Chapter 7

Began then the guest to spew forth of gleeds, The bright dwellings to burn; stood the beam of the burning For a mischief to menfolk; now nothing that quick was The loathly lift-flier would leave there forsooth; The war of the Worm was wide to be seen there, The narrowing foe's hatred anigh and afar, How he, the fight-scather, the folk of the Geats Hated and harm'd; shot he back to the hoard, His dark lordly hall, ere yet was the day's while; The land-dwellers had he in the light low encompass'd 2320 With bale and with brand; in his burg yet he trusted, His war-might and his wall: but his weening bewray'd him. Then Beowulf was done to wit of the terror Full swiftly forsooth, that the house of himself, Best of buildings, was molten in wellings of fire, The gift-stool of the Geats. To the good one was that A grief unto heart; of mind-sorrows the greatest. Weened the wise one, that Him, e'en the Wielder, The Lord everlasting, against the old rights He had bitterly anger'd; the breast boil'd within him 2330 With dark thoughts, that to him were naught duly wonted. Now had the fire-drake the own fastness of folk, The water-land outward, that ward of the earth, With gleeds to ground wasted; so therefore the war-king, The lord of the Weder-folk, learned him vengeance. Then he bade be work'd for him, that fence of the warriors, And that all of iron, the lord of the earls, A war-board all glorious, for wissed he yarely That the holt-wood hereto might help him no whit, The linden 'gainst fire-flame. Of fleeting days now 2340 The Atheling exceeding good end should abide, The end of the world's life, and the Worm with him also, Though long he had holden the weal of the hoard. Forsooth scorned then the lord of the rings That he that wide-flier with war-band should seek, With a wide host; he fear'd not that war for himself, Nor for himself the Worm's war accounted one whit, His might and his valour, for that he erst a many Strait-daring of battles had bided, and liv'd, Clashings huge of the battle, sithence he of Hrothgar, 2350 He, the man victory-happy, had cleansed the hall, And in war-tide had gripped the kindred of Grendel, The loathly of kindreds; nor was that the least Of hand-meetings, wherein erst was Hygelac slain, Sithence the Geats' king in the onrush of battle, The lord-friend of the folks, down away in the Frieslands, The offspring of Hrethel, died, drunken of sword-drinks, All beaten of bill. Thence Beowulf came forth By his own craft forsooth, dreed the work of the swimming; He had on his arm, he all alone, thirty 2360 Of war-gears, when he to the holm went adown. Then nowise the Hetware needed to joy them Over the foot-war, wherein forth against him They bore the war-linden: few went back again From that wolf of the battle to wend to their homes. O'erswam then the waters' round Ecgtheow's son, Came all wretched and byrd-alone back to his people, Whereas offer'd him Hygd then the kingdom and hoard, The rings and the king-stool: trowed naught in the child, That he 'gainst folks outland the fatherland-seats 2370 Might can how to hold, now was Hygelac dead: Yet no sooner therefor might the poor folk prevail To gain from the Atheling in any of ways That he unto Heardred would be for a lord, Or eke that that kingdom henceforward should choose; Yet him midst of the folk with friend-lore he held, All kindly with honour till older he waxed And wielded the Weder-Geats. To him men-waifs thereafter Sought from over the sea, the sons they of Ohthere, For they erst had withstood the helm of the Scylfings, 2380 E'en him that was best of the kings of the sea, Of them that in Swede-realm dealt out the treasure, The mighty of princes. Unto him 'twas a life-mark; To him without food there was fated the life-wound, That Hygelac's son, by the swinging of swords; And him back departed Ongentheow's bairn, To go seek to his house, sithence Heardred lay dead, And let Beowulf hold the high seat of the king And wield there the Geats. Yea, good was that king.

XXXIV. BEOWULF GOES AGAINST THE WORM. HE TELLS OF HEREBEALD AND HÆTHCYN.

Of that fall of the folk-king he minded the payment 2390 In days that came after: unto Eadgils he was A friend to him wretched; with folk he upheld him Over the wide sea, that same son of Ohthere, With warriors and weapons. Sithence had he wreaking With cold journeys of care: from the king took he life. Now each one of hates thus had he outlived, And of perilous slaughters, that Ecgtheow's son, All works that be doughty, until that one day When he with the Worm should wend him to deal. So twelvesome he set forth all swollen with anger, 2400 The lord of the Geats, the drake to go look on. Aright had he learnt then whence risen the feud was, The bale-hate against men-folk: to his barm then had come The treasure-vat famous by the hand of the finder; He was in that troop of men the thirteenth Who the first of that battle had set upon foot, The thrall, the sad-minded; in shame must he thenceforth Wise the way to the plain; and against his will went he Thereunto, where the earth-hall the one there he wist, The howe under earth anigh the holm's welling, 2410 The wave-strife: there was it now full all within With gems and with wires; the monster, the warden, The yare war-wolf, he held him therein the hoard golden, The old under the earth: it was no easy cheaping To go and to gain for any of grooms. Sat then on the ness there the strife-hardy king While farewell he bade to his fellows of hearth, The gold-friend of the Geats; sad was gotten his soul, Wavering, death-minded; weird nigh beyond measure, Which him old of years gotten now needs must be greeting, 2420 Must seek his soul's hoard and asunder must deal His life from his body: no long while now was The life of the Atheling in flesh all bewounden. Now spake out Beowulf, Ecgtheow's bairn: Many a one in my youth of war-onsets I outliv'd, And the whiles of the battle: all that I remember. Seven winters had I when the wielder of treasures, The lord-friend of folk, from my father me took, Held me and had me Hrethel the king, Gave me treasure and feast, and remember'd the friendship. 2430 For life thence I was not to him a whit loather, A berne in his burgs than his bairns were, or each one, Herebeald, or Hæthcyn, or Hygelac mine. For the eldest there was in unseemly wise By the mere deed of kinsman a murder-bed strawen, Whenas him did Hæthcyn from out of his horn-bow, His lord and his friend, with shaft lay alow: His mark he miss'd shooting, and shot down his kinsman, One brother another with shaft all bebloody'd; That was fight feeless by fearful crime sinned, 2440 Soul-weary to heart, yet natheless then had The atheling from life all unwreak'd to be ceasing. So sad-like it is for a carle that is aged To be biding the while that his boy shall be riding Yet young on the gallows; then a lay should he utter, A sorrowful song whenas hangeth his son A gain unto ravens, and naught good of avail May he, old and exceeding old, anywise frame. Ever will he be minded on every each morning Of his son's faring otherwhere; nothing he heedeth 2450 Of abiding another withinward his burgs, An heritage-warder, then whenas the one By the very death's need hath found out the ill. Sorrow-careful he seeth within his son's bower The waste wine-hall, the resting-place now of the winds, All bereft of the revel; the riders are sleeping, The heroes in grave, and no voice of the harp is, No game in the garths such as erewhile was gotten.

XXXV. BEOWULF TELLS OF PAST FEUDS, AND BIDS FAREWELL TO HIS FELLOWS: HE FALLS ON THE WORM, AND THE BATTLE OF THEM BEGINS.

Then to sleeping-stead wendeth he, singeth he sorrow, The one for the other; o'er-roomy all seem'd him 2460 The meads and the wick-stead. So the helm of the Weders For Herebeald's sake the sorrow of heart All welling yet bore, and in nowise might he On the banesman of that life the feud be a-booting; Nor ever the sooner that warrior might hate With deeds loathly, though he to him nothing was lief. He then with the sorrow wherewith that sore beset him Man's joy-tide gave up, and chose him God's light. To his offspring he left, e'en as wealthy man doeth, His land and his folk-burgs when he from life wended. 2470 Then sin was and striving of Swedes and of Geats, Over the wide water war-tide in common, The hard horde-hate to wit sithence Hrethel perish'd; And to them ever were the Ongentheow's sons Doughty and host-whetting, nowise then would friendship Hold over the waters; but round about Hreosnaburgh The fierce fray of foeman was oftentimes fram'd. Kin of friends that mine were, there they awreaked The feud and the evil deed, e'en as was famed; Although he, the other, with his own life he bought it, 2480 A cheaping full hard: unto Hæthcyn it was, To the lord of the Geat-folk, a life-fateful war. Learned I that the morrow one brother the other With the bills' edges wreaked the death on the banesman, Whereas Ongentheow is a-seeking of Eofor: Glode the war-helm asunder, the aged of Scylfings Fell, sword-bleak; e'en so remember'd the hand Feud enough; nor e'en then did the life-stroke withhold. I to him for the treasure which erewhile he gave me Repaid it in warring, as was to me granted, 2490 With my light-gleaming sword. To me gave he land, The hearth and the home-bliss: unto him was no need That unto the Gifthas or unto the Spear-Danes Or into the Swede-realm he needs must go seeking A worse wolf of war for a worth to be cheaping; For in the host ever would I be before him Alone in the fore-front, and so life-long shall I Be a-framing of strife, whileas tholeth the sword, Which early and late hath bestead me full often, Sithence was I by doughtiness unto Day-raven 2500 The hand-bane erst waxen, to the champion of Hug-folk; He nowise the fretwork to the king of the Frisians, The breast-worship to wit, might bring any more, But cringed in battle that herd of the banner, The Atheling in might: the edge naught was his bane, But for him did the war-grip the heart-wellings of him Break, the house of the bones. Now shall the bill's edge, The hand and hard sword, about the hoard battle. So word uttered Beowulf, spake out the boast word For the last while as now: Many wars dared I 2510 In the days of my youth, and now will I yet, The old warder of folk, seek to the feud, Full gloriously frame, if the scather of foul-deed From the hall of the earth me out shall be seeking. Greeted he then each one of the grooms, The keen wearers of helms, for the last while of whiles, His own fellows the dear: No sword would I fare with, No weapon against the Worm, wist I but how 'Gainst the monster of evil in otherwise might I Uphold me my boast, as erst did I with Grendel; 2520 But there fire of the war-tide full hot do I ween me, And the breath, and the venom; I shall bear on me therefore Both the board and the byrny; nor the burg's warden shall I Overflee for a foot's-breadth, but unto us twain It shall be at the wall as to us twain Weird willeth, The Maker of each man. Of mood am I eager; So that 'gainst that war-flier from boast I withhold me. Abide ye upon burg with your byrnies bewarded, Ye men in your battle-gear, which may the better After the slaughter-race save us from wounding 2530 Of the twain of us. Naught is it yours to take over, Nor the measure of any man save alone me, That he on the monster should mete out his might, Or work out the earlship: but I with my main might Shall gain me the gold, or else gets me the battle, The perilous life-bale, e'en me your own lord. Arose then by war-round the warrior renowned Hard under helm, and the sword-sark he bare Under the stone-cliffs: in the strength then he trowed Of one man alone; no dastard's way such is. 2540 Then he saw by the wall (e'en he, who so many, The good of man-bounties, of battles had out-liv'd, Of crashes of battle whenas hosts were blended) A stone-bow a-standing, and from out thence a stream Breaking forth from the burg; was that burn's outwelling All hot with the war-fire; and none nigh to the hoard then Might ever unburning any while bide, Live out through the deep for the flame of the drake. Out then from his breast, for as bollen as was he, Let the Weder-Geats' chief the words be out faring; 2550 The stout-hearted storm'd and the stave of him enter'd Battle-bright sounding in under the hoar stone. Then uproused was hate, and the hoard-warden wotted The speech of man's word, and no more while there was Friendship to fetch. Then forth came there first The breath of the evil beast out from the stone, The hot sweat of battle, and dinn'd then the earth. The warrior beneath the burg swung up his war-round Against that grisly guest, the lord of the Geats; Then the heart of the ring-bow'd grew eager therewith 2560 To seek to the strife. His sword ere had he drawn, That good lord of the battle, the leaving of old, The undull of edges: there was unto either Of the bale-minded ones the fear of the other. All steadfast of mind stood against his steep shield The lord of the friends, when the Worm was a-bowing Together all swiftly, in war-gear he bided; Then boune was the burning one, bow'd in his going, To the fate of him faring. The shield was well warding The life and the lyke of the mighty lord king 2570 For a lesser of whiles than his will would have had it, If he at that frist on the first of the day Was to wield him, as weird for him never will'd it, The high-day of battle. His hand he up braided, The lord of the Geats, and the grisly-fleck'd smote he With the leaving of Ing, in such wise that the edge fail'd, The brown blade on the bone, and less mightily bit Than the king of the nation had need in that stour, With troubles beset. But then the burg-warden After the war-swing all wood of his mood 2580 Cast forth the slaughter-flame, sprung thereon widely The battle-gleams: nowise of victory he boasted, The gold-friend of the Geats; his war-bill had falter'd, All naked in war, in such wise as it should not, The iron exceeding good. Naught was it easy For him there, the mighty-great offspring of Ecgtheow, That he now that earth-plain should give up for ever; But against his will needs must he dwell in the wick Of the otherwhere country; as ever must each man Let go of his loan-days. Not long was it thenceforth 2590 Ere the fell ones of fight fell together again. The hoard-warden up-hearten'd him, welled his breast With breathing anew. Then narrow need bore he, Encompass'd with fire, who erst the folk wielded; Nowise in a heap his hand-fellows there, The bairns of the athelings, stood all about him In valour of battle; but they to holt bow'd them; Their dear life they warded; but in one of them welled His soul with all sorrow. So sib-ship may never Turn aside any whit to the one that well thinketh. 2600

XXXVI. WIGLAF SON OF WEOHSTAN GOES TO THE HELP OF BEOWULF: NÆGLING, BEOWULF'S SWORD, IS BROKEN ON THE WORM.

Wiglaf so hight he, the son of Weohstan, Lief linden-warrior, and lord of Scylfings, The kinsman of Aelfhere: and he saw his man-lord Under his host-mask tholing the heat; He had mind of the honour that to him gave he erewhile. The wick-stead the wealthy of them, the Wægmundings, And the folk-rights each one which his father had owned. Then he might not withhold him, his hand gripp'd the round, Yellow linden; he tugg'd out withal the old sword, That was known among men for the heirloom of Eanmund, 2610 Ohthere's son, unto whom in the strife did become, To the exile unfriended, Weohstan for the bane With the sword-edge, and unto his kinsmen bare off The helm the brown-brindled, the byrny beringed, And the old eoten-sword that erst Onela gave him; Were they his kinsman's weed of the war, Host-fight-gear all ready. Of the feud nothing spake he. Though he of his brother the bairn had o'er-thrown. But the host-gear befretted he held many seasons, The bill and the byrny, until his own boy might 2620 Do him the earlship as did his ere-father. Amidst of the Geats then he gave him the war-weed Of all kinds unnumber'd, whenas he from life wended Old on the forth-way. Then was the first time For that champion the young that he the war-race With his high lord the famed e'er he should frame: Naught melted his mood, naught the loom of his kinsman Weaken'd in war-tide; that found out the Worm When they two together had gotten to come. Now spake out Wiglaf many words rightwise, 2630 And said to his fellows: all sad was his soul: I remember that while when we gat us the mead, And whenas we behight to the high lord of us In the beer-hall, e'en he who gave us these rings, That we for the war-gear one while would pay, If unto him thislike need e'er should befall, For these helms and hard swords. So he chose us from host To this faring of war by his very own will, Of glories he minded us, and gave me these gems here, Whereas us of gar-warriors he counted for good, 2640 And bold bearers of helms. Though our lord e'en for us This work of all might was of mind all alone Himself to be framing, the herd of the folk, Whereas most of all men he hath mightiness framed. Of deeds of all daring, yet now is the day come Whereon to our man-lord behoveth the main Of good battle-warriors; so thereunto wend we, And help we the host-chief, whiles that the heat be, The gleed-terror grim. Now of me wotteth God That to me is much liefer that that, my lyke-body, 2650 With my giver of gold the gleed should engrip. Unmeet it methinketh that we shields should bear Back unto our own home, unless we may erst The foe fell adown and the life-days defend Of the king of the Weders. Well wot I hereof That his old deserts naught such were, that he only Of all doughty of Geats the grief should be bearing. Sink at strife. Unto us shall one sword be, one helm, One byrny and shield, to both of us common. Through the slaughter-reek waded he then, bare his war-helm 2660 To the finding his lord, and few words he quoth: O Beowulf the dear, now do thee all well, As thou in thy youthful life quothest of yore, That naught wouldst thou let, while still thou wert living, Thy glory fade out. Now shalt thou of deeds famed, The atheling of single heart, with all thy main deal For the warding thy life, and to stay thee I will. Then after these words all wroth came the Worm, The dire guest foesome, that second of whiles With fire-wellings flecked, his foes to go look on, 2670 The loath men. With flame was lightly then burnt up The board to the boss, and might not the byrny To the warrior the young frame any help yet. But so the young man under shield of his kinsman Went onward with valour, whenas his own was All undone with gleeds; then again the war-king Remember'd his glories, and smote with mainmight With his battle-bill, so that it stood in the head Need-driven by war-hate. Then asunder burst Nægling, Waxed weak in the war-tide, e'en Beowulf's sword, 2680 The old and grey-marked; to him was not given That to him any whit might the edges of irons Be helpful in battle; over-strong was the hand Which every of swords, by the hearsay of me, With its swing over-wrought, when he bare unto strife A wondrous hard weapon; naught it was to him better. Then was the folk-scather for the third of times yet, The fierce fire-drake, all mindful of feud; He rac'd on that strong one, when was room to him given, Hot and battle-grim; he all the halse of him gripped 2690 With bitter-keen bones; all bebloody'd he waxed With the gore of his soul. Well'd in waves then the war-sweat.

XXXVII. THEY TWO SLAY THE WORM. BEOWULF IS WOUNDED DEADLY: HE BIDDETH WIGLAF BEAR OUT THE TREASURE.