Beowulf | Page 8

in well-knit rime,?welded his lay; this warrior soon?of Beowulf's quest right cleverly sang,?and artfully added an excellent tale,?in well-ranged words, of the warlike deeds?he had heard in saga of Sigemund.?Strange the story: he said it all, --?the Waelsing's wanderings wide, his struggles,?which never were told to tribes of men,?the feuds and the frauds, save to Fitela only,?when of these doings he deigned to speak,?uncle to nephew; as ever the twain?stood side by side in stress of war,?and multitude of the monster kind?they had felled with their swords. Of Sigemund grew,?when he passed from life, no little praise;?for the doughty-in-combat a dragon killed?that herded the hoard: {13a} under hoary rock?the atheling dared the deed alone?fearful quest, nor was Fitela there.?Yet so it befell, his falchion pierced?that wondrous worm, -- on the wall it struck,?best blade; the dragon died in its blood.?Thus had the dread-one by daring achieved?over the ring-hoard to rule at will,?himself to pleasure; a sea-boat he loaded,?and bore on its bosom the beaming gold,?son of Waels; the worm was consumed.?He had of all heroes the highest renown?among races of men, this refuge-of-warriors,?for deeds of daring that decked his name?since the hand and heart of Heremod?grew slack in battle. He, swiftly banished?to mingle with monsters at mercy of foes,?to death was betrayed; for torrents of sorrow?had lamed him too long; a load of care?to earls and athelings all he proved.?Oft indeed, in earlier days,?for the warrior's wayfaring wise men mourned,?who had hoped of him help from harm and bale,?and had thought their sovran's son would thrive,?follow his father, his folk protect,?the hoard and the stronghold, heroes' land,?home of Scyldings. -- But here, thanes said,?the kinsman of Hygelac kinder seemed?to all: the other {13b} was urged to crime!?And afresh to the race, {13c} the fallow roads?by swift steeds measured! The morning sun?was climbing higher. Clansmen hastened?to the high-built hall, those hardy-minded,?the wonder to witness. Warden of treasure,?crowned with glory, the king himself,?with stately band from the bride-bower strode;?and with him the queen and her crowd of maidens?measured the path to the mead-house fair.
XIV
HROTHGAR spake, -- to the hall he went,?stood by the steps, the steep roof saw,?garnished with gold, and Grendel's hand: --?"For the sight I see to the Sovran Ruler?be speedy thanks! A throng of sorrows?I have borne from Grendel; but God still works?wonder on wonder, the Warden-of-Glory.?It was but now that I never more?for woes that weighed on me waited help?long as I lived, when, laved in blood,?stood sword-gore-stained this stateliest house, --?widespread woe for wise men all,?who had no hope to hinder ever?foes infernal and fiendish sprites?from havoc in hall. This hero now,?by the Wielder's might, a work has done?that not all of us erst could ever do?by wile and wisdom. Lo, well can she say?whoso of women this warrior bore?among sons of men, if still she liveth,?that the God of the ages was good to her?in the birth of her bairn. Now, Beowulf, thee,?of heroes best, I shall heartily love?as mine own, my son; preserve thou ever?this kinship new: thou shalt never lack?wealth of the world that I wield as mine!?Full oft for less have I largess showered,?my precious hoard, on a punier man,?less stout in struggle. Thyself hast now?fulfilled such deeds, that thy fame shall endure?through all the ages. As ever he did,?well may the Wielder reward thee still!"?Beowulf spake, bairn of Ecgtheow: --?"This work of war most willingly?we have fought, this fight, and fearlessly dared?force of the foe. Fain, too, were I?hadst thou but seen himself, what time?the fiend in his trappings tottered to fall!?Swiftly, I thought, in strongest gripe?on his bed of death to bind him down,?that he in the hent of this hand of mine?should breathe his last: but he broke away.?Him I might not -- the Maker willed not --?hinder from flight, and firm enough hold?the life-destroyer: too sturdy was he,?the ruthless, in running! For rescue, however,?he left behind him his hand in pledge,?arm and shoulder; nor aught of help?could the cursed one thus procure at all.?None the longer liveth he, loathsome fiend,?sunk in his sins, but sorrow holds him?tightly grasped in gripe of anguish,?in baleful bonds, where bide he must,?evil outlaw, such awful doom?as the Mighty Maker shall mete him out."
More silent seemed the son of Ecglaf {14a}?in boastful speech of his battle-deeds,?since athelings all, through the earl's great prowess,?beheld that hand, on the high roof gazing,?foeman's fingers, -- the forepart of each?of the sturdy nails to steel was likest, --?heathen's "hand-spear," hostile warrior's?claw uncanny. 'Twas clear, they said,?that him no blade of the brave could touch,?how keen soever, or cut away?that battle-hand bloody from baneful foe.
XV
THERE was hurry and hest in Heorot now?for hands to bedeck it, and dense was the throng?of men and women the wine-hall to cleanse,?the guest-room to garnish. Gold-gay shone the hangings?that were wove on the