-one; death had seized\nin woful slaughter the Weders' king.\nThere saw they, besides, the strangest being,\nloathsome, lying their leader near,\nprone on the field. The fiery dragon,\nfearful fiend, with flame was scorched.\nReckoned by feet, it was fifty measures\nin length as it lay. Aloft erewhile\nit had revelled by night, and anon come back,\nseeking its den; now in death's sure clutch\nit had come to the end of its earth-hall joys.\nBy it there stood the stoups and jars;\ndishes lay there, and dear-decked swords\neaten with rust, as, on earth's lap resting,\na thousand winters they waited there.\nFor all that heritage huge, that gold\nof bygone men, was bound by a spell,[5]\nso the treasure-hall could be touched by none\nof human kind, -- save that Heaven's King,\nGod himself, might give whom he would,\nHelper of Heroes, the hoard to open, --\neven such a man as seemed to him meet.\n[1] The line may mean: till Hrethelings stormed on the hedged shields, -- i.e. the shield-wall or hedge of defensive war -- Hrethelings, of course, are Geats.\n[2] Eofor, brother to Wulf Wonreding.\n[3] Sc. \"value in\" hides and the weight of the gold.\n[4] Not at all.\n[5] Laid on it when it was put in the barrow. This spell, or in our days\nthe \"curse,\" either prevented discovery or brought dire ills on the finder\nand taker.","title":"Beowulf: Part XLI","type":"page"}