The Tale of Beowulf/Chapter 14
XIV. THE DANES REJOICE; THEY GO TO LOOK ON THE SLOT OF GRENDEL, AND COME BACK TO HART, AND ON THE WAY MAKE MERRY WITH RACING AND THE TELLING OF TALES.
THERE was then on the morning, as I have heard tell it,Round the gift-hall a many of men of the warriors:Were faring folk-leaders from far and from nearO'er the wide-away roads the wonder to look on,The track of the loathly: his life-sundering nowise841Was deem'd for a sorrow to any of men thereWho gaz'd on the track of the gloryless wight;How he all a-weary of mood thence awayward,Brought to naught in the battle, to the mere of the nicors,Now fey and forth-fleeing, his life-steps had flitted.There all in the blood was the sea-brim a-welling,The dread swing of the waves was washing all mingledWith hot blood; with the gore of the sword was it welling;The death-doom'd had dyed it, sithence he unmerry850 In his fen-hold had laid down the last of his life,His soul of the heathen, and hell gat hold on him.Thence back again far'd they those fellows of old,With many a young one, from their wayfaring merry,Full proud from the mere-side on mares there a-ridingThe warriors on white steeds. There then was of BeowulfSet forth the might mighty; oft quoth it a manyThat nor northward nor southward beside the twin sea-floods,Over all the huge earth's face now never another,Never under the heaven's breadth, was there a better,860Nor of wielders of war-shields a worthier of kingship;But neither their friendly lord blam'd they one whit,Hrothgar the glad, for good of kings was he.There whiles the warriors far-famed let leapTheir fair fallow horses and fare into flytingWhere unto them the earth-ways for fair-fashion'd seemed,Through their choiceness well kenned; and whiles a king's thane,A warrior vaunt-laden, of lays grown bemindful, E'en he who all many of tales of the old daysA multitude minded, found other words also870Sooth-bounden, and boldly the man thus beganE'en Beowulf's wayfare well wisely to stir,With good speed to set forth the spells well arededAnd to shift about words. And well of all told heThat he of Sigemund erst had heard say,Of the deeds of his might; and many things uncouth:Of the strife of the Wælsing and his wide wayfarings,Of those that men's children not well yet they wist,The feud and the crimes, save Fitela with him;Somewhat of such things yet would he say,880The eme to the nephew; e'en as they aye wereIn all strife soever fellows full needful;And full many had they of the kin of the eotensLaid low with the sword. And to Sigemund up-sprangAfter his death-day fair doom unlittleSithence that the war-hard the Worm there had quelled,The herd of the hoard; he under the hoar stone,The bairn of the Atheling, all alone dar'd it,That wight deed of deeds; with him Fitela was not. But howe'er, his hap was that the sword so through-waded890The Worm the all-wondrous, that in the wall stoodThe iron dear-wrought: and the drake died the murder.There had the warrior so won by wightness,That he of the ring-hoard the use might be havingAll at his own will. The sea-boat he loaded,And into the ship's barm bore the bright fretworkWæls' son. In the hotness the Worm was to-molten.Now he of all wanderers was widely the greatestThrough the peoples of man-kind, the warder of warriors,899By mighty deeds; erst then and early he throve.Now sithence the warfare of Heremod waned,His might and his valour, amidst of the eotensTo the wielding of foemen straight was he betrayed,And speedily sent forth: by the surges of sorrowO'er-long was he lam'd, became he to his lieges,To all of the athelings, a life-care thenceforward.Withal oft bemoaned in times that were olderThe ways of that stout heart many a carle of the wisest, Who trow'd in him boldly for booting of bales,And had look'd that the king's bairn should ever be thriving,910His father's own lordship should take, hold the folk,The hoard and the ward-burg, and realm of the heroes,The own land of the Scyldings. To all men was Beowulf,The Hygelac's kinsman to the kindred of men-folk,More fair unto friends; but on Heremod crime fell.So whiles the men flyting the fallow street thereWith their mares were they meting. There then was the morn-lightThrust forth and hasten'd; went many a warriorAll hardy of heart to the high hall aloftThe rare wonder to see; and the King's self withal920From the bride-bower wended, the warder of ring-hoards,All glorious he trod and a mickle troop had he,He for choice ways beknown; and his Queen therewithalMeted the mead-path with a meyny of maidens.