| Beowulf | |
| Part VIII. Hrothgar Tells of Grendel | |
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(Old English text, British Library MS Cotton Vitellius A) (Modern English translation by Francis B. Gummere, Harvard Classics, 1910) Hroðgar maþelode, helm Scyldinga: Hrothgar spake, the Scyldings’-helmet:— For gewyrhtum þu, wine min Beowulf, “For fight defensive, Friend my Beowulf, ond for arstafum usic sohtest. to succor and save, thou hast sought us here. Gesloh þin fæder fæhðe mæste; Thy father’s combat a feud enkindled wearþ he Heaþolafe to handbonan when Heatholaf with hand he slew mid Wilfingum; ða hine Wedera cyn among the Wylfings; his Weder kin for herebrogan habban ne mihte. for horror of fighting feared to hold him. þanon he gesohte Suðdena folc Fleeing, he sought our South-Dane folk, ofer yða gewealc, Arscyldinga. over surge of ocean the Honor-Scyldings, ða ic furþum weold folce Deniga when first I was ruling the folk of Danes, ond on geogoðe heold ginne rice, wielded, youthful, this widespread realm, hordburh hæleþa; ða wæs Heregar dead, this hoard-hold of heroes. Heorogar was dead, min yldra mæg unlifigende, my elder brother, had breathed his last, bearn Healfdenes; se wæs betera ðonne ic. Healfdene’s bairn: he was better than I! Siððan þa fæhðe feo þingode; Straightway the feud with fee I settled, sende ic Wylfingum ofer wæteres hrycg to the Wylfings sent, o’er watery ridges, ealde madmas; he me aþas swor. treasures olden: oaths he swore me. Sorh is me to secganne on sefan minum Sore is my soul to say to any gumena ængum hwæt me Grendel hafað of the race of man what ruth for me hynðo on Heorote mid his heteþancum, in Heorot Grendel with hate hath wrought, færniða gefremed. Is min fletwerod, what sudden harryings. Hall-folk fail me, wigheap gewanod; hie wyrd forsweop my warriors wane; for Wyrd hath swept them on Grendles gryre. God eaþe mæg into Grendel’s grasp. But God is able þone dolsceaðan dæda getwæfan. this deadly foe from his deeds to turn! Ful oft gebeotedon beore druncne Boasted full oft, as my beer they drank, ofer ealowæge oretmecgas earls o’er the ale-cup, armed men, þæt hie in beorsele bidan woldon that they would bide in the beer-hall here, Grendles guþe mid gryrum ecga. Grendel’s attack with terror of blades. ðonne wæs þeos medoheal on morgentid, Then was this mead-house at morning tide drihtsele dreorfah, þonne dæg lixte, dyed with gore, when the daylight broke, eal bencþelu blode bestymed, all the boards of the benches blood-besprinkled, heall heorudreore; ahte ic holdra þy læs, gory the hall: I had heroes the less, deorre duguðe, þe þa deað fornam. doughty dear-ones that death had reft. Site nu to symle ond onsæl meoto, — But sit to the banquet, unbind thy words, sigehreð secgum, swa þin sefa hwette. hardy hero, as heart shall prompt thee.” þa wæs Geatmæcgum geador ætsomne Gathered together, the Geatish men on beorsele benc gerymed; in the banquet-hall on bench assigned, þær swiðferhþe sittan eodon, sturdy-spirited, sat them down, þryðum dealle. þegn nytte beheold, hardy-hearted. A henchman attended, se þe on handa bær hroden ealowæge, carried the carven cup in hand, scencte scir wered. Scop hwilum sang served the clear mead. Oft minstrels sang hador on Heorote. þær wæs hæleða dream, blithe in Heorot. Heroes revelled, duguð unlytel Dena ond Wedera. no dearth of warriors, Weder and Dane. back to previous page > Part VII. Hrothgar’s Welcome continued on next page > Part IX. Hunferth Objects to Beowulf 
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Guide to the Anglo-Saxon epic poem > Beowulf |
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