Chapter 8

Then heard I that at need of the high king of folk The upright earl made well manifest might, His craft and his keenness as kind was to him; The head there he heeded not (but the hand burned Of that man of high mood when he helped his kinsman), Whereas he now the hate-guest smote yet a deal nether, That warrior in war-gear, whereby the sword dived, The plated, of fair hue, and thereby fell the flame 2700 To minish thereafter, and once more the king's self Wielded his wit, and his slaying-sax drew out, The bitter and battle-sharp, borne on his byrny; Asunder the Weder's helm smote the Worm midmost; They felled the fiend, and force drave the life out, And they twain together had gotten him ending, Those athelings sib. E'en such should a man be, A thane good at need. Now that to the king was The last victory-while, by the deeds of himself, Of his work of the world. Sithence fell the wound, 2710 That the earth-drake to him had wrought but erewhile. To swell and to sweal; and this soon he found out, That down in the breast of him bale-evil welled, The venom withinward; then the Atheling wended, So that he by the wall, bethinking him wisdom. Sat on seat there and saw on the works of the giants, How that the stone-bows fast stood on pillars, The earth-house everlasting upheld withinward. Then with his hand him the sword-gory, That great king his thane, the good beyond measure, 2720 His friend-lord with water washed full well, The sated of battle, and unspanned his war-helm. Forth then spake Beowulf, and over his wound said, His wound piteous deadly; wist he full well, That now of his day-whiles all had he dreed, Of the joy of the earth; all was shaken asunder The tale of his days; death without measure nigh: Unto my son now should I be giving My gear of the battle, if to me it were granted Any ward of the heritage after my days 2730 To my body belonging. This folk have I holden Fifty winters; forsooth was never a folk-king Of the sitters around, no one of them soothly, Who me with the war-friends durst wend him to greet And bear down with the terror. In home have I abided The shapings of whiles, and held mine own well. No wily hates sought I; for myself swore not many Of oaths in unright. For all this may I, Sick with the life-wounds, soothly have joy. Therefore naught need wyte me the Wielder of men 2740 With kin murder-bale, when breaketh asunder My life from my lyke. And now lightly go thou To look on the hoard under the hoar stone, Wiglaf mine lief, now that lieth the Worm And sleepeth sore wounded, beshorn of his treasure; And be hasty that I now the wealth of old time, The gold-having may look on, and yarely behold The bright cunning gems, that the softlier may I After the treasure-weal let go away My life, and the folk-ship that long I have held. 2750

XXXVIII. BEOWULF BEHOLDETH THE TREASURE AND PASSETH AWAY.

Then heard I that swiftly the son of that Weohstan After this word-say his lord the sore wounded, Battle-sick, there obeyed, and bare forth his ring-net, His battle-sark woven, in under the burg-roof; Saw then victory-glad as by the seat went he, The kindred-thane moody, sun-jewels a many, Much glistering gold lying down on the ground, Many wonders on wall, and the den of the Worm, The old twilight-flier; there were flagons a-standing, The vats of men bygone, of brighteners bereft, 2760 And maim'd of adornment; was many an helm Rusty and old, and of arm-rings a many Full cunningly twined. All lightly may treasure, The gold in the ground, every one of mankind Befool with o'erweening, hide it who will. Likewise he saw standing a sign there all-golden High over the hoard, the most of hand-wonders, With limb-craft belocked, whence light a ray gleamed. Whereby the den's ground-plain gat he to look on, The fair works scan throughly. Not of the Worm there 2770 Was aught to be seen now, but the edge had undone him. Heard I then that in howe of the hoard was bereaving, The old work of the giants, but one man alone, Into his barm laded beakers and dishes At his very own doom; and the sign eke he took, The brightest of beacons. But the bill of the old lord (The edge was of iron) erewhile it scathed Him who of that treasure hand-bearer was A long while, and fared a-bearing the flame-dread Before the hoard hot, and welling of fierceness 2780 In the midnights, until that by murder he died. In haste was the messenger, eager of back-fare, Further'd with fretted gems. Him longing fordid To wot whether the bold man he quick there shall meet In that mead-stead, e'en he the king of the Weders, All sick of his might, whereas he erst Itft him. He fetching the treasure then found the king mighty, His own lord, yet there, and him ever all gory At end of his life; and he yet once again Fell the water to warp o'er him, till the word's point 2790 Brake through the breast-hoard, and Beowulf spake out. The aged, in grief as he gaz'd on the gold: Now I for these fretworks to the Lord of all thanking, To the King of all glory, in words am yet saying, To the Lord ever living, for that which I look on; Whereas such I might for the people of mine, Ere ever my death-day, get me to own. Now that for the treasure-hoard here have I sold My life and laid down the same, frame still then ever The folk-need, for here never longer I may be. 2800 So bid ye the war-mighty work me a howe Bright after the bale-fire at the sea's nose, Which for a remembrance to the people of me Aloft shall uplift him at Whale-ness for ever, That it the sea-goers sithence may hote Beowulf's Howe, e'en they that the high-ships Over the flood-mists drive from afar. Did off from his halse then a ring was all golden, The king the great-hearted, and gave to his thane, To the spear-warrior young his war-helm gold-brindled, 2810 The ring and the byrny, and bade him well brook them: Thou art the end-leaving of all of our kindred, The Wægmundings; Weird now hath swept all away Of my kinsmen, and unto the doom of the Maker The earls in their might; now after them shall I. That was to the aged lord youngest of words Of his breast-thoughts, ere ever he chose him the bale, The hot battle-wellings; from his heart now departed His soul, to seek out the doom of the soothfast.

XXXIX. WIGLAF CASTETH SHAME ON THOSE FLEERS.

But gone was it then with the unaged man 2820 Full hard that there he beheld on the earth The liefest of friends at the ending of life, Of bearing most piteous. And likewise lay his bane The Earth-drake, the loathly fear, reft of his life, By bale laid undone: the ring-hoards no longer The Worm, the crook-bowed, ever might wield; For soothly the edges of the irons him bare off, The hard battle-sharded leavings of hammers, So that the wide-flier stilled with wounding Fell onto earth anigh to his hoard-hall, 2830 Nor along the lift ever more playing he turned At middle-nights, proud of the owning of treasure, Show'd the face of him forth, but to earth there he fell Because of the host-leader's work of the hand. This forsooth on the land hath thriven to few, Of men might and main bearing, by hearsay of mine, Though in each of all deeds full daring he were, That against venom-scather's fell breathing he set on, Or the hall of his rings with hand be a-stirring, If so be that he waking the warder had found 2840 Abiding in burg. By Beowulf was His deal of the king-treasure paid for by death; There either had they fared on to the end Of this loaned life. Long it was not until Those laggards of battle the holt were a-leaving, Unwarlike troth-liars, the ten there together, Who durst not e'en now with darts to be playing E'en in their man-lord's most mickle need. But shamefully now their shields were they bearing, Their weed of the battle, there where lay the aged; 2850 They gazed on Wiglaf where weary'd he sat, The foot-champion, hard by his very lord's shoulder, And wak'd him with water: but no whit it sped him; Never might he on earth howsoe'er well he will'd it In that leader of spears hold the life any more, Nor the will of the Wielder change ever a whit; But still should God's doom of deeds rule the rede For each man of men, as yet ever it doth. Then from out of the youngling an answer full grim Easy got was for him who had lost heart erewhile, 2860 And word gave out Wiglaf, Weohstan's son The sorrowful-soul'd man: on those unlief he saw: Lo that may he say who sooth would be saying, That the man-lord who dealt you the gift of those dear things, The gear of the war-host wherein there ye stand, Whereas he on the ale-bench full oft was a-giving Unto the hall-sitters war-helm and byrny, The king to his thanes, e'en such as he choicest Anywhere, far or near, ever might find: That he utterly wrongsome those weeds of the war 2870 Had cast away, then when the war overtook him. Surely never the folk-king of his fellows in battle Had need to be boastful; howsoever God gave him, The Victory-wielder, that he himself wreaked him Alone with the edge, when to him need of might was. Unto him of life-warding but little might I Give there in the war-tide; and yet I began Above measure of my might my kinsman to help; Ever worse was the Worm then when I with sword Smote the life-foe, and ever the fire less strongly 2880 Welled out from his wit. Of warders o'er little Throng'd about the king when him the battle befell. Now shall taking of treasures and giving of swords And all joy of your country-home fail from your kindred, All hope wane away; of the land-right moreover May each of the men of that kinsman's burg ever Roam lacking; sithence that the athelings eft-soons From afar shall have heard of your faring in flight, Your gloryless deed. Yea, death shall be better For each of the earls than a life ever ill-fam'd. 2890

XL. WIGLAF SENDETH TIDING TO THE HOST: THE WORDS OF THE MESSENGER.

Then he bade them that war-work give out at the barriers Up over the sea-cliff, whereas then the earl-host The morning-long day sat sad of their mood, The bearers of war-boards, in weening of both things, Either the end-day, or else the back-coming Of the lief man. Forsooth he little was silent Of the new-fallen tidings who over the ness rode, But soothly he said over all there a-sitting: Now is the will-giver of the folk of the Weders, The lord of the Geats, fast laid in the death-bed, 2900 In the slaughter-rest wonneth he by the Worm's doings. And beside him yet lieth his very life-winner All sick with the sax-wounds; with sword might he never On the monster, the fell one, in any of manners Work wounding at all. There yet sitteth Wiglaf, Weohstan's own boy, over Beowulf king, One earl over the other, over him the unliving; With heart-honours holdeth he head-ward withal Over lief, over loath. But to folk is a weening Of war-tide as now, so soon as unhidden 2910 To Franks and to Frisians the fall of the king Is become over widely. Once was the strife shapen Hard 'gainst the Hugs, sithence Hygelac came Faring with float-host to Frisian land, Whereas him the Hetware vanquish'd in war, With might gat the gain, with o'er-mickle main; The warrior bebyrny'd he needs must bow down: He fell in the host, and no fretted war-gear Gave that lord to the doughty, but to us was aye sithence The mercy ungranted that was of the Merwing. 2920 Nor do I from the Swede folk of peace or good faith Ween ever a whit. For widely 'twas wotted That Ongentheow erst had undone the life Of Hæthcyn the Hrethel's son hard by the Raven-wood, Then when in their pride the Scylfings of war Erst gat them to seek to the folk of the Geats. Unto him soon the old one, the father of Ohthere, The ancient and fearful gave back the hand-stroke, Brake up the sea-wise one, rescued his bride. The aged his spouse erst, bereft of the gold, 2930 Mother of Onela, yea and of Ohthere; And follow'd up thereon his foemen the deadly, Until they betook them and sorrowfully therewith Unto the Raven-holt, reft of their lord. With huge host then beset he the leaving of swords All weary with wounds, and woe he behight them, That lot of the wretched, the livelong night through; Quoth he that the morrow's morn with the swords' edges He would do them to death, hang some on the gallows For a game unto fowl. But again befell comfort 2940 To the sorry of mood with the morrow-day early; Whereas they of Hygelac's war-horn and trumpet The voice wotted, whenas the good king his ways came Faring on in the track of his folk's doughty men.

XLI. MORE WORDS OF THE MESSENGER. HOW HE FEARS THE SWEDES WHEN THEY WOT OF BEOWULF DEAD.

Was the track of the war-sweat of Swedes and of Geats, The men's slaughter-race, right wide to be seen, How those folks amongst them were waking the feud. Departed that good one, and went with his fellows, Old and exceeding sad, fastness to seek; The earl Ongentheow upward returned; 2950 Of Hygelac's battle-might oft had he heard, The war-craft of the proud one; in withstanding he trow'd not, That he to the sea-folk in fight might debate, Or against the sea-farers defend him his hoard, His bairns and his bride. He bow'd him aback thence, The old under the earth-wall. Then was the chase bidden To the Swede-folk, and Hygelac's sign was upreared, And the plain of the peace forth on o'er-pass'd they, After the Hrethlings onto the hedge throng'd. There then was Ongentheow by the swords' edges, 2960 The blent-hair'd, the hoary one, driven to biding, So that the folk-king fain must he take Sole doom of Eofor. Him in his wrath then Wulf the Wonreding reach'd with his weapon, So that from the stroke sprang the war-sweat in streams Forth from under his hair; yet naught fearsome was he, The aged, the Scylfing, but paid aback rathely With chaffer that worse was that war-crash of slaughter, Sithence the folk-king turned him thither; And nowise might the brisk one that son was of Wonred 2970 Unto the old carle give back the hand-slaying, For that he on Wulf's head the helm erst had sheared, So that all with the blood stained needs must he bow, And fell on the field; but not yet was he fey, But he warp'd himself up, though the wound had touch'd nigh. But thereon the hard Hygelac's thane there, Whenas down lay his brother, let the broad blade, The old sword of eotens, that helm giant-fashion'd Break over the board-wall, and down the king bowed, The herd of the folk unto fair life was smitten. 2980 There were many about there who bound up his kinsman, Upraised him swiftly when room there was made them, That the slaughter-stead there at the stour they might wield, That while when was reaving one warrior the other: From Ongentheow took he the iron-wrought byrny, The hard-hilted sword, with his helm all together: The hoary one's harness to Hygelac bare he; The fret war-gear then took he, and fairly behight him Before the folk due gifts, and even so did it; Gild he gave for that war-race, the lord of the Geats, 2990 The own son of Hrethel, when home was he come, To Eofor and Wulf gave he over-much treasure, To them either he gave an hundred of thousands, Land and lock'd rings. Of the gift none needed to wyte him Of mid earth, since the glory they gained by battle. Then to Eofor he gave his one only daughter, An home-worship soothly, for pledge of his good will. That is the feud and the foeship full soothly, The dead-hate of men, e'en as I have a weening, Wherefor the Swede people against us shall seek, 3000 Sithence they have learned that lieth our lord All lifeless; e'en he that erewhile hath held Against all the haters the hoard and the realm; Who after the heroes' fall held the fierce Scylfings, Framed the folk-rede, and further thereto Did earlship-deeds. Now is haste best of all That we now the folk-king should fare to be seeing, And then that we bring him who gave us the rings On his way to the bale: nor shall somewhat alone With the moody be molten; but manifold hoard is, 3010 Gold untold of by tale that grimly is cheapened, And now at the last by this one's own life Are rings bought, and all these the brand now shall fret, The flame thatch them over: no earl shall bear off One gem in remembrance; nor any fair maiden Shall have on her halse a ring-honour thereof, But in grief of mood henceforth, bereaved of gold, Shall oft, and not once alone, alien earth tread, Now that the host-learn'd hath laid aside laughter, The game and the glee-joy. Therefore shall the spear, 3020 Full many a morn-cold, of hands be bewounden, Uphoven in hand; and no swough of the harp Shall waken the warriors; but the wan raven rather Fain over the fey many tales shall tell forth, And say to the erne how it sped him at eating, While he with the wolf was a-spoiling the slain. So was the keen-whetted a-saying this while Spells of speech loathly; he lied not much Of weirds or of words. Then uprose all the war-band, And unblithe they wended under the Ernes-ness, 3030 All welling of tears, the wonder to look on. Found they then on the sand, now lacking of soul, Holding his bed, him that gave them the rings In time erewhile gone by. But then was the end-day Gone for the good one; since the king of the battle, The lord of the Weders, in wonder-death died. But erst there they saw a more seldom-seen sight, The Worm on the lea-land over against him Down lying there loathly; there was the fire-drake, The grim of the terrors, with gleeds all beswealed. 3040 He was of fifty feet of his measure Long of his lying. Lift-joyance held he In the whiles of the night, but down again wended To visit his den. Now fast was he in death, He had of the earth-dens the last end enjoyed. There by him now stood the beakers and bowls, There lay the dishes and dearly-wrought swords, Rusty, through-eaten they, as in earth's bosom A thousand of winters there they had wonned. For that heritage there was, all craftily eked, 3050 Gold of the yore men, in wizardry wounden; So that that ring-hall might none reach thereto, Not any of mankind but if God his own self, Sooth king of victories, gave unto whom he would (He is holder of men) to open that hoard, E'en to whichso of mankind should seem to him meet.

XLII. THEY GO TO LOOK ON THE FIELD OF DEED.

Then it was to be seen that throve not the way To him that unrightly had hidden within there The fair gear 'neath the wall. The warder erst slew Some few of folk, and the feud then became 3060 Wrothfully wreaked. A wonder whenas A valour-strong earl may reach on the ending Of the fashion of life, when he longer in nowise One man with his kinsmen may dwell in the mead-hall! So to Beowulf was it when the burg's ward he sought. For the hate of the weapons: he himself knew not Wherethrough forsooth his world's sundering should be. So until Doomsday they cursed it deeply, Those princes the dread, who erst there had done it, That that man should be of sins never sackless, 3070 A-hoppled in shrines, in hell-bonds fast set, With plague-spots be punish'd, who that plain should plunder. But naught gold-greedy was he, more gladly had he The grace of the Owner erst gotten to see. Now spake out Wiglaf, that son was of Weohstan: Oft shall many an earl for the will but of one Dree the wrack, as to us even now is befallen: Nowise might we learn the lief lord of us, The herd of the realm, any of rede, That he should not go greet that warder of gold, 3080 But let him live yet, whereas long he was lying, And wonne in his wicks until the world's ending; But he held to high weird and the hoard hath been seen, Grimly gotten: o'er hard forsooth was that giving, That the king of the folk e'en thither enticed. Lo! I was therein, and I look'd it all over, The gear of the house, when for me room was gotten, But I lightly in nowise had leave for the passage In under the earth-wall; in haste I gat hold Forsooth with my hands of a mickle main burden 3090 Of hoard-treasures, and hither then out did I bear them, Out unto my king, and then quick was he yet, Wise, and wit-holding: a many things spake he, That aged in grief-care, and bade me to greet you, And prayed ye would do e'en after your friend's deeds Aloft in the bale-stead a howe builded high, Most mickle and mighty, as he amongst men was The worthfullest warrior wide over the world, While he the burg-weal erewhile might brook. Then so let us hasten this second of whiles 3100 To see and to seek the throng of things strange, The wonder 'neath wall; I shall wise you the way, So that ye from a-near may look on enough Of rings and broad gold; and be the bier swiftly All yare thereunto, whenas out we shall fare. Then let us so ferry the lord that was ours, The lief man of men, to where long shall he In the All-Wielder's keeping full patiently wait. Bade then to bid the bairn of that Weohstan, The deer of the battle, to a many of warriors, 3110 The house-owning wights, that the wood of the bale They should ferry from far, e'en the folk-owning men, Toward the good one. And now shall the gleed fret away, The wan flame a-waxing, the strong one of warriors, Him who oft-times abided the shower of iron When the storm of the shafts driven on by the strings Shook over the shield-wall, and the shaft held its service, And eager with feather-gear follow'd the barb. Now then the wise one, that son was of Weohstan, Forth from the throng then call'd of the king's thanes 3120 A seven together, the best to be gotten, And himself went the eighth in under the foe-roof; One man of the battlers in hand there he bare A gleam of the fire, of the first went he inward. It was nowise allotted who that hoard should despoil, Sithence without warden some deal that there was The men now beheld in the hall there a-wonning, Lying there fleeting; little mourn'd any, That they in all haste outward should ferry The dear treasures. But forthwith the drake did they shove, 3130 The Worm, o'er the cliff-wall, and let the wave take him, The flood fathom about the fretted works' herd. There then was wounden gold on the wain laden Untold of each kind, and the Atheling borne, The hoary of warriors, out on to Whale-ness.

XLIII. OF THE BURIAL OF BEOWULF.