THE MESSENGER OF DEATH.
Wiglaf sends the
news of Beowulf’s
death to liegemen
near by.
Then he charged that the battle be announced at the hedge
Up o’er the cliff-edge, where the earl-troopers bided
The whole of the morning, mood-wretched sat them,
Bearers of battle-shields, both things expecting,
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The end of his lifetime and the coming again of
The liegelord belovèd. Little reserved he
Of news that was known, who the ness-cliff did travel,
But he truly discoursed to all that could hear him:
The messenger
speaks.
“Now the free-giving friend-lord of the folk of the Weders,
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The folk-prince of Geatmen, is fast in his death-bed,
By the deeds of the dragon in death-bed abideth;
Along with him lieth his life-taking foeman
Slain with knife-wounds: he was wholly unable
To injure at all the ill-planning monster
Wiglaf sits by our
dead lord.
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With bite of his sword-edge. Wiglaf is sitting,
Offspring of Wihstan, up over Beowulf,
Earl o’er another whose end-day hath reached him,
Head-watch holdeth o’er heroes unliving,
Our lord’s death
will lead to
attacks from our
old foes.
For friend and for foeman. The folk now expecteth
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A season of strife when the death of the folk-king
To Frankmen and Frisians in far-lands is published.
The war-hatred waxed warm ’gainst the Hugmen,
Higelac’s death
recalled.
When Higelac came with an army of vessels
Faring to Friesland, where the Frankmen in battle
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Humbled him and bravely with overmight ’complished
That the mail-clad warrior must sink in the battle,
Fell ’mid his folk-troop: no fret-gems presented
The atheling to earlmen; aye was denied us
Merewing’s mercy. The men of the Swedelands
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For truce or for truth trust I but little;
But widely ’twas known that near Ravenswood Ongentheow
Hæthcyn’s fall
referred to.
Sundered Hæthcyn the Hrethling from life-joys,
When for pride overweening the War-Scylfings first did
Seek the Geatmen with savage intentions.
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Early did Ohthere’s age-laden father,
Old and terrible, give blow in requital,
Killing the sea-king, the queen-mother rescued,
The old one his consort deprived of her gold,
Onela’s mother and Ohthere’s also,
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And then followed the feud-nursing foemen till hardly,
Reaved of their ruler, they Ravenswood entered.
Then with vast-numbered forces he assaulted the remnant,
Weary with wounds, woe often promised
The livelong night to the sad-hearted war-troop:
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Said he at morning would kill them with edges of weapons,
Some on the gallows for glee to the fowls.
Aid came after to the anxious-in-spirit
At dawn of the day, after Higelac’s bugle
And trumpet-sound heard they, when the good one proceeded
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And faring followed the flower of the troopers.
THE MESSENGER’S RETROSPECT.
The messenger
continues, and
refers to the feuds
of Swedes and
Geats.
“The blood-stainèd trace of Swedes and Geatmen,
The death-rush of warmen, widely was noticed,
How the folks with each other feud did awaken.
The worthy one went then with well-beloved comrades,
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Old and dejected to go to the fastness,
Ongentheo earl upward then turned him;
Of Higelac’s battle he’d heard on inquiry,
The exultant one’s prowess, despaired of resistance,
With earls of the ocean to be able to struggle,
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’Gainst sea-going sailors to save the hoard-treasure,
His wife and his children; he fled after thenceward
Old ’neath the earth-wall. Then was offered pursuance
To the braves of the Swedemen, the banner to Higelac.
They fared then forth o’er the field-of-protection,
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When the Hrethling heroes hedgeward had thronged them.
Then with edges of irons was Ongentheow driven,
The gray-haired to tarry, that the troop-ruler had to
Suffer the power solely of Eofor:
Wulf wounds
Ongentheow.
Wulf then wildly with weapon assaulted him,
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Wonred his son, that for swinge of the edges
The blood from his body burst out in currents,
Forth ’neath his hair. He feared not however,
Gray-headed Scylfing, but speedily quited
Ongentheow gives
a stout blow in
return.
The wasting wound-stroke with worse exchange,
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When the king of the thane-troop thither did turn him:
The wise-mooded son of Wonred was powerless
To give a return-blow to the age-hoary man,
But his head-shielding helmet first hewed he to pieces,
That flecked with gore perforce he did totter,
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Fell to the earth; not fey was he yet then,
But up did he spring though an edge-wound had reached him.
Eofor smites Ongentheow
fiercely.
Then Higelac’s vassal, valiant and dauntless,
When his brother lay dead, made his broad-bladed weapon,
Giant-sword ancient, defence of the giants,
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Bound o’er the shield-wall; the folk-prince succumbed then,
Ongentheow is
slain.
Shepherd of people, was pierced to the vitals.
There were many attendants who bound up his kinsman,
Carried him quickly when occasion was granted
That the place of the slain they were suffered to manage.
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This pending, one hero plundered the other,
His armor of iron from Ongentheow ravished,
His hard-sword hilted and helmet together;
Eofor takes the
old king’s war-gear
to Higelac.
The old one’s equipments he carried to Higelac.
He the jewels received, and rewards ’mid the troopers
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Graciously promised, and so did accomplish:
The king of the Weders requited the war-rush,
Hrethel’s descendant, when home he repaired him,
Higelac rewards
the brothers.
To Eofor and Wulf with wide-lavished treasures,
To each of them granted a hundred of thousands
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In land and rings wrought out of wire:
His gifts were beyond
cavil.
None upon mid-earth needed to twit him
With the gifts he gave them, when glory they conquered;
To Eofor he also
gives his only
daughter in marriage.
And to Eofor then gave he his one only daughter,
The honor of home, as an earnest of favor.
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That’s the feud and hatred—as ween I ’twill happen—
The anger of earthmen, that earls of the Swedemen
Will visit on us, when they hear that our leader
Lifeless is lying, he who longtime protected
His hoard and kingdom ’gainst hating assailers,
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Who on the fall of the heroes defended of yore
The deed-mighty Scyldings, did for the troopers
What best did avail them, and further moreover
It is time for us to
pay the last marks
of respect to our
lord.
Hero-deeds ’complished. Now is haste most fitting,
That the lord of liegemen we look upon yonder,
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And that one carry on journey to death-pyre
Who ring-presents gave us. Not aught of it all
Shall melt with the brave one—there’s a mass of bright jewels,
Gold beyond measure, grewsomely purchased
And ending it all ornament-rings too
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Bought with his life; these fire shall devour,
Flame shall cover, no earlman shall wear
A jewel-memento, nor beautiful virgin
Have on her neck rings to adorn her,
But wretched in spirit bereavèd of gold-gems
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She shall oft with others be exiled and banished,
Since the leader of liegemen hath laughter forsaken,
Mirth and merriment. Hence many a war-spear
Cold from the morning shall be clutched in the fingers,
Heaved in the hand, no harp-music’s sound shall
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Waken the warriors, but the wan-coated raven
Fain over fey ones freely shall gabble,
Shall say to the eagle how he sped in the eating,
When, the wolf his companion, he plundered the slain.”
So the high-minded hero was rehearsing these stories
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Loathsome to hear; he lied as to few of
The warriors go
sadly to look at
Beowulf’s lifeless
body.
Weirds and of words. All the war-troop arose then,
’Neath the Eagle’s Cape sadly betook them,
Weeping and woful, the wonder to look at.
They saw on the sand then soulless a-lying,
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His slaughter-bed holding, him who rings had given them
In days that were done; then the death-bringing moment
Was come to the good one, that the king very warlike,
Wielder of Weders, with wonder-death perished.
First they beheld there a creature more wondrous,
They also see the
dragon.
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The worm on the field, in front of them lying,
The foeman before them: the fire-spewing dragon,
Ghostly and grisly guest in his terrors,
Was scorched in the fire; as he lay there he measured
Fifty of feet; came forth in the night-time
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To rejoice in the air, thereafter departing
To visit his den; he in death was then fastened,
He would joy in no other earth-hollowed caverns.
There stood round about him beakers and vessels,
Dishes were lying and dear-valued weapons,
105
With iron-rust eaten, as in earth’s mighty bosom
A thousand of winters there they had rested:
The hoard was
under a magic
spell.
That mighty bequest then with magic was guarded,
Gold of the ancients, that earlman not any
The ring-hall could touch, save Ruling-God only,
110
Sooth-king of Vict’ries gave whom He wished to
God alone could
give access to it.
(He is earth-folk’s protector) to open the treasure,
E’en to such among mortals as seemed to Him proper.
WIGLAF’S SAD STORY.—THE HOARD CARRIED OFF.
Then ’twas seen that the journey prospered him little
Who wrongly within had the ornaments hidden
Down ’neath the wall. The warden erst slaughtered
Some few of the folk-troop: the feud then thereafter
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Was hotly avengèd. ’Tis a wonder where,
When the strength-famous trooper has attained to the end of
Life-days allotted, then no longer the man may
Remain with his kinsmen where mead-cups are flowing.
So to Beowulf happened when the ward of the barrow,
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Assaults, he sought for: himself had no knowledge
How his leaving this life was likely to happen.
So to doomsday, famous folk-leaders down did
Call it with curses—who ’complished it there—
That that man should be ever of ill-deeds convicted,
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Confined in foul-places, fastened in hell-bonds,
Punished with plagues, who this place should e’er ravage.
He cared not for gold: rather the Wielder’s
Favor preferred he first to get sight of.
Wiglaf addresses
his comrades.
Wiglaf discoursed then, Wihstan his son:
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“Oft many an earlman on one man’s account must
Sorrow endure, as to us it hath happened.
The liegelord belovèd we could little prevail on,
Kingdom’s keeper, counsel to follow,
Not to go to the guardian of the gold-hoard, but let him
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Lie where he long was, live in his dwelling
Till the end of the world. Met we a destiny
Hard to endure: the hoard has been looked at,
Been gained very grimly; too grievous the fate that
The prince of the people pricked to come thither.
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I was therein and all of it looked at,
The building’s equipments, since access was given me,
Not kindly at all entrance permitted
He tells them of
Beowulf’s last
moments.
Within under earth-wall. Hastily seized I
And held in my hands a huge-weighing burden
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Of hoard-treasures costly, hither out bare them
To my liegelord belovèd: life was yet in him,
And consciousness also; the old one discoursed then
Much and mournfully, commanded to greet you,
Beowulf’s dying
request.
Bade that remembering the deeds of your friend-lord
40
Ye build on the fire-hill of corpses a lofty
Burial-barrow, broad and far-famous,
As ’mid world-dwelling warriors he was widely most honored
While he reveled in riches. Let us rouse us and hasten
Again to see and seek for the treasure,
45
The wonder ’neath wall. The way I will show you,
That close ye may look at ring-gems sufficient
And gold in abundance. Let the bier with promptness
Fully be fashioned, when forth we shall come,
And lift we our lord, then, where long he shall tarry,
50
Well-beloved warrior, ’neath the Wielder’s protection.”
Wiglaf charges
them to build a
funeral-pyre.
Then the son of Wihstan bade orders be given,
Mood-valiant man, to many of heroes,
Holders of homesteads, that they hither from far,
Leaders of liegemen, should look for the good one
55
With wood for his pyre: “The flame shall now swallow
(The wan fire shall wax) the warriors’ leader
Who the rain of the iron often abided,
When, sturdily hurled, the storm of the arrows
Leapt o’er linden-wall, the lance rendered service,
60
Furnished with feathers followed the arrow.”
Now the wise-mooded son of Wihstan did summon
The best of the braves from the band of the ruler
He takes seven
thanes, and enters
the den.
Seven together; ’neath the enemy’s roof he
Went with the seven; one of the heroes
65
Who fared at the front, a fire-blazing torch-light
Bare in his hand. No lot then decided
Who that hoard should havoc, when hero-earls saw it
Lying in the cavern uncared-for entirely,
Rusting to ruin: they rued then but little
70
That they hastily hence hauled out the treasure,
They push the
dragon over the
wall.
The dear-valued jewels; the dragon eke pushed they,
The worm o’er the wall, let the wave-currents take him,
The waters enwind the ward of the treasures.
The hoard is laid
on a wain.
There wounden gold on a wain was uploaded,
75
A mass unmeasured, the men-leader off then,
The hero hoary, to Whale’s-Ness was carried.
THE BURNING OF BEOWULF.
Beowulf’s pyre.
The folk of the Geatmen got him then ready
A pile on the earth strong for the burning,
Behung with helmets, hero-knights’ targets,
And bright-shining burnies, as he begged they should have them;
5
Then wailing war-heroes their world-famous chieftain,
Their liegelord beloved, laid in the middle.
The funeral-flame.
Soldiers began then to make on the barrow
The largest of dead-fires: dark o’er the vapor
The smoke-cloud ascended, the sad-roaring fire,
10
Mingled with weeping (the wind-roar subsided)
Till the building of bone it had broken to pieces,
Hot in the heart. Heavy in spirit
They mood-sad lamented the men-leader’s ruin;
And mournful measures the much-grieving widow
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The Weders carry
out their lord’s last
request.
The men of the Weders made accordingly
A hill on the height, high and extensive,
Of sea-going sailors to be seen from a distance,
And the brave one’s beacon built where the fire was,
25
In ten-days’ space, with a wall surrounded it,
As wisest of world-folk could most worthily plan it.
They placed in the barrow rings and jewels,
Rings and gems
are laid in the
barrow.
All such ornaments as erst in the treasure
War-mooded men had won in possession:
30
The earnings of earlmen to earth they entrusted,
The gold to the dust, where yet it remaineth
As useless to mortals as in foregoing eras.
’Round the dead-mound rode then the doughty-in-battle,
Bairns of all twelve of the chiefs of the people,
They mourn for
their lord, and sing
his praises.
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More would they mourn, lament for their ruler,
Speak in measure, mention him with pleasure,
Weighed his worth, and his warlike achievements
Mightily commended, as ’tis meet one praise his
Liegelord in words and love him in spirit,
40
When forth from his body he fares to destruction.
So lamented mourning the men of the Geats,
Fond-loving vassals, the fall of their lord,
An ideal king.
Said he was kindest of kings under heaven,
Gentlest of men, most winning of manner,
45
Friendliest to folk-troops and fondest of honor.