Part XXVIII

HASTENED the hardy one, henchmen with him,sandy strand of the sea to treadand widespread ways. The world's great candle,sun shone from south. They strode alongwith sturdy steps to the spot they knewwhere the battle-king young, his burg within,slayer of Ongentheow, shared the rings,shelter-of-heroes. To HygelacBeowulf's coming was quickly told, --that there in the court the clansmen's refuge,the shield-companion sound and alive,hale from the hero-play homeward strode.With haste in the hall, by highest order,room for the rovers was readily made.By his sovran he sat, come safe from battle,kinsman by kinsman. His kindly lordhe first had greeted in gracious form,with manly words. The mead dispensing,came through the high hall Haereth's daughter,winsome to warriors, wine-cup boreto the hands of the heroes. Hygelac thenhis comrade fairly with question pliedin the lofty hall, sore longing to knowwhat manner of sojourn the Sea-Geats made."What came of thy quest, my kinsman Beowulf,when thy yearnings suddenly swept thee yonderbattle to seek o'er the briny sea,combat in Heorot? Hrothgar couldst thouaid at all, the honored chief,in his wide-known woes? With waves of caremy sad heart seethed; I sore mistrustedmy loved one's venture: long I begged theeby no means to seek that slaughtering monster,but suffer the South-Danes to settle their feudthemselves with Grendel. Now God be thankedthat safe and sound I can see thee now!"Beowulf spake, the bairn of Ecgtheow: --"'Tis known and unhidden, Hygelac Lord,to many men, that meeting of ours,struggle grim between Grendel and me,which we fought on the field where full too manysorrows he wrought for the Scylding-Victors,evils unending. These all I avenged.No boast can be from breed of Grendel,any on earth, for that uproar at dawn,from the longest-lived of the loathsome racein fleshly fold! -- But first I wentHrothgar to greet in the hall of gifts,where Healfdene's kinsman high-renowned,soon as my purpose was plain to him,assigned me a seat by his son and heir.The liegemen were lusty; my life-days neversuch merry men over mead in hallhave I heard under heaven! The high-born queen,people's peace-bringer, passed through the hall,cheered the young clansmen, clasps of gold,ere she sought her seat, to sundry gave.Oft to the heroes Hrothgar's daughter,to earls in turn, the ale-cup tendered, --she whom I heard these hall-companionsFreawaru name, when fretted goldshe proffered the warriors. Promised is she,gold-decked maid, to the glad son of Froda.Sage this seems to the Scylding's-friend,kingdom's-keeper: he counts it wisethe woman to wed so and ward off feud,store of slaughter. But seldom everwhen men are slain, does the murder-spear sinkbut briefest while, though the bride be fair!"Nor haply will like it the Heathobard lord,and as little each of his liegemen all,when a thane of the Danes, in that doughty throng,goes with the lady along their hall,and on him the old-time heirlooms glistenhard and ring-decked, Heathobard's treasure,weapons that once they wielded fairuntil they lost at the linden-playliegeman leal and their lives as well.Then, over the ale, on this heirloom gazing,some ash-wielder old who has all in mindthat spear-death of men, -- he is stern of mood,heavy at heart, -- in the hero youngtests the temper and tries the souland war-hate wakens, with words like these: --Canst thou not, comrade, ken that swordwhich to the fray thy father carriedin his final feud, 'neath the fighting-mask,dearest of blades, when the Danish slew himand wielded the war-place on Withergild's fall,after havoc of heroes, those hardy Scyldings?Now, the son of a certain slaughtering Dane,proud of his treasure, paces this hall,joys in the killing, and carries the jewelthat rightfully ought to be owned by thee!Thus he urges and eggs him all the timewith keenest words, till occasion offersthat Freawaru's thane, for his father's deed,after bite of brand in his blood must slumber,losing his life; but that liegeman fliesliving away, for the land he kens.And thus be broken on both their sidesoaths of the earls, when Ingeld's breastwells with war-hate, and wife-love nowafter the care-billows cooler grows."So I hold not high the Heathobards' faithdue to the Danes, or their during loveand pact of peace. -- But I pass from that,turning to Grendel, O giver-of-treasure,and saying in full how the fight resulted,hand-fray of heroes. When heaven's jewelhad fled o'er far fields, that fierce sprite came,night-foe savage, to seek us outwhere safe and sound we sentried the hall.To Hondscio then was that harassing deadly,his fall there was fated. He first was slain,girded warrior. Grendel on himturned murderous mouth, on our mighty kinsman,and all of the brave man's body devoured.Yet none the earlier, empty-handed,would the bloody-toothed murderer, mindful of bale,outward go from the gold-decked hall:but me he attacked in his terror of might,with greedy hand grasped me. A glove hung by himwide and wondrous, wound with bands;and in artful wise it all was wrought,by devilish craft, of dragon-skins.Me therein, an innocent man,the fiendish foe was fain to thrustwith many another. He might not so,when I all angrily upright stood.'Twere long to relate how that land-destroyerI paid in kind for his cruel deeds;yet there, my prince, this people of thinegot fame by my fighting. He fled away,and a little space his life preserved;but there staid behind him his stronger handleft in Heorot; heartsick thenceon the floor of the ocean that outcast fell.Me for this struggle the Scyldings'-friendpaid in plenty with plates of gold,with many a treasure, when morn had comeand we all at the banquet-board sat down.Then was song and glee. The gray-haired Scylding,much tested, told of the times of yore.Whiles the hero his harp bestirred,wood-of-delight; now lays he chantedof sooth and sadness, or said arightlegends of wonder, the wide-hearted king;or for years of his youth he would yearn at times,for strength of old struggles, now stricken with age,hoary hero: his heart surged fullwhen, wise with winters, he wailed their flight.Thus in the hall the whole of that dayat ease we feasted, till fell o'er earthanother night. Anon full readyin greed of vengeance, Grendel's motherset forth all doleful. Dead was her sonthrough war-hate of Weders; now, woman monstrouswith fury fell a foeman she slew,avenged her offspring. From Aeschere old,loyal councillor, life was gone;nor might they e'en, when morning broke,those Danish people, their death-done comradeburn with brands, on balefire laythe man they mourned. Under mountain streamshe had carried the corpse with cruel hands.For Hrothgar that was the heaviest sorrowof all that had laden the lord of his folk.The leader then, by thy life, besought me(sad was his soul) in the sea-waves' coilto play the hero and hazard my beingfor glory of prowess: my guerdon he pledged.I then in the waters -- 'tis widely known --that sea-floor-guardian savage found.Hand-to-hand there a while we struggled;billows welled blood; in the briny hallher head I hewed with a hardy bladefrom Grendel's mother, -- and gained my life,though not without danger. My doom was not yet.Then the haven-of-heroes, Healfdene's son,gave me in guerdon great gifts of price.