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1188 | 1191 | beowulf.txt | (1188-1191) | (1188-91) | She turned then to the bench, where her sons were, Hrethric and Hrothmund, and the other children of heroes, the youth all together. There also sat the good man, Beowulf the Geat, between the two brothers. | Hwearf þa bi bence þær hyre byre wæron, Hreðric ond Hroðmund, ond hæleþa bearn, giogoð ætgædere; þær se goda sæt, Beowulf Geata, be þæm gebroðrum twæm. | 36 | 26 | 10 |
1192 | 1203 | beowulf.txt | (1192-1203) | (1192-1203) | A horn was passed to him, along with friendly speech, offered him wordfully, and wound gold as well, revealed with grace—two arm-bracelets, a fine robe, and more rings, along with the greatest of all neck-rings which I have ever heard of on the earth. I have heard of none better under the sky in hoard-treasures of heroes since Hama carried away the necklace of the Brosings to that bright city, the jewel and the precious thing—fleeing the crafty hatred of Eormenric, obtaining his own enduring good. Hygelac the Geat, the nephew of Swerting, possessed that torque, on his final journey, | Him wæs ful boren ond freondlaþu wordum bewægned, ond wunden gold estum geeawed, earmreade twa, hrægl ond hringas, healsbeaga mæst þara þe ic on foldan gefrægen hæbbe. Nænigne ic under swegle selran hyrde hordmaððum hæleþa, syþðan Hama ætwæg to þære byrhtan byrig Brosinga mene, sigle ond sincfæt; searoniðas fleah Eormenrices, geceas ecne ræd. þone hring hæfde Higelac Geata, nefa Swertinges, nyhstan siðe, | 100 | 62 | 38 |
1204 | 1214 | beowulf.txt | (1204-1214) | (1204-1214) | when he defended the treasure under his banner, protected his battle-spoils. Ill chance seized him when he for his pride sought trouble, a feud with the Frisians. He wore that ornament, those precious stones across the cup of waves, prince of the realm. He fell under his shield. It passed on then into the grasp of the Franks, the spirit of the king, his mail-shirt and that torque together. A lesser warrior plundered the kill after the war-shearing. Geat men kept the corpse-field… The hall rang with voices. | siðþan he under segne sinc ealgode, wælreaf werede; hyne wyrd fornam, syþðan he for wlenco wean ahsode, fæhðe to Frysum. He þa frætwe wæg, eorclanstanas ofer yða ful, rice þeoden; he under rande gecranc. Gehwearf þa in Francna fæþm feorh cyninges, breostgewædu ond se beah somod; wyrsan wigfrecan wæl reafedon æfter guðsceare, Geata leode, hreawic heoldon. Heal swege onfeng. | 88 | 59 | 29 |
1215 | 1220 | beowulf.txt | (1215-1220) | (1215-20) | Wealhtheow made a speech, speaking before that company: “Enjoy these rings, Beowulf my dear son, in good fortune, and the use of these garments, these tribal treasures, and prosper well. Declare yourself skillfully, yet be mild in counsel to these boys. I will remember your reward for that. | Wealhðeo maþelode, heo fore þæm werede spræc: "Bruc ðisses beages, Beowulf leofa, hyse, mid hæle, ond þisses hrægles neot, þeodgestreona, ond geþeoh tela, cen þec mid cræfte ond þyssum cnyhtum wes lara liðe; ic þe þæs lean geman. | 48 | 38 | 10 |
1221 | 1231 | beowulf.txt | (1221-1231) | (1221-31) | “You have brought it about so that men will acclaim you always, even as widely as the sea, that windy yard, is enclosed by its walls. Be blessed so long as you live, noble prince. Rightfully I grant you these treasures. Be proper in your deeds to my sons, O joyful one. Here every earl is truthful to another, mild of mind, loyal to their manly lord. These thanes are united, our tribe fully prepared, these assembled men, having drunk, to do as I bid.” | Hafast þu gefered þæt ðe feor ond neah ealne wideferhþ weras ehtigað, efne swa side swa sæ bebugeð, windgeard, weallas. Wes þenden þu lifige, æþeling, eadig. Ic þe an tela sincgestreona. Beo þu suna minum dædum gedefe, dreamhealdende. Her is æghwylc eorl oþrum getrywe, modes milde, mandrihtne hold; þegnas syndon geþwære, þeod ealgearo, druncne dryhtguman doð swa ic bidde." | 85 | 59 | 26 |
1050 | 1062 | beowulf.txt | (1050-1062) | (1050-62) | Moreover, the lord of nobles gave treasures, heritable relics to every one of those who drew themselves down the sea-road with Beowulf, there upon the mead-bench, and he ordered that gold be given up for that one who Grendel earlier murdered with malice—as he wished to kill more except that knowing God and that man’s courage opposed that outcome. The Measurer ruled all of the kindred of men, just as he still does today. Therefore good sense must be the best of all things, the spirit’s forethought. Many beloved things, and many hateful too, must he abide, whoever would long enjoy this world here in these strifesome days. | ða gyt æghwylcum eorla drihten þara þe mid Beowulfe brimlade teah on þære medubence maþðum gesealde, yrfelafe, ond þone ænne heht golde forgyldan, þone ðe Grendel ær mane acwealde, swa he hyra ma wolde, nefne him witig god wyrd forstode ond ðæs mannes mod. Metod eallum weold gumena cynnes, swa he nu git deð. Forþan bið andgit æghwær selest, ferhðes foreþanc. Fela sceal gebidan leofes ond laþes se þe longe her on ðyssum windagum worolde bruceð. | 108 | 76 | 32 |
1035 | 1049 | beowulf.txt | (1035-1049) | (1035-49) | Then the shelter of nobles ordered eight horses, with gilded cheeks, to be led onto the floor, inside the enclosure. One of them stood, adorned cleverly with a saddle, worthied with treasure— that was the high-king’s own battle-seat when the son of Halfdane wished to perform the dance of swords—he never laid low on the frontline, a warrior widely-known where the slain were falling. And then to Beowulf, the hedge of the Ingwines bestowed control of them both: the horses and the weapons. He commanded him to enjoy them well. So manfully did the famous prince repay, the hoard-watcher of men, for the storm of battle with horses and treasures, so that never could anyone find fault with them, speak as one might, the truth after right. | Heht ða eorla hleo eahta mearas fætedhleore on flet teon, in under eoderas. þara anum stod sadol searwum fah, since gewurþad; þæt wæs hildesetl heahcyninges, ðonne sweorda gelac sunu Healfdenes efnan wolde. Næfre on ore læg widcuþes wig, ðonne walu feollon. Ond ða Beowulfe bega gehwæþres eodor Ingwina onweald geteah, wicga ond wæpna, het hine wel brucan. Swa manlice mære þeoden, hordweard hæleþa, heaþoræsas geald mearum ond madmum, swa hy næfre man lyhð, se þe secgan wile soð æfter rihte. | 127 | 80 | 47 |
1020 | 1034 | beowulf.txt | (1020-1034) | (1020-34) | Then the blade of Halfdane he gave to Beowulf, and a golden ensign as recompense for his victory, an ornamented battle-flag, a helmet and a mail-coat. Many famous treasured swords were seen to be borne before that warrior. Beowulf received them graciously on the floor. He had no need to be ashamed before the fighters on account of those costly gifts I have never learned of many men giving another in a very friendly way, four such treasures, garnished with gold, upon the ale-benches. A crest contained it from without, woven with wires about the roof of the helmet, that head-protection so that the well-filed relic, shower-hardened, could not grievously harm it, when the shieldsman must wade into the gruesome fray. | Forgeaf þa Beowulfe bearn Healfdenes segen gyldenne sigores to leane; hroden hildecumbor, helm ond byrnan, mære maðþumsweord manige gesawon beforan beorn beran. Beowulf geþah ful on flette; no he þære feohgyfte for sceotendum scamigan ðorfte. Ne gefrægn ic freondlicor feower madmas golde gegyrede gummanna fela in ealobence oðrum gesellan. Ymb þæs helmes hrof heafodbeorge wirum bewunden walu utan heold, þæt him fela laf frecne ne meahton scurheard sceþðan, þonne scyldfreca ongean gramum gangan scolde. | 121 | 74 | 47 |
1008b | 1019 | beowulf.txt | (1008b-1019) | (1008b-19) | Then it was the time and the moment for the son of Halfdane to go into the hall. The king wished to partake in the feast himself. Nor have I heard of a greater company of kindred behaving better about their ring-giver. Then the profit-bearers bent to their benches rejoicing in their belly-fulls—they kindly consumed many mead-cups, the kinsmen of those courageous men in that high hall, Hrothgar and Hrothulf. Heorot was filled up within with friends, The Scyldings, unified at this moment, were making no malicious intentions at all. | þa wæs sæl ond mæl þæt to healle gang Healfdenes sunu; wolde self cyning symbel þicgan. Ne gefrægen ic þa mægþe maran weorode ymb hyra sincgyfan sel gebæran. Bugon þa to bence blædagande, fylle gefægon; fægere geþægon medoful manig magas þara swiðhicgende on sele þam hean, Hroðgar ond Hroþulf. Heorot innan wæs freondum afylled; nalles facenstafas þeodscyldingas þenden fremedon. | 90 | 59 | 31 |
782b | 790 | beowulf.txt | (782b-790) | (782b-90) | A voice clambered forth, utterly unheard-of. A thrilling horror stood within the North-Danes, every one alone who heard the wailing from the walls, the opponent of God singing his keening terror, a chant without victory, bemoaning his pain, the hostage of hell. He held him tightly, the one who was the strongest in power of all men back in the days of that age. | Sweg up astag niwe geneahhe; Norðdenum stod atelic egesa, anra gehwylcum þara þe of wealle wop gehyrdon, gryreleoð galan godes ondsacan, sigeleasne sang, sar wanigean helle hæfton. Heold hine fæste se þe manna wæs mægene strengest on þæm dæge þysses lifes. | 64 | 41 | 23 |
791 | 808 | beowulf.txt | (791-808) | (791-808) | That shelter of heroes didn’t wish to allow his fatal visitor to escape alive for any thing, nor could he account much use of Grendel’s life-days to any people. There the thanes of Beowulf most rapidly drew their elder-blades, wishing to protect the life of their gracious lord, their renowned chief, where they so could. They did not know one fact, when they entered the fray, battle kin with hardened hearts, thinking to chop at Grendel from every side, seeking his soul—that no battle-blade, none of the choicest iron upon the earth, would wish to bite that sinful scather, for he had bewitched the bane from triumphant weaponry, from every sword-edge. Yet his life-leaving must be miserable on this day in this world, and that estranged spirit must ferry forth into the keeping of fiends. | Nolde eorla hleo ænige þinga þone cwealmcuman cwicne forlætan, ne his lifdagas leoda ænigum nytte tealde. þær genehost brægd eorl Beowulfes ealde lafe, wolde freadrihtnes feorh ealgian, mæres þeodnes, ðær hie meahton swa. Hie þæt ne wiston, þa hie gewin drugon, heardhicgende hildemecgas, ond on healfa gehwone heawan þohton, sawle secan, þone synscaðan ænig ofer eorþan irenna cyst, guðbilla nan, gretan nolde, ac he sigewæpnum forsworen hæfde, ecga gehwylcre. Scolde his aldorgedal on ðæm dæge þysses lifes earmlic wurðan, ond se ellorgast on feonda geweald feor siðian. | 135 | 87 | 48 |
809 | 824 | beowulf.txt | (809-824) | (809-24) | Then he discovered, he who had previously perpetrated much offense, much affliction to the hearts of mankind—guilty against God, he discovered that his body-home did not wish to endure, that the mindful kinsman of Hygelac kept him by the hand. Each was hateful to the other while he lived. The terrifying monster knew a bodily wound—a gaping mortal-making wound opened in his shoulder. The sinews sprung apart. The bone-locks burst open. War-glory was given to Beowulf. From there Grendel must fly away, sick to life, under the fen-fastness, joylessly seeking his lair. He knew too well that his life was coming to its conclusion, the count of his days. The desire of every Dane came true after that slaughtering battle. | ða þæt onfunde se þe fela æror modes myrðe manna cynne, fyrene gefremede (he wæs fag wið god), þæt him se lichoma læstan nolde, ac hine se modega mæg Hygelaces hæfde be honda; wæs gehwæþer oðrum lifigende lað. Licsar gebad atol æglæca; him on eaxle wearð syndolh sweotol, seonowe onsprungon, burston banlocan. Beowulfe wearð guðhreð gyfeþe; scolde Grendel þonan feorhseoc fleon under fenhleoðu, secean wynleas wic; wiste þe geornor þæt his aldres wæs ende gegongen, dogera dægrim. Denum eallum wearð æfter þam wælræse willa gelumpen. | 120 | 85 | 35 |
825 | 836 | beowulf.txt | (825-836) | (825-36) | Then he had cleansed the hall of Hrothgar, he who had recently come from afar, wise and mighty souled, preserving it against malice. He rejoiced in the night’s work, in his courageous glory. The Geatish champion had matched his boast to the East-Danes, likewise he had amended every malady, the wicked sorrows that they suffered before and out of terrible constraint they had had to endure no few miseries. It was a patent token after the battle-bold put up that hand— arm, shoulder and all, everything attached, Grendel’s grasping—under the steep roof. | Hæfde þa gefælsod se þe ær feorran com, snotor ond swyðferhð, sele Hroðgares, genered wið niðe; nihtweorce gefeh, ellenmærþum. Hæfde Eastdenum Geatmecga leod gilp gelæsted, swylce oncyþðe ealle gebette, inwidsorge, þe hie ær drugon ond for þreanydum þolian scoldon, torn unlytel. þæt wæs tacen sweotol, syþðan hildedeor hond alegde, earm ond eaxle (þær wæs eal geador Grendles grape) under geapne hrof. | 92 | 61 | 31 |
837 | 852 | beowulf.txt | (837-852) | (837-52) | Then in the morning, as I have heard, there were many grim fighters about the gift-hall, their chieftains came from far and near, throughout the wide ways, to gaze upon that wonder, the hated remains. His life-parting could never seem a sore point to any of the men who traced the track of the glory-torn, how he stumbled on his way thence, overcome in his malice, into the mere of monsters, fated and banished, bearing bloody footprints. There the waters welled with blood, a terrible surge of waves, all mixed together with heated gore, the whelming of dreary death. Fated to death he dyed the lake, deprived of joys, after he had given up his life in his swampy lair, his heathen soul. There hell took him. | ða wæs on morgen mine gefræge ymb þa gifhealle guðrinc monig; ferdon folctogan feorran ond nean geond widwegas wundor sceawian, laþes lastas. No his lifgedal sarlic þuhte secga ænegum þara þe tirleases trode sceawode, hu he werigmod on weg þanon, niða ofercumen, on nicera mere fæge ond geflymed feorhlastas bær. ðær wæs on blode brim weallende, atol yða geswing eal gemenged haton heolfre, heorodreore weol. Deaðfæge deog, siððan dreama leas in fenfreoðo feorh alegde, hæþene sawle; þær him hel onfeng. | 127 | 80 | 47 |
853 | 864 | beowulf.txt | (853-864) | (853-64) | They turned home from there, the old retainers likewise many young ones too, from their happy path, proud they rode their horses back from the mere, warriors on their chargers. There was Beowulf’s glory announced—many kept on saying aloud that neither south nor north, between the seas, across the vast earth, there was no other man under the course of the skies, that could be any better of all the shield-bearing warriors, more worthy of the realm. Nor did they reproach their friendly lord any bit, joyous Hrothgar— rather he was a good king. | þanon eft gewiton ealdgesiðas, swylce geong manig of gomenwaþe fram mere modge mearum ridan, beornas on blancum. ðær wæs Beowulfes mærðo mæned; monig oft gecwæð þætte suð ne norð be sæm tweonum ofer eormengrund oþer nænig under swegles begong selra nære rondhæbbendra, rices wyrðra. Ne hie huru winedrihten wiht ne logon, glædne Hroðgar, ac þæt wæs god cyning. Hwilum heaþorofe hleapan leton, | 94 | 62 | 32 |
865 | 876a | beowulf.txt | (865-876a) | (865-876a) | Sometimes the battle-bold let their dusky horses leap in their stride, in a contest, to wherever the earth-ways seemed the most fair, known by choice. Sometimes a thane of the king, a man speech-adorned, mindful of very many verses, of the ancient ways, and remembering a vast number, devised one word with another, bound together truly—the poet soon began to recite with cunning craft the quest of Beowulf and to relate mellifluously a skillful tale, exchanging it wordfully. He spoke of everything he had heard told about the courageous deeds of Sigemund, much was unknown: | on geflit faran fealwe mearas ðær him foldwegas fægere þuhton, cystum cuðe. Hwilum cyninges þegn, guma gilphlæden, gidda gemyndig, se ðe ealfela ealdgesegena worn gemunde, word oþer fand soðe gebunden; secg eft ongan sið Beowulfes snyttrum styrian ond on sped wrecan spel gerade, wordum wrixlan. Welhwylc gecwæð þæt he fram Sigemundes secgan hyrde ellendædum, | 95 | 54 | 41 |
1232 | 1241 | beowulf.txt | (1232-1241) | (1232-41) | Then she went back to her seat. It was the greatest of feasts, the men drank wine, not knowing of what was to come, a gruesome destiny, as it was to come visiting many an earl, after the evening had arrived, and Hrothgar departed to his own house, the powerful man to his rest. Countless men occupied the hall, just as they had often done before. They cleared away the benches, and spread it out with bedding and bolsters. One of those beery revelers laid down to his floor-rest, his fated end hurrying. | Eode þa to setle. þær wæs symbla cyst; druncon win weras. Wyrd ne cuþon, geosceaft grimme, swa hit agangen wearð eorla manegum, syþðan æfen cwom ond him Hroþgar gewat to hofe sinum, rice to ræste. Reced weardode unrim eorla, swa hie oft ær dydon. Bencþelu beredon; hit geondbræded wearð beddum ond bolstrum. Beorscealca sum fus ond fæge fletræste gebeag. | 93 | 59 | 34 |
876b | 897 | beowulf.txt | (876b-897) | (876b-97) | …the struggle of the Wælsing, the wide journeys, the feuds and the felonies, of which the sons of men had never readily known, except Fitela by his side, as they were always, when Sigemund wished to speak of their travails, uncle to nephew— through every hardship, needful comrades— they had destroyed very many of the tribe of giants with their swords. Not too little glory sprung from Sigemund since his dying day, after the battle-hardened slew a dragon, the treasure’s watcher. The son of nobles dared to proceed alone under the hoary stone, an audacious deed, nor was Fitela with him. Nevertheless he was victorious so that the sword sliced through that many-coiled wyrm, and stuck it into the wall, the lordly iron. The dragon died through that deed. The fierce opponent had gone in courageously so that he might be allowed to enjoy the ringed hoard of his own will. He laded his sea-boat, bearing bright treasures into the bosom of the ship, the heir of Waels. The hot dragon melted. | uncuþes fela, Wælsinges gewin, wide siðas, þara þe gumena bearn gearwe ne wiston, fæhðe ond fyrena, buton Fitela mid hine, þonne he swulces hwæt secgan wolde, eam his nefan, swa hie a wæron æt niða gehwam nydgesteallan; hæfdon ealfela eotena cynnes sweordum gesæged. Sigemunde gesprong æfter deaðdæge dom unlytel, syþðan wiges heard wyrm acwealde, hordes hyrde. He under harne stan, æþelinges bearn, ana geneðde frecne dæde, ne wæs him Fitela mid. Hwæþre him gesælde ðæt þæt swurd þurhwod wrætlicne wyrm, þæt hit on wealle ætstod, dryhtlic iren; draca morðre swealt. Hæfde aglæca elne gegongen þæt he beahhordes brucan moste selfes dome; sæbat gehleod, bær on bearm scipes beorhte frætwa, Wælses eafera. Wyrm hat gemealt. | 172 | 114 | 58 |
916 | 924 | beowulf.txt | (916-924) | (916-24) | Sometimes racing, they paced their steeds on the fallow street. Then was the morning light fully dawned and shining. Many retainers went, bold-hearted to that high hall to witness that curious wonder. Likewise the king himself, warden of the ring-hoards, stepped out of the women’s house, glory-fast, with a great retinue, revealing his virtues, and his queen with him, escorted by her maidens, measuring out the way to the great mead-house. | Hwilum flitende fealwe stræte mearum mæton. ða wæs morgenleoht scofen ond scynded. Eode scealc monig swiðhicgende to sele þam hean searowundor seon; swylce self cyning of brydbure, beahhorda weard, tryddode tirfæst getrume micle, cystum gecyþed, ond his cwen mid him medostigge mæt mægþa hose. | 71 | 44 | 27 |
925 | 942a | beowulf.txt | (925-942a) | (925-942a) | Hrothgar made a speech, going up to the hall, standing on the steps, gazing at the steep roof, flecked with gold, and Grendel’s hand: “For this vision may there be given swift thanks to the All-Wielding! I have endured many hated days, many misfortunes at the hand of Grendel. God can always perform wonder upon wonder, the Herdsman of Glory. It was all too soon ago that I did not hope to expect any cure for my woes for the width of my life, when the best of houses stood splattered with blood, dripping with gore, grief strewn far and wide for every wise man, broad-souled, who could not conceive how they could defend this tribal treasure from its hated foes, ghouls and spectral terrors. Now a retainer has, through the Lord’s might, performed the deed which we all could not before contrive to do, despite all our wisdom. | Hroðgar maþelode (he to healle geong, stod on stapole, geseah steapne hrof, golde fahne, ond Grendles hond): "ðisse ansyne alwealdan þanc lungre gelimpe! Fela ic laþes gebad, grynna æt Grendle; a mæg god wyrcan wunder æfter wundre, wuldres hyrde. ðæt wæs ungeara þæt ic ænigra me weana ne wende to widan feore bote gebidan, þonne blode fah husa selest heorodreorig stod, wea widscofen witena gehwylcum ðara þe ne wendon þæt hie wideferhð leoda landgeweorc laþum beweredon scuccum ond scinnum. Nu scealc hafað þurh drihtnes miht dæd gefremede ðe we ealle ær ne meahton snyttrum besyrwan. | 149 | 95 | 54 |
942b | 956 | beowulf.txt | (942b-956) | (942b-56) | “What can one say about so great a woman who conceived such a son into the human race? If she yet lives, may the Olden-Measurer have been merciful to her at her child-bearing. Now Beowulf, best of all men, I wish to love you like my own son in spirit. Keep this new affiliation well! Nor is there anything you will lack, wanted treasures in this world, of what I have possession. Very often for lesser deeds I have made reward, hoard-worthy things, of humbler warriors weaker in conflict. You have outdone them all yourself with your deeds, so that your glory will live on always and evermore. May the All-Wielding God requite you with every good, as he has done thus far!” | Hwæt, þæt secgan mæg efne swa hwylc mægþa swa ðone magan cende æfter gumcynnum, gyf heo gyt lyfað, þæt hyre ealdmetod este wære bearngebyrdo. Nu ic, Beowulf, þec, secg betsta, me for sunu wylle freogan on ferhþe; heald forð tela niwe sibbe. Ne bið þe nænigra gad worolde wilna, þe ic geweald hæbbe. Ful oft ic for læssan lean teohhode, hordweorþunge hnahran rince, sæmran æt sæcce. þu þe self hafast dædum gefremed þæt þin dom lyfað awa to aldre. Alwalda þec gode forgylde, swa he nu gyt dyde!" | 123 | 88 | 35 |
957 | 972a | beowulf.txt | (957-972a) | (957-72a) | Beowulf replied to him, the son of Ecgtheow: “By many graces, we have performed a courageous work by fighting, recklessly risking the unknowable strength. I would have wished the more greatly that you might have seen him yourself, the fiend in his fittings, wearied and frightened. I thought to fetter him forthwith with tight bonds on his death-bed so that he lay here, struggling for life in my hand-grip, unless he should relinquish his body… I could not entrap him, when the Measurer didn’t consent, delaying his departure. I didn’t apply myself to him strongly enough, my deadly opponent— Too savagely strong was the fiend in his foot-power. Nonetheless he left behind his hand, his arm and shoulder as a life-ward in order to make his retreat. | Beowulf maþelode, bearn Ecþeowes: "We þæt ellenweorc estum miclum, feohtan fremedon, frecne geneðdon eafoð uncuþes. Uþe ic swiþor þæt ðu hine selfne geseon moste, feond on frætewum fylwerigne. Ic hine hrædlice heardan clammum on wælbedde wriþan þohte, þæt he for mundgripe minum scolde licgean lifbysig, butan his lic swice. Ic hine ne mihte, þa metod nolde, ganges getwæman, no ic him þæs georne ætfealh, feorhgeniðlan; wæs to foremihtig feond on feþe. Hwæþere he his folme forlet to lifwraþe last weardian, earm ond eaxle. | 127 | 83 | 44 |
972b | 979 | beowulf.txt | (972b-979) | (972b-79) | “However that wretched thing got little comfort, nor will he live much longer, the hateful harmer enfolded in sin, but agony has clasped him tight in its constraining clutches, in chains of baleful death. There he must await a greater doom, this creature spattered with evil—how the bright Measurer should choose to repay him.” | No þær ænige swa þeah feasceaft guma frofre gebohte; no þy leng leofað laðgeteona, synnum geswenced, ac hyne sar hafað mid nydgripe nearwe befongen, balwon bendum. ðær abidan sceal maga mane fah miclan domes, hu him scir metod scrifan wille." | 54 | 40 | 14 |
980 | 990 | beowulf.txt | (980-990) | (980-90) | Then was the son of Ecglaf the more silent in his vaunting words upon these war-deeds after the noblemen gazed upon that hand and fiendly fingers raised upon the high roof through that warrior’s skill. Every one of those nails, each nailbed was very much like steel before, the battle-ready heathen’s hand-spurs were terrifying and awful. Everyone said that nothing harder could wish to touch him, no battle-tested iron could wish to weaken that monster’s bloodstained and betaloned hand. | ða wæs swigra secg, sunu Eclafes, on gylpspræce guðgeweorca, siþðan æþelingas eorles cræfte ofer heanne hrof hand sceawedon, feondes fingras. Foran æghwylc wæs, stiðra nægla gehwylc, style gelicost, hæþenes handsporu hilderinces, egl, unheoru. æghwylc gecwæð þæt him heardra nan hrinan wolde iren ærgod, þæt ðæs ahlæcan blodge beadufolme onberan wolde. | 79 | 50 | 29 |
991 | 1008a | beowulf.txt | (991-1008a) | (991-1008a) | Then it was quickly commanded that Heorot within be refurbished by hand. There were many of them, men and women, who restored that wine-house, that guest-hall. Gold-flecked weavings shone upon the walls, many visions wonderful to all warriors, whoever gazed upon their like. That bright building was entirely torn up within, bound by iron bands, the hinges cracked open. Only the roof survived, totally unharmed, when the monster, flecked with wicked deeds, turned to flee, despairing of life. That is never easy to escape from—try as one might— but all those bearing souls must seek it out, constrained by need, the children of humanity dwelling on the earth, readily to that other place, where the body-house, fixed to its final resting-place, must sleep after the feasting. | ða wæs haten hreþe Heort innanweard folmum gefrætwod. Fela þæra wæs, wera ond wifa, þe þæt winreced, gestsele gyredon. Goldfag scinon web æfter wagum, wundorsiona fela secga gehwylcum þara þe on swylc starað. Wæs þæt beorhte bold tobrocen swiðe, eal inneweard irenbendum fæst, heorras tohlidene. Hrof ana genæs, ealles ansund, þe se aglæca, fyrendædum fag, on fleam gewand, aldres orwena. No þæt yðe byð to befleonne, fremme se þe wille, ac gesecan sceal sawlberendra, nyde genydde, niþða bearna, grundbuendra gearwe stowe, þær his lichoma legerbedde fæst swefeþ æfter symle. | 126 | 89 | 37 |
898 | 915 | beowulf.txt | (898-915) | (898-915) | That one was widely the most famous adventurer across the nations of men, a shelter of warriors known for his brave deeds—he thrived by them before— since the struggle of Heremod had dwindled, his might and valor. He was betrayed among the Jutes [giants?] sent away to die swiftly in the hands of his enemy. Welling sorrows had hobbled him for too long. He became a mortal ache unto his people, to all noblemen. Likewise many a wise men had mourned in earlier seasons over his rash forays— they had looked to him as comfort for their afflictions, that the son of their prince ought to prosper, take up his patrimony, keep watch over the people, their treasures, and their sheltering city, the realm of heroes, where the Scyldings roam. He become more endearing to all his allies, to the kindred of men, that was the kinsman of Hygelac— but his crimes carried Heremod away. | Se wæs wreccena wide mærost ofer werþeode, wigendra hleo, ellendædum (he þæs ær onðah), siððan Heremodes hild sweðrode, eafoð ond ellen. He mid Eotenum wearð on feonda geweald forð forlacen, snude forsended. Hine sorhwylmas lemede to lange; he his leodum wearð, eallum æþellingum to aldorceare; swylce oft bemearn ærran mælum swiðferhþes sið snotor ceorl monig, se þe him bealwa to bote gelyfde, þæt þæt ðeodnes bearn geþeon scolde, fæderæþelum onfon, folc gehealdan, hord ond hleoburh, hæleþa rice, ᛟ Scyldinga. He þær eallum wearð, mæg Higelaces, manna cynne, freondum gefægra; hine fyren onwod. | 155 | 92 | 63 |
778 | 782a | beowulf.txt | (778-782a) | (778-82a) | Until this moment, Scylding wisemen never believed that any man could ever have the means, excellent though bound in bone, to break it apart, tear it down by talent, unless the embrace of flame should swallow it in its swaths. | þæs ne wendon ær witan Scyldinga þæt hit a mid gemete manna ænig, betlic ond banfag, tobrecan meahte, listum tolucan, nymþe liges fæþm swulge on swaþule. | 40 | 26 | 14 |
1242 | 1250 | beowulf.txt | (1242-1250) | (1242-50) | Battle-shields were set at their heads, bright wooden boards. There on the benches, over each noble warrior, it was easily seen, the battle-steep helmet, the ringed byrnie, the dangerous spear-shaft. This was their custom: to be always ready to give battle, either at home or in the field, or else whenever their lord happened to need them. They were a good band. | Setton him to heafdon hilderandas, bordwudu beorhtan; þær on bence wæs ofer æþelinge yþgesene heaþosteapa helm, hringed byrne, þrecwudu þrymlic. Wæs þeaw hyra þæt hie oft wæron an wig gearwe, ge æt ham ge on herge, ge gehwæþer þara, efne swylce mæla swylce hira mandryhtne þearf gesælde; wæs seo þeod tilu. | 62 | 51 | 11 |
1258b | 1278 | beowulf.txt | (1258b-1278) | (1258b-78) | Grendel’s mother, a woman, a monstrous woman, mindful of misery, who had to abide as a water-terror, in cold currents, ever since Cain became a blade-slayer of his own brother, his father’s son—guilty he departed then, marked by murder, fleeing the joys of men, dwelling in the wastes. From there awoke many ancient spirits. Grendel was one of them a gory outlaw, hateful, who found in Heorot a wakeful man awaiting battle. There the monster attempted to seize him, however, he remembered the extent of his power, a sparkling gift, which God had given him, and he trusted in the grace of the Sole Wielder, his comfort and assistance. Through these he conquered the fiend, humbled the hell-ghast. Abjected, he then fled, deprived of joys, seeking his death-bed, the enemy of mankind. And still his mother, greedy and gloomy, wished to go forth on a sorrowful journey, to avenge her son’s death. | Grendles modor, ides, aglæcwif, yrmþe gemunde, se þe wæteregesan wunian scolde, cealde streamas, siþðan Cain wearð to ecgbanan angan breþer, fæderenmæge; he þa fag gewat, morþre gemearcod, mandream fleon, westen warode. þanon woc fela geosceaftgasta; wæs þæra Grendel sum, heorowearh hetelic, se æt Heorote fand wæccendne wer wiges bidan. þær him aglæca ætgræpe wearð; hwæþre he gemunde mægenes strenge, gimfæste gife ðe him god sealde, ond him to anwaldan are gelyfde, frofre ond fultum; ðy he þone feond ofercwom, gehnægde helle gast. þa he hean gewat, dreame bedæled, deaþwic seon, mancynnes feond, ond his modor þa gyt, gifre ond galgmod, gegan wolde sorhfulne sið, sunu deað wrecan. | 152 | 107 | 45 |
1529 | 1542 | beowulf.txt | (1529-1542) | (1529-42) | He was ever resolute, not at all late to courage, mindful of glory, the kinsman of Hygelac. Then the angry warrior tossed aside that blade of winding rings, fraught with filigree, so that it lay on the ground, stern and steel-edged. He trusted in his own strength, the power of his hand-grip. So must a man when he thinks to go forth from battle, gaining enduring fame— he must never worry about his own life. Then he grabbed her by the shoulder—mourning not the melee— the chief of the War-Geats and Grendel’s mother. Then he threw his mortal enemy, battle-hard, while he was swollen in mind, so that she bent to the floor. But she returned the hand-lock swiftly, with a grim grip of her own, and seized him up tight. | Eft wæs anræd, nalas elnes læt, mærða gemyndig mæg Hylaces. Wearp ða wundenmæl wrættum gebunden yrre oretta, þæt hit on eorðan læg, stið ond stylecg; strenge getruwode, mundgripe mægenes. Swa sceal man don, þonne he æt guðe gegan þenceð longsumne lof, na ymb his lif cearað. Gefeng þa be eaxle (nalas for fæhðe mearn) Guðgeata leod Grendles modor; brægd þa beadwe heard, þa he gebolgen wæs, feorhgeniðlan, þæt heo on flet gebeah. Heo him eft hraþe andlean forgeald grimman grapum ond him togeanes feng; | 131 | 84 | 47 |
1543 | 1556 | beowulf.txt | (1543-1556) | (1543-56) | Weary at heart, the strongest of warriors, champion on foot, was thrown over then, so that he fell to the floor. She sat upon her hall-guest then and drew out her dagger, broad, brown-edged. She wanted to avenge her son, her only kin. A braided breast-net lay across his shoulders, and it saved his life, against point and blade alike, withstanding the stabbing attack. Then the son of Ecgtheow, the Geatish champion might have perished upon the broad lake-floor, except his battle-byrnie effected him help, the hardened war-net, as well as Holy God parceling out battle-victory. The knowing Lord, Ruler of the Heavens determined it by right, with much ease—when he stood up again. | oferwearp þa werigmod wigena strengest, feþecempa, þæt he on fylle wearð. Ofsæt þa þone selegyst ond hyre seax geteah, brad ond brunecg, wolde hire bearn wrecan, angan eaferan. Him on eaxle læg breostnet broden; þæt gebearh feore, wið ord ond wið ecge ingang forstod. Hæfde ða forsiðod sunu Ecgþeowes under gynne grund, Geata cempa, nemne him heaðobyrne helpe gefremede, herenet hearde, ond halig god geweold wigsigor; witig drihten, rodera rædend, hit on ryht gesced yðelice, syþðan he eft astod. | 114 | 79 | 35 |
1557 | 1569 | beowulf.txt | (1557-1569) | (1557-69) | Then he saw among the treasures there a victory-blessed blade, an old sword of giant size, sturdy in its edges, worthy for a warrior—it was the best of weapons, except that it was far bigger that any other man could bring to the dance of battle, excellent, adorned, the work of giants. He snatched the ringed hilt then, this hero of the Scyldings, stormy and sword-grim, drew forth the whorled blade, despairing of life, and angrily struck, so that the hard blade sheared through her neck, breaking the bone-rings— the sword utterly pierced the fate flesh-house. She collapsed to the floor, the sword was dripping— the man rejoiced at his deed. | Geseah ða on searwum sigeeadig bil, eald sweord eotenisc, ecgum þyhtig, wigena weorðmynd; þæt wæs wæpna cyst, buton hit wæs mare ðonne ænig mon oðer to beadulace ætberan meahte, god ond geatolic, giganta geweorc. He gefeng þa fetelhilt, freca Scyldinga hreoh ond heorogrim hringmæl gebrægd, aldres orwena, yrringa sloh, þæt hire wið halse heard grapode, banhringas bræc. Bil eal ðurhwod fægne flæschoman; heo on flet gecrong. Sweord wæs swatig, secg weorce gefeh. | 111 | 72 | 39 |
1570 | 1590 | beowulf.txt | (1570-1590) | (1570-90) | The beams of light brightened, a glow stood within even like that from heaven, shining so clearly, the candle of the skies. He gazed through the hall, turning by the wall, heaving up his weapon, hard by the hilt, Hygelac’s thane, angry and single-minded. Nor was that blade useless to the battle-warrior, but he wished to quickly pay back Grendel for his many bloody onslaughts which he made upon the West-Danes, many more times than just once— when he slew in their sleep Hrothgar’s hearth-companions, devoured them slumbering, fifteen Danish men, and another fifteen he dragged away, a hateful exchange. He requited him his reward, the ferocious champion, so that when he saw at rest, war-wearied Grendel lying, deprived of life, just as the battle at Heorot had left him earlier, injured. The corpse burst open after it suffered in death a hard battle-swing— Beowulf carved off his head. | Lixte se leoma, leoht inne stod, efne swa of hefene hadre scineð rodores candel. He æfter recede wlat; hwearf þa be wealle, wæpen hafenade heard be hiltum Higelaces ðegn, yrre ond anræd. Næs seo ecg fracod hilderince, ac he hraþe wolde Grendle forgyldan guðræsa fela ðara þe he geworhte to Westdenum oftor micle ðonne on ænne sið, þonne he Hroðgares heorðgeneatas sloh on sweofote, slæpende fræt folces Denigea fyftyne men ond oðer swylc ut offerede, laðlicu lac. He him þæs lean forgeald, reþe cempa, to ðæs þe he on ræste geseah guðwerigne Grendel licgan aldorleasne, swa him ær gescod hild æt Heorote. Hra wide sprong, syþðan he æfter deaðe drepe þrowade, heorosweng heardne, ond hine þa heafde becearf. | 149 | 118 | 31 |
1591 | 1605a | beowulf.txt | (1591-1605a) | (1591-1605a) | At once the wise carls could see that, who were with Hrothgar looking upon the water, that the blending of waves was all mixed, the lake splattered with blood. Grey-bearded, the old men conversed together about good Beowulf, saying that they did not think the noble man would return that he would not come seeking the famous prince, flush with victory. Then it seemed to many that the sea-wolf had slain him. Then came the ninth hour. The valiant Scyldings retreated from the cliff. The gold-friend of men departed homewards from there. The visitors still sat there, sick at heart, staring at the lake. They thought and did not hope that they would see their friendly lord in the flesh. | Sona þæt gesawon snottre ceorlas, þa ðe mid Hroðgare on holm wliton, þæt wæs yðgeblond eal gemenged, brim blode fah. Blondenfeaxe, gomele ymb godne, ongeador spræcon þæt hig þæs æðelinges eft ne wendon þæt he sigehreðig secean come mærne þeoden; þa ðæs monige gewearð þæt hine seo brimwylf abroten hæfde. ða com non dæges. Næs ofgeafon hwate Scyldingas; gewat him ham þonon goldwine gumena. Gistas setan modes seoce ond on mere staredon, wiston ond ne wendon þæt hie heora winedrihten selfne gesawon. | 120 | 82 | 38 |
1605b | 1611 | beowulf.txt | (1605b-1611) | (1605b-11) | Then that sword began to wane into gory icicles, the war-blade after the battle-sweat. That was some miracle that it all melted much like the ice when the Father releases the bonds of frost and unwinds the choking ropes, that one has power over time and season—that is the true Measurer. | þa þæt sweord ongan æfter heaþoswate hildegicelum, wigbil wanian. þæt wæs wundra sum, þæt hit eal gemealt ise gelicost, ðonne forstes bend fæder onlæteð, onwindeð wælrapas, se geweald hafað sæla ond mæla; þæt is soð metod. | 51 | 36 | 15 |
1612 | 1622 | beowulf.txt | (1612-1622) | (1612-22) | He did not take anything from that place, the chief of the Weather-Geats, any more of the treasured hoard, although he saw many things, except that head and the sword-hilt together, spangled with riches—the sword had entirely melted, the patterned sword burned up—the blood was too hot, that venomous and strange monster who had died within. At once he was swimming again, who had earlier endured the conflict, the crumbling of the wrathful. He dove up through the water, the churning waves were cleansed entirely, the broad habitations, when the exorbitant ghast was released from her life-days and this loaned creation. | Ne nom he in þæm wicum, Wedergeata leod, maðmæhta ma, þeh he þær monige geseah, buton þone hafelan ond þa hilt somod since fage. Sweord ær gemealt, forbarn brodenmæl; wæs þæt blod to þæs hat, ættren ellorgæst se þær inne swealt. Sona wæs on sunde se þe ær æt sæcce gebad wighryre wraðra, wæter up þurhdeaf. Wæron yðgebland eal gefælsod, eacne eardas, þa se ellorgast oflet lifdagas ond þas lænan gesceaft. | 101 | 71 | 30 |
1623 | 1636 | beowulf.txt | (1623-1636) | (1623-1636) | Then the helmet of sailors came back to land, a strong-minded swimmer, rejoicing in the sea-dance and his powerful burden, which he bore with him. They went down to him, thanking God, the valiant troop of thanes, celebrating their prince that they might see him again, unharmed. Then the helmet and byrnie were quickly unloaded from that strong man. The water grew still, the lake under the skies, stained with gore. They fared forth from there along the foot-trail, joyful in spirit, meeting the earthen path, the well-known way. The king-bold men carried the head from the lake-cliffs, with great difficulty for each of them. | Com þa to lande lidmanna helm swiðmod swymman; sælace gefeah, mægenbyrþenne þara þe he him mid hæfde. Eodon him þa togeanes, gode þancodon, ðryðlic þegna heap, þeodnes gefegon, þæs þe hi hyne gesundne geseon moston. ða wæs of þæm hroran helm ond byrne lungre alysed. Lagu drusade, wæter under wolcnum, wældreore fag. Ferdon forð þonon feþelastum ferhþum fægne, foldweg mæton, cuþe stræte. Cyningbalde men from þæm holmclife hafelan bæron earfoðlice heora æghwæþrum, | 105 | 72 | 33 |
1637 | 1650 | beowulf.txt | (1637-1650) | (1637-50) | Four of them had to carry it with effort on the shafts of slaughtering spears to the gold-hall, the head of Grendel, until they arrived at last to that house, fourteen ferocious and bold Geats going. The lord of men walked among them, proud in their company, treading the courtyard. Then in came the master of thanes, a deed-keen man, worthied with glory, a warrior battle-brave, to greet Hrothgar. Then Grendel’s head was tossed by the hair onto the floor, where the men were drinking, terrifying to the earls among their ladies, a curious spectacle—the men looked upon it. | felamodigra; feower scoldon on þæm wælstenge weorcum geferian to þæm goldsele Grendles heafod, oþðæt semninga to sele comon frome fyrdhwate feowertyne Geata gongan; gumdryhten mid modig on gemonge meodowongas træd. ða com in gan ealdor ðegna, dædcene mon dome gewurþad, hæle hildedeor, Hroðgar gretan. þa wæs be feaxe on flet boren Grendles heafod, þær guman druncon, egeslic for eorlum ond þære idese mid, wliteseon wrætlic; weras on sawon. | 99 | 68 | 31 |
1651 | 1658 | beowulf.txt | (1651-1658) | (1651-58) | Beowulf made a speech, the son of Ecgtheow: “What we have brought you gladly, son of Halfdane, chief of the Scyldings, from the sea-dance, as a token of glory, which you may look upon here. I survived that unsoftly, with my life, that underwater warfare, I dared this deed with difficulty. The battle would be swiftly ended, unless God should shield me. | Beowulf maþelode, bearn Ecgþeowes: "Hwæt! we þe þas sælac, sunu Healfdenes, leod Scyldinga, lustum brohton tires to tacne, þe þu her to locast. Ic þæt unsofte ealdre gedigde wigge under wætere, weorc geneþde earfoðlice; ætrihte wæs guð getwæfed, nymðe mec god scylde. | 62 | 42 | 20 |
1659 | 1664 | beowulf.txt | (1659-1664) | (1659-64) | “Nor could I use Hrunting any bit in the fight, although that weapon should be availing. But the Sovereign of Men granted to me that I should see upon the wall, hanging fairly a giant elder-blade. Haste guided me, desperate for allies, to draw that weapon. | Ne meahte ic æt hilde mid Hruntinge wiht gewyrcan, þeah þæt wæpen duge; ac me geuðe ylda waldend þæt ic on wage geseah wlitig hangian eald sweord eacen (oftost wisode winigea leasum), þæt ic ðy wæpne gebræd. | 46 | 37 | 9 |
1665 | 1670 | beowulf.txt | (1665-1670) | (1665-70) | “Then I slew in that conflict, when I was given a moment, the guardian of that house. Then that hooped blade, that battle-bill burned up, when that blood burst out, the hottest of war-sweat. I carried the hilt from there, from my enemies, avenging those dastardly deeds, death-killing of the Danes, as was appropriate. | Ofsloh ða æt þære sæcce, þa me sæl ageald, huses hyrdas. þa þæt hildebil forbarn brogdenmæl, swa þæt blod gesprang, hatost heaþoswata. Ic þæt hilt þanan feondum ætferede, fyrendæda wræc, deaðcwealm Denigea, swa hit gedefe wæs. | 54 | 36 | 18 |
1671 | 1676 | beowulf.txt | (1671-1676) | (1671-76) | “I promise you that you may slumber in Heorot without sorrow, among your company of warriors and all of your thanes, your own people, young and old; that you have no need to fear, prince of Scyldings, anything from that side, the life-harming of earls, as you once did.” | Ic hit þe þonne gehate, þæt þu on Heorote most sorhleas swefan mid þinra secga gedryht ond þegna gehwylc þinra leoda, duguðe ond iogoþe, þæt þu him ondrædan ne þearft, þeoden Scyldinga, on þa healfe, aldorbealu eorlum, swa þu ær dydest." | 49 | 41 | 8 |
1677 | 1686 | beowulf.txt | (1677-1686) | (1677-86) | Then was the golden hilt given into the hands of that elder warrior, the hoary battle-chieftain, the ancient work of giants. It turned into the keeping of the lord of the Danes, after the crumbling of devils, the work of miraculous smiths. And when that fierce-hearted fiend gave up the world, God’s adversary, guilty of murder, and his mother also, it was turned over into the care of this worldly king, the best between the two seas, who doled out coins in the Scedenish lands. | ða wæs gylden hilt gamelum rince, harum hildfruman, on hand gyfen, enta ærgeweorc; hit on æht gehwearf æfter deofla hryre Denigea frean, wundorsmiþa geweorc, ond þa þas worold ofgeaf gromheort guma, godes ondsaca, morðres scyldig, ond his modor eac, on geweald gehwearf woroldcyninga ðæm selestan be sæm tweonum ðara þe on Scedenigge sceattas dælde. | 85 | 54 | 31 |
1687 | 1698a | beowulf.txt | (1687-1698a) | (1687-98a) | Hrothgar spoke up, looking upon the hilt, the olden relic. On it was written the beginning of ancient strife, when the Flood destroyed, the gushing ocean, the kindred of giants, they did wickedness—they were a nation estranged from the Eternal Lord. The Sovereign gave them final reward through the water’s whelming. Such was marked upon that sword-guard, shining with gold, correctly through rune-staves, set down and spoken by whoever first worked that sword, the best of iron, writhing-hilted and patterned with snakes. | Hroðgar maðelode, hylt sceawode, ealde lafe, on ðæm wæs or writen fyrngewinnes, syðþan flod ofsloh, gifen geotende, giganta cyn (frecne geferdon); þæt wæs fremde þeod ecean dryhtne; him þæs endelean þurh wæteres wylm waldend sealde. Swa wæs on ðæm scennum sciran goldes þurh runstafas rihte gemearcod, geseted ond gesæd hwam þæt sweord geworht, irena cyst, ærest wære, wreoþenhilt ond wyrmfah. | 82 | 60 | 22 |
1518 | 1528 | beowulf.txt | (1518-1528) | (1518-28) | Then the good warrior saw that deep-accursed, mighty sea-witch, giving her a tremendous blow with his battle-bill, his hand not holding back its swing so that the ringed whorls sang a greedy war-chant about her head. Then the guest in the hall discovered that the battle-bright blade did not wish to bite, to harm her life—instead the edge betrayed the prince in his need. It had endured many hand-meets before, often shearing through helmets and the battle-robes of the fated. This was the first time that the glory of the brave treasure was diminished. | Ongeat þa se goda grundwyrgenne, merewif mihtig; mægenræs forgeaf hildebille, hond sweng ne ofteah, þæt hire on hafelan hringmæl agol grædig guðleoð. ða se gist onfand þæt se beadoleoma bitan nolde, aldre sceþðan, ac seo ecg geswac ðeodne æt þearfe; ðolode ær fela hondgemota, helm oft gescær, fæges fyrdhrægl; ða wæs forma sið deorum madme, þæt his dom alæg. | 94 | 59 | 35 |
1501 | 1517 | beowulf.txt | (1501-1517) | (1501-17) | Then she grasped him, seizing the war-fighter in horrible chains, but no sooner could slash open that hale body. She could not penetrate that corselet, the rings shielding him without, the locked limb-guard, with her hateful fingers. Then the sea-wolf dragged him, when she reached the bottom, the ringed prince, to her own home, so he could not, no matter how courageous he was, wield a weapon, but many marvelous sea-monsters harried them while diving with sharp tusks, attacking his battle-sark, terrible beasts tearing. Then the noble warrior saw that he was in some sort of hall of malice, where no water could disturb them, nor, because of that roofed house could the fearful grip of the lake touch them. He saw a fiery light, bright beams, shining brilliantly. | Grap þa togeanes, guðrinc gefeng atolan clommum. No þy ær in gescod halan lice; hring utan ymbbearh, þæt heo þone fyrdhom ðurhfon ne mihte, locene leoðosyrcan laþan fingrum. Bær þa seo brimwylf, þa heo to botme com, hringa þengel to hofe sinum, swa he ne mihte, no he þæs modig wæs, wæpna gewealdan, ac hine wundra þæs fela swencte on sunde, sædeor monig hildetuxum heresyrcan bræc, ehton aglæcan. ða se eorl ongeat þæt he in niðsele nathwylcum wæs, þær him nænig wæter wihte ne sceþede, ne him for hrofsele hrinan ne mehte færgripe flodes; fyrleoht geseah, blacne leoman, beorhte scinan. | 129 | 100 | 29 |
1492 | 1500 | beowulf.txt | (1492-1500) | (1492-1500) | After these words, the chief of the Weder-Geats, didn’t wish to wait for any sort of answer, hurrying with courage. The whelming waters received the battle-warrior. Then it was most of the day before he could perceive the lake-bottom. At once, she discovered that, who had ruled the coursing water, gore-greedy, for hundreds of half-years, grim and gluttonous, that a certain human tested out that monstrous home from above. | æfter þæm wordum Wedergeata leod efste mid elne, nalas ondsware bidan wolde; brimwylm onfeng hilderince. ða wæs hwil dæges ær he þone grundwong ongytan mehte. Sona þæt onfunde se ðe floda begong heorogifre beheold hund missera, grim ond grædig, þæt þær gumena sum ælwihta eard ufan cunnode. | 69 | 47 | 22 |
1473 | 1491 | beowulf.txt | (1473-1491) | (1473-91) | Beowulf spoke, the son of Ecgtheow: “Think now, O famous heir of Halfdane, wise prince, gold-friend of men, now that I am set to go, of what we said before: if I must lose my life at your need, you should always be like a father to me in my dying. Be the firm protector of my thanes and handy companions, if battle should take me. Likewise, send the treasures that you gave to me, my dear Hrothgar, to Hygelac. Then he will able to see, when he perceives all that gold, the lord of the Geats, the son of Hrethel, when he stares upon that bounty, that I found a generous lord, filled with manly virtues, a dispenser of treasure, enjoying it while I could. And let Unferth, the widely-known man, have my hard-edged old heirloom, the wondrous waved sword— with Hrunting I will seek glory, or else death take me!” | Beowulf maðelode, bearn Ecgþeowes: "Geþenc nu, se mæra maga Healfdenes, snottra fengel, nu ic eom siðes fus, goldwine gumena, hwæt wit geo spræcon, gif ic æt þearfe þinre scolde aldre linnan, þæt ðu me a wære forðgewitenum on fæder stæle. Wes þu mundbora minum magoþegnum, hondgesellum, gif mec hild nime; swylce þu ða madmas þe þu me sealdest, Hroðgar leofa, Higelace onsend. Mæg þonne on þæm golde ongitan Geata dryhten, geseon sunu Hrædles, þonne he on þæt sinc starað, þæt ic gumcystum godne funde beaga bryttan, breac þonne moste. Ond þu Unferð læt ealde lafe, wrætlic wægsweord, widcuðne man heardecg habban; ic me mid Hruntinge dom gewyrce, oþðe mec deað nimeð." | 152 | 111 | 41 |
1279 | 1287 | beowulf.txt | (1279-1287) | (1279-87) | Then she came to Heorot, where the Ring-Danes slept throughout the hall. At once there came a change for the noblemen, after Grendel’s mother penetrated inside. Her terror was lesser by a little bit, just as the strength of women, war-terrible women is compared to weaponed men when the bound blade, beaten by hammers, the sword shimmering in blood shears off the boar-crest present upon the helmet, proof against edges. | Com þa to Heorote, ðær Hringdene geond þæt sæld swæfun. þa ðær sona wearð edhwyrft eorlum, siþðan inne fealh Grendles modor. Wæs se gryre læssa efne swa micle swa bið mægþa cræft, wiggryre wifes, be wæpnedmen, þonne heoru bunden, hamere geþuren, sweord swate fah swin ofer helme ecgum dyhttig andweard scireð. | 70 | 51 | 19 |
1288 | 1295 | beowulf.txt | (1288-1295) | (1288-95) | Then in the hall hardened edges were drawn, swords above the seats, many broad shields heaved up in fists. Helmets were not remembered, nor the broad byrnie, when they perceived the terror. She was hurrying, wishing to get out, sheltering her life, when she was discovered. Swiftly she kept one of the noblemen, clutched fast, when she went out to the swamp. | þa wæs on healle heardecg togen sweord ofer setlum, sidrand manig hafen handa fæst; helm ne gemunde, byrnan side, þa hine se broga angeat. Heo wæs on ofste, wolde ut þanon, feore beorgan, þa heo onfunden wæs. Hraðe heo æþelinga anne hæfde fæste befangen, þa heo to fenne gang. | 62 | 49 | 13 |
1296 | 1309 | beowulf.txt | (1296-1309) | (1296-1309) | He was the dearest of warriors to Hrothgar, in his company of comrades between the two seas, a powerful shield-warrior, whom she had slain in his sleep, a fighter profit-firm. Nor was Beowulf there, earlier he had been ordained to another house after the treasure-giving, for the famous Geat. There was an outcry in Heorot. She had seized in all its gore that well-known claw. Cares were renewed, known to that house. Nor was that a good exchange: they had to purchase it on both sides with the lives of friends. Then was the wise king, the grey battle-warrior troubled in his mind, after he knew of the death, that his dearest lordly thane was now unliving. | Se wæs Hroþgare hæleþa leofost on gesiðes had be sæm tweonum, rice randwiga, þone ðe heo on ræste abreat, blædfæstne beorn. Næs Beowulf ðær, ac wæs oþer in ær geteohhod æfter maþðumgife mærum Geate. Hream wearð in Heorote; heo under heolfre genam cuþe folme; cearu wæs geniwod, geworden in wicun. Ne wæs þæt gewrixle til, þæt hie on ba healfa bicgan scoldon freonda feorum. þa wæs frod cyning, har hilderinc, on hreon mode, syðþan he aldorþegn unlyfigendne, þone deorestan deadne wisse. | 117 | 81 | 36 |
1310 | 1320 | beowulf.txt | (1310-1320) | (1310-20) | Quickly Beowulf was hailed to the hall, the victory-blessed man—Together in the dawning day that certain noble came, the well-born champion himself with his troop, where the wise man waited whether All-Wielding God ever wished to effect a reversal after this woeful news. Then he went down the hall, the army-worthy man amid his selected soldiers. The hall-wood clattered until he addressed that wise man wordfully, the lord of the Ingwines, asking him if he had had an pleasant night according to his wish. | Hraþe wæs to bure Beowulf fetod, sigoreadig secg. Samod ærdæge eode eorla sum, æþele cempa self mid gesiðum þær se snotera bad, hwæþer him alwalda æfre wille æfter weaspelle wyrpe gefremman. Gang ða æfter flore fyrdwyrðe man mid his handscale (healwudu dynede), þæt he þone wisan wordum nægde frean Ingwina, frægn gif him wære æfter neodlaðum niht getæse. | 84 | 58 | 26 |
1321 | 1329 | beowulf.txt | (1321-1329) | (1321-29) | Hrothgar spoke, the helmet of the Scyldings: “Do not ask after pleasantries. Sorrow is renewed for the Danish people. Æschere is dead, the older brother of Yrmenlaf, my rune-speaker, and my counselor—he was my shoulder-brother when we at the flame-point guarded our heads, when the foot soldiers ground together, and boar-crests crashed. Such must an earl be, surpassingly good, and such was Æschere! | Hroðgar maþelode, helm Scyldinga: "Ne frin þu æfter sælum! Sorh is geniwod Denigea leodum. Dead is æschere, Yrmenlafes yldra broþor, min runwita ond min rædbora, eaxlgestealla, ðonne we on orlege hafelan weredon, þonne hniton feþan, eoferas cnysedan. Swylc scolde eorl wesan, æþeling ærgod, swylc æschere wæs! | 63 | 46 | 17 |
1330 | 1344 | beowulf.txt | (1330-1344) | (1330-44) | “Here in Heorot a flickering corpse-ghast became his hand-killer. I don’t know where the terrible thing dragged him on her journey back, feast-proud, infamous for her fullness. She revenged that feud in which you killed Grendel last night in your violent capacity, with hard clutches, because he had diminished and destroyed my people for too long a time. He fell in battle, guilty of his life—and now another comes, a mighty malicious harmer, wishing to avenge her son, and she has carried on the feud too far— so it may seem to many of my thanes, who lament in their hearts after the treasure-giving, this hardened heart-sorrow. Now that great hand is gone, which availed your desires in every way. | Wearð him on Heorote to handbanan wælgæst wæfre; ic ne wat hwæder atol æse wlanc eftsiðas teah, fylle gefægnod. Heo þa fæhðe wræc þe þu gystran niht Grendel cwealdest þurh hæstne had heardum clammum, forþan he to lange leode mine wanode ond wyrde. He æt wige gecrang ealdres scyldig, ond nu oþer cwom mihtig manscaða, wolde hyre mæg wrecan, ge feor hafað fæhðe gestæled (þæs þe þincean mæg þegne monegum, se þe æfter sincgyfan on sefan greoteþ), hreþerbealo hearde; nu seo hand ligeð, se þe eow welhwylcra wilna dohte. | 120 | 89 | 31 |
1345 | 1361a | beowulf.txt | (1345-1361a) | (1345-61a) | “I have heard spoken among the land-settlers of my people, the hall-counselors, that they have seen two such march-steppers, very great, holding the moors, strange spirits. The second of them, as clearly as any man could understand, was the image of a woman, the other, misshapen from the form of a man, trod the exile’s path, except that he was bigger than any other man. They named that one Grendel in days of yore, the land-dwellers. They know no father, whether any secret spirit conceived them earlier. They keep watch over an obscure land, wolf-cliffs, windy headlands, twisted paths through the swamp, where the mountain-stream dives down under the cover of crags, the waters under the earth. | Ic þæt londbuend, leode mine, selerædende, secgan hyrde þæt hie gesawon swylce twegen micle mearcstapan moras healdan, ellorgæstas. ðæra oðer wæs, þæs þe hie gewislicost gewitan meahton, idese onlicnæs; oðer earmsceapen on weres wæstmum wræclastas træd, næfne he wæs mara þonne ænig man oðer; þone on geardagum Grendel nemdon foldbuende. No hie fæder cunnon, hwæþer him ænig wæs ær acenned dyrnra gasta. Hie dygel lond warigeað, wulfhleoþu, windige næssas, frecne fengelad, ðær fyrgenstream under næssa genipu niþer gewiteð, flod under foldan. | 117 | 81 | 36 |
1251 | 1258a | beowulf.txt | (1251-1258a) | (1251-58a) | Then they slid into slumber—one paid a heavy price for his evening-rest, as it had happened to them so often when Grendel kept the gold-hall, doing unrighteous deeds, until his end came upon him, a slaying after his sins. It became obvious, widely-known to men, that an avenger still remained after that hateful one, after that war-trouble, for a long time. | Sigon þa to slæpe. Sum sare angeald æfenræste, swa him ful oft gelamp, siþðan goldsele Grendel warode, unriht æfnde, oþþæt ende becwom, swylt æfter synnum. þæt gesyne wearþ, widcuþ werum, þætte wrecend þa gyt lifde æfter laþum, lange þrage, æfter guðceare. | 61 | 41 | 20 |
1361b | 1372 | beowulf.txt | (1361b-1372) | (1361b-72) | “It is not far from here, measured out by miles, that that lake stands, over it hangs thick-barked trees, fast with their roots, overshadowing the water. There one can see every night a malevolent wonder: fire in the water. None of the sons of men who live, though wise, can sound out that lake bottom. Although the heath-stepper is harried by hounds, the stag with strong horns may seek a forested security, fearfully put to flight—he would sooner risk his life on the shore, before he wishes to dive into it to hide his head. That is no good place! | Nis þæt feor heonon milgemearces þæt se mere standeð; ofer þæm hongiað hrinde bearwas, wudu wyrtum fæst wæter oferhelmað. þær mæg nihta gehwæm niðwundor seon, fyr on flode. No þæs frod leofað gumena bearna, þæt þone grund wite; ðeah þe hæðstapa hundum geswenced, heorot hornum trum, holtwudu sece, feorran geflymed, ær he feorh seleð, aldor on ofre, ær he in wille hafelan hydan. Nis þæt heoru stow! | 100 | 67 | 33 |
1383 | 1396 | beowulf.txt | (1383-1396) | (1383-96) | Beowulf made his reply, the son of Ecgtheow: “Sorrow not, wise man! It is always better to avenge a friend rather than mourn too much. Each of us must expect the end of this worldly life— let him who may strive for glory before death. That is best thing for the companied warrior after he is unliving. Arise, warden of the realm, let us proceed quickly and gaze down the going of Grendel’s kindred. I promise this to you: he will never escape us in his sheltering, not in the embrace of earth, nor in the hilly wood, nor even at the bottom of the sea, go where he wishes. Keep your patience this day, among many woes, just as I would expect you to be.” | Beowulf maþelode, bearn Ecgþeowes: "Ne sorga, snotor guma; selre bið æghwæm þæt he his freond wrece, þonne he fela murne. Ure æghwylc sceal ende gebidan worolde lifes; wyrce se þe mote domes ær deaþe; þæt bið drihtguman unlifgendum æfter selest. Aris, rices weard, uton raþe feran Grendles magan gang sceawigan. Ic hit þe gehate, no he on helm losaþ, ne on foldan fæþm, ne on fyrgenholt, ne on gyfenes grund, ga þær he wille. ðys dogor þu geþyld hafa weana gehwylces, swa ic þe wene to." | 126 | 86 | 40 |
1397 | 1407 | beowulf.txt | (1397-1407) | (1397-1407) | The older man leapt up, thanking God, the Mighty Lord, for how this man spoke. Then was his horse bridled for Hrothgar, a steed with braided mane. The wise prince went forth, magnificent. His retinue proceeded by foot, shield-having. Those tracks were clearly visible through the forest-paths, her going over the ground, straightways she had gone across the murky moor, bearing that best of kindred thanes soulless, best of those who defended the homestead with Hrothgar. | Ahleop ða se gomela, gode þancode, mihtigan drihtne, þæs se man gespræc. þa wæs Hroðgare hors gebæted, wicg wundenfeax. Wisa fengel geatolic gende; gumfeþa stop lindhæbbendra. Lastas wæron æfter waldswaþum wide gesyne, gang ofer grundas, þær heo gegnum for ofer myrcan mor, magoþegna bær þone selestan sawolleasne þara þe mid Hroðgare ham eahtode. | 76 | 53 | 23 |
1408 | 1424 | beowulf.txt | (1408-1424) | (1408-24) | Then the children of noblemen climbed up the steep stony cliffs, by narrow ascents and close trails, an unknown road, by precipitous headlands and many homes of water-beasts. He went on ahead, accompanied by few of his counselors, to look for that place, until he suddenly found mountain-trees leaning beyond a hoary stone, a joyless wood. The water was below them, gory and disturbed. To all the Danes, the friends of the Scyldings, it was a blow to their hearts, to many a thane, when it was revealed to all of the earls— when they discovered Æschere’s head at the sea-cliff. The waters roiled with blood as the men looked upon it, heated with gore. Horns were blown at once, a fierce war-song. The foot soldiers all sat down. | Ofereode þa æþelinga bearn steap stanhliðo, stige nearwe, enge anpaðas, uncuð gelad, neowle næssas, nicorhusa fela. He feara sum beforan gengde wisra monna wong sceawian, oþþæt he færinga fyrgenbeamas ofer harne stan hleonian funde, wynleasne wudu; wæter under stod dreorig ond gedrefed. Denum eallum wæs, winum Scyldinga, weorce on mode to geþolianne, ðegne monegum, oncyð eorla gehwæm, syðþan æscheres on þam holmclife hafelan metton. Flod blode weol (folc to sægon), hatan heolfre. Horn stundum song fuslic fyrdleoð. Feþa eal gesæt. | 129 | 80 | 49 |
1425 | 1441a | beowulf.txt | (1425-1441a) | (1425-41a) | They saw there throughout the water, many kinds of serpents, strange sea-dragons trying out their swimming. Likewise, at the lake-cliffs, water-monsters were lying, that often at morning-time slipped off to a sorrowful journey on the sail-road, the wyrms and other wild beasts. They scampered off on their way, bitter and boiling, perceiving the voices the war-horns singing. One of the Geatish warriors ended with the bow the life of one of those wave-swimmers, so that the hardened war-shaft slew it— it was the slower in swimming through the water, when the killing seized it. Quickly it was afflicted cruelly in the waves with boar-spears savagely hooked, attacked with malice, and drawn onto the bank, a wondrous wave-birth. The warriors looked upon the terrifying visitor. | Gesawon ða æfter wætere wyrmcynnes fela, sellice sædracan, sund cunnian, swylce on næshleoðum nicras licgean, ða on undernmæl oft bewitigað sorhfulne sið on seglrade, wyrmas ond wildeor; hie on weg hruron, bitere ond gebolgne, bearhtm ongeaton, guðhorn galan. Sumne Geata leod of flanbogan feores getwæfde, yðgewinnes, þæt him on aldre stod herestræl hearda; he on holme wæs sundes þe sænra, ðe hyne swylt fornam. Hræþe wearð on yðum mid eoferspreotum heorohocyhtum hearde genearwod, niða genæged, ond on næs togen, wundorlic wægbora; weras sceawedon gryrelicne gist. | 124 | 85 | 39 |
1441b | 1454 | beowulf.txt | (1441b-1454) | (1441b-54) | Beowulf made himself ready with noble armor, he didn’t mourn for his life. His battle-byrnie, braided by hand, broad and cleverly flecked, must test out the swimming—it knew how to shelter his bone-coffer, so that the battle-clutch, the wicked grasping of the angry, could not harm his life or his breast. Yet his bright helmet guarded his head, which was to mingle with the lake bottom, to seek the mixture of waters, worthied with treasure, clasped with noble chains, just as the weapon-smith worked it in days gone by, adored with wonders, set it around with boar-images, so that afterwards no sword or weapon could bite into it. | Gyrede hine Beowulf eorlgewædum, nalles for ealdre mearn. Scolde herebyrne hondum gebroden, sid ond searofah, sund cunnian, seo ðe bancofan beorgan cuþe, þæt him hildegrap hreþre ne mihte, eorres inwitfeng, aldre gesceþðan; ac se hwita helm hafelan werede, se þe meregrundas mengan scolde, secan sundgebland since geweorðad, befongen freawrasnum, swa hine fyrndagum worhte wæpna smið, wundrum teode, besette swinlicum, þæt hine syðþan no brond ne beadomecas bitan ne meahton. | 108 | 69 | 39 |
1455 | 1464 | beowulf.txt | (1455-1464) | (1455-64) | It was no mean assistance that the spokesman of Hrothgar lent him in his need, that hefted sword was named Hrunting, it was once the most singular of elder treasures—its edge was iron, spangled with venomous runes, hardened in battle-sweat. It had never been found wanting in warfare, to any man who brandished it in his fists, who dared to undergo the terrifying journey to the folk-stead of his opponent. It was not the first time that it ever had to effect a courageous deed. | Næs þæt þonne mætost mægenfultuma þæt him on ðearfe lah ðyle Hroðgares; wæs þæm hæftmece Hrunting nama. þæt wæs an foran ealdgestreona; ecg wæs iren, atertanum fah, ahyrded heaþoswate; næfre hit æt hilde ne swac manna ængum þara þe hit mid mundum bewand, se ðe gryresiðas gegan dorste, folcstede fara; næs þæt forma sið þæt hit ellenweorc æfnan scolde. | 85 | 59 | 26 |
1465 | 1472 | beowulf.txt | (1465-1472) | (1465-72) | The son of Ecglaf, however, did not remember, crafty in his strength, what he had spoken earlier, drunk on wine, when he loaned that weapon to the better swordsman. He did not dare himself to risk his life under the struggling waves, to perform a daring deed, so he lost glory, fame for valor. It was not like that for the other after he had prepared himself for the fight. | Huru ne gemunde mago Ecglafes, eafoþes cræftig, þæt he ær gespræc wine druncen, þa he þæs wæpnes onlah selran sweordfrecan. Selfa ne dorste under yða gewin aldre geneþan, drihtscype dreogan; þær he dome forleas, ellenmærðum. Ne wæs þæm oðrum swa, syðþan he hine to guðe gegyred hæfde. | 70 | 47 | 23 |
1373 | 1382 | beowulf.txt | (1373-1382) | (1373-82) | “There the roiling waves rise upwards, dark against the heavens, when the wind stirs up hateful weather, until the breeze is blackened and the skies weep. Now is the answer yours again, and yours alone. You do not know yet this place, this awful space, where you can find this many-sinning thing—seek her if you dare! I shall reward this feud with olden treasures and coins, as I did before, with wound gold, if you return from the waves.” | þonon yðgeblond up astigeð won to wolcnum, þonne wind styreþ, lað gewidru, oðþæt lyft drysmaþ, roderas reotað. Nu is se ræd gelang eft æt þe anum. Eard git ne const, frecne stowe, ðær þu findan miht felasinnigne secg; sec gif þu dyrre. Ic þe þa fæhðe feo leanige, ealdgestreonum, swa ic ær dyde, wundnum golde, gyf þu on weg cymest." | 79 | 60 | 19 |
767 | 777 | beowulf.txt | (767-777) | (767-77) | The companied hall dinned. For all the Danes, for the city-dwellers, for every one of the keen, there was a horrifying serving of ale. They were both angry, ruthless and terrible opponents. The building echoed. It was a great wonder that the wine-hall resisted the battle-brave, that it did not just fall to the earth, that house lovely yet mortal, but it was fastened within and without with iron bands, smithed with crafty thoughts. There from the floor was buckled many a mead-bench, as I have heard, made beautiful with gold, where the combatants struggled. | Dryhtsele dynede; Denum eallum wearð, ceasterbuendum, cenra gehwylcum, eorlum ealuscerwen. Yrre wæron begen, reþe renweardas. Reced hlynsode. þa wæs wundor micel þæt se winsele wiðhæfde heaþodeorum, þæt he on hrusan ne feol, fæger foldbold; ac he þæs fæste wæs innan ond utan irenbendum searoþoncum besmiþod. þær fram sylle abeag medubenc monig, mine gefræge, golde geregnad, þær þa graman wunnon. | 95 | 59 | 36 |
755 | 766 | beowulf.txt | (755-766) | (755-66) | His mind was eager to be gone, wishing to flee into the night, to seek the haunts of devils, nor was this a condition such as he had ever before encountered during the days of his life. Then the good man, Hygelac’s kin, was mindful of his evening-speech, stood upright and he locked down on him fast, fingers bursting— the giant monster was moving outside, the noble man stepped with him. The notorious thing wanted to get far away, wherever he could, thenceward on the way, fleeing into the fen-fastness—he knew control of his fingers was grabbed in a grim grip— that was the most grievous journey the harm-seeker had taken to Heorot. | Hyge wæs him hinfus, wolde on heolster fleon, secan deofla gedræg; ne wæs his drohtoð þær swylce he on ealderdagum ær gemette. Gemunde þa se goda, mæg Higelaces, æfenspræce, uplang astod ond him fæste wiðfeng; fingras burston. Eoten wæs utweard; eorl furþur stop. Mynte se mæra, þær he meahte swa, widre gewindan ond on weg þanon fleon on fenhopu; wiste his fingra geweald on grames grapum. þæt wæs geocor sið þæt se hearmscaþa to Heorute ateah. | 113 | 76 | 37 |
745b | 754 | beowulf.txt | (745b-754) | (745b-54) | Nearer forth he stepped inside, grabbing in his claws the mighty-minded warrior at his rest, the fiend stretching out towards him with his hands. Beowulf seized him at once with malicious purpose, setting himself against his arm. Immediately that keeper of crimes realized that never, in all of middle-earth or its distant corners, in any human, had he met a greater hand-grip. He became fearful at heart, in his very soul: he couldn’t get away from this one soon enough! | Forð near ætstop, nam þa mid handa higeþihtigne rinc on ræste, ræhte ongean feond mid folme; he onfeng hraþe inwitþancum ond wið earm gesæt. Sona þæt onfunde fyrena hyrde þæt he ne mette middangeardes, eorþan sceata, on elran men mundgripe maran. He on mode wearð forht on ferhðe; no þy ær fram meahte. | 80 | 53 | 27 |
175 | 188 | beowulf.txt | (175-188) | (175-88) | Sometimes they offered at heathen fanes honoring wooden gods, worshipping wordfully so that the soul-slayer might give solace in the people’s peril. Such was their custom, their heathenish hope. They remembered hell in their inner hearts. They knew not the Measurer, the Deemer of Deeds, nor did they know Lord God— indeed nor could they praise the Helmet of Heaven, the Sovereign of Glory. Woe to those who must through glowering malice shove down their souls into the fathoming fire, who must not expect comfort or one jot of change! It will be well for those who are allowed after their death-day to seek the Lord and beg for protection in the Father’s embrace! | Hwilum hie geheton æt hærgtrafum wigweorþunga, wordum bædon þæt him gastbona geoce gefremede wið þeodþreaum. Swylc wæs þeaw hyra, hæþenra hyht; helle gemundon in modsefan, metod hie ne cuþon, dæda demend, ne wiston hie drihten god, ne hie huru heofena helm herian ne cuþon, wuldres waldend. Wa bið þæm ðe sceal þurh sliðne nið sawle bescufan in fyres fæþm, frofre ne wenan, wihte gewendan; wel bið þæm þe mot æfter deaðdæge drihten secean ond to fæder fæþmum freoðo wilnian. | 114 | 79 | 35 |
189 | 193 | beowulf.txt | (189-193) | (189-93) | And so Halfdane’s son perpetually boiled over these troubled times, nor could the wise warrior avert these woes. Too harsh was this affliction, loathsome and long-lasting, that had come upon his people, the malice-grim vengeance, the greatest of night-terrors. | Swa ða mælceare maga Healfdenes singala seað, ne mihte snotor hæleð wean onwendan; wæs þæt gewin to swyð, laþ ond longsum, þe on ða leode becom, nydwracu niþgrim, nihtbealwa mæst. | 39 | 30 | 9 |
194 | 204 | beowulf.txt | (194-204) | (194-204) | Among his own Hygelac’s thane had heard, good among the Geats, about the deeds of Grendel. He was the strongest of power among mankind in those days of this life, noble and well-grown. He ordered an excellent wave-glider readied for himself—he stated he wished to seek the war-king across the swan-road, the famous prince who stood in need of men. Wise retainers reproached him but little about that mission, though he was loved by them, whetting his mighty spirit and peering at the portents. | þæt fram ham gefrægn Higelaces þegn, god mid Geatum, Grendles dæda; se wæs moncynnes mægenes strengest on þæm dæge þysses lifes, æþele ond eacen. Het him yðlidan godne gegyrwan, cwæð, he guðcyning ofer swanrade secean wolde, mærne þeoden, þa him wæs manna þearf. ðone siðfæt him snotere ceorlas lythwon logon, þeah he him leof wære; hwetton higerofne, hæl sceawedon. | 84 | 59 | 25 |
205 | 209 | beowulf.txt | (205-209) | (205-09) | This outstanding hero had chosen champions from the Geatish tribe, from those he found keenest for battle—one of some fifteen men seeking the surge-wood, the warrior leading the way, a sea-crafty man to the limit of the shore. | Hæfde se goda Geata leoda cempan gecorone þara þe he cenoste findan mihte; XVna sum sundwudu sohte; secg wisade, lagucræftig mon, landgemyrcu. | 38 | 22 | 16 |
210 | 228 | beowulf.txt | (210-228) | (210-228) | The time went forth—the ship was upon the waves, the boat under the sea-cliffs. The warriors made ready, mounting the prow. The currents wound about, stream against the sand. The soldiers carried onto the lap of the ship bright treasures, and magnificent war-fittings. Then men shoved out, warriors on their wanted journey, the wood tightly bound. Then it departed over the wavy sea, hurried by the wind, a float foamy-necked, very much like a bird, until about the same time on the second day, the whorled prow had traversed the distance, so that the sailors saw land, the shining sea-cliffs, the steep hills and the broad promontories. The sea-crossing was sailed, their voyage had ended. Thence they went swiftly, heroes of the Weder-Geats, descended onto dry land, restraining the sea-wood— battle-sarks resounding, their war-weavings— They thanked God that the wave-path was easy for them. | Fyrst forð gewat. Flota wæs on yðum, bat under beorge. Beornas gearwe on stefn stigon; streamas wundon, sund wið sande; secgas bæron on bearm nacan beorhte frætwe, guðsearo geatolic; guman ut scufon, weras on wilsið, wudu bundenne. Gewat þa ofer wægholm, winde gefysed, flota famiheals fugle gelicost, oðþæt ymb antid oþres dogores wundenstefna gewaden hæfde þæt ða liðende land gesawon, brimclifu blican, beorgas steape, side sænæssas; þa wæs sund liden, eoletes æt ende. þanon up hraðe Wedera leode on wang stigon, sæwudu sældon (syrcan hrysedon, guðgewædo), gode þancedon þæs þe him yþlade eaðe wurdon. | 144 | 94 | 50 |
229 | 236 | beowulf.txt | (229-236) | (229-36) | Then from the wall the Scylding warden spotted them, who must keep watch over the wave-cliffs, saw bright bosses borne down the gangway, gear for an army ready for deployment. The desire broke him, in his mind-thoughts to know what men these were. Then he turned himself toward the shore, riding his horse, the thane of Hrothgar, shaking forcefully, strong spear-wood in his hand, inquiring with carefully-chosen words: | þa of wealle geseah weard Scildinga, se þe holmclifu healdan scolde, beran ofer bolcan beorhte randas, fyrdsearu fuslicu; hine fyrwyt bræc modgehygdum, hwæt þa men wæron. Gewat him þa to waroðe wicge ridan þegn Hroðgares, þrymmum cwehte mægenwudu mundum, meþelwordum frægn: | 68 | 41 | 27 |
237 | 243 | beowulf.txt | (237-243) | (237-43) | “Who are you, armor-bearing men, bolstered in your byrnies, who come leading this steep ship over the sea-streets, hither over the waves? For a long while I have been the border guardian, holding shore-watch, that no one hated by the Danes could harm us by land with a shipborne force. | "Hwæt syndon ge searohæbbendra, byrnum werede, þe þus brontne ceol ofer lagustræte lædan cwomon, hider ofer holmas? ...le wæs endesæta, ægwearde heold, þe on land Dena laðra nænig mid scipherge sceðþan ne meahte. | 50 | 33 | 17 |
244 | 251a | beowulf.txt | (244-251a) | (244-51a) | “Never more brazenly have shield-havers landed here—you all know nothing of the leave-words of our war-makers, no covenant from my kinsmen. Never have I seen a greater noble warrior upon the earth, than that one of your number, a man in his war-weaving—he is no back-bencher worthied with weapons—may his singular aspect, his mighty bearing never betray him! | No her cuðlicor cuman ongunnon lindhæbbende; ne ge leafnesword guðfremmendra gearwe ne wisson, maga gemedu. Næfre ic maran geseah eorla ofer eorþan ðonne is eower sum, secg on searwum; nis þæt seldguma, wæpnum geweorðad, næfne him his wlite leoge, ænlic ansyn. | 58 | 41 | 17 |
251b | 257 | beowulf.txt | (251b-257) | (251b-57) | “Now I must be advised of your origins, before you proceed further, lying observers maybe to the land of the Danes, going from here. Now you far-dwellers, sea-sailors, heed my fixed request: to hurry is best revealing whence you have come.” | Nu ic eower sceal frumcyn witan, ær ge fyr heonan, leassceaweras, on land Dena furþur feran. Nu ge feorbuend, mereliðende, minne gehyrað anfealdne geþoht: Ofost is selest to gecyðanne hwanan eowre cyme syndon." | 41 | 33 | 8 |
258 | 266 | beowulf.txt | (258-266) | (258-66) | The eldest among them gave him answer, the leader of the troop unlocking his word-hoard: “We are of the people of the Geats, their kin, and hearth-brethren of Hygelac. My father was well-known to many peoples, a noble first at the front called Ecgtheow. He endured a host of winters before he went his way, aged in the yards—readily will every wise man remember him widely throughout the world. | Him se yldesta ondswarode, werodes wisa, wordhord onleac: "We synt gumcynnes Geata leode ond Higelaces heorðgeneatas. Wæs min fæder folcum gecyþed, æþele ordfruma, Ecgþeow haten. Gebad wintra worn, ær he on weg hwurfe, gamol of geardum; hine gearwe geman witena welhwylc wide geond eorþan. | 69 | 44 | 25 |
267 | 285 | beowulf.txt | (267-285) | (267-85) | “We come with loyal hearts seeking your lord, the son of Halfdane, the bulwark of his people. Be good to us in your instruction! We have a mighty mission to the famous king of the Danes— nor must anything be kept secret here, as I see it. You know too well, if we hear it said truthfully, that among the Scyldings is some sort of scather, an obscure deed-hater who reveals in the dark of night a purposeless malice through his terror, both an infamy and a glutting of corpses. Out of my capacious spirit, I can teach Hrothgar this, good counsel, how he, wise and excellent, can vanquish this fiend, if reversal should come to him, a ready cure for his baleful cares— and his sorrowful wellings become the cooler. Or else, always afterwards, he must suffer his wretched days his close calamity, so long as the best of houses stands there on the tall hill.” | We þurh holdne hige hlaford þinne, sunu Healfdenes, secean cwomon, leodgebyrgean; wes þu us larena god. Habbað we to þæm mæran micel ærende, Deniga frean, ne sceal þær dyrne sum wesan, þæs ic wene. þu wast (gif hit is swa we soþlice secgan hyrdon) þæt mid Scyldingum sceaðona ic nat hwylc, deogol dædhata, deorcum nihtum eaweð þurh egsan uncuðne nið, hynðu ond hrafyl. Ic þæs Hroðgar mæg þurh rumne sefan ræd gelæran, hu he frod ond god feond oferswyðeþ, gyf him edwendan æfre scolde bealuwa bisigu, bot eft cuman, ond þa cearwylmas colran wurðaþ; oððe a syþðan earfoðþrage, þreanyd þolað, þenden þær wunað on heahstede husa selest." | 157 | 107 | 50 |
286 | 300 | beowulf.txt | (286-300) | (286-300) | The warden spoke out, sitting there upon his horse, a fearless servitor: “He who thinks well, a sharp-witted shield-warrior, must ponder the distinction between words and works. I hear that fact, that this company is loyal to the lord of the Scyldings. Go ahead, bearing your weapons and battle-tackle. I shall guide you. Likewise I shall command my junior watchmen to keep your ship on the sand hold this fresh-tarred float against every enemy, with honor, until it carries again whichever beloved man, of your right-performing troop, across the deep currents the wood winding-necked, unto Wederish marches, as it is given to escape, unharmed, the battle-rush.” | Weard maþelode, ðær on wicge sæt, ombeht unforht: "æghwæþres sceal scearp scyldwiga gescad witan, worda ond worca, se þe wel þenceð. Ic þæt gehyre, þæt þis is hold weorod frean Scyldinga. Gewitaþ forð beran wæpen ond gewædu; ic eow wisige. Swylce ic maguþegnas mine hate wið feonda gehwone flotan eowerne, niwtyrwydne nacan on sande arum healdan, oþðæt eft byreð ofer lagustreamas leofne mannan wudu wundenhals to Wedermearce, godfremmendra swylcum gifeþe bið þæt þone hilderæs hal gedigeð." | 106 | 76 | 30 |
301 | 311 | beowulf.txt | (301-311) | (301-11) | So they turned themselves to go. Their float awaited them in its mooring, swaying on the sea, fast at anchor, the broad-bosomed boat. Helmets shone boar-fashioned over cheek-guards, adorned with gold, flecked and fire-hardened—the masked man, war-minded held the life-warden. The men hurried advancing in step, until they could perceive the timbered hall, magnificent and gold-spangled— it was the most famous house under the heavens among all earth-dwellers—and inside waited the king. Its rays of light blazed over a bevy of lands. | Gewiton him þa feran. Flota stille bad, seomode on sale sidfæþmed scip, on ancre fæst. Eoforlic scionon ofer hleorberan gehroden golde, fah ond fyrheard; ferhwearde heold guþmod grimmon. Guman onetton, sigon ætsomne, oþþæt hy sæl timbred, geatolic ond goldfah, ongyton mihton; þæt wæs foremærost foldbuendum receda under roderum, on þæm se rica bad; lixte se leoma ofer landa fela. | 82 | 59 | 23 |
312 | 319 | beowulf.txt | (312-319) | (312-19) | Then the battle-brave soldier showed them the bright house of heady men, so that they could aim straight for it. That certain war-veteran steered his horse away, speaking a word after them: “It’s time for me to turn back—may the All-wielding Father keep you all sound with gracious care on your mission. I wish to resume my watch by the sea against wrathful hosts!” | Him þa hildedeor hof modigra torht getæhte, þæt hie him to mihton gegnum gangan; guðbeorna sum wicg gewende, word æfter cwæð: "Mæl is me to feran; fæder alwalda mid arstafum eowic gehealde siða gesunde. Ic to sæ wille wið wrað werod wearde healdan." | 64 | 43 | 21 |
320 | 332 | beowulf.txt | (320-332) | (320-32) | The street was stone-fretted, guiding the way for the men in rows. Their war-byrnies glittered, hard and hand-linked, shining ringed iron sang in their setting, when they came marching even to the hall, in their terrible war-coats. Wearied from the sea, they set down broad shields, bosses shower-hardened, against the wall of the building, then bent down to benches, sarks resounding, the war-armor of men. Their spears stood, sea-men’s tackle, leaning together, ashen shafts grey at the tip. That metal-bound troop was worthied in weapons. Then a proud noble asked the chosen champions about their lineage: | Stræt wæs stanfah, stig wisode gumum ætgædere. Guðbyrne scan heard hondlocen, hringiren scir song in searwum, þa hie to sele furðum in hyra gryregeatwum gangan cwomon. Setton sæmeþe side scyldas, rondas regnhearde, wið þæs recedes weal, bugon þa to bence. Byrnan hringdon, guðsearo gumena; garas stodon, sæmanna searo, samod ætgædere, æscholt ufan græg; wæs se irenþreat wæpnum gewurþad. þa ðær wlonc hæleð oretmecgas æfter æþelum frægn: | 96 | 66 | 30 |
170 | 174 | beowulf.txt | (170-174) | (170-74) | That was a mighty wrack for the Scyldings’ friend, a breaking of his heart. Often many sat, the capable at council, stewing upon a course what best to do by the much-spirited against terror’s ferocity. | þæt wæs wræc micel wine Scyldinga, modes brecða. Monig oft gesæt rice to rune; ræd eahtedon hwæt swiðferhðum selest wære wið færgryrum to gefremmanne. | 35 | 24 | 11 |
164 | 169 | beowulf.txt | (164-169) | (164-69) | So many enormities the enemy of mankind, loathsome lone-stalker, often perpetrated a shaming more severe. He inhabited Heorot, the dear-studded hall by the darkest night— but he might never approach that gift-seat or its treasures because of the Measurer— he did not know his love. | Swa fela fyrena feond mancynnes, atol angengea, oft gefremede, heardra hynða. Heorot eardode, sincfage sel sweartum nihtum; no he þone gifstol gretan moste, maþðum for metode, ne his myne wisse. | 45 | 30 | 15 |
159 | 163 | beowulf.txt | (159-163) | (159-63) | Yet the monster was persecuting young and old, the dark shadow of death, lurking and entrapping them. In endless night he ruled the misty moors— Us humans don’t even know how to trace the turnings of such hellish secrets. | ac se æglæca ehtende wæs, deorc deaþscua, duguþe ond geogoþe, seomade ond syrede, sinnihte heold mistige moras; men ne cunnon hwyder helrunan hwyrftum scriþað. | 39 | 24 | 15 |
144 | 158 | beowulf.txt | (144-158) | (144-58) | So ruled Grendel, and struggled against the right, alone against all, until the best of halls stood idle. The time was great, a season of twelve winters, that the friend of the Scyldings suffered misery, every woe, the broadest sorrows. Therefore it became an open secret to men, to the sons of humanity, through miserable songs, that Grendel struggled a long while against Hrothgar, wearing malicious hatred, felony and feud for many long years, a perpetual strife—he wished for no accord with any man among the host of the Danes, to turn aside the soul-slaying or settle it with payment, nor need any of the counselors expect to receive bright gifts from the hands of a killer. | Swa rixode ond wið rihte wan, ana wið eallum, oðþæt idel stod husa selest. Wæs seo hwil micel; XII wintra tid torn geþolode wine Scyldinga, weana gehwelcne, sidra sorga. Forðam secgum wearð, ylda bearnum, undyrne cuð, gyddum geomore, þætte Grendel wan hwile wið Hroþgar, heteniðas wæg, fyrene ond fæhðe fela missera, singale sæce, sibbe ne wolde wið manna hwone mægenes Deniga, feorhbealo feorran, fea þingian, ne þær nænig witena wenan þorfte beorhtre bote to banan folmum, | 117 | 76 | 41 |
1 | 3 | beowulf.txt | (1-3) | (1-3) | Listen! We have gathered the glory in days of yore of the Spear-Danes, kings among men: how these warriors performed deeds of courage. | Hwæt! We Gardena in geardagum, þeodcyninga, þrym gefrunon, hu ða æþelingas ellen fremedon. | 23 | 13 | 10 |
4 | 11 | beowulf.txt | (4-11) | (4-11) | Often Scyld Scefing seized the mead-seats from hordes of harmers, from how many people, terrifying noble men, after he was found so needy at the start. He wrangled his remedy after, growing hale under the heavens, thriving honorably, until all of them had to obey him, those scattered about, across the whale-road, must pay him tribute. That was a good king! | Oft Scyld Scefing sceaþena þreatum, monegum mægþum, meodosetla ofteah, egsode eorlas. Syððan ærest wearð feasceaft funden, he þæs frofre gebad, weox under wolcnum, weorðmyndum þah, oðþæt him æghwylc þara ymbsittendra ofer hronrade hyran scolde, gomban gyldan. þæt wæs god cyning! | 61 | 40 | 21 |
12 | 19 | beowulf.txt | (12-19) | (12-19) | To him was conceived an heir in days after, young in the yards, whom God had sent as a comfort to the people—he understood the dire distress they had suffered before, bereft of a king for a long while. Therefore the Lord of Life, the Sovereign of Glory, gave to them worldly honor. Beow was famous—prosperity sprang widely— as Scyld’s son, throughout all the northern lands. | ðæm eafera wæs æfter cenned, geong in geardum, þone god sende folce to frofre; fyrenðearfe ongeat þe hie ær drugon aldorlease lange hwile. Him þæs liffrea, wuldres wealdend, woroldare forgeaf; Beowulf wæs breme (blæd wide sprang), Scyldes eafera Scedelandum in. | 66 | 40 | 26 |
20 | 25 | beowulf.txt | (20-25) | (20-25) | So ought a young man to make good his disposition, gracious payments from the start, even in the lap of his father, so that loyal companions should linger with him in old age, when war comes soon, the people should follow him. By these praiseful deeds one ought to flourish in every tribe everywhere. | Swa sceal geong guma gode gewyrcean, fromum feohgiftum on fæder bearme, þæt hine on ylde eft gewunigen wilgesiþas, þonne wig cume, leode gelæsten; lofdædum sceal in mægþa gehwære man geþeon. | 54 | 30 | 24 |
26 | 31 | beowulf.txt | (26-31) | (26-31) | Then Scyld turned himself away at his given hour— faring full of greatness—into the covenant of the Lord. Then they brought him to the briny beach, his beloved retainers, just as he himself had bidden while he still wielded words, the benefactor of the Scyldings— the first of the land, dear and old, had ruled them a long time. | Him ða Scyld gewat to gescæphwile felahror feran on frean wære. Hi hyne þa ætbæron to brimes faroðe, swæse gesiþas, swa he selfa bæd, þenden wordum weold wine Scyldinga; leof landfruma lange ahte. | 59 | 33 | 26 |
32 | 42 | beowulf.txt | (32-42) | (32-42) | There in the harbor stood a ringed prow, icy and outward-bound, a nobleman’s vessel. Then they laid down their beloved prince, the dispenser of rings, in the bosom of the ship, the notorious by the mast. There were many treasures, brought from far-ways, adornments laden there— I’ve never heard of a ship equipped more fit with war-weapons and battle-shirts, with swords and with sarks. Many treasures lay in his lap, which were supposed to float far away with him into the flood’s keeping. | þær æt hyðe stod hringedstefna, isig ond utfus, æþelinges fær. Aledon þa leofne þeoden, beaga bryttan, on bearm scipes, mærne be mæste. þær wæs madma fela of feorwegum, frætwa, gelæded; ne hyrde ic cymlicor ceol gegyrwan hildewæpnum ond heaðowædum, billum ond byrnum; him on bearme læg madma mænigo, þa him mid scoldon on flodes æht feor gewitan. | 83 | 57 | 26 |
43 | 46 | beowulf.txt | (43-46) | (43-46) | No lesser gifts did they furnish him, than the wealth of their people, more than what they gave him, when they sent him forth at the start, alone over the waves, while still a baby. | Nalæs hi hine læssan lacum teodan, þeodgestreonum, þon þa dydon þe hine æt frumsceafte forð onsendon ænne ofer yðe umborwesende. | 35 | 20 | 15 |
333 | 339 | beowulf.txt | (333-339) | (333-39) | “From where have you all ferried those fretted shields, grey hauberks and masked helmets, this forest of battle-shafts? I am Hrothgar’s herald and servant. Never have I seen many strange men thus, more haughty of bearing. I reckon that you come in pride, hardly in exile, but seeking Hrothgar out of majestic intentions.” | "Hwanon ferigeað ge fætte scyldas, græge syrcan ond grimhelmas, heresceafta heap? Ic eom Hroðgares ar ond ombiht. Ne seah ic elþeodige þus manige men modiglicran. Wen ic þæt ge for wlenco, nalles for wræcsiðum, ac for higeþrymmum Hroðgar sohton." | 53 | 39 | 14 |
47 | 52 | beowulf.txt | (47-52) | (47-52) | Nevertheless they set over him a golden standard, high over his head, letting the seas bear him, giving him to the spear-waves—their hearts grieving, minds mourning. No man knows how to say truly, among the hall-wise or heroes under heaven, who took in those treasures. | þa gyt hie him asetton segen geldenne heah ofer heafod, leton holm beran, geafon on garsecg; him wæs geomor sefa, murnende mod. Men ne cunnon secgan to soðe, selerædende, hæleð under heofenum, hwa þæm hlæste onfeng. | 45 | 36 | 9 |
64 | 73 | beowulf.txt | (64-73) | (64-73) | Then was Hrothgar given success in war, praises in battle, so that his kinsfolk eagerly obeyed him until the youth grew hardy, a great company of warriors. It occurred to his mind that he wished to command his men to construct a great mead-house, the hall of all halls— what the children of men had always asked for— and there within, all would be given, the young and the old, such as God had granted him, everything except the common lands and the lives of men. | þa wæs Hroðgare heresped gyfen, wiges weorðmynd, þæt him his winemagas georne hyrdon, oðð þæt seo geogoð geweox, magodriht micel. Him on mod bearn þæt healreced hatan wolde, medoærn micel, men gewyrcean þonne yldo bearn æfre gefrunon, ond þær on innan eall gedælan geongum ond ealdum, swylc him god sealde, buton folcscare ond feorum gumena. | 86 | 55 | 31 |
74 | 85 | beowulf.txt | (74-85) | (74-85) | Then I have learned it far and wide that the work was proclaimed to the many tribes throughout this middle-earth, that they must adorn that folk-stead. And so it happened in his time, immediately among men, that it was completely finished, the greatest of halls—he created for it the name Heorot, he who had the widest authority of his words. He left no promises unfulfilled and dealt out rings, riches at his feastings. The hall towered there, high and horn-wide, awaiting the whelming flames, the hateful tongues. It was not so long yet until the blade-hatred must awaken sworn in-laws after their slaughtering malice. | ða ic wide gefrægn weorc gebannan manigre mægþe geond þisne middangeard, folcstede frætwan. Him on fyrste gelomp, ædre mid yldum, þæt hit wearð ealgearo, healærna mæst; scop him Heort naman se þe his wordes geweald wide hæfde. He beot ne aleh, beagas dælde, sinc æt symle. Sele hlifade, heah ond horngeap, heaðowylma bad, laðan liges; ne wæs hit lenge þa gen þæt se ecghete aþumsweorum æfter wælniðe wæcnan scolde. | 104 | 69 | 35 |
86 | 98 | beowulf.txt | (86-98) | (86-98) | Then wretchedly a mighty monster suffered for a space, he who dwelt in darkness, every day hearing the joy loud in the hall. The voice of harps was there and the ringing song of the scop. One spoke who knew best, of the creation of men, relating from long before. He told that the Almighty made the earth, a shining-bright plain, so surrounded by waters. He established both sun and moon, victorious and triumphant, the lamps of light for those living on land, and ornamented all the corners of the earth with limbs and leaves—he also shaped life itself in all kinds of creatures which quickly scurry about. | ða se ellengæst earfoðlice þrage geþolode, se þe in þystrum bad, þæt he dogora gehwam dream gehyrde hludne in healle; þær wæs hearpan sweg, swutol sang scopes. Sægde se þe cuþe frumsceaft fira feorran reccan, cwæð þæt se ælmihtiga eorðan worhte, wlitebeorhtne wang, swa wæter bebugeð, gesette sigehreþig sunnan ond monan leoman to leohte landbuendum ond gefrætwade foldan sceatas leomum ond leafum, lif eac gesceop cynna gehwylcum þara ðe cwice hwyrfaþ. | 108 | 71 | 37 |
99 | 114 | beowulf.txt | (99-114) | (99-114) | So these noble warriors lodged in their delights blissfully — until their lonely opponent made evil upon them, the fiend from hell. That ferocious spirit was named Grendel, the notorious border-strider, who held the moors, the swampy stronghold, the lair of water-monsters, an unhappy creature, keeping them a long while, since the Shaper had condemned him as the kin of Cain—that killing had the Eternal Lord avenged, after the man had struck down Abel. Cain rejoiced not in that felony, but he banished him far away, the Measurer for those wicked deeds, from the kindred of men. From there was conceived all sorts of monstrous things, ogres and elves and revenants, likewise the giants who struggled against God for many ages— who gave them back their just deserts. | Swa ða drihtguman dreamum lifdon eadiglice, oððæt an ongan fyrene fremman feond on helle. Wæs se grimma gæst Grendel haten, mære mearcstapa, se þe moras heold, fen ond fæsten; fifelcynnes eard wonsæli wer weardode hwile, siþðan him scyppend forscrifen hæfde in Caines cynne. þone cwealm gewræc ece drihten, þæs þe he Abel slog; ne gefeah he þære fæhðe, ac he hine feor forwræc, metod for þy mane, mancynne fram. þanon untydras ealle onwocon, eotenas ond ylfe ond orcneas, swylce gigantas, þa wið gode wunnon lange þrage; he him ðæs lean forgeald. | 128 | 91 | 37 |
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