The Tale of Beowulf | Page 8

what hath he?Of shaming in Hart, and he with his hate-wiles?Of sudden harms framed; the host of my hall-floor,?The war-heap, is waned; Weird swept them away?Into horror of Grendel. It is God now that may lightly?The scather the doltish from deeds thrust aside.?Full oft have they boasted with beer well bedrunken, 480 My men of the battle all over the ale-stoup,?That they in the beer-hall would yet be abiding?The onset of Grendel with the terror of edges.?But then was this mead-hall in the tide of the morning,?This warrior-hall, gore-stain'd when day at last gleamed, All the boards of the benches with blood besteam'd over,?The hall laid with sword-gore: of lieges less had I?Of dear and of doughty, for them death had gotten.?Now sit thou to feast and unbind thy mood freely,?Thy war-fame unto men as the mind of thee whetteth. 490 Then was for the Geat-folk and them all together?There in the beer-hall a bench bedight roomsome,?There the stout-hearted hied them to sitting?Proud in their might: a thane minded the service,?Who in hand upbare an ale-stoup adorned,?Skinked the sheer mead; whiles sang the shaper?Clear out in Hart-hall; joy was of warriors,?Men doughty no little of Danes and of Weders.
IX. UNFERTH CONTENDETH IN WORDS WITH BEOWULF.
Spake out then Unferth that bairn was of Ecglaf,?And he sat at the feet of the lord of the Scyldings, 500 He unbound the battle-rune; was Beowulf's faring,?Of him the proud mere-farer, mickle unliking,?Whereas he begrudg'd it of any man other?That he glories more mighty the middle-garth over?Should hold under heaven than he himself held:?Art thou that Beowulf who won strife with Breca?On the wide sea contending in swimming,?When ye two for pride's sake search'd out the floods?And for a dolt's cry into deep water?Thrust both your life-days? No man the twain of you, 510 Lief or loth were he, might lay wyte to stay you?Your sorrowful journey, when on the sea row'd ye;?Then when the ocean-stream ye with your arms deck'd,?Meted the mere-streets, there your hands brandish'd!?O'er the Spearman ye glided; the sea with waves welter'd, The surge of the winter. Ye twain in the waves' might?For a seven nights swink'd. He outdid thee in swimming,?And the more was his might; but him in the morn-tide?To the Heatho-Remes' land the holm bore ashore.?And thence away sought he to his dear land and lovely, 520 The lief to his people sought the land of the Brondings,?The fair burg peace-warding, where he the folk owned,?The burg and the gold rings. What to theeward he boasted, Beanstan's son, for thee soothly he brought it about.?Now ween I for thee things worser than erewhile,?Though thou in the war-race wert everywhere doughty,?In the grim war, if thou herein Grendel darest?Night-long for a while of time nigh to abide.?Then Beowulf spake out, the Ecgtheow's bairn:?What! thou no few of things, O Unferth my friend, 530 And thou drunken with beer, about Breca hast spoken,?Saidest out of his journey; so the sooth now I tell:?To wit, that the more might ever I owned,?Hard wearing on wave more than any man else.?We twain then, we quoth it, while yet we were younglings, And we boasted between us, the twain of us being yet?In our youth-days, that we out onto the Spearman?Our lives would adventure; and e'en so we wrought It.?We had a sword naked, when on the sound row'd we,?Hard in hand, as we twain against the whale-fishes 540 Had mind to be warding us. No whit from me?In the waves of the sea-flood afar might he float?The hastier in holm, nor would I from him hie me.?Then we two together, we were in the sea?For a five nights, till us twain the flood drave asunder, The weltering of waves. Then the coldest of weathers?In the dusking of night and the wind from the northward?Battle-grim turn'd against us, rough grown were the billows. Of the mere-fishes then was the mood all up-stirred;?There me 'gainst the loathly the body-sark mine, 550 The hard and the hand-lock'd, was framing me help,?My battle-rail braided, it lay on my breast?Gear'd graithly with gold. But me to the ground tugg'd?A foe and fiend-scather; fast he had me In hold?That grim one in grip: yet to me was it given.?That the wretch there, the monster, with point might I reach, With my bill of the battle, and the war-race off bore?The mighty mere-beast through the hand that was mine.
X. BEOWULF MAKES AN END OF HIS TALE OF THE SWIMMING.?WEALHTHEOW, HROTHGAR'S QUEEN, GREETS HIM;?AND HROTHGAR DELIVERS TO HIM THE WARDING OF THE HALL.
Thus oft and oft over the doers of evil?They threatened me hard; thane-service I did them 560 With the dear sword of mine, as forsooth it was meet,?That nowise of their fill did they win them the joy?The evil fordoers in swallowing me down,?Sitting round at the feast