Beowulf, III. Grendel's Visits

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Beowulf

Part III. Grendel’s Visits

(Old English text, British Library MS Cotton Vitellius A) (Modern English translation by Francis B. Gummere, Harvard Classics, 1910) Gewat ða neosian, syþðan niht becom, Went he forth to find at fall of night hean huses, hu hit Hringdene that haughty house, and heed wherever æfter beorþege gebun hæfdon. the Ring-Danes, outrevelled, to rest had gone. Fand þa ðær inne æþelinga gedriht Found within it the atheling band swefan æfter symble; sorge ne cuðon, asleep after feasting and fearless of sorrow, wonsceaft wera. Wiht unhælo, of human hardship. Unhallowed wight, grim ond grædig, gearo sona wæs, grim and greedy, he grasped betimes, reoc ond reþe, ond on ræste genam wrathful, reckless, from resting-places, þritig þegna, þanon eft gewat thirty of the thanes, and thence he rushed huðe hremig to ham faran, fain of his fell spoil, faring homeward, mid þære wælfylle wica neosan. laden with slaughter, his lair to seek. ða wæs on uhtan mid ærdæge Then at the dawning, as day was breaking, Grendles guðcræft gumum undyrne; the might of Grendel to men was known; þa wæs æfter wiste wop up ahafen, then after wassail was wail uplifted, micel morgensweg. Mære þeoden, loud moan in the morn. The mighty chief, æþeling ærgod, unbliðe sæt, atheling excellent, unblithe sat, þolode ðryðswyð, þegnsorge dreah, labored in woe for the loss of his thanes, syðþan hie þæs laðan last sceawedon, when once had been traced the trail of the fiend, wergan gastes; wæs þæt gewin to strang, spirit accurst: too cruel that sorrow, lað ond longsum. Næs hit lengra fyrst, too long, too loathsome. Not late the respite; ac ymb ane niht eft gefremede with night returning, anew began morðbeala mare ond no mearn fore, ruthless murder; he recked no whit, fæhðe ond fyrene; wæs to fæst on þam. firm in his guilt, of the feud and crime. þa wæs eaðfynde þe him elles hwær They were easy to find who elsewhere sought gerumlicor ræste sohte, in room remote their rest at night, bed æfter burum, ða him gebeacnod wæs, bed in the bowers, when that bale was shown, gesægd soðlice sweotolan tacne was seen in sooth, with surest token, — healðegnes hete; heold hyne syðþan the hall-thane’s hate. Such held themselves fyr ond fæstor se þæm feonde ætwand. far and fast who the fiend outran! Swa rixode ond wið rihte wan, Thus ruled unrighteous and raged his fill ana wið eallum, oðþæt idel stod one against all; until empty stood husa selest. Wæs seo hwil micel; that lordly building, and long it bode so. twelf wintra tid torn geþolode Twelve years’ tide the trouble he bore, wine Scyldinga, weana gehwelcne, sovran of Scyldings, sorrows in plenty, sidra sorga. Forðam secgum wearð, boundless cares. There came unhidden ylda bearnum, undyrne cuð, tidings true to the tribes of men, gyddum geomore, þætte Grendel wan in sorrowful songs, how ceaselessly Grendel hwile wið Hroþgar, heteniðas wæg, harassed Hrothgar, what hate he bore him, fyrene ond fæhðe fela missera what murder and massacre, many a year, singale sæce, sibbe ne wolde feud unfading, — refused consent wið manna hwone mægenes Deniga, to deal with any of Daneland’s earls, feorhbealo feorran, fea þingian, make pact of peace, or compound for gold: ne þær nænig witena wenan þorfte still less did the wise men ween to get beorhtre bote to banan folmum, great fee for the feud from his fiendish hands. ac se æglæca ehtende wæs, But the evil one ambushed old and young deorc deaþscua, duguþe ond geogoþe, death-shadow dark, and dogged them still, seomade ond syrede, sinnihte heold lured, or lurked in the livelong night mistige moras. men ne cunnon of misty moorlands: men may say not hwyder helrunan hwyrftum scriþað. where the haunts of these Hell-Runes be. Swa fela fyrena feond mancynnes, Such heaping of horrors the hater of men, atol angengea, oft gefremede, lonely roamer, wrought unceasing, heardra hynða. Heorot eardode, harassings heavy. O’er Heorot he lorded, sincfage sel sweartum nihtum; gold-bright hall, in gloomy nights; no he þone gifstol gretan moste, and ne’er could the prince approach his throne, maþðum for metode, ne his myne wisse. — ’twas judgment of God, — or have joy in his hall. þæt wæs wræc micel wine Scyldinga, Sore was the sorrow to Scyldings’-friend, modes brecða. Monig oft gesæt heart-rending misery. Many nobles rice to rune; ræd eahtedon sat assembled, and searched out counsel hwæt swiðferhðum selest wære how it were best for bold-hearted men wið færgryrum to gefremmanne. against harassing terror to try their hand. Hwilum hie geheton æt hærgtrafum Whiles they vowed in their heathen fanes wigweorþunga, wordum bædon altar-offerings, asked with words þæt him gastbona geoce gefremede that the slayer-of-souls would succor give them wið þeodþreaum. Swylc wæs þeaw hyra, for the pain of their people. Their practice this, hæþenra hyht; helle gemundon their heathen hope; ’twas Hell they thought of in modsefan, metod hie ne cuþon, in mood of their mind. Almighty they knew not, dæda demend, ne wiston hie drihten god, Doomsman of Deeds and dreadful Lord, ne hie huru heofena helm herian ne cuþon, nor Heaven’s-Helmet heeded they ever, wuldres waldend. Wa bið þæm ðe sceal Wielder-of-Wonder. — Woe for that man þurh sliðne nið sawle bescufan who in harm and hatred hales his soul in fyres fæþm, frofre ne wenan, to fiery embraces; — nor favor nor change wihte gewendan; wel bið þæm þe mot awaits he ever. But well for him æfter deaðdæge drihten secean that after death-day may draw to his Lord, ond to fæder fæþmum freoðo wilnian. and friendship find in the Father’s arms! back to previous page > Part II. The Hall Heorot continued on next page > Part IV. Hygelac’s Thane


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