Beowulf

Narrated by Derek Jacobi and Joseph Fiennes this is one of the most famous ancient sagas ever told, Beowulf tells the tale of a young Danish warrior called Beowulf who goes to the aid of King Hroðgar and his people, who are attacked by a half-man half-monster named Grendel.

♦  ◊  ♦    1998 animation  ↓

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◊  ♦  ‘Beowulf’  ↓ by Seamus Heaney  (1939-2013)

Nobel Laureate Seamus Heaney’s new translation of Beowulf comes to life in this gripping audio. Heaney’s performance reminds us that Beowulf, written near the turn of another millennium, was intended to be heard not read.

•  Read →HERE←

• Introduction of the Danes

So. The Spear-Danes in days done by
And the kings who ruled them had courage and greatness.
We have heard of those prince’s heroic campaigns.

There was Shield Sheafson, scourge of many tribes,
A wrecker of mead-benches, rampaging among foes.
This terror of the hall-troops had come far.
A foundling to start with, he would flourish later on
As his powers waxed and his worth was proved.
In the end each clan on the outlying coats
Beyond the whale-road had to yield to him
And begin to pay tribute. That was one good king.

Afterwards a boy-child was born to Shield,
A cub in the yard, a comfort sent by God to that nation.
He knew what they had tholed*,                                       (*’tholed’ = suffered)
The long times and troubles they’d come through
Without a leader; so the Lord of Life,
The glorious Almighty, made this man renowned.
Shield had fathered a famous son:
Beow’s name was known through the north
and a young prince must be prudent like that,
Giving freely while his father lives
so that afterwards in age when fighting starts
steadfast companions will stand by him
and hold the line. Behaviour that’s admired
is the path to power among people everywhere.

Shield was still thriving when his time came and he crossed over into the Lord’s Keeping.
His warrior band did what he bade them when he laid down the law among the Danes:
they shouldered him out to the sea’s flood, the chief they revered who had long ruled them.

A ring-whorled prow rode in the harbor, ice–clad, outbound, a craft for a prince.
They stretched their beloved lord in his boat,
Laid out by the mast, amidships, the great ring-giver.
Far-fetched treasures were piled upon him, and precious gear.
I never heard before of a ship so well furbished
With battle tackle, bladed weapons and coats of mail.
The massed treasure was loaded on top of him:
it would travel far on out into the ocean’s sway.
They decked his body no less bountifully with offerings than those first ones did
Who cast him away when he was a child and launched him alone out over the waves.
And they set a gold standard up,  high above his head and let him drift to wind and tide,
bewailing him and mourning their loss. No man can tell
No wise man in hall or weathered veteran knows for certain who salvaged that load.

Then it fell to Beow to keep the forts. He was well regarded and ruled the Danes
for a long time after his father took leave of his life on earth.
And then his heir, the great Halfdane, held sway for as long as he lived, their elder and warlord.
He was four times a father, this fighter prince:
One by one they entered the world, Heorogar, Hrothgar, the good Halga,
And a daughter, I have heard, who was Onela’s queen,
A balm in bed for the battle-scarred Swede.

The fortunes of war favored Hrothgar.
Friends and kinsmen flocked to his ranks, young followers, a force that grew to be a mighty army.
So his mind turned  to hall-building: he handed down orders
For men to work on a great mead-hall meant to be a wonder of the world forever;
It would be his throne-room and there he would dispense
His God-given goods to young and old— But not the common land or people’s lives.

Far and wide through the world, I have heard,
Orders for the work to adorn that wallstead were sent to many peoples.
And soon it stood there, finished and ready, in full view,
The hall of halls.
Heorot was the name  he had settled on it, whose utterance was law.
Nor did he renege, but doled out rings and torques at the table.
The hall towered, its gables wide and high and awaiting
A barbarous burning. That doom abided,
But in time it would come: the killer instinct
Unleashed among in-laws, the blood-lust rampant.

[Grendel Attacks Herot]

Then a powerful demon, a prowler through the dark,
Nursed a hard grievance. It harrowed him
To hear the din of the loud banquet
Every day in the hall, the harp being struck
And the clear song of a skilled poet
Telling with mastery of man’s beginnings,
How the Almighty had made the earth
A gleaming plain girdled with waters;
In His splendour He set the sun and the moon
To be earth’s lamplight, lanterns for men,
And filled the broad lap of the world
With branches and leaves; and quickened life
In every other thing that moved.

So times were pleasant for the people there
Until finally one, a fiend out of hell,
Began to work his evil in the world.
Grendel was the name of this grim demon
Haunting the marches, marauding round the heath
And the desolate fens; he had dwelt for a time
In misery among the banished monsters,
Cain’s clan, whom the Creator had outlawed
And condemned as outcasts. For the killing of Abel
The Eternal Lord had exacted a price:
Cain got no good from committing that murder
Because the Almighty mad him anathema
And out of the curse of this exile there sprang
Ogres and elves and evil phantoms
And giants too who stove with God
Time and again until He gave them their reward.

So, after nightfall, Grendel set out
For the lofty house, to see how the Ring-Danes
Were settling into it after their drink,
And there he came upon them, a company of the best,
Asleep from their feasting, insensible to pain
And human sorrow. Suddenly then
The God-cursed brute was creating havoc:
Greedy and grim, he grabbed thirty men
From their resting places and rushed to his lair,
Flushed up and inflamed from the raid,
Blundering back with the butchered corpses.
Then as dawn brightened and the day broke
Grendel’s powers of destruction were plain:
Their wassail was over, they wept to heaven
And mourned under morning. Their mighty prince,
The storied leader, sat stricken and helpless,
Humiliated by the loss of his guard,
Bewildered and stunned, staring aghast
At the demon’s trail, in deep distress.
He was numb with grief, but got no respite
For one night later merciless Grendel
Struck again with more gruesome murders.
Malignant by nature, he never showed remorse.
It was easy then to meet with a man
Shifting himself to a safer distance
To bed in the bothies*, for who could be blind      (* ‘bothies’ = small huts or cottages)
To the evidence of his eyes, the obviousness
Of that hall-watcher’s hate? Whoever escaped
Kept a weather-eye open and moved away.

So Grendel ruled in defiance of right,
One against all, until the greatest house
In the world stood empty , a deserted wallstead.
For twelve winters, seasons of woe,
The lord of the Shildings suffered under
His load of sorrow; and so, before long,
The news was known over the whole world.
Sad lays* were sung about the beset king,      (*’lays’ = stories about how things are)
The vicious raids and ravages of Grendel,
His long and unrelenting feud,
Nothing but war; how he would never
Parley or make peace with any Dane
Nor stop his death-dealing nor pay the death-price.
No counselor could ever expect
Fair reparation from those rabid hands.
All were endangered; young and old
Were hunted down by that dark death-shadow
Who lurked and swooped in the long nights
On the misty moors; nobody knows
Where these reavers* from hell roam on their errands.  (*’reavers’ = raiders or pillagers)

So Grendel waged his lonely war, inflicting constant cruelties on the people,
Atrocious hurt. He took over Heorot, haunted the glittering hall after dark,
But the throne itself, the treasure-seat,
He was kept from approaching; he was the Lord’s outcast.

These were hard times, heart-breaking for the prince of the Shieldings;
Powerful counselors, the highest in the land, would lend advice,
Plotting how best the bold defenders might resist and beat off sudden attacks.
Sometimes at pagan shrines they vowed offerings to idols, swore oaths
That the killer of souls might come to their aid and save the people.
That was their way,
Their heathenish hope; deep in their hearts They remembered hell.
The Almighty Judge of good deeds and bad, the Lord God,
Head of the Heavens and High King of the World, was unknown to them.
Oh, cursed is he who in time of trouble has to thrust his soul
In the fire’s embrace, forfeiting help; He has nowhere to turn.
But blessed is he who after death can approach the Lord
And find friendship in the Father’s embrace.

So that trouble time continued, woe that never stopped, steady affliction
For Halfdane’s son, too hard an ordeal.
There was panic after dark, people endured
Raids in the night, riven* by the terror.      (*’riven’ = to be split or torn apart)

When he heard about Grendel, Hygelac’s thane was on home ground, over in Geatland.
There was no on else like him alive.
In his day, he was the mightiest man on earth, high-born and powerful.
He ordered a boat that would ply the waves. He announced his plan:
To sail the swan’s road and search out that king, the famous prince who needed defenders.
Nobody tried to keep him from going,
No elder denied him, dear as he was to them.
Instead, they inspected omens and spurred his ambition to go,
whilst he moved about  like the leader he was, enlisting men,
The best he could find; with fourteen others
The warrior boarded the boat as captain, a canny pilot along coast and currents.

[ . . .  A hero arrives]

(Beowulf and his men traveled over a calm sea from Geatland to Denmark, and as they disembark, a Danish coast guard questions them- especially why they have come dressed for battle. The Geat leader answers… )

The leader of the troop unlocked his word-hoard; the distinguished one delivered this answer:
“We belong by birth to the Geat people and owe allegiance to Lord Hygelac.
In his day, my father was a famous man, a noble warrior-lord name Ecgtheow.
He outlasted many a long winter and went on his way.
All over the world  men wise in counsel continue to remember him.
We come in good faith to find your lord and nation’s shield, the son of Halfdane.
Give us the right advice and direction.
We have arrived here on a great errand to the lord of the Danes,
And I believe therefore  there should be nothing hidden or withheld between us.
So tell us if what we have heard is true about this threat, whatever it is,
This danger abroad in the dark nights,
This corpse-maker mongering death in the Shildings’ country.
I come to proffer my wholehearted help and counsel.
I can show the wise Hrothgar a way to defeat his enemy and find respite—
If any repose is to reach him, ever.
I can calm the turmoil and terror in his mind.
Otherwise, he must endure woes and live with grief for as long as his hall
Stands at the horizon, on its high ground.”

(The coast guard recognizes the nobility in the Geat leader, and readily leads them to Heorot. The Geat soldiers leave their boat and carry their beautiful, ancient, and family battle-gear toward the mead-hall. Upon arrival, Wulfgar, a renowned fighter, similarly questions them about their intentions at Heorot. )

[ . . . ]

The man whose name was known for courage, the Geat leader, resolute in his helmet,
Answered in return: “We are retainers from Hygelac’s band. Beowulf’s my name.
If your lord and master, the most renowned son of Halfdane, will hear me out
And graciously allow me to greet him in person, I am ready and willing to report my errand.”

· · · Keep reading . . . page no 5 …

(A war party is quickly formed, and they track Grendel’s Mother to the fen where she lives. To the astonishment of the party, it is marked by the head of Hrothgar’s slain friend; the blood from the severed head stirs up all kinds of sea monsters near the shore. Beowulf kills one with an arrow and brings it ashore allowing all to see the type of monsters that await him in the water. Unferth, too afraid to go into the water, gives Beowulf a mighty sword named Hrunting. Beowulf also dresses for battle with chain-mail, shield, and helmet. Beowulf reminds Hrothgar of his earlier words about the death of a warrior.)

After these words, the prince of the Weather-Geats  was impatient to be away and plunged suddenly:
Without further ado, he dived into the heaving depths of the lake.
It was the best part of a day  before he could see the solid bottom.

The hero observed that swamp-thing from hell, the tarn-hag in all her terrible strength,
Then heaved his war-sword and swung his arm:  the decorated blade came down ringing
And singing on her head. But he soon found his battle-torch extinguished:
the shinning blade  refused to bite. It spared her and failed the man in his need.
It has gone through many  hand-to-hand fights, had hewed the armour
And helmets of the doomed, but there at last the fabulous powers of that heirloom failed.

Hygelac’s kinsman kept thinking about his name and fame: he never lost heart.
Then, in a fury, he flung his sword away.
The keep, inlaid, worm-loop-patterned steel was hurled to the ground:
he would have to rely  on the might of his arm.
So must a man do who intends to gain enduring glory in a combat.
Life doesn’t cost him a thought.
Then the prince of War-Geats, warming to this fight
with Grendel’s mother, gripped her shoulder And laid about him in a battle frenzy:
He pitched his killer opponent to the floor But she rose quickly and retaliated,
Grappled him tightly in her grim embrace.
The sure-footed fighter felt daunted, the strongest of warriors stumbled and fell.
So she pounced upon him and pulled out a broad, whetted knife:
now she would avenge her only child. But the mesh of chain-mail
on Beowulf’s shoulder shielded his life, turned the edge and tip of the blade.
The son of Ecgtheow would surely have perished
And the Geats lost their warrior under the wide earth
Had the strong links and locks of his war-gear not helped to save him: holy God
Decided the victory. It was easy for the Lord, The Ruler of Heaven, to redress the balance
Once Beowulf got back up on his feet.

Then he saw a blade that boded well, a sword in her armoury,
and ancient heirloom from the days of the giants, and ideal weapon,
One that any warrior would envy,
But so huge and heavy of itself only Beowulf could wield it in a battle.
So the Shielding’s hero, hard-pressed and enraged,
Took a firm hold of the hilt and swung the blade in an arc,
A resolute blow that bit deep into her neck-bone
And severed it entirely, toppling the doomed house of her flesh;
she fell to the floor. . The sword dripped blood, the swordsman was elated.

The seafarers’ leader made for land, resolutely swimming, delighted with his prize,

The mighty load he was lugging to the surface. His things advanced in the troop to meet him

Thanking God and taking great delight in seeing their prince back safe and sound

Quickly the hero’s helmet and mesh shirt were loosed and unlaced

The lake settled, clouds darkened both the bloodshot depths

With high hearts they headed away along footpaths and trails through the fields

Roads that they knew, each of them wrestling

with the head they were carrying from the lakeside cliff

Men king me in their courage and capable of difficult work

It was a task for four to hoist Grendel’s head on a spear

And bear it under strain to the bright hall

Beowulf, son of Ecgtheow, spoke:

 [. . . ]

Keep reading . . . . . . verse 1570 …  page no 14