The Tale of Beowulf, Sometime King of the Folk of the Weder Geats

E-text prepared by Louise Hope, R. Cedron,
and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team
(http://www.pgdp.net/c/)

THE TALE OF BEOWULF
SOMETIME KING OF THE
FOLK OF THE WEDER
GEATS TRANSLATED BY
WILLIAM MORRIS AND
A. J. WYATT

LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.

39 PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON
NEW YORK AND BOMBAY
MCMIV

BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE

Contents

(table added by transcriber)

[ ARGUMENT]

Hrothgar, king of the Danes, lives happily and peacefully, and bethinks him to build a glorious hall called Hart. But a little after, one Grendel, of the kindred of the evil wights that are come of Cain, hears the merry noise of Hart and cannot abide it; so he enters thereinto by night, and slays and carries off and devours thirty of Hrothgar's thanes. Thereby he makes Hart waste for twelve years, and the tidings of this mishap are borne wide about lands. Then comes to the helping of Hrothgar Beowulf, the son of Ecgtheow, a thane of King Hygelac of the Geats, with fourteen fellows. They are met on the shore by the land-warder, and by him shown to Hart and the stead of Hrothgar, who receives them gladly, and to whom Beowulf tells his errand, that he will help him against Grendel. They feast in the hall, and one Unferth, son of Ecglaf, taunts Beowulf through jealousy that he was outdone by Breca in swimming. Beowulf tells the true tale thereof. And a little after, at nightfall, Hrothgar and his folk leave the hall Hart, and it is given in charge to Beowulf, who with his Geats abides there the coming of Grendel.

Soon comes Grendel to the hall, and slays a man of the Geats, hight Handshoe, and then grapples with Beowulf, who will use no weapon against him: Grendel feels himself over-mastered and makes for the door, and gets out, but leaves his hand and arm behind him with Beowulf: men on the wall hear the great noise of this battle and the wailing of Grendel. In the morning the Danes rejoice, and follow the bloody slot of Grendel, and return to Hart racing and telling old tales, as of Sigemund and the Worm. Then come the king and his thanes to look on the token of victory, Grendel's hand and arm, which Beowulf has let fasten: to the hall-gable.

The king praises Beowulf and rewards him, and they feast in Hart, and the tale of Finn and Hengest is told. Then Hrothgar leaves Hart, and so does Beowulf also with his Geats, but the Danes keep guard there.

In the night comes in Grendel's Mother, and catches up Aeschere, a thane of Hrothgar, and carries him off to her lair. In the morning is Beowulf fetched to Hrothgar, who tells him of this new grief and craves his help.

Then they follow up the slot and come to a great water-side, and find thereby Aeschere's head, and the place is known for the lair of those two: monsters are playing in the deep, and Beowulf shoots one of them to death. Then Beowulf dights him and leaps into the water, and is a day's while reaching the bottom. There he is straightway caught hold of by Grendel's Mother, who bears him into her hall. When he gets free he falls on her, but the edge of the sword Hrunting (lent to him by Unferth) fails him, and she casts him to the ground and draws her sax to slay him; but he rises up, and sees an old sword of the giants hanging on the wall; he takes it and smites off her head therewith. He sees Grendel lying dead, and his head also he strikes off; but the blade of the sword is molten in his venomous blood. Then Beowulf strikes upward, taking with him the head of Grendel and the hilts of the sword. When he comes to the shore he finds his Geats there alone; for the Danes fled when they saw the blood floating in the water.

They go up to Hrothgar's stead, and four men must needs bear the head. They come to Hrothgar, and Beowulf gives him the hilts and tells him what he has done. Much praise is given to Beowulf; and they feast together.

On the morrow Beowulf bids farewell to Hrothgar, more gifts are given, and messages are sent to Hygelac: Beowulf departs with the full love of Hrothgar. The Geats come to their ship and reward the ship-warder, and put off and sail to their own land. Beowulf comes to Hygelac's house. Hygelac is told of, and his wife Hygd, and her good conditions, against whom is set as a warning the evil Queen Thrytho.

Beowulf tells all the tale of his doings in full to Hygelac, and gives him his gifts, and the precious-gemmed collar to Hygd. Here is told of Beowulf, and how he was contemned in his youth, and is now grown so renowned.

Time wears; Hygelac is slain in battle; Heardred, his son, reigns in his stead, he is slain by the Swedes, and Beowulf is made king. When he is grown old, and has been king for fifty years, come new tidings. A great dragon finds on the sea-shore a mound wherein is stored the treasure of ancient folk departed. The said dragon abides there, and broods the gold for 300 years.

Now a certain thrall, who had misdone against his lord and was fleeing from his wrath, haps on the said treasure and takes a cup thence, which he brings to his lord to appease his wrath. The Worm waketh, and findeth his treasure lessened, but can find no man who hath done the deed. Therefore he turns on the folk, and wars on them, and burns Beowulf's house.

Now Beowulf will go and meet the Worm. He has an iron shield made, and sets forth with eleven men and the thrall the thirteenth. He comes to the ness, and speaks to his men, telling them of his past days, and gives them his last greeting: then he cries out a challenge to the Worm, who comes forth, and the battle begins: Beowulf's sword will not bite on the Worm. Wiglaf eggs on the others to come to Beowulf's help, and goes himself straightway, and offers himself to Beowulf; the Worm comes on again, and Beowulf breaks his sword Nægling on him, and the Worm wounds Beowulf. Wiglaf smites the Worm in the belly; Beowulf draws his ax, and between them they slay the Worm.

Beowulf now feels his wounds, and knows that he is hurt deadly; he sits down by the wall, and Wiglaf bathes his wounds. Beowulf speaks, tells how he would give his armour to his son if he had one; thanks God that he has not sworn falsely or done guilefully; and prays Wiglaf to bear out the treasure that he may see it before he dies.

Wiglaf fetches out the treasure, and again bathes Beowulf's wounds; Beowulf speaks again, rejoices over the sight of the treasure; gives to Wiglaf his ring and his armour, and bids the manner of his bale-fire. With that he passes away. Now the dastards come thereto and find Wiglaf vainly bathing his dead lord. He casteth shame upon them with great wrath. Thence he sends a messenger to the barriers of the town, who comes to the host, and tells them of the death of Beowulf. He tells withal of the old feud betwixt the Geats and the Swedes, and how these, when they hear of the death of the king, will be upon them. The warriors go to look on Beowulf, and find him and the Worm lying dead together. Wiglaf chooses out seven of them to go void the treasure-house, after having bidden them gather wood for the bale-fire. They shove the Worm over the cliff into the sea, and bear off the treasure in wains. Then they bring Beowulf's corpse to bale, and they kindle it; a woman called the wife of aforetime, it may be Hygd, widow of Hygelac, bemoans him: and twelve children of the athelings ride round the bale, and bemoan Beowulf and praise him: and thus ends the poem.

THE STORY OF BEOWULF

[ I. AND FIRST OF THE KINDRED OF HROTHGAR.]

What! we of the Spear-Danes of yore days, so was it

That we learn'd of the fair fame of kings of the folks

And the athelings a-faring in framing of valour.

Oft then Scyld the Sheaf-son from the hosts of the scathers,

From kindreds a many the mead-settles tore;

It was then the earl fear'd them, sithence was he first

Found bare and all-lacking; so solace he bided,

Wax'd under the welkin in worship to thrive,

Until it was so that the round-about sitters

All over the whale-road must hearken his will

And yield him the tribute. A good king was that,

By whom then thereafter a son was begotten,

A youngling in garth, whom the great God sent thither

To foster the folk; and their crime-need he felt

The load that lay on them while lordless they lived

For a long while and long. He therefore, the Life-lord,

The Wielder of glory, world's worship he gave him:

Brim Beowulf waxed, and wide the weal upsprang

Of the offspring of Scyld in the parts of the Scede-lands.

Such wise shall a youngling with wealth be a-working

With goodly fee-gifts toward the friends of his father,

That after in eld-days shall ever bide with him,

Fair fellows well-willing when wendeth the war-tide,

Their lief lord a-serving. By praise-deeds it shall be

That in each and all kindreds a man shall have thriving.

Then went his ways Scyld when the shapen while was,

All hardy to wend him to the lord and his warding:

Out then did they bear him to the side of the sea-flood,

The dear fellows of him, as he himself pray'd them

While yet his word wielded the friend of the Scyldings,

The dear lord of the land; a long while had he own'd it.

With stem all be-ringed at the hythe stood the ship,

All icy and out-fain, the Atheling's ferry.

There then did they lay him, the lord well beloved,

The gold-rings' bestower, within the ship's barm,

The mighty by mast. Much there was the treasure,

From far ways forsooth had the fret-work been led:

Never heard I of keel that was comelier dighted

With weapons of war, and with weed of the battle,

With bills and with byrnies. There lay in his barm

Much wealth of the treasure that with him should be,

And he into the flood's might afar to depart.

No lesser a whit were the wealth-goods they dight him

Of the goods of the folk, than did they who aforetime,

When was the beginning, first sent him away

Alone o'er the billows, and he but a youngling.

Moreover they set him up there a sign golden

High up overhead, and let the holm bear him,

Gave all to the Spearman. Sad mind they had in them,

And mourning their mood was. Now never knew men,

For sooth how to say it, rede-masters in hall,

Or heroes 'neath heaven, to whose hands came the lading.

[ II. CONCERNING HROTHGAR, AND HOW HE BUILT THE HOUSE CALLED HART. ALSO GRENDEL IS TOLD OF.]

In the burgs then was biding Beowulf the Scylding,

Dear King of the people, for long was he dwelling

Far-famed of folks (his father turn'd elsewhere,

From his stead the Chief wended) till awoke to him after

Healfdene the high, and long while he held it,

Ancient and war-eager, o'er the glad Scyldings:

Of his body four bairns are forth to him rimed;

Into the world woke the leader of war-hosts

Heorogar; eke Hrothgar, and Halga the good;

Heard I that Elan queen was she of Ongentheow,

That Scylding of battle, the bed-mate [behalsed].

Then was unto Hrothgar the war-speed given,

Such worship of war that his kin and well-willers

Well hearken'd his will till the younglings were waxen,

A kin-host a many. Then into his mind ran

That he would be building for him now a hall-house,

That men should be making a mead-hall more mighty

Than the children of ages had ever heard tell of:

And there within eke should he be out-dealing

To young and to old all things God had given,

Save the share of the folk and the life-days of men.

Then heard I that widely the work was [a-banning]

To kindreds a many the Middle-garth over

To fret o'er that folk-stead. So befell to him timely

Right soon among men that made was it yarely

The most of hall-houses, and Hart its name shap'd he,

Who wielded his word full widely around.

His behest he belied not; it was he dealt the rings,

The wealth at the high-tide. Then up rose the hall-house,

High up and horn-gabled. Hot surges it bided

Of fire-flame the loathly, nor long was it thenceforth

Ere sorely the edge-hate 'twixt Son and Wife's Father

After the slaughter-strife there should awaken.

Then the ghost heavy-strong bore with it hardly

E'en for a while of time, bider in darkness,

That there on each day of days heard he the mirth-tide

Loud in the hall-house. There was the harp's voice,

And clear song of shaper. Said he who could it

To tell the first fashion of men from aforetime;

Quoth how the Almighty One made the Earth's fashion,

The fair field and bright midst the bow of the Waters,

And with victory beglory'd set Sun and Moon,

Bright beams to enlighten the biders on land:

And how he adorned all parts of the earth

With limbs and with leaves; and life withal shaped

For the kindred of each thing that quick on earth wendeth.

So liv'd on all happy the host of the kinsmen

In game and in glee, until one wight began,

A fiend out of hell-pit, the framing of evil,

And Grendel forsooth the grim guest was hight,

The mighty mark-strider, the holder of moorland,

The fen and the fastness. The stead of the fifel

That wight all unhappy a while of time warded,

Sithence that the Shaper him had for-written.

On the kindred of Cain the Lord living ever

Awreaked the murder of the slaying of Abel.

In that feud he rejoic'd not, but afar him He banish'd,

The Maker, from mankind for the crime he had wrought.

But offspring uncouth thence were they awoken

Eotens and elf-wights, and ogres of ocean,

And therewith the Giants, who won war against God

A long while; but He gave them their wages therefor.

[ III. HOW GRENDEL FELL UPON HART AND WASTED IT.]

Now went he a-spying, when come was the night-tide,

The house on high builded, and how there the Ring-Danes

Their beer-drinking over had boune them to bed;

And therein he found them, the atheling fellows,

Asleep after feasting. Then sorrow they knew not

Nor the woe of mankind: but the wight of wealth's waning,

The grim and the greedy, soon yare was he gotten,

All furious and fierce, and he raught up from resting

A thirty of thanes, and thence aback got him

Right fain of his gettings, and homeward to fare,

Fulfilled of slaughter his stead to go look on.

Thereafter at dawning, when day was yet early,

The war-craft of Grendel to men grew unhidden,

And after his meal was the weeping uphoven,

Mickle voice of the morning-tide: there the Prince mighty,

The Atheling exceeding good, unblithe he sat,

Tholing the heavy woe; thane-sorrow dreed he

Since the slot of the loathly wight there they had look'd on,

The ghost all accursed. O'er grisly the strife was,

So loathly and longsome. No longer the frist was

But after the wearing of one night; then fram'd he

Murder-bales more yet, and nowise he mourned

The feud and the crime; over fast therein was he.

Then easy to find was the man who would elsewhere

Seek out for himself a rest was more roomsome,

Beds 140 end-long the bowers, when beacon'd to him was,

And soothly out told by manifest token,

The hate of the hell-thane. He held himself sithence

Further and faster who from the fiend gat him.

In such wise he rul'd it and wrought against right,

But one against all, until idle was standing

The best of hall-houses; and mickle the while was,

Twelve winter-tides' wearing; and trouble he tholed,

That friend of the Scyldings, of woes every one

And wide-spreading sorrows: for sithence it fell

That unto men's children unbidden 'twas known

Full sadly in singing, that Grendel won war

'Gainst Hrothgar a while of time, hate-envy waging,

And crime-guilts and feud for seasons no few,

And strife without stinting. For the sake of no kindness

Unto any of men of the main-host of Dane-folk

Would he thrust off the life-bale, or by fee-gild allay it,

Nor was there a wise man that needed to ween

The bright [boot] to have at the hand of the slayer.

The monster the fell one afflicted them sorely,

That death-shadow darksome the doughty and youthful

Enfettered, ensnared; night by night was he faring

The moorlands the misty. But never know men

Of spell-workers of Hell to and fro where they wander.

So crime-guilts a many the foeman of mankind,

The fell alone-farer, fram'd oft and full often,

Cruel hard shames and wrongful, and Hart he abode in,

The treasure-stain'd hall, in the dark of the night-tide;

But never the gift-stool therein might he greet,

The treasure before the Creator he trow'd not.

Mickle wrack was it soothly for the friend of the Scyldings,

Yea heart and mood breaking. Now sat there a many

Of the mighty in rune, and won them the rede

Of what thing for the strong-soul'd were best of all things

Which yet they might frame 'gainst the fear and the horror.

And whiles they behight them at the shrines of the heathen

To worship the idols; and pray'd they in words,

That he, the ghost-slayer, would frame for them helping

'Gainst the folk-threats and evil So far'd they their wont,

The hope of the heathen; nor hell they remember'd

In 180 mood and in mind. And the Maker they knew not,

The Doomer of deeds: nor of God the Lord wist they,

Nor the Helm of the Heavens knew aught how to hery,

The Wielder of Glory. Woe worth unto that man

Who through hatred the baneful his soul shall shove into

The fire's embrace; nought of fostering weens he,

Nor of changing one whit. But well is he soothly

That after the death-day shall seek to the Lord,

In the breast of the Father all peace ever craving.

[ IV. NOW COMES BEOWULF ECGTHEOW’S SON TO THE LAND OF THE DANES, AND THE WALL-WARDEN SPEAKETH WITH HIM.]

So care that was time-long the kinsman of Healfdene

190 Still seeth'd without ceasing, nor might the wise warrior

Wend otherwhere woe, for o'er strong was the strife

All loathly so longsome late laid on the people,

Need-wrack and grim [nithing], of night-bales the greatest.

Now that from his home heard the Hygelac's thane,

Good midst of the Geat-folk; of Grendel's deeds heard he.

But he was of mankind of might and main mightiest

In the day that we tell of, the day of this life,

All noble, strong-waxen. He bade a wave-wearer

Right good to be gear'd him, and quoth he that the war-king

Over 200 the swan-road he would be seeking,

The folk-lord far-famed, since lack of men had he.

Forsooth of that faring the carles wiser-fashion'd

Laid little blame on him, though lief to them was he;

The heart-hardy whetted they, heeded the omen.

There had the good one, e'en he of the Geat-folk,

Champions out-chosen of them that he keenest

Might find for his needs; and he then the fifteenth,

Sought to the sound-wood. A swain thereon show'd him,

A sea-crafty man, all the make of the land-marks.

Wore then a while, on the waves was the floater,

The boat under the berg, and yare then the warriors

Strode up on the stem; the streams were a-winding

The sea 'gainst the sands. Upbore the swains then

Up into the bark's barm the bright-fretted weapons,

The war-array stately; then out the lads shov'd her,

The folk on the welcome way shov'd out the wood-bound.

Then by the wind driven out o'er the wave-holm

Far'd the foamy-neck'd floater most like to a fowl,

Till when was the same tide of the second day's wearing

The wound-about-stemm'd one had waded her way,

So that then they that sail'd her had sight of the land,

Bleak shine of the sea-cliffs, bergs steep up above,

Sea-nesses wide reaching; the sound was won over,

The sea-way was ended: then up ashore swiftly

The band of the Weder-folk up on earth wended;

They bound up the sea-wood, their sarks on them rattled,

Their weed of the battle, and God there they thanked

For that easy the wave-ways were waxen unto them.

But now from the wall saw the Scylding-folks' warder,

E'en he whom the holm-cliffs should ever be holding,

Men bear o'er the gangway the bright shields a-shining,

Folk-host gear all ready. Then mind-longing wore him,

And stirr'd up his mood to wot who were the men-folk.

So shoreward down far'd he his fair steed a-riding,

Hrothgar's Thane, and full strongly then set he a-quaking

The stark wood in his hands, and in council-speech speer'd he:

What men be ye then of them that have war-gear,

With byrnies bewarded, who the keel high up-builded

Over the Lake-street thus have come leading.

Hither o'er holm-ways hieing in ring-stem?

End-sitter was I, a-holding the sea-ward,

That the land of the Dane-folk none of the loathly

Faring with ship-horde ever might scathe it.

None yet have been seeking more openly hither

Of shield-havers than ye, and ye of the leave-word

Of the framers of war naught at all wotting,

Or the manners of kinsmen. But no man of earls greater

Saw I ever on earth than one of you yonder,

The warrior in war-gear: no hall-man, so ween I,

Is that weapon-beworthy'd, but his visage belie him,

The sight seen once only. Now I must be wotting

The spring of your kindred ere further ye cast ye,

And let loose your false spies in the Dane-land a-faring

Yet further afield. So now, ye far-dwellers,

Ye wenders o'er sea-flood, this word do ye hearken

Of my one-folded thought: and haste is the handiest

To do me to wit of whence is your coming.

[ V. HERE BEOWULF MAKES ANSWER TO THE LAND-WARDEN, WHO SHOWETH HIM THE WAY TO THE KING’S ABODE.]

He then that was chiefest in thus wise he answer'd,

The war-fellows' leader unlock'd he the word-hoard:

We be a people of the Weder-Geats' man-kin

And of Hygelac be we the hearth-fellows soothly.

My father before me of folks was well-famed

Van-leader and atheling, Ecgtheow he hight.

Many winters abode he, and on the way wended

An old man from the garths, and him well remembers

Every wise man well nigh wide yond o'er the earth.

Through our lief mood and friendly the lord that is thine,

Even Healfdene's son, are we now come a-seeking,

Thy warder of folk. Learn us well with thy leading,