Beowulf (16 page)

Nor would I predict any peace or good will
from the Swedes, since it was known far and wide
that their old king Ongentheow had stolen the life
of Hrethel’s son Haethcyn, nearby Ravenswood,
²⁹
when the people of the Geats, in over-reaching pride,
first sought to strike back at the War-Scylfings.
^aw
Quickly the Swedes’ king, the father of Ohtere,
terrible in his age, swung his sword in reply,
killing the Geats’ sea-king,
^ax
and rescuing his old wife,
a captive of the Geats, bereft of her gold,
the mother of both Onela and Ohtere.
Then Ongentheow followed his deadly foes,
until with great difficulty they got away
into Ravenswood, though now with no ruler.
Then with his veterans he set up a siege
round the wound-weary survivors, often promising
woes to those wretched warriors all night long,
saying he in the morning would slash some of them
with hard-edged swords, and hang others from trees
for the sport of birds. But relief was brought
to the desperate Geats, as daylight first broke,
and they heard the sounds from the horn and trumpet
of their own Hygelac, with that heroic leader
following that blaring with a band of warriors.

Then a gory trail left by Swedes and Geats,
from the storm of killing, could be seen from afar,
how the fury of their fighting boiled with blood.
The bold Swedish king then went with his kinsmen,
old and much-saddened, to seek his stronghold;
noble Ongentheow turned to leave the battle behind.
For he had heard of Hygelac’s fighting strength,
the proud man’s war-skill, and could not be confident
that he would be able to stave off the seamen,
to hold the hoard safely, with children and wife,
against these sea-warriors. So the old king turned away,
standing behind the earth-wall. Then the men of the Swedes
were pressed in pursuit, when the standard of Hygelac
completely ran over the refuge of their stronghold,
as the Geatish warriors broke through their walls.
Then blades of swords forced the gray-haired Swede
to stay and stand fast there by the rampart,
so this king of his people had to submit
to the sentence of Eofer alone. He was struck
with the weapon of Wulf, son of Wonred,
^ay
so blood from that blow sprang forth from his veins,
from under his hair. Still he felt no fear,
this aged Scylfing, but struck back with his blade—
far worse in reply than the fierce blow he received—
when the king of his people turned to face him.
Nor was the strong son of Wonred then able
to strike a blow back to answer the old man,
who had cut through the helmet on Wulf’s head,
so that stained with blood, the Geat had to give ground,
and then fell to earth—not yet fated to die,
but held on to his life, though horribly wounded.
Then Eofer, the hardy thane of Hygelac,
where his brother lay low, swung his broad sword,
a weapon forged by giants, over the king’s board-wall,
^az
to split his huge helmet. Then the king sank down,
protector of the people, overpowered by death.
Then many comrades bound the wounds of the brother,
quickly raised him up and gave him some room
so they could take control over this killing field.
At once Eofer stripped his fallen foe’s body,
took the iron mail-coat off from Ongentheow,
with his hard-sharp sword and his helmet together,
and bore the hoary king’s arms to his own Hygelac,
who gladly took them and gave him fair promise
of rewards among their folk, and that was fulfilled.
The lord of the Geats, Hrethel’s son Hygelac,
when he returned to his home, repaid that battle-storm,
giving hugely great treasures to Eofer and Wulf:
to each the cost of a hundred thousand coins
in land and locked rings—no man in middle-earth
could slight that reward to the hard-fighting heroes.
Then as a pledge of good will, he gave to Eofer
his only daughter, to bring honor to his home.

Such is the source of the feud and hostility,
deadly hatred among men, for which I foresee
the people of the Swedes to come seeking us,
after they have heard it told that our own dear lord
has lost his life, who up to now has protected
our hoard and kingdom against those who hate us,
after the fall of heroes,
^ba
bold men bearing shields,
winning the good of the nation, doing noble deeds,
always and ever. Now let us make haste,
so we may look in that place on the people’s king,
and carry our ruler, who gave us rich rings,
in procession to the funeral pyre. Not only one thing
shall be burned with the brave man, but all of the hoard,
with its countless gold, purchased at fearful price,
that now at the last he paid with his life
for the precious rings. Then will the fire roar,
embracing all in its flames. Not any of the nobles
will take off treasures as tokens, nor any fair woman
wear around her neck a ring of gold as adornment,
but all shall continue to grieve, bereft of gold,
more than once forced to walk in a foreign land,
now that their war-leader has left behind laughter,
all mirth and hall-joy. And so shall the spear,
many times in morning-cold, be clutched in the hand,
heaved up on high, nor will the music of the harp
wake up the warriors, but then the dark raven,
eager to feed on fallen warriors, will speak much,
telling the eagle of his pleasure in eating,
when he with the wolf both feasted on corpses.“
³⁰

Thus the bold messenger told his bitter tale,
relating his story, not speaking without truth
about the past or the future. The war-band all arose,
and went stricken with sorrow under Earnaness,
their eyes welling with tears, to go see the wonder.
They would find there on the sand, his spirit departed,
lying on his last bed, the one who gave them rings
in days gone by. The good ruler had passed on
in his final day, when the famed war-king,
the prince of the Weders, died a wondrous death.
Yet first they saw a far more strange creature,
the loathsome serpent lying on the opposite side
of that same place. The fierce fire-dragon,
many-colored and fearsome, was scorched with flames.
Stretched out, it reached fifty foot-measures,
lying at full length. It had once taken night-joy
flying through the air, and then drifting down
to seek out its den; but now bound by death,
it had enjoyed its last earth-cavern.
By the dragon stood precious cups and pitchers,
with plates lying around, and priceless swords
eaten through by rust, as if they had remained
there in the earth’s bosom, for a thousand winters.
Moreover, that massive hoard of heirlooms,
the gold of men of yore, was held by a chanted charm,
so that none of the race of men might reach
into that hall of rings, unless God himself,
the true King of victories—who has all men in his
keeping—
grants a person the power to open up the hoard,
a grant given by God to whichever man he thinks worthy.

Thus was it seen that the dragon failed to succeed
in its effort to hide the hoard under that cliff,
against lawful right. That guardian first had fatally
wounded
the matchless hero, but for starting that feud the monster
received cruel vengeance. It is ever a question
where a warrior famed for courage may reach the end
of his appointed life-days, when he may no longer
sit down in the mead-hall surrounded by kinsmen.
So it was for Beowulf, when he sought the barrow’s guard
in a contest of battle-skills. He himself could not know
how his parting from this world would come about.
Thus the famed princes who placed treasures there
had formally declared, that until doomsday,
any person who would plunder the hoard
would be guilty of sins, trapped in temples of idols,
held fast by hell’s chains, tormented by terrors—
unless he had already acknowledged more fully
the power of God alone to give treasures.
³¹

Wiglaf then spoke, the son of Weohstan:
“Often many a warrior, for the sake of one man,
must endure misery, as has happened to us.
Nor might we have persuaded our own dear prince,
the protector of the kingdom, by any of our counsel,
that he not meet in battle the guardian of the gold,
but to let the creature lie where long he had been,
watching over that dwelling till the world’s end.
But he held to his high destiny. The hoard is now open,
so grimly won: that fate was too grievous
that pressed the lord of our people to come to this place.
I have been inside that barrow, and looked over all
the treasures in that hall, where the way was made clear,
though no welcome permitted my passage inside,
there under the earth-wall. In haste I took handfuls,
as much as I could carry of a mighty burden,
of the treasures of the hoard, and bore them out here,
for my king to see. He was then still alive,
conscious and clear-headed. The old man then spoke
many things in his sorrow, and said for me to greet you,
bidding you to build, to honor your lord’s deeds,
a high barrow on the place of his funeral pyre,
great and glorious, as he was among men
the warrior most famous around the wide world,
during the time he took joy in the kingdom’s riches.
Let us now hasten, to look one more time,
to seek out the store of artfully made jewels,
that wonder by the wall. I will show the way,
guide you close so you may gaze on those riches,
the rings and precious gold. Let the bier be prepared,
quickly made ready, when we come out of the hoard,
and then bear away our beloved chieftain,
our dear king and comrade, where he will long remain
in the protection of the all-powerful Ruler.”

The son of Weohstan, the battle-brave warrior,
directed that orders be given to many of the men
who held their own halls, that they should bring wood,
from their lands far away, for their king’s funeral pyre,
where the good lord now lay: “Now shall the fire devour,
with swelling dark flames, the dear chieftain of warriors,
who has often survived through showers of iron,
when a storm of arrows, urged on by great strength,
shot over the shield-wall, shafts doing their duty,
flying true with their feathers, to direct their sharp heads.”

Then after this speech, the wise son of Weohstan
called forth from the band of the king’s own thanes
a group of seven together, the best of spear-warriors,
and went with that seven under the enemy’s ceiling,
as a band of fighting men. One bore in his hand
a torch for a light, leading the way for the others.
There was then little need to draw lots to decide
who would plunder the hoard, since without its protector,
they could see all the riches still held in that hall,
all wasting away. And little did any of them mourn
that they might quickly carry out from that place,
the priceless treasures. Then they pushed the dragon,
the terrible serpent, over the cliff, to be seized by waves,
as the greedy hoard-guard was embraced by the sea.
Then a wagon was loaded with twisted gold treasure,
countless riches of all kinds, and the noble prince,
the hoary old warrior, was borne to Hronesness.

Then the people of the Geats prepared for him
a funeral pyre in that place, of no small size,
hung round with helmets, shields for battle,
and shining mail-shirts, to fulfill his request.
Then the lamenting warriors laid in the center
the widely renowned prince, their beloved ruler.
The warriors awakened the greatest of funeral fires
on the high barrow, and the wood-smoke swirled up,
black above the flames, the roaring of the blaze
mingled with weeping-wind-surges ebbed—
till the heat from the fire burst the bone-house,
breaking into the breast. Unhappy in spirit,
the men sadly mourned the death of their lord.
So also an old woman, her hair loose and waving,
^bb
sang in her sorrow a song of lament
for Beowulf’s passing, repeating her prophecy
that she feared invading armies of bitter foes,
a great many slaughters, the terror of war-troops,
humiliation and captivity. Heaven swallowed the smoke.

Then on the cliff, the Weders set to work,
building a barrow that was both high and broad,
which could be seen from afar by seafaring men.
Ten days later, they finished making the monument
to their battle-bold lord, with a wall built around
the remains from the fire, the finest construction
that the very wisest of men might design.
They brought to the barrow precious rings and jewels,
all such adornments as the brave-spirited men
had earlier taken away from the enemy’s hoard.
They left the treasures of earls in the earth for keeping,
the gold in the ground, where yet it still lies,
as fruitless to men now, as it formerly was.
Then men bold in battle, the sons of chieftains,
all twelve together, rode around the barrow,
expressing their grief, and lamenting their lord,
with words wrought in song, a dirge for the dead.
They sang of his valor, and his deeds of great strength,
with all their power praising the hero—as it is fitting
for a man with his words to praise his friendly lord,
share the love from his heart, when the lord must go,
passing beyond the bounds of his body.
Thus the people of the Geats gave way to grief,
the king’s hearth-companions mourning his fall.
They said that he was, among all the world’s kings,
the mildest of men, and the most kind in giving,
the most gentle of men, and the most eager for fame.

1
(p. 3, line 1)
Spear-Danes:
This is one of the epithets for the Danes. Others include Scyldings (line 30; after Scyld, the legendary founder of the Danish royal line) and Ring-Danes (line 116). Epithets are common in epics and probably reflect their use in oral tradition. They are frequently attached to the names of prominent figures—for example, Hrothgar is referred to as the “protector of the people” (line 1390) and God as “Ruler of Heaven.”

2
(p. 3, line 11)
That was a good king!
This is the first of many instances in which the anonymous poet-narrator inserts a comment into the narrative. Such comments generally point to the value of a person or a person’s actions, though some comments apply a Christian religious interpretation to an event that has just occurred. A notable example early in the poem is in lines 175-188, when the poet-narrator reflects on “heathen” religious practices from a Christian point of view.