XXXV

5 0 00
Click any word to jump to its audio.

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.