The Nicors of the night; dreed pain; but quelled the foe and gave

Requital for the wrongs and woes that Weder folk had tholed.

And now with Grendel, with the fiend, the monster will I hold

Combat alone.

Danes !

O Scyldings' lord! O ruler of Bright

I ask of thee this only boon-that thou, O shield of

thanes !

Kind lord of men! wilt not forbid, now I have come

thus far,

That with my band of earls alone-these valiant men of war

Yet more! I've heard, so bold is he, Weapons the monster heedeth not, and therefore (so

on me

May Higelac my lord look blithe!) in fight I scorn to bear

Broad shield or yellow targe or sword; but with my handgrip fair

I'll clutch the fiend and seek his life-foeman alone 'gainst foe

And he whom death shall take away the doom of God shall know!

If he shall conquer, unaffrayed will he-I know it

well

In this war-hall the Goths devour as oft on Danes he

fell; *

* Danes' here in the original Hreðmen.

Then if death taketh me thou wilt not need to hide

Grendel will have me, drenched in gore; my bleeding

body, dead,

He'll bear away in hope of feast; the fiend who walks

alone

Will ruthless eat,—the moorland wide shall be my burial stone!

Not long for me thy kindly cares! But if in war I fail Send Higelac my battle-weed, this goodly shirt of

mail,

That guards my breast. 'Tis Hrethel's gift, and 'twas by Wayland made.

Weird ever goeth as she must!

Then spoke the Scyldings' aid : "Thou com'st to us, Beowulf friend! for honour

'gainst the foe;

Great was the fight thy father fought, who Hatholaf

laid low

'Mong Wylfings, when the Weder-kin refused him for their head;

Thence to the Danes, the Scylding folk, o'er heaving seas he sped,

When first in youth I ruled the Danes, and swayed the kingdom wide

And treasure-hold of men. Ere then my Heregar had

died,

My elder brother, Halfdene's son-a better man than

me!

*i.e. bury me.' See Note F.

And then with gifts I healed the feud, and o'er the

broad-backed sea

Send to the Wylfing treasures good and bound him fast by oaths.

To tell the tale to any man is grief my spirit

loathes,

The shame and deadly scathe that Grendel's evil heart has done

To Heorot and to me! My thanes are minished, one

by one;

By Grendel's horror Weird has swept the warrior band

away.

Yet that proud monster from his work God easily

can stay!

Over their ale-cups many a time they boasted— drunk with beer

These mighty men, that they would bide, within the mead-hall here,

With sharp-edged swords for Grendel's raid, and at the morning tide

When daylight broke, this lordly house was seen with blood all dyed,

The blood of slaughter in the hall-the benches steeped with gore

Fewer my faithful knights beloved, and death had taken more!

Sit now to meat thou famed in war! and to thy heart's content

Take thou thine ease."

Together then the Gothic warriors went,

And on the bench prepared for them in hall, in all

their pride

They sat them down-the bold of heart. A thane their needs supplied

Who bore a flagon goodly chased and poured the brewage clear;

And sweet the while was minstrel's song, and joyous was the cheer

Of Danes and Goths in Heorot there, a goodly

company.

IV.

HUNFERD AND BEOWULF.

Hunferd the son of Ecglaf spoke-at Hrothgar's feet sat he

And thus let loose his secret grudge; (for much did him displease

The coming of Beowulf now-bold sailor o'er the seas. To none on earth would he allow a greater fame

'mong men

Beneath the heavens than his): "Art thou the same Beowulf then,

Who swam a match with Breca once upon the waters

wide,

When ye vainglorious searched the waves, and risked

your lives for pride

Upon the deep? Nor hinder you could any friend

or foe

From that sad venture.

waters row;

Then ye twain did on the

Ye stretched your arms upon the flood; the sea-ways ye did mete;

O'er billows glided-with your hands them tossedthough fiercely beat

The rolling tides and wintry waves! Seven nights long toiled ye

In waters' might; but Breca won-he stronger was than thee!

And to the Hathorams* at morn washed shoreward

by the flood,

Thence his loved native land he sought-the Brondings' country good,

And stronghold fair, where he was lord of folk and burg and rings.

Right well 'gainst thee his vaunt he kept. But yet I ween worse things

May now befall thee, (doughtily as thou in shocks

of fight

Hast ever done), if thou dar'st bide near Grendel for a night!"

Beowulf spoke : "Lo! many things, friend Hunferd,

drunk with beer,

Thou tell'st of Breca and his deed! The truth now

shalt thou hear,

* The inhabitants of that part of Norway called formerly Raumaríki, now Romsdal.