The Tale of Beowulf/Chapter 25
XXV. CONVERSE OF HROTHGAR WITH BEOWULF.
SPAKE out then Beowulf, Ecgtheow's bairn:What! we the sea-spoils here to thee, son of Healfdene,High lord of the Scyldings, with lust have brought hitherFor a token of glory, e'en these thou beholdest.Now I all unsoftly with life I escaped,In war under the water dar'd I the workFull hard to be worked, and well-nigh there wasThe sundering of strife, save that me God had shielded.So it is that in battle naught might I with HruntingOne whit do the work, though the weapon be doughty;1660But to me then he granted, the Wielder of men,That on wall I beheld there all beauteous hangingAn ancient sword might-endow'd (often he leadeth rightThe friendless of men); so forth drew I that weapon.In that onset I slew there, as hap then appaid me,The herd of the house; then that bill of the host, The broider'd sword, burn'd up, and that blood sprang forthThe hottest of battle-sweats; but the hilts thereof thenceforthFrom the foemen I ferry'd. I wreaked the foul deeds,The death-quelling of Danes, e'en as duly behoved.Now this I behote thee, that here in Hart mayst thou1671Sleep sorrowless henceforth with the host of thy menAnd the thanes every one that are of thy peopleOf doughty and young; that for them need thou dread not,O high lord of Scyldings, on that behalf soothlyLife-bale for the earls as erst thou hast done.Then was the hilt golden to the ancient of warriors,The hoary of host-leaders, into hand given,The old work of giants; it turn'd to the owning,After fall of the Devils, of the lord of the Danes,That work of the wonder-smith, syth gave up the world1681The fierce-hearted groom, the foeman of God,The murder-beguilted, and there eke his mother;Unto the wielding of world-kings it turned,The best that there be betwixt of the sea-floodsOf them that in Scaney dealt out the scat. Now spake out Hrothgar, as he look'd on the hilts there,The old heir-loom whereon was writ the beginningOf the strife of the old time, whenas the flood slew,The ocean a-gushing, that kin of the giants1690As fiercely they fared. That was a folk alienTo the Lord everlasting; so to them a last guerdonThrough the welling of waters the Wielder did give.So was on the sword-guards all of the sheer goldBy dint of the rune-staves rightly bemarked,Set down and said for whom first was that sword wrought,And the choice of all irons erst had been done,Wreath-hilted and worm-adorn'd. Then spake the wise one,Healfdene's son, and all were gone silent:Lo that may he say, who the right and the soothfast1700Amid the folk frameth, and far back all remembers,The old country's warden, that as for this earl hereBorn better was he. Uprear'd is the fame-blastThrough wide ways far yonder, O Beowulf, friend mine, Of thee o'er all peoples. Thou hold'st all with patience,Thy might with mood-wisdom; I shall make thee my love good,As we twain at first spake it. For a comfort thou shalt beGranted long while and long unto thy people,For a help unto heroes. Naught such became HeremodTo Ecgwela's offspring, the honourful Scyldings;For their welfare naught wax'd he, but for felling in slaughter,1711For the quelling of death to the folk of the Danes.Mood-swollen he brake there his board-fellows soothly,His shoulder-friends, until he sunder'd him lonely,That mighty of princes, from the mirth of all men-folk.Though him God the mighty in the joyance of might,In main strength, exalted high over all men,And framed him forth, yet fast in his heart grewA breast-hoard blood-fierce; none of fair rings he gaveTo the Danes as due doom would. Unmerry he dured1720So that yet of that strife the trouble he suffer'd, A folk-bale so longsome. By such do thou learn thee,Get thee hold of man-valour: this tale for thy teachingOld in winters I tell thee. 'Tis wonder to say it,How the high God almighty to the kindred of mankindThrough his mind the wide-fashion'd deals wisdom about,Home and earlship; he owneth the wielding of all.At whiles unto love he letteth to turnThe mood-thought of a man that is mighty of kindred,And in his land giveth him joyance of earth,1730And to have and to hold the high ward-burg of men,And sets so 'neath his wielding the deals of the world,Dominion wide reaching, that he himself may notIn all his unwisdom of the ending bethink him.He wonneth well-faring, nothing him wastethSickness nor eld, nor the foe-sorrow to himDark in mind waxeth, nor strife any where,The edge-hate, appeareth; but all the world for himWends as he willeth, and the worse naught he wotteth.