Then for the sons of Goths a bench was cleared,
And they together through the beer-hall went
To take their seats rejoicing; and the thane
Who bare the twisted ale-cup in his hand
Held to his duty, poured the brightly sweet,
At times the bard clear-voiced in Heorot sang,
So there was joy of noble Danes and Goths.

Then follows in the poem talk over the feast. Hunferth, the son of Ecglaf, who sat at the feet of Hrothgar, twitted Beowulf with failure when he matched himself on the wide sea with Breca for a five-day swimming match. Beowulf, asserting himself, told how he and Breca, being youths together, braved the perils of the sea, added a taunt against Hunferth that he was the murderer of his own brother, and said that if he had the spirit he boasted of, he would not have suffered Grendel to prevail against his prince. But Grendel had found that he need not care about the Danes. A Goth now shall give him unexpected battle. The rough taunts and rough boasting over the ale-cup were but after the fashion of the heroes of a half-barbarous time; they gave confidence in the courage of the boaster. It rejoiced Hrothgar, hoary and famed in war, as he sat on the gift-stool; there was laughter of men, the noise of music, talk was pleasant. Wealtheow, Hrothgar's queen, went forth and greeted the men in the hall; first she gave the cup to Hrothgar and bade him be blithe at the beer-drinking, then she went through the hall to old and young, and when she came to Beowulf with the mead-cup greeted him, and thanked God who had given her trust in the help of man.

Beowulf, the son of Ecgtheow, spake: "I meant,
When in the boat set with my warrior band
I mounted the deep sea, that I alone

Would work your people's will, or yield my life,
Fast bound in the foe's grip. I shall use strength
Nobly, or in this mead-hall bide my end."

Those words, the Goth's proud speech, well pleased
the woman,

The people's joyful queen, adorned with gold,
Went to her lord, she sat. Then as before
Bold words were spoken in the hall with joy,
The people raised the cry of victory,
Till suddenly the son of Heälfdené
Prepared to seek his rest. Strife was ordained,
He knew, against the wretch, in the high hall,
After the sunlight left them, and dusk night,
The shadow helm of all created things,
Came rolling onward, wan, beneath the clouds.
The whole band rose, men greeted one another,
Hrothgar so greeted Beowulf, bade him Hail,
Gave power over the wine-hall, said thereto :
"Never before, since I raised hand or shield,
Gave I to any man the Dane's strong hall

As now to thee. Have thou and hold thou now
The best of houses, have thy fame in mind,
Show thy great strength, keep watch against the foes.
Thou shall not want all things to thy desire,
If thou complete this work of strength and live."
Then the defence of Scyldings, Hrothgar, went
With all his warriors, from the hall, would seek
Wealtheow, the queen, his bedfellow. Men say

The glory of kings had against Grendel set
A guard over the hall, about the chief of Danes
This was his separate office, to keep watch
Against the eoten.' But the chief of Goths
Gladly put trust in his great might alone,
In the Creator's favour. Then he doffed
His iron coat of mail, helm from his head;
His well-forged sword, choicest of blades, he gave
To an attendant thane, bade him take charge
Over the war gear. Then Beowulf the Goth
Spake a few words of boast ere on his bed
The good chief stept: "I do not count myself
Feebler than Grendel for the toils of war.
Therefore not with my sword, though easily
I may, will I put him to sleep, deprive
Of life. He knows not of that way of war,
To strike at me again, hew on my shield,
Though great his fame for deeds of enmity.
But we two shall to-night do without swords,
If he dare seek war weaponless, and then
Wise God give glory as seems meet to him."

The warrior bowed him, to the bolster laid
His cheek, the earl's face, and in the hall around
Many an eager seaman bowed to rest.
Not one thought he should ever seek again
The home he loved, his people, the free borough
Where he was fostered, for they had heard tell
How in that wine-hall bloody death had seized
On former nights too many of the Danes.
But to the Weder's people the Lord gave
The woof of battle-speed, comfort and aid,
So that by strength of one, his single powers,
All overcame their foe. Sooth is it shown
That mighty God has ever ruled mankind.

In the wan night the shadow-walker came.
The guards who should defend that pinnacled hall
Slept, all but one. For it was known to men
That the foul spoiler might not drag them forth,—
Since the Lord willed not,-under shade of night,
But he in wrath was watching for attack,
Waited with swelling heart the strife's ordeal.

Then from the moor, under the shroud of mist,
Came Grendel striding. Wrath of God he bare.
Scather of men, he thought in the high hall

To snare one of man's race. He went under the clouds

Till he saw clearly the gold-hall of men,

The wine-house, gay with cups; nor then first sought
The home of Hrothgar. In his life-days
Never before or since a bolder man

He found, or hall thanes. Journeying to the house
Came then the man divided from all joys;
Quickly he rushed upon the door made fast

With bands fire - hardened; with his hands broke through,

For he was swollen with rage, the house's mouth.
Then soon upon the many-coloured floor

The foe trod; on he went with ireful mood,

Came from his eyes a fierce light likest fire.1
He saw within the hall a kindred band
Of many men asleep, a company

Of comrades, all together; then he laughed :
For the dire monster thought before day came
To part life from the body of each one.
Hope of a glut of food had grown in him,
Yet it was not his fate that he should eat

After that night more of the race of men.
Hygelac's strong kinsman saw how the foul foe
Would make his sudden grasps; nor meant the wretch
Delay, for at the first he swiftly seized

A sleeper, slit him unaware, bit through
His bone-case, from his veins drank blood, and soon,
Swallowing in large lumps, had eaten all

The dead man, feet and hands. Then nearer, forth
He stepped, laid hands on the stout-hearted chief
Upon his couch. But he against the foe
Stretched out a hand, soon knew his foul intent,
And fastened on his arm. Herdsman of mischiefs,
Soon he found, that on earth in all its parts
A stronger hand-grip never had he felt.
Fearful in mind and soul, he sought escape,
But not for that came he the sooner thence.
He to his lurking-place would fly, would seek
The wild throng of the devils; his life-days
Had known before no tug so sharp as this.
Then Hygelac's good kinsman bore in mind
His evening speech, stood upright, grasped him hard;
His fingers burst, outward the eoten was.

The earl advanced more. The bold champion thought
Whether he might not so get room to escape,
Fly to his fen pool, but his fingers' strength,
In the fierce grip, he knew. The harmful spoiler
Found that his path to Heorot led to grief.
The great hall thundered, for all Danes who dwelt
There fortified, for all the brave men, earls,
The ale was spilt; that the wine-hall withstood,
The fair house of the world, the shock of war,
That it fell not in ruin, was great wonder.
But it was strengthened against that with bands,
Within, without, of iron, cunning work

Of smiths. There many a mead-bench, gold adorned,
Was tilted from its sill, as I've heard tell;

Old counsellors of the Scyldings never thought

That any man in hate and slaughter stained

Could break it or unclose it by his craft,

But only by the hot embrace of fire.

Uprose a cry, new, urgent; a dire fear

Fell on the North Danes, on each one of those
Who from the wall heard the wild whoop, the chant
Of horror sung by God's antagonist,
Song of no victory, the thrall of hell
Wailing in pain; too tightly he was held
By him then strongest of all living men.
The help of earls would not for anything
Let go that deadly guest while living, thought
His life-days of no use to any man.
Then many an earl of Beowulf's drew his sword,
His ancient heritage, and would defend,

If so he might, the prince's life. They knew not,
These eager sons of battle, when they joined

1 Likest fire. First-English poetry contained few similes. This is only the second in Beowulf (the former-page 3, col. 2, line 8 from bottom-compared the movement of Beowulf's vessel to that of a bird), and in the whole of the long poem there are only five.

The strife, and sought to hew on every side,
To seek his soul, that no sword upon earth,
Choicest of blades, could touch the wicked fiend.
But he all martial weapons had foresworn,
Every edged blade. And he was wretchedly
On that day of this life of men to die,
His ghost far journeying to serve the fiends.
Then he who erst against the race of man
In mirthful mood had wrought out many crimes;
He was God's foe, found that his body failed
To serve him, because Hygelac's bold kinsman
Had him in hand. The other's life to each
Was hateful; the fell wretch endured sore pain,
A wide wound on his shoulder could be seen;
The sinews snapped, the bone enclosures burst,
Glory of battle was to Beowulf given;

To his fen shades, death-struck, must Grendel flee,
Seek a sad home, well knowing that life's end
Was come, the number of his days was past.

So he who had come from afar fulfilled

In deadly fight the will of all the Danes;
Wise and stout-hearted, had cleansed Hrothgar's
hall,

Saved it from malice. Glad in his night's work,
His fame for strength, the chieftain of the Goths
Had served the Danes according to his boast,
Healing the deep-set griefs they had endured,
No slight affliction, borne through hardest need.
Clear was the token of this, when the stout chief
Laid down hand, arm, and shoulder, there was all
The grip of Grendel under that great roof.

Then in the morning many came from far and near to see the wonder. They followed the track of blood left by the monster to the Nickers' Mere, which they found surging with foul blood; the death-doomed had dyed it as he plunged down to his fen shelter. Then from the Mere glad comrades, old and young, went back exulting to ride their horses. They exalted the name of Beowulf, but in nothing they blamed the glad Hrothgar, for that was a good king. At times, where the ground was smooth, they raced their fallow steeds. At times a thane laden with gloryings of song, who had many an old tale in memory, found a new theme with truth in it. He told of the voyage of Beowulf, and skilfully put into words the story of his enterprise. The poet, who shaped for chanting in the halls of chiefs and to the people in their common gatherings this tale of Beowulf, here blends with his song memories of older legends as he goes on to realise the singing of the gleemen who quickened joy after the victory of Beowulf over Grendel. There is a snatch of the Volsunga saga," the old Scandinavian legend that has yielded matter to the German "Nibelungenlied;" and the form of its incidents must have been that of the old tale as it was told before the days even of the "Edda" and the "Volsunga saga," thus giving indirect evidence of the remote origin of our First-English legend of Beowulf. Warriors came to the hall to see the wonder of the giant's arm; the king came from his bower, the queen among her maidens. Hrothgar, thanking God, declared that he would thenceforth look on Beowulf as a son, and that he should not want treasure within his gift. Beowulf told his

achievement. Hunferth, the son of Ecglaf, boasted less when the nobles saw over the high roof the hand and fingers of the foe, which, instead of nails, had handspurs likest steel."

Then Heorot was prepared for feasting; tapestries were spread along the walls. The dwelling was much shattered; bands were loosened, hinges 1ent, but the roof was sound. Hrothgar went to the feast with the warriors. Beside him was his nephew Hrothulf (the Rolf Kraka of Northern legend), son of his brother Halga. Then Hrothgar gave to Beowulf a golden banner, with chased hilt, helmet, breastplate, and a costly sword. Then were led in eight horses, one with a richly adorned saddle, the war-seat of the high king. To Beowulf all were given, horses and weapons. To each of Beowulf's companions who had crossed the sea with him Hrothgar gave a rich present, given as he sat on the mead-bench; and he ordered that gold should be paid for the one whom Grendel had slain, as he would have slain more had not fate and the prowess of man prevented. Again the gleemen sang, and again within this old poem, when it recalls strains of the older bards, there lies, in this place at some length, a fragment of another song that tells the fight at Finnesburg. The lay was sung, sport was again loud as the cups were filled. Then Wealtheow came forth to where Hrothgar and Hrothulf sat yet at peace together. She offered the cup to Hrothgar, bade him be gold-friend of men and liberal to the Goths. Then follows in the poem a touch of the mother's pleading for her boys. Heorot is saved, and when the old Hrothgar shall die there will be a realm to pass to her children Hrethric and Hrothmund. To Hrothgar, who has Hrothulf at his side, she says:

2

"I know that my glad Hrothulf will maintain
The youth with honour, if, O Seyldings' friend,
Thou leave the world before him. He with good
Will pay back to our boys, knowing what honour
We two have, for his pleasure and good fame,
When he once was a child with us, paid him."
Then turned she by the bench where her two sons,
Hrethric and Hrothmund, sat among the young
Of all the warriors, to where near them sat
The good chief of the Goths, Beowulf. To him
The cup was borne--

Here each is true to other, mild of mood,
Faithful to his liege lord; the thanes are one,
The people ready; the well drunken men
Do as I bid." She went then to her seat.
There was of feasts the choicest, men drank wine,
They knew not fate, or grim calamity
That often has befallen many an earl.

This utterance of the mother's heart in commending her young sons to the care of the two men who have power to usurp their rights after the death of their father, who is already stooping to the grave, adds a fine touch of nature to the picture of the feast. Here ends what some regard as the whole of a tale to which other adventures afterwards were added-the fight with Grendel's mother, and the fight in which Beowulf received his death-wound. But the adventure with Grendel's mother does not well bear separation from the other story:

men drank wine,

They knew not fate, or grim calamity
That often has befallen many an earl.
When evening came, and Hrothgar to his court,
The king, went to his rest, unnumbered earls,
As often aforetime, guarded the hall.
They bared the benchboard; it was overspread
With beds and bolsters. Of the feasters one,
Ready and doomed, lay on his bed of rest.
They set their wooden war-shields at their heads,
Over each hero on the bench were seen
His helm of war, ringed war-shirt, and stout spear.
It was their usage to be prompt for war,
At home or in the field, where'er they slept.
Whenever their great lord had need of them
His men were ready. Then they sank to sleep.
One paid a sore price for his evening's rest,
As oft had happened to them since the hall
Was held by Grendel, till death stayed his sins.
Then it was seen, made clear to all, that yet
There lived one to avenge the foe, long time
After the toil of battle-Grendel's mother.

When the Danes slept throughout the hall, she came to Heorot. When she rushed in, swords and shields were snatched from over the benches, helmets and war-shirts were forgotten. Dread of a woman is less than of an armed man, with the boar above his helmet, and the smithied sword bloodstained, whose sharp edge cleaves. In haste to save her life she seized one of the Athelings, dearest of Hrothgar's warriors, as she hurried out to the fen. Beowulf was not there, for after the gifts of honour another sleeping-place had been assigned to him. Then was lament again in Heorot. She took, covered with blood, the well-known hand. Hrothgar was angered by the death of his chief thane, Æschere, his dearest friend. Beowulf suddenly was sent for to his chamber, and to him Hrothgar told at length his trouble. From the home of Grendel had risen Grendel's mother.

"The country people talking in my hall

I have heard say that they upon the moor

Have seen two striders of the border-land, Strange beings, of which one, as they could tell

Most nearly, was in woman's likeness, one

A wandering man, larger than other men,
Whom the old dwellers on the land named Grendel.

They know not of a father, whether more

Had been of those dark spirits. They inhabit
The dim land that gives shelter to the wolf,
The windy headlands, perilous fen paths,

Where, under mountain mist, the stream flows down,
And floods the ground. Not far hence, but a mile,
The mere stands, over which hang death-chill groves,
A wood fast-rooted overshades the flood;
There every night a ghastly miracle

Is seen, fire in the water. No man knows,

Not the most wise, the bottom of that mere.

The firm-horned heath-stalker, the hart, when pressed,
Wearied by hounds, and hunted from afar,
Will rather die of thirst upon its bank
Than bend his head to it. It is unholy.
Dark to the clouds its yeasty waves mount up
When wind stirs hateful tempest, till the air
Grows dreary, and the heavens pour down tears.
Again now counsel is with thee alone,

Thou knowest not yet the spot, the place of daring
Where thou may'st find this wicked being. Seek it:
If thou be bold, I recompense the strife
With gifts, old treasures, as I did before,
If thou return to us."

Then Ecgtheow's son,

Beowulf, replied to him, "Wise man, sorrow not,
Better for each to avenge his friend than mourn.
An end to this world's life awaits us all;
Let him who can, do high deeds ere he die,
So will be happiest when the warrior's dead.
Guard of the realm arise, and let us go
Quickly upon the track of Grendel's kin,
I promise thee that not in the deep sea
Shall she escape, nor in embrace of earth,
Nor in the wood upon the mountain-side,
Nor on the sea's broad bed, go where she will.
Have patience, for to-day, in all thy woes,
This I expect of thee."

Then the old chief

Leapt up, gave thanks to God the mighty lord,
For what the man had said. For Hrothgar then
A horse was bitted-

But the next passage in the poem I translate into a measure that repeats the form of the original. First-English was written to be chanted to a rude stringed instrument, and transmitted from lip to lip by memory. There was no rhyme, or equal numbering of syllables, but accent suited to the thought, and alliteration, or repeating through two half-lines of the same consonant at the beginning of three words of chief importance. In the first of the two half-lines there were two words with the repeated initial letter, and in the second halfline there was one. Alliteration of a word with a prefix to it was on the main word, not on the prefix, as is shown in the lines:

A horse bitted,

With curling crest.
The careful prince
Went worthily;

Warriors marched also
Shining with shields.

Then there were shown
Tracks of the troubler,
Telling plainly

Her way through the waste,

As they went forward
On the murky moor,-
With the murdered thane

Of Hrothgar's heroes,
Home defenders,
Best and bravest
Brought to his end.
Then they threaded,
Athelings' sons,
Steep, stony gorges,
A strait road,
Weird, narrow way,
Wastes unknown,
Naked, high nesses,
Nicker houses1 many.
Before all Beowulf

And some of the bravest
Went on the way
Wise men

To explore the plain,
Till, planted leaning
Over the rough rock,
He reached suddenly
An unwinsome wood.
Water stood under it,
Ghastly with gore;
It was grief for all Danes,
A sight of sorrow

For the Scyldings' friends;

A horror for heroes,
When the head of Eschere

Was found by the steep flood

Floated ashore.

The water welled blood.

The warriors gazed

On the hot heart's blood,
While the horn sang
A doleful death-note.2

The band all sat. They saw along the water many of the worm kind, strange sea-dragons; also in clefts of the nesses Nickers lying. These hurried away,

1 Nicker houses. The nicker was a water-goblin who in old Scandinavian legends rose out of lakes in the shape of a grey water-horse, and was known by the inverted marks of its hoof. It could transform itself into many shapes. From the association of nickers with lakes, a poetical Norse name for a lake was nykraborg, nickerborough. The word nick is thought by some to be allied to the nep of Neptune. The word is common in Teutonic languages, and is applied in English popular speech as Old Nick to the Devil.

2 This bit of translation is taken from the first volume of my "English Writers." From this point also to the end of the second adventure I will tell the tale as I told it sixteen years ago. In the volume of this Library illustrating "Shorter English Poems," pages 8-11, is an Anglo-Saxon poem, "The Fortunes of Men," which I have endeavoured to reproduce in the original measure; and there is another, "The Seafarer," on pages 13-15 of "Illustrations of English Religion.”

bitter and angry, as soon as they heard the warhorn. One the Goth's lord killed with an arrow. Quickly on the wave he was, with boar-spears, sharply hooked and drawn on the ness.

His

Beowulf clad himself in weeds of a chief. warbyrnie, twisted with hands, wide and cunningly dyed, must know the deeps. But the white helm guarded his head made worthy with riches, girt with lordly links, beset with the likeness of swine, that no brand might bite into it. Nor least of aids was the hafted sword, Hrunting its name, lent him by Hrothgar's speaker. Its edge was iron, tainted with poison twigs, hardened with warriors' blood. Ecglaf's son bore not in mind what he had said drunken with wine, when he lent the weapon to a better swordwielder. Himself durst not meet death under the stir of waters. Beowulf spake, "Gold-friend of men, I am ready. If I die for thy need, be a helper to my fellow-thanes, and send, dear Hrothgar, to Hygelac the gold thou hast given me, that the Goth's lord may know I found a good bestower of rings. And let the far-famed man have my sword Hunferth, the old relic. I will with Hrunting work my doom." He awaited no answer, the sea-wave

took the warlike man.

It was a day's space ere he sank to ground. Then she who had dwelt in the flood, grim and greedy, for a hundred years, saw a man coming from above into the land of wonders, grasped at him and clutched the warrior. But she could not break his ring mail with her fingers. The sea-wolf bore the prince of rings to her dwelling, many a sea-beast with its war tusks broke his mail. Then the warrior found himself in a roofed hall, where was no water. A pale beam of firelight shone, and then he saw the ground wolf, the mighty mere wife. He struck hard with his war-sword. The edge failed. The angry fighter cast upon the earth the twisted brand and trusted in his strength, the might of his hand-grip. So shall a man do when he thinks to gain in battle lasting praise, nor careth for his life. Then Grendel's mother seized the Goth's lord by the shoulder. Fearless he dragged her till she bowed. She caught him quickly with fierce grasps, and threw him weary, pressed him down and drew her seax, broad, brown-edged. She would avenge her son. The braided breast-net on his shoulder withstood point and edge.

He saw among the weapons a huge bill, an old sword of the Eotens, work of giants, greater than any other man might bear forth to the game of war. The Scyldings' warrior stood up and seized the knotted hilt, fast and fierce he struck with the brand upon her neck, her bone rings brake, the bill went through her flesh, she sank on the ground. The sword was gory, the beam still shone, mild as the light from heaven's candle. He looked through that dwelling and saw Grendel lying lifeless. His huge trunk sprang far away, when he cut off the head. But then behold! that sword melted away as ice in the hot venomous blood; there was left only the hilt. Beowulf took none of the wealth that he saw he took only the giant's head and the rich sword-hilt.

The men who were with Hrothgar looking on the

water saw it mixed with new blood. They said this was a warning that the Atheling was slain. Then came the noon of day, and the bold Scyldings left the headland, sick of mood, gazing upon the mere, wishing, not weening, to see their dear lord. Forthwith he was afloat; he dived up through the water, came swimming to land, glad in the burthen he brought with him. The stout band of thanes loosed quickly his helm and war-shirt, the stream trickled down of water stained with gore. When they went forth from the seashore, four men could hardly bear upon the deadly stake the head of Grendel.

So they came to the hall, fourteen brave Goths marching with their lord over the meadows. The worthiest of thanes came to greet Hrothgar; then Grendel's head was borne by the hair into the place where men were drinking, and the head of the woman also. Beowulf said: "Behold, these tokens from the sea we bring with gladness to thee, son of Healfdene, lord of Seyldings. Now may'st thou with thy warriors in Heorot sleep free from sorrow." The golden hilt, the giant's work of old, was given to the hoar war-leader. Hrothgar gazed on the hilt; in Runic signs the tale of its birth was told upon it. Then spake the son of Healfdene; all were silent : "Thy glory is upreared now through wide ways, Beowulf, my friend. Long shalt thou be a blessing to thy people." Many words spake Hrothgar, for he spake of the past and of its warnings to his friend and to the folk around him. The Goth, glad of mood, went to his seat; there was a new feast made. The helm of night grew murky, the aged Seylding sought his bed, and the Goth wished for rest. The guest slept till the black raven, gladdener of heaven, blithe of heart announced the coming of the light.

The Athelings then wished to go to their own land, and Beowulf bade the son of Ecglaf take again his sword; gave for the lending thanks, said that he held Hrunting to be good, he would not with blame hurt pride in its good edge; that was a high-souled warrior. Hrothgar said: Peace be to the Goths and the Gar Danes; wealth in common. Over the gannet's bath the ringed bark shall bring gifts and love-tokens. Each folk I know, fast friend, fast foe, and in the old way stainless always." Twelve gifts also gave to Beowulf the son of Healfdene, bade him go and quickly come again. The good king kissed the best of thanes, and tears fell as he took him round the neck.

The bright warriors went to the ship, laden with weapons, steeds and gold; the mast rose over Hrothgar's hoards. Beowulf gave to the boatguard a sword bound with gold, and on the meadbench he was afterwards the worthier for that heirloom. They sailed away, and the known headlands of the Goths were reached. The hithe-guard who had seen them when afar was ready; he bound the ship to the sand and bade men bear to the hall of Hygelac, who dwelt by the sea-wall, the wealth of the Athelings. Kinsman faced kinsman; Hæreth's daughter bare the wine-cup to the high chief's hand.

Here the first great section of the poem ends. German critics are disposed to represent Beowulf