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　　SELECTION FROM BEOWULF.

　　GRENDEL'S MOTHER.

　　There was great rejoicing in Heorot when Beowulf slew Grendel, and at night the earls again slept in the hall as they had not dared to do since the coming of the fiend. But Grendel's mother came to avenge her son's death and slew Æschere, a favorite liegeman of Hrothgar's. In the morning, Beowulf, who had slept in another part of the palace, was sent for and greeted Hrothgar, unaware of his loss.

　　Hrothgar rejoined, helm of the Scyldings:

　　"Ask not of joyance! Grief is renewed to

　　The folk of the Danemen. Dead is Æschere,

　　Yrmenlaf's brother, older than he,

　　My true-hearted counsellor, trusty adviser,

　　Shoulder-companion, when fighting in battle

　　Our heads we protected, when troopers were clashing,

　　And heroes were dashing; such an earl should be ever,

　　An erst-worthy atheling, as Æschere proved him.

　　The flickering death-spirit became in Heorot

　　His hand-to-hand murderer; I cannot tell whither

　　The cruel one turned, in the carcass exulting,

　　By cramming discovered. The quarrel she wreaked then,

　　The last night igone Grendel thou killedst

　　In grewsomest manner, with grim-holding clutches,

　　Since too long he had lessened my liege-troop and wasted

　　My folk-men so foully. He fell in the battle

　　With forfeit of life, and another has followed,

　　A mighty crime-worker, her kinsman avenging,

　　And henceforth hath 'stablished her hatred unyielding,

　　As it well may appear to many a liegeman,

　　Who mourneth in spirit the treasure-bestower,

　　Her heavy heart-sorrow; the hand is now lifeless

　　Which availed yon in every wish that you cherished.

　　Land-people heard I, liegemen, this saying,

　　Dwellers in halls, they had seen very often

　　A pair of such mighty march-striding creatures,

　　Far-dwelling spirits, holding the moorlands:

　　One of them wore, as well they might notice,

　　The image of woman, the other one wretched

　　In guise of a man wandered in exile,

　　Except that he was huger than any of earthmen;

　　Earth-dwelling people entitled him Grendel

　　In days of yore; they knew not their father,

　　Whe'r ill-going spirits any were borne him

　　Ever before. They guard the wolf-coverts,

　　Lands inaccessible, wind-beaten nesses,

　　Fearfullest fen-deeps, where a flood from the mountains

　　'Neath mists of the nesses netherward rattles,

　　The stream under earth: not far is it henceward

　　Measured by mile-lengths that the mere-water standeth,

　　Which forests hang over, with frost-whiting covered,

　　A firm-rooted forest, the floods overshadow.

　　There ever at night one an ill-meaning portent

　　A fire-flood may see; 'mong children of men

　　None liveth so wise that wot of the bottom;

　　Though harassed by hounds the heath-stepper seek for,

　　Fly to the forest, firm-antlered he-deer,

　　Spurred from afar, his spirit he yieldeth,

　　His life on the shore, ere in he will venture

　　To cover his head. Uncanny the place is:

　　Thence upward ascendeth the surging of waters,

　　Wan to the welkin, when the wind is stirring

　　The weathers unpleasing, till the air groweth gloomy,

　　And the heavens lower. Now is help to be gotten

　　From thee and thee only! The abode thou know'st not,

　　The dangerous place where thou'rt able to meet with

　　The sin-laden hero: seek if thou darest!

　　For the feud I will fully fee thee with money,

　　With old-time treasure, as erstwhile I did thee,

　　With well-twisted jewels, if away thou shalt get thee."

　　Beowulf answered, Ecgtheow's son:

　　"Grieve not, O wise one! for each it is better,

　　His friend to avenge than with vehemence wail him;

　　Each of us must the end-day abide of

　　His earthly existence; who is able accomplish

　　Glory ere death! To battle-thane noble

　　Lifeless lying, 't is at last most fitting.

　　Arise, O king, quick let us hasten

　　To look at the footprint of the kinsman of Grendel!

　　I promise thee this now: to his place he'll escape not,

　　To embrace of the earth, nor to mountainous forest,

　　Nor to depths of the ocean, wherever he wanders.

　　Practice thou now patient endurance

　　Of each of thy sorrows, as I hope for thee soothly!"

　　Then up sprang the old one, the All-Wielder thanked he,

　　Ruler Almighty, that the man had outspoken.

　　Then for Hrothgar a war-horse was decked with a bridle,

　　Curly-maned courser. The clever folk-leader

　　Stately proceeded: stepped then an earl-troop

　　Of linden-wood bearers. Her foot-prints were seen then

　　Widely in wood-paths, her way o'er the bottoms,

　　Where she far-away fared o'er fen-country murky,

　　Bore away breathless the best of retainers

　　Who pondered with Hrothgar the welfare of country.

　　The son of the athelings then went o'er the stony,

　　Declivitous cliffs, the close-covered passes,

　　Narrow passages, paths unfrequented,

　　Nesses abrupt, nicker-haunts many;

　　One of a few of wise-mooded heroes,

　　He onward advanced to view the surroundings,

　　Till he found unawares woods of the mountain

　　O'er hoar-stones hanging, holt-wood unjoyful;

　　The water stood under, welling and gory.

　　'T was irksome in spirit to all of the Danemen,

　　Friends of the Scyldings, to many a liegeman

　　Sad to be suffered, a sorrow unlittle

　　To each of the earlmen, when to Æschere's head they

　　Came on the cliff. The current was seething

　　With blood and with gore (the troopers gazed on it).

　　The horn anon sang the battle-song ready.

　　The troop were all seated; they saw 'long the water then

　　Many a serpent, mere-dragons wondrous

　　Trying the waters, nickers a-lying

　　On the cliffs of the nesses, which at noonday full often

　　Go on the sea-deeps their sorrowful journey,

　　Wild-beasts and worm-kind; away then they hastened

　　Hot-mooded, hateful, they heard the great clamor,

　　The war-trumpet winding. One did the Geat-prince

　　Sunder from earth-joys, with arrow from bowstring,

　　From his sea-struggle tore him, that the trusty war-missile

　　Pierced to his vitals; he proved in the currents

　　Less doughty at swimming whom death had off-carried.

　　Soon in the waters the wonderful swimmer

　　Was straitened most sorely and pulled to the cliff-edge;

　　The liegemen then looked on the loath-fashioned stranger.

　　Beowulf donned then his battle-equipments,

　　Cared little for life; inlaid and most ample,

　　The hand-woven corselet which could cover his body,

　　Must the wave-deeps explore, that war might be powerless

　　To harm the great hero, and the hating one's grasp might

　　Not peril his safety; his head was protected

　　By the light-flashing helmet that should mix with the bottoms,

　　Trying the eddies, treasure-emblazoned,

　　Encircled with jewels, as in seasons long past

　　The weapon-smith worked it, wondrously made it,

　　With swine-bodies fashioned it, that thenceforward no longer

　　Brand might bite it, and battle-sword hurt it.

　　And that was not least of helpers in prowess

　　That Hrothgar's spokesman had lent him when straitened;

　　And the hilted hand-sword was Hrunting entitled,

　　Old and most excellent 'mong all of the treasures;

　　Its blade was of iron, blotted with poison,

　　Hardened with gore; it failed not in battle

　　Any hero under heaven in hand who it brandished,

　　Who ventured to take the terrible journeys,

　　The battle-field sought; not the earliest occasion

　　That deeds of daring 't was destined to 'complish.

　　Ecglaf's kinsman minded not soothly,

　　Exulting in strength, what erst he had spoken

　　Drunken with wine, when the weapon he lent to

　　A sword-hero bolder; himself did not venture

　　'Neath the strife of the currents his life to endanger,

　　To fame-deeds perform; there he forfeited glory,

　　Repute for his strength. Not so with the other

　　When he, clad in his corselet, had equipped him for battle.

　　Beowulf spoke, Ecgtheow's son:

　　"Recall now, oh, famous kinsman of Healfdene,

　　Prince very prudent, now to part I am ready,

　　Gold-friend of earl-men, what erst we agreed on,

　　Should I lay down my life in lending thee assistance,

　　When my earth-joys were over, thou wouldst evermore serve me

　　In stead of a father; my faithful thanemen,

　　My trusty retainers, protect thou and care for,

　　Fall I in battle: and, Hrothgar belovèd,

　　Send unto Higelac the high-valued jewels

　　Thou to me hast allotted. The lord of the Geatmen

　　May perceive from the gold, the Hrethling may see it

　　When he looks on the jewels, that a gem-giver found I

　　Good over-measure, enjoyed him while able.

　　And the ancient heirloom Unferth permit thou,

　　The famed one to have, the heavy-sword splendid,

　　The hard-edged weapon; with Hrunting to aid me,

　　I shall gain me glory, or grim death shall take me."

　　The atheling of Geatmen uttered these words and

　　Heroic did hasten, not any rejoinder

　　Was willing to wait for; the wave-current swallowed

　　The doughty-in-battle. Then a day's-length elapsed ere

　　He was able to see the sea at its bottom.

　　Early she found then who fifty of winters

　　The course of the currents kept in her fury,

　　Grisly and greedy, that the grim one's dominion

　　Some one of men from above was exploring.

　　Forth did she grab them, grappled the warrior

　　With horrible clutches; yet no sooner she injured

　　His body unscathed: the burnie out-guarded,

　　That she proved but powerless to pierce through the armor,

　　The limb-mail locked, with loath-grabbing fingers.

　　The sea-wolf bare then, when bottomward came she,

　　The ring-prince homeward, that he after was powerless.

　　(He had daring to do it) to deal with his weapons,

　　But many a mere-beast tormented him swimming,

　　Flood-beasts no few with fierce-biting tusks did

　　Break through his burnie, the brave one pursued they.

　　The earl then discovered he was down in some cavern

　　Where no water whatever anywise harmed him,

　　And the clutch of the current could not come anear him,

　　Since the roofed-hall prevented; brightness a-gleaming

　　Fire-light he saw, flashing, resplendent.

　　The good one saw then the sea-bottom's monster,

　　The mighty mere-woman; he made a great onset

　　With weapon-of-battle, his hand not desisted

　　From striking, that war-blade struck on her head then

　　A battle-song greedy. The stranger perceived then

　　The sword would not bite, her life would not injure,

　　But the falchion failed the folk prince when straitened:

　　Erst had it often onsets encountered,

　　Oft cloven the helmet, the fated one's armor:

　　'T was the first time that ever the excellent jewel

　　Had failed of its fame. Firm-mooded after,

　　Not heedless of valor, but mindful of glory,

　　Was Higelac's kinsman; the hero-chief angry

　　Cast then his carved-sword covered with jewels

　　That it lay on earth, hard and steel-pointed;

　　He hoped in his strength, his hand-grapple sturdy.

　　So any must act whenever he thinketh

　　To gain him in battle glory unending,

　　And is reckless of living. The lord of the War-Geats

　　(He shrank not from battle) seized by the shoulder

　　The mother of Grendel; then mighty in struggle

　　Swung he his enemy, since his anger was kindled,

　　That she fell to the floor. With furious grapple

　　She gave him requital early thereafter,

　　And stretched out to grab him; the strongest of warriors

　　Faint-mooded stumbled, till he fell in his traces,

　　Foot-going champion. Then she sat on the hall-guest

　　And wielded her war-knife wide-bladed, flashing,

　　For her son would take vengeance, her one only bairn.

　　His breast-armor woven bode on his shoulder;

　　It guarded his life, the entrance defended

　　'Gainst sword-point and edges. Ecgtheow's son there

　　Had fatally journeyed, champion of Geatmen,

　　In the arms of the ocean, had the armor not given,

　　Close-woven corselet, comfort and succor,

　　And had God most holy not awarded the victory,

　　All-knowing Lord; easily did heaven's

　　Ruler most righteous arrange it with justice;

　　Uprose he erect ready for battle.

　　Then he saw 'mid the war-gems a weapon of victory,

　　An ancient giant-sword, of edges a-doughty,

　　Glory of warriors: of weapons 't was choicest,

　　Only 't was larger than any man else was

　　Able to bear in the battle-encounter,

　　The good and splendid work of the giants.

　　He grasped then the sword-hilt, knight of the Scyldings,

　　Bold and battle-grim, brandished his ring-sword,

　　Hopeless of living, hotly he smote her,

　　That the fiend-woman's neck firmly it grappled,

　　Broke through her bone-joints, the bill fully pierced her

　　Fate-cursèd body, she fell to the ground then:

　　The hand-sword was bloody, the hero exulted.

　　The brand was brilliant, brightly it glimmered,

　　Just as from heaven gemlike shineth

　　The torch of the firmament. He glanced 'long the building,

　　And turned by the wall then, Higelac's vassal

　　Raging and wrathful raised his battle-sword

　　Strong by the handle. The edge was not useless

　　To the hero-in-battle, but he speedily wished to

　　Give Grendel requital for the many assaults he

　　Had worked on the West-Danes not once, but often,

　　When he slew in slumber the subjects of Hrothgar,

　　Swallowed down fifteen sleeping retainers

　　Of the folk of the Danemen, and fully as many

　　Carried away, a horrible prey.

　　He gave him requital, grim-raging champion,

　　When he saw on his rest-place weary of conflict

　　Grendel lying, of life-joys bereavèd,

　　As the battle at Heorot erstwhile had scathed him;

　　His body far bounded, a blow when he suffered,

　　Death having seized him, sword-smiting heavy,

　　And he cut off his head then. Early this noticed

　　The clever carles who as comrades of Hrothgar

　　Gazed on the sea-deeps, that the surging wave-currents

　　Were mightily mingled, the mere-flood was gory:

　　Of the good one the gray-haired together held converse,

　　The hoary of head, that they hoped not to see again

　　The atheling ever, that exulting in victory

　　He'd return there to visit the distinguished folk-ruler:

　　Then many concluded the mere-wolf had killed him.

　　The ninth hour came then. From the ness-edge departed

　　The bold-mooded Scyldings; the gold-friend of heroes

　　Homeward betook him. The strangers sat down then

　　Soul-sick, sorrowful, the sea-waves regarding:

　　They wished and yet weened not their well-loved friend-lord

　　To see any more. The sword-blade began then,

　　The blood having touched it, contracting and shrivelling

　　With battle-icicles; 't was a wonderful marvel

　　That it melted entirely, likest to ice when

　　The Father unbindeth the bond of the frost and

　　Unwindeth the wave-bands, He who wieldeth dominion

　　Of time and of tides: a truth-firm Creator.

　　Nor took he of jewels more in the dwelling,

　　Lord of the Weders, though they lay all around him,

　　Than the head and the handle handsome with jewels;

　　The brand early melted, burnt was the weapon:

　　So hot was the blood, the strange-spirit poisonous

　　That in it did perish. He early swam off then

　　Who had bided in combat the carnage of haters,

　　Went up through the ocean; the eddies were cleansed,

　　The spacious expanses, when the spirit from farland

　　His life put aside and this short-lived existence.

　　The seamen's defender came swimming to land then

　　Doughty of spirit, rejoiced in his sea-gift,

　　The bulky burden which he bore in his keeping.

　　The excellent vassals advanced then to meet him,

　　To God they were grateful, were glad in their chieftain,

　　That to see him safe and sound was granted them.

　　From the high-minded hero, then, helmet and burnie

　　Were speedily loosened: the ocean was putrid,

　　The water 'neath welkin weltered with gore.

　　Forth did they fare, then, their footsteps retracing,

　　Merry and mirthful, measured the earth-way,

　　To highway familiar: men very daring

　　Bare then the head from the sea-cliff, burdening

　　Each of the earlmen, excellent-valiant.

　　Four of them had to carry with labor

　　The head of Grendel to the high towering gold-hall

　　Upstuck on the spear, till fourteen most-valiant

　　And battle-brave Geatmen came there going

　　Straight to the palace: the prince of the people

　　Measured the mead-ways, their mood-brave companion,

　　The atheling of earlmen entered the building,

　　Deed-valiant man, adorned with distinction,

　　Doughty shield-warrior, to address King Hrothgar:

　　Then hung by the hair, the head of Grendel

　　Was borne to the building, where beer-thanes were drinking,

　　Loth before earlmen and eke 'fore the lady:

　　The warriors beheld then a wonderful sight.

　　J. L. Hall's Translation, Parts XXI.-XXIV. National Epics