Beowulf translated by seamus heaney pdf

Introduction of the Danes

So. The Spear-Danes in days done by

And the kings who ruled them had courage and greatness.

We have heard of those prince’s heroic campaigns.

There was Shield Sheafson, scourge of many tribes,

A wrecker of mead-benches, rampaging among foes.

This terror of the hall-troops had come far.

A foundling to start with, he would flourish later on

As his powers waxed and his worth was proved.

In the end each clan on the outlying coats

Beyond the whale-road had to yield to him 10

And begin to pay tribute. That was one good king.

Afterwards a boy-child was born to Shield,

A cub in the yard, a comfort sent

By God to that nation. He knew what they had tholed*,

The long times and troubles they’d come through

Without a leader; so the Lord of Life,

The glorious Almighty, made this man renowned.

Shield had fathered a famous son:

Beow’s name was known through the north

and a young prince must be prudent like that, 20

Giving freely while his father lives

so that afterwards in age when fighting starts

steadfast companions will stand by him

and hold the line. Behaviour that’s admired

is the path to power among people everywhere. *tholed- suffered

Shield was still thriving when his time came

and crossed over into the Lord’s Keeping.

His warrior band did what he bade them

when he laid down the law among the Danes:

they shouldered him out to the sea’s flood, 30

the chief they revered who had long ruled them.

A ring-whorled prow rode in the harbor,

Ice –clad, outbound, a craft for a prince.

They stretched their beloved lord in his boat,

Laid out by the mast, amidships,

the great ring-giver. Far-fetched treasures

were piled upon him, and precious gear.

I never heard before of a ship so well furbished

With battle tackle, bladed weapons

And coats of mail. The massed treasure 40

was loaded on top of him: it would travel far

on out into the ocean’s sway.

They decked his body no less bountifully

With offerings than those first ones did

Who cast him away when he was a child

And launched him alone out over the waves.

And they set a gold standard up

High above his head and let him drift

To wind and tide, bewailing him

And mourning their loss. No man can tell, 50

No wise man in hall or weathered veteran

Knows for certain who salvaged that load.

2 Then it fell to Beow to keep the forts.

He was well regarded and ruled the Danes

For a long time after his father took leave

Of his life on earth. And then his heir,

The great Halfdane, held sway

For as long as he lived, their elder and warlord.

He was four times a father, this fighter prince:

One by one they entered the world, 60

Heorogar, Hrothgar, the good Halga,

And a daughter, I have heard, who was Onela’s queen,

A balm in bed to the battle-scarred Swede.

The fortunes of war favored Hrothgar.

Friends and kinsmen flocked to his ranks,

Young followers, a force that grew

To be a mighty army. So his mind turned

To hall-building: he handed down orders

For men to work on a great mead-hall

Meant to be a wonder of the world forever; 70

It would be his throne-room and there he would dispense

His God-given goods to young and old—

But not the common land or people’s lives.

Far and wide through the world, I have heard,

Orders for the work to adorn that wallstead

Were sent to many peoples. And soon it stood there,

Finished and ready, in full view,

The hall of halls. Heorot was the name

He settled on it, whose utterance was law.

Nor did he renege, but doled out rings 80

And torques at the table. The hall towered,

Its gables wide and high and awaiting

A barbarous burning. That doom abided,

But in time it would come: the killer instinct

Unleashed among in-laws, the blood-lust rampant.

Grendel Attacks Herot

Then a powerful demon, a prowler through the dark,

Nursed a hard grievance. It harrowed him

To hear the din of the loud banquet

Every day in the hall, the harp being struck

And the clear song of a skilled poet 90

Telling with mastery of man’s beginnings,

How the Almighty had made the earth

A gleaming plain girdled with waters;

In His splendour He set the sun and the moon

To be earth’s lamplight, lanterns for men,

And filled the broad lap of the world

With branches and leaves; and quickened life

In every other thing that moved.

So times were pleasant for the people there

Until finally one, a fiend out of hell, 100

Began to work his evil in the world.

Grendel was the name of this grim demon

Haunting the marches, marauding round the heath

And the desolate fens; he had dwelt for a time

In misery among the banished monsters,

Cain’s clan, whom the Creator had outlawed

And condemned as outcasts. For the killing of Abel

The Eternal Lord had exacted a price:

3 Cain got no good from committing that murder

Because the Almighty mad him anathema 110

And out of the curse of this exile there sprang

Ogres and elves and evil phantoms

And the giants too who stove with God

Time and gain until He gave them their reward.

So, after nightfall, Grendel set out

For the lofty house, to see how the Ring-Danes

Were settling into it after their drink,

And there he came upon them, a company of the best,

Asleep from their feasting, insensible to pain

And human sorrow. Suddenly then 120

The God-cursed brute was creating havoc:

Greedy and grim, he grabbed thirty men

From their resting places and rushed to his lair,

Flushed up and inflamed from the raid,

Blundering back with the butchered corpses.

Then as dawn brightened and the day broke

Grendel’s powers of destruction were plain:

Their wassail was over, they wept to heaven

And mourned under morning. Their mighty prince,

The storied leader, sat stricken and helpless, 130

Humiliated by the loss of his guard,

Bewildered and stunned, staring aghast

At the demon’s trail, in deep distress.

He was numb with grief, but got no respite

For one night later merciless Grendel

Struck again with more gruesome murders.

Malignant by nature, he never showed remorse.

It was easy then to meet with a man

Shifting himself to a safer distance

To bed in the bothies*, for who could be blind 140

To the evidence of his eyes, the obviousness

Of that hall-watcher’s hate? Whoever escaped

Kept a weather-eye open and moved away.

* bothies- small huts or cottages

So Grendel ruled in defiance of right,

One against all, until the greatest house

In the world stood empty , a deserted wallstead.

For twelve winters, seasons of woe,

The lord of the Shildings suffered under

His load of sorrow; and so, before long,

The news was known over the whole world. 150

Sad lays* were sung about the beset king,

The vicious raids and ravages of Grendel,

His long and unrelenting feud,

Nothing but war; how he would never

Parley or make peace with any Dane

Nor stop his death-dealing nor pay the death-price.

No counselor could ever expect

Fair reparation from those rabid hands.

All were endangered; young and old

Were hunted down by that dark death-shadow 160

Who lurked and swooped in the long nights

On the misty moors; nobody knows

Where these reavers* from hell roam on their errands.

*lays- stories about how things are

*reavers- raiders or pillagers

4

So Grendel waged his lonely war,

Inflicting constant cruelties on the people,

Atrocious hurt. He took over Heorot,

Haunted the glittering hall after dark,

But the throne itself, the treasure-seat,

He was kept from approaching; he was the Lord’s outcast.

These were hard times, heart-breaking 170

For the prince of the Shieldings; powerful counselors,

The highest in the land, would lend advice,

Plotting how best the bold defenders

Might resist and beat off sudden attacks.

Sometimes at pagan shrines they vowed

Offerings to idols, swore oaths

That the killer of souls might come to their aid

And save the people. That was their way,

Their heathenish hope; deep in their hearts

They remembered hell. The Almighty Judge 180

Of good deeds and bad, the Lord God,

Head of the Heavens and High King of the World,

Was unknown to them. Oh, cursed is he

Who in time of trouble has to thrust his soul

In the fire’s embrace, forfeiting help;

He has nowhere to turn. But blessed is he

Who after death can approach the Lord

And find friendship in the Father’s embrace.

So that trouble time continued, woe

That never stopped, steady affliction 190

For Halfdane’s son, too hard an ordeal.

There was panic after dark, people endured

Raids in the night, riven* by the terror.

*riven- to be split or torn apart

When he heard about Grendel, Hygelac’s thane

Was on home ground, over in Geatland.

There was no on else like him alive.

In his day, he was the mightiest man on earth,

High-born and powerful. He ordered a boat

That would ply the waves. He announced his plan:

To sail the swan’s road and search out that king, 200

The famous prince who needed defenders.

Nobody tried to keep him from going,

No elder denied him, dear as he was to them.

Instead, they inspected omens and spurred

His ambition to go, whilst he moved about

Like the leader he was, enlisting men,

The best he could find; with fourteen others

The warrior boarded the boat as captain,

A canny pilot along coast and currents.

A hero arrives

(Beowulf and his men traveled over a calm sea from Geatland to Denmark, and as they disembark, a Danish coast guard questions them- especially why they have come dressed for battle. The Geat leader answers… )

The leader of the troop unlocked his word-hoard;

The distinguished one delivered this answer:

“We belong by birth to the Geat people 260

and owe allegiance to Lord Hygelac.

5 In his day, my father was a famous man,

A noble warrior-lord name Ecgtheow.

He outlasted many a long winter

And went on his way. All over the world

Men wise in counsel continue to remember him.

We come in good faith to find your lord

And nation’s shield, the son of Halfdane.

Give us the right advice and direction.

We have arrived here on a great errand 270

To the lord of the Danes, and I believe therefore

There should be nothing hidden or withheld between us.

So tell us if what we have heard is true

About this threat, whatever it is,

This danger abroad in the dark nights,

This corpse-maker mongering death

In the Shildings’ country. I come to proffer

My wholehearted help and counsel.

I can show the wise Hrothgar a way

To defeat his enemy and find respite— 280

If any repose is to reach him, ever.

I can calm the turmoil and terror in his mind.

Otherwise, he must endure woes

And live with grief for as long as his hall

Stands at the horizon, on its high ground.”

(The coast guard recognizes the nobility in the Geat leader, and readily leads them to Heorot. The Geat soldiers leave their boat and carry their beautiful, ancient, and family battle-gear toward the mead-hall. Upon arrival, Wulfgar, a renowned fighter, similarly questions them about their intentions at Heorot. )

The man whose name was known for courage, 340

The Geat leader, resolute in his helmet,

Answered in return: “We are retainers

From Hygelac’s band. Beowulf’s my name.

If your lord and master, the most renowned

Son of Halfdane, will hear me out

And graciously allow me to greet him in person,

I am ready and willing to report my errand.”

(The guard takes this message to Hrothgar with the description of the Geats’ noble appearance. Hrothgar recounts hearing of Beowulf’s deeds as a hero and how the king once helped save Ecgtheow- Beowulf’s father. Hrothgar quickly agrees to let the Geats come to Heorot. Once there, Beowulf greets the Danish king.)

In webbed links that the smith had woven,

The fine-forged mesh of his gleaming mail-shirt,

Resolute in his helmet, Beowulf spoke:

“Greetings to Hrothgar. I am Hygelac’s kinsman,

one of his hall-troop. When I was younger,

I had great triumphs. Then news of Grendel,

Hard to ignore, reached me at home: 410

Sailors brought stories of the plight you suffer

In this legendary hall, how it lies deserted,

Empty and useless once the evening light

Hides itself under heaven’s dome.

So every elder and experienced council man

Among my people supported my resolve

To come here to you, King Hrothgar,

Because all knew of my awesome strength.

They had seen me bolstered in the blood of enemies

When I battled and bound five beasts, 420

Raided a troll-nest and in the night-sea

Slaughtered sea-brutes. I have suffered extremes

6 And avenged the Geats (their enemies brought it

Upon themselves, I devastated them).

Now I mean to be a match for Grendel,

Settle the outcome in single combat.

And so, my request, O king of the Bright-Danes,

Dear prince of the Shieldings, friend of the people

And their ring of defense, my one request

Is that you won’t refuse me, who have come this far, 430

The privilege of purifying Heorot,

With my own men to help me, and nobody else.

I have heard moreover that the monster scorns

In his reckless way to use weapons;

Therefore, to heighten Hygelac’s fame

And gladden his heart, I hereby renounce

sword and the shelter of the broad shield,

the heavy war-board: hand-to-hand

is how it will be, a life-and-death

fight with the fiend. Whichever one death fells 440

must deem it a just judgment by God.

If Grendel wins, it will be a gruesome day;

He will glut himself on the Geats in the war-hall,

Swoop without fear on that flower of manhood

As on others before. Then my face wont be there

To be covered in death: he will carry me away

as he goes to ground, gorged and bloodied;

he will run gloating with my raw corpse

and feed on it alone, in a cruel frenzy,

fouling his moor-nest. No need then 450

to lament for long or lay out my body:

if the battle takes me, send back

this breast-webbing that Weland fashioned

and Hrethel gave me , to Lord Hygelac.

Fate goes ever as fate must.”

(In answer, Hrothgar recounts the help he gave Beowulf’s father by supplying him with enough treasure, a weregild, to avoid war with the Wulfings. Although Hrothgar says that it “bothers him” to have someone else kill Grendel, he knows that Beowulf has his father’s debt to pay. A bench is then cleared for Beowulf and his men to enjoy the food and mead of the great hall.)

Then a bench was cleared in that banquet hall

So the Geats could have room to be together

And at the party sat, proud in their bearing,

Strong and stalwart. An attendant stood by

With a decorated pitcher, pouring bright

Helpings of mead. And the minstrel sang,

Filling Heorot with the head-clearing voice,

Gladdening that great rally of Geats and Danes.

From where he crouched at the king’s feet,

Unferth, a son of Ecglaf’s, spoke 500

Contrary words. Beowulf’s coming,

His sea-braving, made him sick with envy:

He could not brook or abide the fact

That anyone else alive under heaven

Might enjoy greater regard than he did:

“Are you the Beowulf who took on Breca

in a swimming match on the open sea,

risking the water just to prove that you could win?

It was sheer vanity made you venture out

On the main deep. And no matter who tried, 510

Friend or foe, to deflect the pair of you,

Neither would back down: the sea-test obsessed you.

7 You waded in, embracing water,

Taking its measure, mastering currents,

Riding on the swells. The ocean swayed,

Winter went wild in the waves, but you vied

For seven nights; and then he outswam you,

Came ashore the stronger contender.

He was cast up safe and sound one morning

Among the Heathoreams, then made his way 520

To where he belonged in Bronding country,

Home again, sure of his ground

In strongroom and brawn. So Breca made good

His boast upon you and was proved right.

No matter, therefore, how you may have fared

in every bout and battle until now,

This time you’ll be worsted; no one has ever

outlasted an entire night against Grendel.”

Beowulf, Ecgtheow’s son, replied:

“Well, friend Unferth, you have had your say 530

about Breca and me. But it was mostly beer

that was doing the talking. The truth is this:

when the going was heavy in those high waves,

I was the strongest swimmer of all.

We’d been children together and we grew up

Daring ourselves to outdo each other,

Boasting and urging each other to risk

Our lives on the sea. And so it turned out.

Each of us swam holding a sword,

A naked, hard-proofed blade for protection 540

Against the whale-beasts. But Breca could never

Move out farther or faster from me

Than I could manage to move from him.

Shoulder to shoulder, we struggled on

For five nights, until the long flow

And pitch of the waves, the perishing cold,

Night falling and winds from the north

drove us apart. The deep boiled up

and its wallowing sent the sea-brutes wild.

My armour helped me to hold out; 550

My hard-ringed chain-mail, hand-forged and linked,

A fine, close-fitting filigree of gold,

Kept me safe when some ocean creature

Pulled me to the bottom. Pinioned fast

And swathed in its grip, I was granted one

Final chance: my sword plunged

And the ordeal was over. Through my hands,

The fury of battle had finished off the sea-beast.

“Time and again, foul things attacked me,

lurking and stalking, but I lashed out, 560

gave as good as I got with my sword.

My flesh was not for feasting on,

There would be no monsters gnawing and gloating

Over their banquet at the bottom of the sea.

Instead, in the morning, mangled and sleeping

The sleep of the sword, they slopped and floated

Like the ocean’s leavings. From now on

Sailors would be safe, the deep-sea raids

Were over for good. Light came from the east,

Bright guarantee of God, and the waves 570

8 Went quiet; I could see the headlands

And buffeted cliffs. Often, for undanted courage,

Fate spares the man it has not already marked.

However, it occurred, my sword had killed

Nine sea-monsters. Such night-dangers

And hard ordeals I have never heard of

Nor a man more desolate in surging waves.

But worn out as I was, I survived,

Came through with my life. The ocean lifted

And laid me ashore, I landed safe 580

On the coast of Finland.

Now I cannot recall

Any fight you entered, Unferth,

That bears comparison. I don’t boast when I say

That neither you nor Breca were ever much

Celebrated for swordsmanship

Or for facing danger on the field of battle.

You killed your own kith and kin,

So for all your cleverness and quick tongue,

You will suffer damnation in the depths of hell.

That fact is, Unferth, if you were truly 590

As keen or courageous as you claim to be,

Grendel would never have got away with

Such unchecked atrocity, attacks on your king,

Havoc in Heorot and horrors everywhere.

But he knows he need never be in dread

Of your blade making mizzle of his blood

Or of vengeance arriving ever from this quarter—

From the Victory-Shieldings, the shoulderers of the spear.

He knows he can trample down you Danes

To his heart’s content, humiliate and murder 600

Without fear of reprisal. But he will find me different.

I will show him how Geats shape to kill

In the heat of battle. Then whosever wants to

may go bravely to mead, when morning light,

Scarfed in sun-dazzle, shines forth from the south

and bring another daybreak to the world.”

Then the grey-haired treasure-giver was glad;

Far-famed in battle, the prince of Bright Danes

And keeper of his people counted on Beowulf,

On the warrior’s steadfastness and his word. 610

(The feast continues until Wealhtheow, Hrothgar’s Queen, comes in and serves mead to the warriors. With the Queen’s cup in hand, Beowulf makes a formal boast restating his intention to fight Grendel in a battle to the death. At the end of the feast, Hrothgar leaves Heorot in Beowulf’s care, and he again states his intention to fight Grendel bare-handed. Once all the Danes leave, the Geats settle in to sleep in the cursed mead-hall.)

Fight with Grendel

Then out of the night

Came the shadow-stalker, stealthy and swift;

The hall-guards were slack, asleep at their posts,

All except one; it was widely understood

That as long as God disallowed it,

The fiend could not bear them to his shadow-bourne.

One man, however, was in a fighting mood,

Awake and on edge, spoiling for action.

9 In off the moors*, down through the mist bands 710

God-cursed Grendel came greedily loping.

The bane of the race of men roamed forth,

Hunting for a prey in the high hall.

Under the cloud-murk he moved toward it

Until it shone above him, a sheer keep

Of fortified gold. Nor was that the first time

He had scouted the grounds of Hrothar’s dwelling—

Although never in his life, before or since,

Did he find harder fortune for hall-defenders.

Spurned and joyless, he journeyed on ahead 720

And arrived at the bawn*. The iron-braced door

turned on its hinge when his hands touched it.

Then his rage boiled over, he ripped open

the mouth of the building, maddening for blood,

pacing the length of the patterned floor

with his loathsome tread, while a baleful light,

flame more than light, flared from his eyes.

He saw many men in the mansion, sleeping,

A ranked company of kinsmen and warriors

Quartered together. And his glee was demonic, 730

Picturing the mayhem: before morning

He would rip life from limb and devour them,

Feed on their flesh; but his fate that night

Was due to change, his days of ravening

Had come to an end.

*Moor- an open wasteland

*Bawn- a rocky shoreline

Mighty and canny,

Hygelac’s kinsman was keenly watching

For the first move the monster would make.

Nor did the creature keep him waiting

But struck suddenly and started in;

He grabbed and mauled a man on his bench, 740

Bit into his bone-lappings, bolted down his blood

And gorged on him in lumps, leaving the body

Utterly lifeless, eaten up

Hand and food. Venturing closer,

His talon was raised to attack Beowulf

Where he lay on the bed; he was bearing in

With open claw when the alert hero’s

Comeback and armlock forestalled him utterly.

The captain of evil discovered himself

In a handgrip harder than anything 750

He had ever encountered in any man

On the face of the earth. Every bone in his body

Quailed and recoiled, but he could not escape.

He was desperate to flee to his den and hide

With the devil’s litter, for in all his days

He had never been clamped or cornered like this.

Then Hygelac’s trusty retainer recalled

His bedtime speech, sprang to his feet

And got a firm hold. Fingers were bursting,

The monster back-tracking, the man overpowering. 760

The dread of the land was desperate to escape,

To take a roundabout road and flee

To his lair in the fens. The latching power

In his fingers weakened; it was the worst trip

10 The terror-monger had taken to Heorot.

And now the timbers trembled and sang,

A hall-session that harrowed every Dane

Inside the stockade: stumbling in fury,

The two contenders crashed through the building.

The hall clattered and hammered, but somehow 770

Survived the onslaught and kept standing:

It was handsomely structured, a sturdy frame

Braced with the best of blacksmith’s work

Inside and out. The story goes

That as the pair struggled, mead-benches were smashed

And sprung off the floor, gold fittings and all.

Before then, no Shielding elder would believe

There was any power of person upon earth

Capable of wrecking their horn-rigged hall

Unless the burning embrace of a fire 780

Engulf it in flame. Then an extraordinary

Wail arose, and bewildering fear

Came over the Danes. Everyone felt it

Who heard that cry as it echoed off the wall,

A God-cursed scream and strain of catastrophe,

The howl of the loss, the lament of the hell-serf

Keening his wound. He was overwhelmed,

Manacled tight by the man who of all men

Was foremost and strongest in the days of this life.

But the earl-troop’s leader was not inclined 790

To allow his caller to depart alive:

He did not consider that life of much account

To anyone anywhere. Time and again,

Beowulf’s warriors worked to defend

Their lord’s life, laying about them

As best they could with their ancestral blades.

Stalwart in action, they kept striking out

On every side, seeking to cut

Straight to the soul. When they joined the struggle

There was something that could not have known at the time, 800

That no blade on earth, no blacksmith’s art

Could ever damage their demon opponent.

He had conjured the harm from the cutting edge

Of every weapon. But his going away

Out of this world and the days of his life

Would be agony to him, and his alien spirit

Would travel far into fiend’s keeping.

Then he who had harrowed the hearts of men

With pain and affliction in former times

And had given offence also to God 810

Found that his bodily powers failed him.

Hygelac’s kinsman kept him helplessly

Locked in a handgrip. As long as either lived,

He was hateful to the other. The monster’s whole

body was in pain, a tremendous wound

Appeared on his shoulder. Sinews split

And the bone-lappings burst. Beowulf was granted

The gory of winning; Grendel was driven

Under the fen-banks, fatally hurt,

To his desolate lair. His days were numbered, 820

The end of his life was coming over him,

He knew it for certain; and one bloody clash

11 Had fulfilled the dearest wish of the Danes.

(After the battle, the Danes rejoice. The proof of the victory as they followed the trail of blood to Grendel’s swamp where he died in the murky waters. The people rejoiced throughout Denmark, and many raced back and forth telling the mighty deeds of Beowulf- often comparing him to Sigemund the dragon slayer. Hrothgar returned to the hall and adopts Beowulf (symbolically) as a son. He praises the mighty hero and blessings of God. Hrothgar finishes his speech by saying…)

But you have made yourself immortal 953

By your glorious action. May the God of Ages

Continues to keep and requite you well.”

Beowulf, son of Ecgtheow, spoke:

“We have gone through with a glorious endeavour

and been much favoured in this fight we dared

against the unknown, Nevertheless,

if you could have seen the monster himself` 960

where he lay beaten, I would have been better pleased.

My plan was to pounce, pin him down

In a tight grip and grapple him to death—

Have him panting for life, powerless and clasped

In my bare hands, his body in thrall.

But I couldn’t stop him from slipping my hold.

The Lord allowed it, my lock on him

Wasn’t strong enough, he struggled fiercely

And broke and ran. Yet he bought his freedom

At a high price, for he left his hand 970

and arm and shoulder to show he had been here,

A cold comfort for having come among us.

And now he won’t be long for this world.

He has done his worst but the wound will end him.

He is hasped and hooped and hirpling with pain,

Limping and looped in it. Like a man outlawed

For wickedness, he must await

The mighty judgment of God in majesty.”

There was less tampering and big talk then

From Unferth the boaster, less of his blather 960

As the hall-thanes eyed the awful proof

Of the hero’s prowess, the splayed hand

Up under the eaves. …

(Hrothgar orders the hall to be restored to its former glory, and soon a victory feast begins. Beowulf and his men are awarded gold, jewels, swords, and armor for their reward. Then a minstral sings a tale of Hildeburh, a Danish princess, who was married off to an ally of her enemies as part of a truce. In this story, the Danes are in exile after a stalemate battle with the Jutes and Frisians, but they thirst for vengance. After a year, they attack and kill the king and bring his widow Hildeburh back home to Denmark. This story foreshadows the feud between the Geats and the Swedes.)

Grendel’s Mother

(After the celebration, men once again stay in Heorot. However, Grendel’s Mother will come, and for one them, this will be his last night on earth. She is an outcast because of her ancestor Cain who killed his own brother. The family of Cain has become monsters. Seeking vengeance for her son’s death, she attacks Heorot and kills just one man- Hrothgar’s closest friend and advisor. In his grief over the loss of his friend, Hrothgar describes where Grendel’s Mother lives to Beowulf. The old king will ask for one more favor.)

“A few miles from here

a frost stiffened wood waits and keeps watch

above a mere; the overhanging bank

is a maze of tree-roots mirrored in its surface.

12 At night there, somethi8ng uncanny happens:

The water burns. And the mere bottom

Has never been sounded by the sons of men.

On its bank, the heather-stepper halts:

The hart in flight from pursuing hounds

Will turn to face them with firm-set horns 1370

And die in the wood rather than dive

Beneath its surface. That is no good place.

When the wind blows up and stormy weather

Makes clouds scud and the skies weep,

Out of its depths a dirty surge

Is pitched towards the heavens. Now help depends

Again on you and on you alone.

The gap of danger where the demon waits

Is still unknown to you. Seek it if you dare.

I will compensate you for settling the feud 1380

As I did the last time with lavish wealth,

Coffers of coiled gold, if you come back.”

Beowulf, son of Ecgtheow, spoke:

“Wise sir, do not grieve. It is always better

to avenge dear ones than to indulge in mourning.

For every one of us, living in this world

Means waiting for our end. Let whoever can

Win glory before death. When a warrior is gone,

That will be his best and only bulwark.

So arise, my lord, and let us immediately 1390

Set forth on the trail of this troll-dam.

I guarantee you: she will not get away,

Not to dens under ground nor upland groves

Nor the ocean floor. She’ll have nowhere to flee to.

Endure your trouble to-day. Bear up

And be the man I expect you to be.”

(A war party is quickly formed, and they track Grendel’s Mother to the fen where she lives. To the astonishment of the party, it is marked by the head of Hrothgar’s slain friend; the blood from the severed head stirs up all kinds of sea monsters near the shore. Beowulf kills one with an arrow and brings it ashore allowing all to see the type of monsters that await him in the water. Unferth, too afraid to go into the water, gives Beowulf a mighty sword named Hrunting. Beowulf also dresses for battle with chain-mail, shield, and helmet. Beowulf reminds Hrothgar of his earlier words about the death of a warrior.)

After these words, the prince of the Weather-Geats 1492

Was impatient to be away and plunged suddenly:

Without more ado, he dived into the heaving

Depths of the lake. It was the best part of a day

Before he could see the solid bottom.

Quickly the one who haunted those waters,

Who had scavenged and gone her gluttonous rounds

For a hundred seasons, sensed a human

Observing her outlandish lair from above. 1500

So she lunged and clutched and managed to catch him

In her brutal grip, but his body, for all that,

Remained unscathed: the mesh of the chain-mail

Saved him on the outside. Her savage talons

Failed to rip the web of his warshirt.

Then once she touched bottom, that wolfish swimmer

Carried the ring-mailed prince to her court

So that for all his courage he could never use

The weapons he carried; and a bewildering horde

13 Came at him from the depths, droves of sea-beasts 1510

Who attacked with tusks and tore at his chain-mail

In a ghastly onslaught. The gallant man

Could see he had entered some hellish turn-hole

And yet the water did not work against him

Because the hall-roofing held off

The force of the current; then he saw a firelight,

A glam and flare-up, a glimmer or brightness.

The hero observed that swamp-thing from hell,

The tarn-hag in all her terrible strength,

Then heaved his war-sword and swung his arm: 1520

The decorated blade came down ringing

And singing on her head. But he soon found

his battle-torch extinguished: the shinning blade

Refused to bite. It spared her and failed

The man in his need. It has gone through many

Hand-to-hand fights, had hewed the armour

And helmets of the doomed, but there at last

The fabulous powers of that heirloom failed.

Hygelac’s kinsman kept thinking about

His name and fame: he never lost heart. 1530

Then, in a fury, he flung his sword away.

The keep, inlaid, worm-loop-patterned steel

Was hurled to the ground: he would have to rely

On the might of his arm. So must a man do

Who intends to gain enduring glory

In a combat. Life doesn’t cost him a thought.

Then the prince of War-Geats, warming to this fight

With Grendel’s mother, gripped her shoulder

And laid about him in a battle frenzy:

He pitched his killer opponent to the floor 1540

But she rose quickly and retaliated,

Grappled him tightly in her grim embrace.

The sure-footed fighter felt daunted,

The strongest of warriors stumbled and fell.

So she pounced upon him and pulled out

A broad, whetted knife: now she would avenge

Her only child. But the mesh of chain-mail

On Beowulf’s shoulder shielded his life,

Turned the edge and tip of the blade.

The son of Ecgtheow would have surely perished 1550

And the Geats lost their warrior under the wide earth

Had the strong links and locks of his war-gear

Not helped to save him: holy God

Decided the victory. It was easy for the Lord,

The Ruler of Heaven, to redress the balance

Once Beowulf got back up on his feet.

Then he saw a blade that boded well,

A sword in her armoury, and ancient heirloom

From the days of giants, and ideal weapon,

One that any warrior would envy, 1560

But so huge and heavy of itself

Only Beowulf could wield it in a battle.

So the Shielding’s hero, hard-pressed and enraged,

Took a firm hold of the hilt and swung

The blade in an arc, a resolute blow

That bit deep into her neck-bone

14 And severed it entirely, toppling the doomed

House of her flesh; she fell to the floor.

The sword dripped blood, the swordsman was elated.

A light appeared and the place brightened 1570

The way the sky does when heaven’s candle

Is shinning clearly. He inspected he vault:

With sword held high, its hilt raised

To guard and threaten, Hygelac’s thane

Scouted by the wall in Grendel’s wake.

Now the weapon was to prove its worth.

The warrior determined to take revenge

For every gross act Grendel had committed—

And not only for that one occasion

When he’d come to slaughter the sleeping troops, 1580

Fifteen of Hrothgar’s house-guards

Surprised on their benches and ruthlessly devoured,

And as many again carried away,

A brutal plunder. Beowulf in his fury

Now settled that score: he saw the monster

In his resting place, a war-weary and wrecked,

A lifeless corpse, a casualty

Of the battle in Heorot. The body gaped

At the stroke dealt to it after death:

Beowulf cut the corpse’s head off. 1590

Beowulf becomes King of the Geats

(After the battle, Beowulf brings Grendel’s head and the giant’s sword back to Heorot as tribute to Hrothgar. Beowulf is awarded many more valuables for his bravery, but most importantly Hrothgar teaches Beowulf what it means to be a good king and to respect life. Before the Geats return home, Hrothgar proclaims Beowulf fit to be king of the Geats. Once home in Geatland, Beowulf recounts

his tales and shares his treasure with Hygelac. King Hygelac in turn awards Beowulf with the best sword and treasure that the Geats own. Although Beowulf had at times been poorly regarded, his status as a brave warrior was now set, and he carried himself with valor and restraint- never harming those who were drunken or brawling- until Hygelac is killed in battle. Then…)

The wide kingdom

Reverted to Beowulf. He ruled it well

For fifty winters, grew old and wise

As warden of the land

Until one began 2210

To dominate the dark, a dragon on the prowl

Form the steep vaults of the stone-roofed barrow

Where he guarded a hoard; there was a hidden passage

Unknown to men, but someone managed

To enter by it and interfere

With the heathen trove. He had handled and removed

A gem-studded goblet; it gained him nothing,

Though with a thief’s wiles he had outwitted

The sleeping dragon; that drove him into a rage,

As the people of that country would soon discover. 2220

The intruder who broached the dragon’s treasure

And moved him to wrath had never meant to.

It was desperation on the part of a slave

Fleeing the heavy hand of some master,

Guilt-ridden and on the run,

Going to ground. But he soon began

To shake with terror; ……….. In shock

The wretch……………………………………

……………………………panicked and ran

away with the precious …………………….. 2230

metalwork. There were many other

15 heirlooms heaped inside the earth-house,

because long ago, with deliberate care,

somebody now forgotten

had buried the riches of a high-born race

in this ancient cache. Death had come

and taken them all in times gone by

and the only one left to tell their tale,

the last of their line, could look forward to nothing

but the same fate for himself: he foresaw that his joy 2240

in the treasure would be brief.

A newly constructed

Barrow stood waiting, on a wide headland

Close to the waves, its entryway secured.

Into it the keeper of the hoard had carried

All the goods and golden ware

Worth preserving. His words were few:

“Now, earth, hold what earls once held

and heroes can no more; it was mined from you first

by honourable men. My own people

have been ruined in war; one by one 2250

they went down to death, looked their last

on sweet life in the hall. I am left with nobody

to bear a sword or burnish plated goblets,

put a sheen on the cup. The companies have departed.

The hard helmet, hasped with gold,

Will be stripped of its hoops; and the helmet-shiner

Who should polish the metal of the war-mask sleeps;

The coat of mail that came through all fights,

Through shield-collapse and cut of sword,

Decays with the warrior. Nor many webbed mail 2260

Range far and wide on the warlord’s back

Beside his mustered troops. No trembling harp,

No tuned timber, no tumbling hawk

Swerving through the hall, no swift horse

Pawing the courtyard. Pillage and slaughter

Have emptied the earth of entire peoples.”

And so he mourned as he moved about the world,

Deserted and alone, lamenting his unhappiness

Day and night, until death’s flood

Brimmed up in his heart.

Then and old harrower of the dark 2270

Happened to find the hoard open,

The burning one who hunts out barrows,

The slick-skinned dragon, threatening the night sky

With treamers of fire. People on the farms

Are in dread of him. He is driven to hunt out

Hoards under ground, to guard heather gold

Through age-long vigils, though to little avail.

For three centuries, this scourge of the people

had stood guard on that stoutly protected

underground treasury, until the intruder 2280

unleashed its fury; he hurried to his lord

with the gold-plated cup and made his plea

to be reinstated. Then the vault was rifled,

the ring-hoard robbed, and the wretched man

had his request granted. His master gazed

on that find from the past for the first time.

When the dragon awoke, trouble flared again.

He rippled down the rock, writing with anger

16 when he saw the footprints of the prowler who had stolen

too close to his dreaming head. 2290

So may a man not marked by fate

easily escape exile and woe

by the grace of God….

Beowulf attacks the dragon

(The dragon continues to attack the villages and farms of Geatland; even Beowulf’s home, the throne room, is burned to the ground. Beowulf orders an all iron shield to replace his wooden one. In his old age, this is a very dangerous battle, yet Beowulf was too proud to call up a large army. Instead he recalls the glorious battles of his youth- including the fight with Grendel- and the many fights he had as King of the Geats.

And so the son of Ecgtheow had survived

every extreme, excelling himself

in daring and in danger, until the day arrived

When he had to come face to face with the dragon. 2400

The lord of the Geats took eleven comrades

and went in a rage to reconnoiter.

…

The veteran king sat down on the cliff-top.

He wished good luck to the Geats who had shared

his hearth and his gold. He was sad at heart,

unsettled yet ready, sensing his death. 2420

His fate hovered near, unknowable but certain:

it would soon claim his coffered soul,

part life from limb. Before long

the prince’s spirit would spin free from his body.

(Beowulf recounts his childhood and several battles between the Geats and Swedes. In the most recent skirmish, the Swedish king is killed by one of Hygelac’s thanes- at the time a peer with Beowulf. This foreshadows the continued strife between the Swedes and the Geats.)

Beowulf spoke, made a formal boast 2510

for the last time: “I risked my life

often when I was young. Now I am old,

but as king of the people I shall pursue this fight

for the glory of winning, if the evil one will only

abandon his earth-fort and face me in the open.”

Then he addressed each dear companion

one final time, those fighters in their helmets,

resolute and high-born: “I would rather not

use a weapon if I knew another way

to grapple with the dragon and make good my boast 2520

as I did against Grendel in days gone by.

But I shall be meeting molten venom

in the fire he breathes, so I go forth

in mail-shirt and shield. I won’t shift a foot

when I meet the cave-guard: what occurs on the wall

between the two of us will turn out as fate,

overseer of men, decides. I am resolved.

I scorn further words against this sky-borne foe.

“Men at arms, remain here on the barrow,

safe in your armour, to see which one of us 2530

is better in the end at bearing wounds

in a deadly fray. This fight is not yours,

nor is it up to any man except me

to measure his strength against the monster

17 or to prove his worth. I shall win the gold

by my courage, or else mortal combat,

doom of battle, will bear your lord away.”

Then he drew himself up beside his shield.

The fabled warrior in his warshirt and helmet

trusted in his own strength entirely 2540

and went under the crag. No coward path.

Hard by the rock-face that hale veteran,

a good man who had gone repeatedly

into combat and danger and come through,

saw a stone arch and a gushing stream

that burst from the barrow, blazing and wafting

a deadly heat. It would be hard to survive

unscathed near the hoard, to hold firm

against the dragon in those flaming depths.

Then he gave a shout. The lord of the Geats 2550

unburdened his breast and broke out

in a storm of anger. Under grey stone

his voice challenged and resounded clearly.

Hate was ignited. The hoard-guard recognized

a human voice, the time was over

for peace and parleying. Pouring forth

in a hot battle-fume, the breath of the monster

burst from the rock. There was a rumble under ground.

Down there in the barrow, Beowulf the warrior

lifted his shield: the outlandish thing 2560

writhed and convulsed and viciously

turned on the king, whose keen-edged sword,

an heirloom inherited by the ancient right,

was already in his hand. Roused to a fury,

each antagonist struck terror in the other.

Unyielding, the lord of his people loomed

by his tall shield, sure of his ground,

while the serpent looped and unleashed itself.

Swaddled in flames, it came gliding and flexing

and racing towards its fate. Yet his shield defended 2570

the renowned leader’s life and limb

for a shorter time than he meant it to:

that final day was the first time

when Beowulf fought and fate denied him

glory in battle. So the king of the Geats

raised his hand and struck hard

at the enameled scales, but scarcely cut through:

the blade flashed and slashed yet the blow

was far less powerful than the hard-pressed king

had need of at that moment. The mound-keeper 2580

went into a spasm and spouted deadly flames

when he felt the stroke, battle-fire

billowed and spewed. Beowulf was foiled

of a glorious victory. The glittering sword,

infallible before that day,

failed when he unsheathed it, as it never should have.

For the son of Ecgtheow, it was no easy thing

to have to give ground like that and go

unwillinginly to inhabit another home

in a place beyond; so every man must yield 2590

the leasehold of his days.

Before long

18 the fierce contenders clashed again.

The hoard-guard took heart, inhaled and swelled up

and got a new wind; he who had once ruled

was furled in fire and had to face the worst.

No help or backing was to be had then

from his high-born comrades; that hand-picked troop

broke ranks and ran for their lives

to the safety of the wood. But within one heart

sorrow welled up: in a man of worth 2600

the claims of kinship cannot be denied.

His name was Wiglaf, a son of Weohstan’s,

a well-regarded Shylfing [ Swedish] warrior…

… And now the youth

was to enter the line of battle with his lord,

his first time to be tested as a fighter.

His spirit did not break and the ancestral blade

would keep its edge, as the dragon discovered

as soon as they came together in combat. 2630

Sad at heart, addressing his companions,

Wiglaf spoke wise and fluent words:

“I remember that time when mead was flowing,

how we pledged loyalty to our lord in the hall,

promised our ring-giver we would be worth our price,

make good the gift of the war-gear,

those swords and helmets, as and when

his need required it. He picked us out

from the army deliberately, honoured us and judged us

fit for this action, made me these lavish gifts— 2640

and all because he considered us the best

of his arms-bearing thanes. And now, although

he wanted this challenge to be one he’d face

by himself alone—the shepherd of our land,

a man unequalled in the quest for glory

and a name for daring—now the day has come

when this lord we serve needs sound men

to give him their support. Let us go to him,

help our leader through the hot flame

and dread of the fire. As God is my witness, 2650

I would rather my body were robed in the same

burning blaze as my gold-giver’s body

than go back home bearing arms.

That is unthinkable, unless we have first

slain the foe and defended the life

of the prince of the Weather-Geats. I well know

the things he has done for us deserve better.

Should he alone be left exposed

to fall in battle? We must bond together,

shield and helmet, mail-shirt and sword.” 2660

Then he waded the dangerous reek and went

under arms to his lord, saying only:

“Go one, dear Beowulf, do everything

you said you would when you were still young

and vowed you would never let your name and fame

be dimmed while you lived. Your deeds are famous,

so stay resolute, my lord, defend your life now

with the whole of your strength. I shall stand by you.”

After those words, a wildness rose

19 in the dragon again and drove it to attack, 2670

heaving up fire, hunting for enemies,

the humans it loathed. Flames lapped the shield,

charred it to the boss, and the body armour

of the young warrior was useless to him.

But Wiglaf did well under the wide rim

Beowulf shared with him once his own had shattered

in sparks and ashes.

Inspired again

by the thought of glory, the war-king threw

his whole strength behind the sword-stroke

and connected with the skull. And Naegling [the sword] snapped. 2680

Beowulf’s ancient iron-grey sword

let him down in the fight. It was never his fortune

to be helped in combat by the cutting edge

of weapons made of iron. When he wielded a sword,

no matter how blooded and hard-edged the blade

his hand was too strong, the stroke he dealt

(I have heard) would ruin it. He could reap no advantage.

Then the bane of that people, the fire-breathing dragon,

was mad to attack for a third time.

When a chance came, he caught the hero 2690

in a rush of flame and clamped sharp fangs

into his neck. Beowulf’s body

ran wet with his life-blood: it came welling out.

Next thing, they say, the noble son of Weohstan

saw the king in danger at his side

and displayed his inborn bravery and strength.

He left the head alone, but his fighting hand

was burned when he came to his kinsman’s aid.

He lunged at the enemy lower down

so that his decorated sword sank into its belly 2700

and the flames grew weaker.

Once again the king

gathered his strength and drew a stabbing knife

he carried on his belt, sharpened for battle.

He stuck it deep into the dragon’s flank.

Beowulf dealt it a deadly wound.

They had killed the enemy, courage quelled his life;

that pair of kinsmen, partners in nobility,

had destroyed the foe. So every man should act,

be at hand when needed; but now, for the king,

this would be the last of his many labours 2710

and triumphs in the world.

Then the wound

dealt by the ground –burner earlier began

to scald and swell; Beowulf discovered

deadly poison suppurating inside him,

surges of nausea, and so, in his wisdom,

the prince realized his state and struggled

towards a seat on the rampart. He steadied his gaze

on those gigantic stones, saw how the earthwork

was braced with arches built over columns.

And now that thane unequalled for goodness 2720

with his own hands washed his lord’s wounds,

swabbed the weary prince with water,

bathed him clean, unbuckled his helmet.

20 Beowulf spoke: in spite of his wounds,

mortal wounds, he still spoke

for he well knew his days in the world

had been lived out to the end: his allotted time

was drawing to a close, death was very near.

(Beowulf asks Wiglaf to go into the barrow and examine the dragon’s treasure before bringing some to Beowulf. The dying king wants to see what he gave his life for, so Wiglaf does as he is commanded. Once Wiglaf returns with the gold, Beowulf gives thanks “to the everlasting Lord of All” and asks to be buried in a barrow on the coast to remind his people and sailors of his brave deeds.)