English Literature: Its History and Significance for the Life of the English-Speaking World | Page 9

up and grasp
their weapons; but the monster enters, seizes Aeschere, who is friend
and adviser of the king, and rushes away with him over the fens.
The old scenes of sorrow are reviewed in the morning; but Beowulf
says simply:
Sorrow not, wise man. It is better for each That his friend he avenge
than that he mourn much. Each of us shall the end await Of worldly life:
let him who may gain Honor ere death. That is for a warrior, When he
is dead, afterwards best. Arise, kingdom's guardian! Let us quickly go
To view the track of Grendel's kinsman. I promise it thee: he will not
escape, Nor in earth's bosom, nor in mountain-wood, Nor in ocean's
depths, go where he will.[8]
Then he girds himself for the new fight and follows the track of the
second enemy across the fens. Here is Hrothgar's description of the
place where live the monsters, "spirits of elsewhere," as he calls them:
They inhabit The dim land that gives shelter to the wolf, The windy
headlands, perilous fen paths, Where, under mountain mist, the stream
flows down And floods the ground. Not far hence, but a mile, The mere
stands, over which hang death-chill groves, A wood fast-rooted
overshades the flood; There every night a ghastly miracle Is seen, fire
in the water. No man knows, Not the most wise, the bottom of that
mere. The firm-horned heath-stalker, the hart, when pressed, Wearied
by hounds, and hunted from afar, Will rather die of thirst upon its bank
Than bend his head to it. It is unholy. Dark to the clouds its yeasty
waves mount up When wind stirs hateful tempest, till the air Grows
dreary, and the heavens pour down tears.[9]

Beowulf plunges into the horrible place, while his companions wait for
him oh the shore. For a long time he sinks through the flood; then, as
he reaches bottom, Grendel's mother rushes out upon him and drags
him into a cave, where sea monsters swarm at him from behind and
gnash his armor with their tusks. The edge of his sword is turned with
the mighty blow he deals the merewif; but it harms not the monster.
Casting the weapon aside, he grips her and tries to hurl her down, while
her claws and teeth clash upon his corslet but cannot penetrate the steel
rings. She throws her bulk upon him, crushes him down, draws a short
sword and plunges it at him; but again his splendid byrnie saves him.
He is wearied now, and oppressed. Suddenly, as his eye sweeps the
cave, he catches sight of a magic sword, made by the giants long ago,
too heavy for warriors to wield. Struggling up he seizes the weapon,
whirls it and brings down a crashing blow upon the monster's neck. It
smashes through the ring bones; the merewif falls, and the fight is won.
The cave is full of treasures; but Beowulf heeds them not, for near him
lies Grendel, dead from the wound received the previous night. Again
Beowulf swings the great sword and strikes off his enemy's head; and
lo, as the venomous blood touches the sword blade, the steel melts like
ice before the fire, and only the hilt is left in Beowulf's hand. Taking
the hilt and the head, the hero enters the ocean and mounts up to the
shore.
Only his own faithful band were waiting there; for the Danes, seeing
the ocean bubble with fresh blood, thought it was all over with the hero
and had gone home. And there they were, mourning in Heorot, when
Beowulf returned with the monstrous head of Grendel carried on a
spear shaft by four of his stoutest followers.
In the last part of the poem there is another great fight. Beowulf is now
an old man; he has reigned for fifty years, beloved by all his people. He
has overcome every enemy but one, a fire dragon keeping watch over
an enormous treasure hidden among the mountains. One day a
wanderer stumbles upon the enchanted cave and, entering, takes a
jeweled cup while the firedrake sleeps heavily. That same night the
dragon, in a frightful rage, belching forth fire and smoke, rushes down

upon the nearest villages, leaving a trail of death and terror behind him.
Again Beowulf goes forth to champion his people. As he approaches
the dragon's cave, he has a presentiment that death lurks within:
Sat on the headland there the warrior king; Farewell he said to
hearth-companions true, The gold-friend of the Geats; his mind was sad,
Death-ready, restless. And Wyrd was drawing nigh, Who now must
meet and touch the aged man, To seek the treasure that his soul had
saved And separate his body from his life.[10]
There is a flash