Beowulf (Modern English)
Beowulf (Modern English)
Beowulf (Modern English)
BEOWULF
(Anonymous)
ABOUT BEOWULF
Beowulf is an Old English heroic
epic
poem
of
unknown
authorship, dating as recorded in
the Nowell Codex manuscript
from between the 8th[1] to the
early 11th century, [2] and relates
events described as having
occurred in what is now Denmark
and Sweden. Commonly cited as
one of the most important works
of
Anglo-Saxon
literature,
Beowulf has been the subject of
much scholarly study, theory,
speculation, discourse, and, at
3182 lines, has been noted for its
length.
In the poem, Beowulf, a hero of
the
Geats,
battles
three
antagonists: Grendel, who has
been attacking the mead hall in
Denmark called Heorot and its
inhabitants; Grendel's mother;
and, later in life after returning to
Geatland
(modern
southern
Sweden) and becoming a king,
he fights an unnamed dragon.
Beowulf is fatally wounded in the
final battle, and after his death he
is buried in a barrow in Geatland
by his retainers.
Beowulf is considered an epic
poem in that the main character
is a hero who travels great
distances to prove his strength at
impossible
odds
against
supernatural demons and beasts.
The
poet
who
composed
A NOTE ON THE
TRANSLATION
The following is not a line-by-line
translation of the original poem.
Rather, I have attempted to
recreate the poem as a
contemporary poet would write it,
a practice assumed in the oral
tradition.
Paradoxically,
however,
this
translation is "truer" to the original
than many scholarly works. For
one thing, by using free verse I
have not been forced into adding
words or changing meaning for
the sake of formal meter or
rhyme. In addition, free verse has
allowed me in many cases to
recreate the rhythms of the
original.
PROLOGUE
Early History of the Danes
Listen:
You have heard of the Danish
Kings
in the old days and how
they were great warriors.
Shield, the son of Sheaf,
took many an enemy's chair,
terrified many a warrior,
after he was found an orphan.
He prospered under the sky
until people everywhere
listened when he spoke.
He was a good king!
Shield had a son,
child for his yard,
sent by God
to comfort the people,
to keep them from fear-Grain was his name;
he was famous
throughout the North.
Young princes should do as he
did-give out treasures
while they're still young
so that when they're old
people will support them
in time of war.
A man prospers
by good deeds
in any nation.
Shield died at his fated hour,
went to God still strong.
His people carried him to the sea,
lands,
where the mighty one waited.
boiling
waves of the winter's swell?
You and Brecca toiled
seven nights in the sea,
and he, with more strength,
overcame you. And
in the morning the waves
bore him to the Heathrames
from whence he went home
to the Brondings, beloved of
them,
to his people and mead hall.
Brecca fulfilled all his boast.
Because of this, though you have
everywhere withstood the battle
storm,
I don't expect much from you
if you dare await
Grendel in the night."
Beowulf spoke:
"Well, my friend Unferth, you
have said a good many things
about Brecca and that trip,
drunk on beer as you are.
Truth to tell, I had more strength
but also more hardships in the
waves.
He and I were both boys
and boasted out of our youth
that we two would risk
our lives in the sea.
And so we did.
With naked swords in hand,
to ward off whales,
we swam. Brecca could not
out-swim me, nor could I
out-distance him. And thus
we were, for five nights.
It was cold weather and
as morning shines
on the children of men.
On that day the sun
will be clothed in radiance
as it shines from the South!"
The giver of treasure, Hrothgar,
gray-haired and brave in battle,
felt glad--the chief of the Danes
could count on help.
That guardian of the folk
heard in Beowulf firm resolution.
The men laughed, the din
resounding, and the words
turned friendly.
Wealhtheow, Hrothgar's queen,
came forth, mindful of kin,
adorned in gold to greet the men.
First she gave the cup
to the country's guardian,
that one dear to his people,
biding joy in his beer drinking.
That king famous for victories
happily took the feast cup.
Then that woman of the Helmings
went round to each, young and
old,
sharing the precious cup.
In proper time that ring-adorned
queen excellent in mind
brought the mead cup to Beowulf.
She greeted him, thanking
God that her wish had
been fulfilled, that finally
a hero had come who
she could count on
to stop Grendel's crimes.
Beowulf, fierce in war,
received the cup from
Wealhtheow
and spoke eagerly of battle:
"I resolved when I set to sea
in my boat with my warriors
that I, alone, will fulfill
the wish of your people. . .
or die in the foe's grasp.
I shall perform the deeds
of a hero or I have passed
my last day in this mead hall."
The woman liked these words,
this brave speech of the Geat.
The gold-adorned folk queen
went to sit by her lord.
Now again, as it had been
in the old days, brave words
were spoken and the people were
happy.
The gladness of warriors
continued
until the son of Healfdene
wished to go to his evening rest.
Hrothgar knew the wretch
planned to attack the hall
after the sun had set,
night over the hall,
when the shadows came
striding dark under the clouds.
All the company arose.
Warrior then saluted warrior,
Hrothgar wishing Beowulf luck
in his fight for the hall.
Hrothgar said these words:
"Never, since I have been able
to lift shield, have I entrusted
this hall, this mighty house
of the Danes, to any man.
But now I entrust it to you.
He would not
for any reason
allow his murderous visitor
to escape alive,
to keep the days of his life.
Beowulf's warriors brandished
many a sword, inheritances
from the ancient days,
trying to protect their chief,
but that did no good: they
could not have known, those
brave warriors as they fought,
striking from all sides, seeking
to take Grendel's soul, that
no battle sword could harm him-he had enchantment against
the edges of weapons.
The end of Grendel's life was
miserable, and he would travel
far into the hands of fiends.
Grendel, the foe of God, who had
long troubled the spirits of men
with his crimes, found that
his body could not stand against
the hand grip of that warrior.
Each was hateful to the other
alive. The horrible monster
endured
a wound: the bone-locks
of his shoulder gave way,
and his sinews sprang out.
The glory of battle went to
Beowulf, and Grendel,
mortally wounded,
sought his sad home
under the fen slope.
He knew surely that
deeds,
untold things about Weals's son,
his struggles, his wide journeys
and feuds.
The singer told things the children
of men did not know, except for
Fitela, Sigemund's nephew, who
stood with him in battle.
With swords those two felled
many from the race of giants.
After Sigemund's death day
not a little fame sprang to him,
about his hardy fight and killing
of a dragon, keeper of a hoard.
Under gray stone that prince
alone
engaged in that audacious deed,
not even Fitela with him.
Anyway, it happened that
Sigemund's sword went clear
through
the huge dragon and
that splendid iron
stuck in the wall.
The dragon died violently.
By brave deeds the hero
won a ring hoard for himself.
He bore into a ship's bosom
those bright treasures
of the Weal kin,
and the dragon melted
of its own heat.
Sigemund was by far the most
renowned adventurer. N He had
first prospered under King
Heremod,
but that man's strength
and victory subsided.
Among the Jutes
to seek shelter
in the Jute land,
Jute homes and stronghold.
So Hengst spent
a slaughter-stained winter
with Finn because
he could not leave.
He thought of home
but could not go
in a ring-prowed ship
against the sea storm,
against the wind.
The water waves locked
in icy bindings until
another year came
to the gardens,
as they do yet,
glorious bright weather
to watch over the hall.
When winter had passed
and earth's bosom turned
fair, the adventurer was
eager to go, the guest
from the dwelling, but first
Hengst thought more of revenge
for injury than of a sea journey,
how he might cause
a hostile meeting
with the Jutes
to repay them with iron.
So it was he did not complain
when the son of Hunlaf
laid Battle Bright,
the best of swords,
whose edges were
known to the Jutes,
on his lap.
So it was that Finn,
bold in spirit,
in his turn met
among my people
and councilors that
they had seen two mighty
wanderers in the waste land
moors keeping guard,
alien spirits. One was,
as far as they could see,
the likeness of a woman.
The other miserable thing
in the stature of a man,
though he was larger
than any other man,
as they trod the paths of exiles.
In the days of old
earth dwellers called him
Grendel.
We have no knowledge of a
father,
of any forebears among evil
spirits.
They occupied the secret land,
the wolf's retreat-windy bluffs, perilous fens,
where a waterfall
darkens under bluffs
and goes down under the ground.
It is not far from here,
by measure of miles,
that the mere stands.
Over it hangs a frost-covered
grove, woods rooted deepshadowing the water.
There each night
a portent may be seen:
fire on the water.
No wise one among
the sons of men
knows the bottom.
Though the heath-stalker,
the strong-horned hart,
harassed by hounds, seeks
Meanwhile, Up Above
The wise men with Hrothgar
saw the surging water mingled
with blood. The old gray-hairs
spoke together, saying
they did not expect the famous
prince to be victorious.
To many it seemed the sea wolf
had destroyed him.
Then came noon of the day
and the valiant Danes left
the bluff. The king went
home. His guests sat down
sick at heart
and stared at he mere.
They wished, but did not hope,
that they would see
their dear lord again.
Back in the Cave
The sword, because of the blood,
began to fade--a battle icicle.
That was some wonder:
it all melted,
just like ice
when the Father-who has power
over times and seasons-loosens the bands
and unwinds the wave ropes.
(That is the True Maker.)
The leader of the Geats
took no more treasures
from the dwelling,
though he saw many,
except for the head
and the hilt decorated
with treasure. The blade
you, warrior.
Thus I have ruled under the
clouds
the prosperous Danes a hundred
half-years,
and by war have protected them
against many nations
throughout this middle earth
with spears and edges,
so that under heaven's expanse
I could think of no enemies.
Lo, a reverse came to me-in my home--sadness after joy
when the old adversary Grendel
invaded. I have continually
carried worry over that visitation.
Therefore, thanks to the Creator,
the Eternal Lord, that I have
remained in life to gaze with
my eyes at the blood-stained
head
after that old contention!
Go now to your seat,
feast in joy, you who are
distinguished in battle.
We shall share
a great many treasures
before morning comes."
The Geat was glad in mind,
quickly seeking his seat
as the wise one bade.
Then again was the feast
prepared, as before, for
the courageous ones sitting
in the hall.
The helmet of night turned black,
dark over the warriors.
The men all arose.
The gray-haired one
sleeping of a wound,
bereft of his treasure.
Be in haste
so that I may see
the ancient treasure,
may examine
the curious gems,
so that I may
more cheerfully give up
my life and country."
Wiglaf hurried
from his wounded lord,
obeyed the battle-sick one,
rushed in his mail
under the cave's roof.
There by a seat
the brave young man saw
many precious jewels,
shining gold on the ground,
and works of art
on the walls.
There in the dragon's den
Wiglaf saw the cups
of ancient men,
ornaments fallen.
There were helmets,
old and rusty,
and many arm-rings
twisted with skill.
(Treasure, gold in
the ground, may be easily
seized by any man,
hide it who will.)
Wiglaf saw a standard
all golden high
over the treasure,
the greatest of hand-wonders,
woven with the skill of hands.
From it a light shone,
was impelled.
I went inside,
saw all the treasure,
the precious things;
I didn't enter
in a friendly way.
I hastily grasped
many things in my hands,
carried out many
of the hoarded treasures
to my lord.
He was alive still,
sound in mind;
that aged man
sorrowfully said
many things:
He wanted you to build
on the site of his pyre
a high mound,
great and glorious,
since he was
among warriors
the most magnificent,
famous throughout the world.
We should now hasten
to see the curious gems,
the wonders under the earth.
I will show you the way.
Make the pyre ready
so that we may bring our lord
to the place
he will abide
in the keeping
of the All-Powerful."
Wiglaf ordered
the brave warriors
to carry wood
from far and wide
to the funeral pyre
for the great leader
of the people.
"Now shall fire eat,
the flourishing dark flames,
the ruler of warriors,
he who often braved
the rain of iron,
the storming of arrows
hard from bows,
the sturdy shaft
swift on feathered wings."
Wiglaf called seven warriors,
the very best,
and made the eighth himself,
to go under
that evil roof.
One carried a torch.
No man needed forcing
when he saw that great treasure
rusting without guardian.
None mourned
carrying that off,
and they shoved the dragon
over the cliff-the waves embraced
that treasure guardian.
Then the twisted gold,
treasure uncountable,
was lain in a wagon;
they carried the gray warrior
to Hronesness.
For him then
they prepared
a huge funeral pyre
on the earth,
hung with helmets,
war-shields,
and bright coats of mail,
as Beowulf had asked.
as useless to men
as it had been before.
Then twelve warriors
rode round the grave
speaking their sorrow,
reciting praises
for their lord's
courageous deeds.
(A warrior should do so
when his lord dies.)
Thus the Geats
mourned their great lord,
saying he was,
among this world's kings,
the mildest, the gentlest,
the kindest to his people,
and the most eager
for eternal fame.
(Taken from:[http://www.lnstar.com/
literature/beowulf/index.html])