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Beowulf: A New Verse Translation (Bilingual Edition) . DOWNLOAD PDF English & English (Old English) Beowulf I [translated by] Seamus Heaney. The Cure at Troy ePub (Adobe DRM) download by Seamus Heaney · The Cure at Troy. Seamus Heaney. Faber & Faber, January ISBN: Read ebook Ebook download Beowulf: A New Verse Translation For Book Details Author: Seamus Heaney Pages: Binding: Paperback.

I never heard before of a ship so well furbished. It would be his throne-room and there he would dispense His God-given goods to young and old—. And condemned as outcasts. For the killing of Abel The Eternal Lord had exacted a price:. And human sorrow.

Not long since, it seemed I would never be granted the slightest solace or relief from any of my burdens: This one worry outweighed all others— a constant distress to counsellors entrusted with defending the people's forts from assault by monsters and demons. But now a man, with the Lord's assistance, has accomplished something none of us could manage before now for all our efforts.

Whoever she was who brought forth this flower of manhood, if she is still alive, that woman can say that in her labour the Lord of Ages bestowed a grace on her. So now, Beowulf, I adopt you in my heart as a dear son.

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Nourish and maintain this new connection, you noblest of men; there'll be nothing you'll want for, no worldly goods that won't be yours. I have often honoured smaller achievements, recognized warriors not nearly as worthy, lavished rewards on the less deserving. But you have made yourself immortal by your glorious action. May the God of Ages continue to keep and requite you well. B E O W U L F 63 "We have gone through with a glorious endeavour and been much favoured in this fight we dared against the unknown.

Nevertheless, if you could have seen the monster himself where he lay beaten, I would have been better pleased. My plan was to pounce, pin him down in a tight grip and grapple him to death— have him panting for life, powerless and clasped in my bare hands, his body in thrall.

But I couldn't stop him from slipping my hold. The Lord allowed it, my lock on him wasn't strong enough, he struggled fiercely and broke and ran. Yet he bought his freedom at a high price, for he left his hand and arm and shoulder to show he had been here, a cold comfort for having come among us.

And now he won't be long for this world. He has done his worst but the wound will end him. He is hasped and hooped and hirpling with pain, limping and looped in it. Like a man outlawed for wickedness, he must await the mighty judgement of God in majesty.

GrmdeVs shoulder and claw as the hall-thanes eyed the awful proof of the hero's prowess, the splayed hand up under the eaves. Every nail, claw-scale and spur, every spike and welt on the hand of that heathen brute was like barbed steel.

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Everybody said there was no honed iron hard enough to pierce him through, no time-proofed blade B E O W U L F 65 that could cut his brutal, blood-caked claw. Gold thread shone in the wall-hangings, woven scenes that attracted and held the eye's attention. But iron-braced as the inside of it had been, that bright room lay in ruins now.

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The very doors had been dragged from their hinges. Only the roof remained unscathed by the time the guilt-fouled fiend turned tail in despair of his life. But death is not easily escaped from by anyone: Then the due time arrived for Halfdane's son to proceed to the hall. The king himself would sit down to feast.

No group ever gathered in greater numbers or better order around their ring-giver. The benches filled with famous men who fell to with relish; round upon round of mead was passed; those powerful kinsmen, Hrothgar and Hrothulf, were in high spirits in the raftered hall. Inside Heorot there was nothing but friendship. The Shielding nation was not yet familiar with feud and betrayal.

BEOWULF The damaged hail repa,re A victory feast 67 Then Halfdane's son presented Beowulf with a gold standard as a victory gift, an embroidered banner; also breast-mail and a helmet; and a sword carried high, that was both precious object and token of honour.

So Beowulf drank his drink, at ease; it was hardly a shame to be showered with such gifts in front of the hall-troops. There haven't been many moments, I am sure, when men exchanged four such treasures at so friendly a sitting. An embossed ridge, a band lapped with wire arched over the helmet: Next the king ordered eight horses with gold bridles to be brought through the yard into the hall.

The harness of one included a saddle of sumptuous design, the battle-seat where the son of Halfdane rode when he wished to join the sword-play: Then the Danish prince, descendant of Ing, handed over both the arms and the horses, urging Beowulf to use them well.

And so their leader, the lord and guard of coffer and strongroom, with customary grace bestowed upon Beowulf both sets of gifts. A fair witness can see how well each one behaved. The chieftain went on to reward the others: And compensation, a price in gold, was settled for the Geat Grendel had cruelly killed earlier— as he would have killed more, had not mindful God and one man's daring prevented that doom.

Past and present, God's will prevails. Hence, understanding is always best and a prudent mind. Whoever remains for long here in this earthly life will enjoy and endure more than enough. They sang then and played to please the hero, words and music for their warrior prince, harp tunes and tales of adventure: She, bereft and blameless, they foredoomed, cut down and spear-gored.

She, the woman in shock, waylaid by grief, B E O W U L F 71 Hoe's daughter— how could she not lament her fate when morning came and the light broke on her murdered dears? And so farewell delight on earth, war carried away Finn's troop of thanes, all but a few. Hnaefis killed, Hengest takes charge and makes a ,, , TT Or fight On. So a truce was offered as follows: Then, second: Both Sides then The Danish survivors to be. No infringement by word or deed, no provocation would be permitted.

Their own ring-giver after all was dead and gone, they were leaderless, in forced allegiance to his murderer.

So if any Frisian stirred up bad blood with insinuations or taunts about this, the blade of the sword would arbitrate it. Everywhere there were blood-plastered coats of mail. The pyre was heaped with hoar-shaped helmets forged in gold, with the gashed corpses of well-horn Danes — many had fallen.

Then Hildeburh ordered her own son's body be burnt with Hnaef's, the flesh on his bones to sputter and blaze beside his uncle's. The woman wailed and sang keens, the warrior went up. Carcass flame swirled and fumed, they stood round the burial mound and howled as heads melted, crusted gashes spattered and ran bloody matter.

The glutton element flamed and consumed the dead of both sides. Warriors scattered to homes and forts all over Friesland, fewer now, feeling loss offriends. Hengest Stayed, The Danes, homesick lived OUt that Whole and resentful, spend a winter in exile resentful, blood-sullen winter with Finn, homesick and helpless.

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No ring-whorled prow could up then and away on the sea. Wind and water raged with storms, wave and shingle were shackled in ice until another year appeared in the yard as it does to this day, the seasons constant, the wonder of light coming over us. Then winter was gone, earth's lap grew lovely, longing woke in the cooped-up exile for a voyage home— but more for vengeance, some way of bringing things to a head: So he did not balk once Hunlafing placed on his lap Dazzle-the-Duel, the best sword of all, Danish warriors spur themselves i0 J renew the feud.

The mildness in them had to brim over. The hall ran red with blood of enemies. Finn was cut down, the queen brought away and everything the Shieldings could find inside Finn's walls — the Frisian king's gold collars and gemstones — swept off to the ship. Over sea-lanes then back to Daneland the warrior troop bore that lady home.

B E O W U L F 81 The poem was over, the poet had performed, a pleasant murmur started on the benches, stewards did the rounds with wine in splendid jugs, and Wealhtheow came to sit in her gold crown between two good men, uncle and nephew, each one of whom still trusted the other; and the forthright Unferth, admired by all for his mind and courage although under a cloud for killing his brothers, reclined near the king.

The queen spoke: Relish their company, but recollect as well all of the boons that have been bestowed on you. The bright court of Heorot has been cleansed and now the word is that you want to adopt this warrior as a son.

So, while you may, bask in your fortune, and then bequeath kingdom and nation to your kith and kin, before your decease. I am certain of Hrothulf. He is noble and will use the young ones well. He will not let you down. Should you die before him, he will treat our children truly and fairly. He will honour, I am sure, our two sons, repay them in kind when he recollects all the good things we gave him once, the favour and respect he found in his childhood.

The cup was carried to him, kind words spoken in welcome and a wealth of wrought gold r graciously bestowed: There was no hoard like it since Hama snatched the Brosings' neck-chain and bore it away with its gems and settings to his shining fort, away from Eormenric's wiles and hatred, and thereby ensured his eternal reward. Hygelac the Geat, grandson of Swerting, wore this neck-ring on his last raid; at bay under his banner, he defended the booty, treasure he had won.

Fate swept him away because of his proud need to provoke a feud with the Frisians. He fell beneath his shield, in the same gem-crusted, kingly gear he had worn when he crossed the frothing wave-vat. So the dead king fell into Frankish hands. They took his breast-mail, also his neck-torque, and punier warriors plundered the slain when the carnage ended; Geat corpses covered the field.

Applause filled the hall. Then Wealhtheow pronounced in the presence of the company: Be acclaimed for strength, for kindly guidance to these two boys, and your bounty will be sure. You have won renown: Your sway is wide as the wind's home, as the sea around cliffs.

And so, my prince, I wish you a lifetime's luck and blessings to enjoy this treasure. Treat my sons with tender care, be strong and kind. Here each comrade is true to the other, loyal to lord, loving in spirit. The thanes have one purpose, the people are ready: Men were drinking wine at that rare feast; how could they know fate, the grim shape of things to come, the threat looming over many thanes as night approached and King Hrothgar prepared to retire to his quarters?

Retainers in great numbers were posted on guard as so often in the past. Benches were pushed back, bedding gear and bolsters spread across the floor, and one man lay down to his rest, already marked for death. At their heads they placed their polished timber battle-shields; and on the bench above them, each man's kit was kept to hand: It was their habit always and everywhere to be ready for action, at home or in the camp, in whatever case and at whatever time the need arose BEOWULF Bedtime in Heomt 87 to rally round their lord.

They were a right people. They went to sleep. And one paid dearly for his night's ease, as had happened to them often, ever since Grendel occupied the gold-hall, committing evil until the end came, death after his crimes. Then it became clear, obvious to everyone once the fight was over, that an avenger lurked and was still alive, grimly biding time.

Grendel's mother, monstrous hell-bride, brooded on her wrongs. She had been forced down into fearful waters, the cold depths, after Cain had killed his father's son, felled his own brother with a sword. Branded an outlaw, marked by having murdered, he moved into the wilds, shunned company and joy.

And from Cain there sprang misbegotten spirits, among them Grendel, the banished and accursed, due to come to grips with that watcher in Heorot waiting to do battle. The monster wrenched and wrestled with him but Beowulf was mindful of his mighty strength, the wondrous gifts God had showered on him: He relied for help on the Lord of All, on His care and favour.

So he overcame the foe, brought down the hell-brute. Broken and bowed, outcast from all sweetness, the enemy of mankind made for his death-den.

But now his mother had sallied forth on a savage journey, grief-racked and ravenous, desperate for revenge. She came to Heorot. Her onslaught was less only by as much as an amazon warrior's strength is less than an armed man's when the hefted sword, its hammered edge and gleaming blade slathered in blood, razes the sturdy boar-ridge off a helmet.

Then in the hall, hard-honed swords were grabbed from the bench, many a broad shield lifted and braced; there was little thought of helmets or woven mail when they woke in terror. The hell-dam was in panic, desperate to get out, in mortal terror the moment she was found.

She had pounced and taken one of the retainers in a tight hold, then headed for the fen. To Hrothgar, this man was the most beloved of the friends he trusted between the two seas. She had done away with a great warrior, ambushed him at rest. Earlier, after the award of the treasure, the Geat had been given another lodging. There was uproar in Heorot. She had snatched their trophy, Grendel's bloodied hand.

It was a fresh blow to the afflicted bawn. The bargain was hard, both parties having to pay with the lives of friends. And the old lord, the grey-haired warrior, was heartsore and weary when he heard the news: So Beowulf entered with his band in attendance and the wooden floor-boards banged and rang as he advanced, hurrying to address the prince of the Ingwins, asking if he'd rested since the urgent summons had come as a surprise.

Then Hrothgar, the Shieldings' helmet, spoke: What is rest? Sorrow has returned. Hwthgar laments the counsellor. He Alas for the Danes! Aeschere is dead. Aeschere was everything the world admires in a wise man and a friend. Then this roaming killer came in a fury and slaughtered him in Heorot. Where she is hiding, glutting on the corpse and glorying in her escape, I cannot tell; she has taken up the feud because of last night, when you killed Grendel, wrestled and racked him in ruinous combat since for too long he had terrorized us with his depredations.

He died in battle, paid with his life; and now this powerful other one arrives, this force for evil driven to avenge her kinsman's death. Or so it seems to thanes in their grief, BEOWULF 93 in the anguish every thane endures at the loss of a ring-giver, now that the hand that bestowed so richly has been stilled in death.

One of these things, as far as anyone ever can discern, looks like a woman; the other, warped in the shape of a man, moves beyond the pale bigger than any man, an unnatural birth called Grendel by country people in former days.

They are fatherless creatures, and their whole ancestry is hidden in a past of demons and ghosts. They dwell apart among wolves on the hills, on windswept crags and treacherous keshes, where cold streams pour down the mountain and disappear under mist and moorland. A few miles from here a frost-stiffened wood waits and keeps watch above a mere; the overhanging bank is a maze of tree-roots mirrored in its surface.

At night there, something uncanny happens: And the mere bottom has never been sounded by the sons of men. On its bank, the heather-stepper halts: That is no good place. Now help depends again on you and on you alone. The gap of danger where the demon waits is still unknown to you. Seek it if you dare. I will compensate you for settling the feud as I did the last time with lavish wealth, coffers of coiled gold, if you come back.

For every one of us, living in this world means waiting for our end. When a warrior is gone, that will be his best and only bulwark. So arise, my lord, and let us immediately set forth on the trail of this troll-dam. I guarantee you: She'll have nowhere to flee to. Endure your troubles to-day.

Bear up and be the man I expect you to be. Then a bit and halter were brought for his horse with the plaited mane.

The wise king mounted the royal saddle and rode out in style with a force of shield-bearers. The forest paths were marked all over with the monster's tracks, B E O W U L F heroic code that guides their lives The expedition to the mere 97 - her trail on the ground wherever she had gone across the dark moors, dragging away the body of that thane, Hrothgar's best counsellor and overseer of the country.

So the noble prince proceeded undismayed up fells and screes, along narrow footpaths and ways where they were forced into single file, ledges on cliffs above lairs of water-monsters. He went in front with a few men, good judges of the lie of the land, and suddenly discovered the dismal wood, mountain trees growing out at an angle above grey stones: It was a sore blow to all of the Danes, friends of the Shieldings, a hurt to each and every one of that noble company when they came upon Aeschere's head at the foot of the cliff.

Everybody gazed as the hot gore kept wallowing up and an urgent war-horn repeated its notes: The water was infested with all kinds of reptiles. There were writhing sea-dragons and monsters slouching on slopes by the cliff, serpents and wild things such as those that often surface at dawn to roam the sail-road and doom the voyage. Down they plunged, lashing in anger at the loud call of the battle-bugle.

An arrow from the bow of the Geat chief got one of them as he surged to the surface: It was his last swim. He was swiftly overwhelmed in the shallows, prodded by barbed boar-spears, cornered, beaten, pulled up on the bank, a strange lake-birth, a loathsome catch men gazed at in awe.

Beowulf got ready, donned his war-gear, indifferent to death; Beowulf arms for the underwater fight his mighty, hand-forged, fine-webbed mail would soon meet with the menace underwater.

It would keep the bone-cage of his body safe: To guard his head he had a glittering helmet that was due to be muddied on the mere bottom and blurred in the upswirl.

It was of beaten gold, princely headgear hooped and hasped by a weapon-smith who had worked wonders in days gone by and adorned it with boar-shapes; since then it had resisted every sword. And another item lent by Unf erth at that moment of need was of no small importance: The iron blade with its ill-boding patterns had been tempered in blood. It had never failed the hand of anyone who hefted it in battle, anyone who had fought and faced the worst in the gap of danger. This was not the first time it had been called to perform heroic feats.

When he lent that blade to the better swordsman, Unferth, the strong-built son of Ecglaf, B E O W U L F could hardly have remembered the ranting speech he had made in his cups. He was not man enough to face the turmoil of a fight under water and the risk to his life. So there he lost fame and repute. It was different for the other rigged out in his gear, ready to do battle.

Beowulf takes his "Wisest of kings, now that I have come to the point of action, I ask you to recall what we said earlier: If this combat kills me, take care of my young company, my comrades in arms. And be sure also, my beloved Hrothgar, to send Hygelac the treasures I received. Let the lord of the Geats gaze on that gold, let Hrethel's son take note of it and see that I found a ring-giver of rare magnificence and enjoyed the good of his generosity. And Unferth is to have what I inherited: With Hrunting I shall gain glory or die.

It was the best part of a day before he could see the solid bottom. B E O W U L F Quickly the one who haunted those waters, who had scavenged and gone her gluttonous rounds for a hundred seasons, sensed a human observing her outlandish lair from above. So she lunged and clutched and managed to catch him in her brutal grip; but his body, for all that, remained unscathed: Her savage talons failed to rip the web of his warshirt.

Then once she touched bottom, that wolfish swimmer carried the ring-mailed prince to her court so that for all his courage he could never use the weapons he carried; and a bewildering horde came at him from the depths, droves of sea-beasts who attacked with tusks and tore at his chain-mail in a ghastly onslaught.

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The gallant man could see he had entered some hellish turn-hole and yet the water did not work against him because the hall-roofing held off the force of the current; then he saw firelight, a gleam and flare-up, a glimmer of brightness. 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: But he soon found his battle-torch extinguished: It spared her and failed the man in his need.

It had gone through many hand-to-hand fights, had hewed the armour and helmets of the doomed, but here at last the fabulous powers of that heirloom failed. Then, in a fury, he flung his sword away. The keen, inlaid, worm-loop-patterned steel was hurled to the ground: 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: 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: 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 have surely 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: 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, an ancient heirloom J Hefightsback with '" his hare ha is Beowulf discovers a m g t swor ' y m slays his opponent from the days of the giants, an ideal weapon, one that any warrior would envy, BEOWULF but so huge and heavy of itself only Beowulf could wield it in a battle. So the Shieldings' 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. He inspected the vault: Now the weapon was to prove its worth. The warrior determined to take revenge for every gross act Grendel had committed— and not only for that one occasion when he'd come to slaughter the sleeping troops, fifteen of Hrothgar's house-guards surprised on their benches and ruthlessly devoured, and as many again carried away, a brutal plunder.

Beowulf in his fury now settled that score: The body gaped at the stroke dealt to it after death: Beowulf cut the corpse's head off. Immediately the counsellors keeping a lookout B E O W U L F with Hrothgar, watching the lake water, saw a heave-up and surge of waves and blood in the backwash. They bowed grey heads, spoke in their sage, experienced way about the good warrior, how they never again expected to see that prince returning in triumph to their king.

It was clear to many that the wolf of the deep had destroyed him forever. The brave Shieldings abandoned the cliff-top and the king went home; but sick at heart, staring at the mere, the strangers held on. They wished, without hope, to behold their lord, Beowulf himself. M e a n w h i l e , the SWOrd The sword blade began to wilt into gory icicles, to slather and thaw. It was a wonderful thing, the way it all melted as ice melts when the Father eases the fetters off the frost and unravels the water-ropes.

He who wields power over time and tide: He is the true Lord. Then away he swam, the one who had survived the fall of his enemies, flailing to the surface.

The seafarers' leader made for land, resolutely swimming, delighted with his prize, the mighty load he was lugging to the surface.

His thanes advanced in a troop to meet him, thanking God and taking great delight in seeing their prince back safe and sound. Quickly the hero's helmet and mail-shirt were loosed and unlaced. The lake settled, clouds darkened above the bloodshot depths. It was a task for four to hoist Grendel's head on a spear and bear it under strain to the bright hall. But soon enough they neared the place, fourteen Geats in fine fettle, striding across the outlying ground in a delighted throng around their leader.

In he came then, the thane's commander, the arch-warrior, to address Hrothgar: Grendel's head was hauled by the hair, dragged across the floor where the people were drinking, a horror for both queen and company to behold. They stared in awe.

It was an astonishing sight. Beowulf, son of Ecgtheow, spoke: I barely survived the battle under water. It was hard-fought, a desperate affair that could have gone badly; if God had not helped me, the outcome would have been quick and fatal.

Although Hrunting is hard-edged, I could never bring it to bear in battle. But the Lord of Men allowed me to behold— for He often helps the unbefriended— an ancient sword shining on the wall, a weapon made for giants, there for the wielding.

Then my moment came in the combat and I struck the dwellers in that den. Next thing the damascened sword blade melted; it bloated and it burned in their rushing blood. I have wrested the hilt from the enemies' hand, avenged the evil done to the Danes; it is what was due.

And this I pledge, O prince of the Shieldings: Never need you fear for a single thane of your sept or nation, young warriors or old, that laying waste of life that you and your people endured of yore.

That rare smithwork was passed on to the prince of the Danes when those devils perished; once death removed that murdering, guilt-steeped, God-cursed fiend, eliminating his unholy life BEOWULF and his mother's as well, it was willed to that king who of all the lavish gift-lords of the north was the best regarded between the two seas.

It was engraved all over and showed how war first came into the world and the flood destroyed the tribe of giants. They suffered a terrible severance from the Lord; the Almighty made the waters rise, drowned them in the deluge for retribution. In pure gold inlay on the sword-guards there were rune-markings correctly incised, stating and recording for whom the sword had been first made and ornamented with its scrollworked hilt.

Then everyone hushed as the son of Halfdane spoke this wisdom. Beowulf, my friend, your fame has gone far and wide, you are known everywhere.

In all things you are eventempered, prudent and resolute. So I stand firm by the promise of friendship we exchanged before. Forever you will be your people's mainstay and your own warriors' helping hand. Heremod was different, the way he behaved to Ecgwala's sons. BEOWULF He vented his rage on men he caroused with, killed his own comrades, a pariah king who cut himself off from his own kind, even though Almighty God had made him eminent and powerful and marked him from the start for a happy life.

But a change happened, he grew bloodthirsty, gave no more rings to honour the Danes. He suffered in the end for having plagued his people for so long: So learn from this and understand true values. I who tell you have wintered into wisdom. Sometimes He allows the mind of a man of distinguished birth to follow its bent, grants him fulfilment and felicity on earth and forts to command in his own country. He permits him to lord it in many lands until the man in his unthinkingness forgets that it will ever end for him.

He indulges his desires; illness and old age mean nothing to him; his mind is untroubled by envy or malice or the thought of enemies with their hate-honed swords.

The whole world conforms to his will, he is kept from the worst until an element of overweening enters him and takes hold while the soul's guard, its sentry, drowses, grown too distracted. And then the man is hit in the heart, the arrow flies beneath his defences, the devious promptings of the demon start. His old possessions seem paltry to him now. He covets and resents; dishonours custom and bestows no gold; and because of good things that the Heavenly Powers gave him in the past he ignores the shape of things to come.

Then finally the end arrives when the body he was lent collapses and falls prey to its death; ancestral possessions and the goods he hoarded are inherited by another who lets them go with a liberal hand.

Do not give way to pride. For a brief while your strength is in bloom but it fades quickly; and soon there will follow illness or the sword to lay you low, or a sudden fire or surge of water or jabbing blade or javelin from the air or repellent age.

Your piercing eye will dim and darken; and death will arrive, dear warrior, to sweep you away. Hrothgar s " ' experience proves it with spear and sword against constant assaults by many tribes: I came to believe my enemies had faded from the face of the earth.

Grendel struck after lying in wait. The man whose name was known for courage. Sailors brought stories of the plight you suffer I can calm the turmoil and terror in his mind. I have suffered extremes Answered in return: They had seen me bolstered in the blood of enemies When I battled and bound five beasts. Beowulf spoke: I can show the wise Hrothgar a way I had great triumphs. I am ready and willing to report my errand. King Hrothgar. Raided a troll-nest and in the night-sea Because all knew of my awesome strength.

All over the world If your lord and master. The fine-forged mesh of his gleaming mail-shirt. In this legendary hall.

To come here to you.

And went on his way. Once there. Upon arrival. This corpse-maker mongering death Resolute in his helmet. A noble warrior-lord name Ecgtheow. This danger abroad in the dark nights. Stands at the horizon. The Geat soldiers leave their boat and carry their beautiful.

Fate goes ever as fate must. So the Geats could have room to be together I have heard moreover that the monster scorns And at the party sat. O king of the Bright-Danes. Contrary words. Now I mean to be a match for Grendel. In answer. Dear prince of the Shieldings. In his reckless way to use weapons. And so.

Then a bench was cleared in that banquet hall With my own men to help me. I devastated them. Strong and stalwart. Then my face wont be there That anyone else alive under heaven To be covered in death: A bench is then cleared for Beowulf and his men to enjoy the food and mead of the great hall. An attendant stood by Therefore. His sea-braving. And no matter who tried. Filling Heorot with the head-clearing voice. No need then It was sheer vanity made you venture out to lament for long or lay out my body: On the main deep.

And the minstrel sang. Swoop without fear on that flower of manhood He could not brook or abide the fact As on others before. Neither would back down: He will glut himself on the Geats in the war-hall. I hereby renounce Helpings of mead. The deep boiled up Among the Heathoreams.

Than I could manage to move from him. Light came from the east. But Breca could never Were over for good. From now on Each of us swam holding a sword. Kept me safe when some ocean creature No matter. Bright guarantee of God. Night falling and winds from the north He was cast up safe and sound one morning drove us apart. But it was mostly beer lurking and stalking.

Sailors would be safe. Pinioned fast in every bout and battle until now. Came ashore the stronger contender. To where he belonged in Bronding country. Shoulder to shoulder. My flesh was not for feasting on. So Breca made good A fine. Move out farther or faster from me Taking its measure. I was the strongest swimmer of all. Through my hands. And so it turned out. Home again. The ocean swayed. Daring ourselves to outdo each other. The truth is this: My armour helped me to hold out. His boast upon you and was proved right.

And swathed in its grip. Riding on the swells. And pitch of the waves. In strongroom and brawn. That bears comparison. So for all your cleverness and quick tongue. I landed safe Then the grey-haired treasure-giver was glad. Awake and on edge. I survived. At the end of the feast. The fiend could not bear them to his shadow-bourne. The hall-guards were slack. Fate spares the man it has not already marked. Then whosever wants to Nine sea-monsters.

But he will find me different. One man. All except one. Without fear of reprisal. Came through with my life. Beowulf makes a formal boast restating his intention to fight Grendel in a battle to the death.

Havoc in Heorot and horrors everywhere. That fact is. He knows he can trample down you Danes Then out of the night Came the shadow-stalker. I will show him how Geats shape to kill However. Fight with Grendel You will suffer damnation in the depths of hell. But he knows he need never be in dread Of your blade making mizzle of his blood Or of vengeance arriving ever from this quarter— From the Victory-Shieldings. That neither you nor Breca were ever much Celebrated for swordsmanship Or for facing danger on the field of battle.

Grendel would never have got away with Such unchecked atrocity. Such night-dangers may go bravely to mead. And hard ordeals I have never heard of Scarfed in sun-dazzle.

The ocean lifted And laid me ashore. You killed your own kith and kin. Once all the Danes leave. Far-famed in battle. Hunting for a prey in the high hall. He had ever encountered in any man flame more than light. Venturing closer. The iron-braced door Where he lay on the bed. On the face of the earth. Nor was that the first time Bit into his bone-lappings. Hand and food. Until it shone above him. Every bone in his body He saw many men in the mansion.

Quailed and recoiled. And his glee was demonic. Fingers were bursting. For the first move the monster would make. Had come to an end. Of fortified gold. The captain of evil discovered himself pacing the length of the patterned floor In a handgrip harder than anything with his loathsome tread.

Spurned and joyless. Utterly lifeless. The monster back-tracking. He would rip life from limb and devour them.

A ranked company of kinsmen and warriors He was desperate to flee to his den and hide Quartered together. The latching power In his fingers weakened. Nor did the creature keep him waiting Under the cloud-murk he moved toward it But struck suddenly and started in. God-cursed Grendel came greedily loping.

Stalwart in action. Who heard that cry as it echoed off the wall. To allow his caller to depart alive: To his desolate lair. As long as either lived. On every side. The story goes He had conjured the harm from the cutting edge That as the pair struggled. Time and again.

When they joined the struggle Survived the onslaught and kept standing: There was something that could not have known at the time. Locked in a handgrip.

Beowulf: A New Verse Translation (Bilingual Edition)

It was handsomely structured. Everyone felt it Found that his bodily powers failed him. And the bone-lappings burst. His days were numbered.

Beowulf was granted The gory of winning. He was overwhelmed. To anyone anywhere. Out of this world and the days of his life Before then. Sinews split Was foremost and strongest in the days of this life.

He knew it for certain. Inside and out. Then an extraordinary With pain and affliction in former times Wail arose. He did not consider that life of much account The end of his life was coming over him. The howl of the loss. But his going away And sprung off the floor.

Inside the stockade: The family of Cain has become monsters. Hrothgar orders the hall to be restored to its former glory. After a year. By the way, do not doubt that Beowulf is truly enthralling to an adventure-minded six year old.

It has everything: It's sparked discussions on what it means to be brave, what it means to be a good king vs. I envy you approaching Beowulf for the first time.

This translation is a pretty good one for a reader who is accustomed to modern styles of poetry. As far as the little I've perused it, anyway. I can't speak to whether it's in any way definitive, but the story comes through rather well. It's sectioned off into Fits! Like Carroll's Hunting of the Snark!

I are in love. I'm such a nerd. Loosely translated it means 'Attention', 'Listen up', 'Concentrate'. James Ellroy meets Grendel. May the best monster win. Oh, Beowulf. I read the Heaney version in a weird course that counted for both lit and comp called "War Stories" which was run by a slightly by reputation anyway crazy German professor at Davidson called Scott Denham.

But Beowulf pretty much claimed my soul and that, along with taking a level class with my to-be adviser shout out to Dr. Barnes sealed my obsession with taking every class ever about Medieval History - including reading Chaucer in the original. So thanks for this. So many lovely memories of reading the Heaney and being mesmerized.

Some years later my now-spouse got me the audiobook on CDs! I have to go to work! I once had someone tell me that you can't really understand Beowulf until you've heard it recited in a cave, around a fire, surrounded by hairy guys stomping out the rhythm. I tried that and didn't really understand it even then. And I guess that's why I never made Eagle Scout. If you like Beowulf, might I recommend the Hildebrandslied? One of this former German major 's all-time favorites in terms of old Germanic lit And if you like Beowulf you can't miss Grendel , by John Gardner, funny, obscene, philosophical, strange, poetic, anthropological and short, for a novel.

The conceit is that the monster tells the story. Grendel was, after all, part human which is the basis for a lot of the philosophical bits about art, heroism, religion, politics, etc. John Gardner's version attacks the Grendal knot without a sword: Great read, all of what kozad said, plus irreverent splaying of heroes and their wet dreams. So I looked it up.

I don't know how much one can trust wiktionary, but here 's their Old English entry meaning song , and a Modern English definition that's appropriate.

I guess Carroll was using it as an appropriate archaic word that had a funny modern meaning. I wonder if its archaic meaning was more familiar to Carroll's contemporaries than to us?