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Listen! We have heard of the glory in bygone days of the folk-kings of the spear-Danes,2 how those noble lords did lofty deeds. Often Scyld Scefing3 seized the mead-benches 5 from many tribes, troops of enemies, struck fear into earls. Though he first was found a waif, he awaited solace for that— he grew under heaven and prospered in honor until every one of the encircling nations over the whale’s-riding4 10 had to obey him, grant him tribute. That was a good king! A boy was later born to him, young in the courts, whom God sent as a solace to the people—He saw their need, 15 the dire distress they had endured, lordless, for such a long time. The Lord of Life, Wielder of Glory, gave him worldly honor; Beowulf, 5 the son of Scyld, was renowned, his fame spread wide in Scandinavian lands. 20 Thus should a young man bring about good with pious gifts from his father’s possessions, so that later in life loyal comrades will stand beside him when war comes, the people will support him—with praiseworthy deeds 25 a man will prosper among any people. Scyld passed away at his appointed hour, the mighty lord went into the Lord’s keeping; they bore him down to the brimming sea his dear comrades, as he himself had commanded while the friend of the Scyldings6 30 wielded speech— that dear land-ruler had long held power. In the harbor stood a ring-prowed ship, icy, outbound, a nobleman’s vessel; there they laid down their dear lord, 35 dispenser of rings, in the bosom of the ship, glorious, by the mast. There were many treasures loaded there, adornments from distant lands; I have never heard of a more lovely ship bedecked with battle-weapons and war-gear, blades and byrnies;7 40 in its bosom lay many treasures, which were to travel far with him into the keeping of the flood. With no fewer gifts did they furnish him there, the wealth of nations, than those did who 45 at his beginning first sent him forth alone over the waves while still a small child.8 Then they set a golden ensign high over his head, and let the waves have him, gave him to the Deep with grieving spirits, 50 mournful in mind. Men do not know how to say truly—not trusted counselors, nor heroes under the heavens—who received that cargo. 1 Then Beowulf Scylding, beloved king, was famous in the strongholds of his folk 55 for a long while—his father having passed away, a lord from earth—until after him arose the great Healfdene, who held the glorious Scyldings all his life, ancient and fierce in battle. Four children, all counted up, 60 were born to that bold leader of hosts: Heorogar, Hrothgar, and Halga the Good, I heard that …9 was Onela’s queen dear bedfellow of the Battle-Scylfing. Then success in war was given to Hrothgar, 65 honor in battle, so that his beloved kinsmen eagerly served him, until the young soldiers grew into a mighty troop of men. It came to his mind that he should order a hall-building, have men make a great mead-house which the sons of men should remember forever, 1 70 and there inside he would share everything with young and old that God had given him, except for the common land and the lives of men. Then the work, as I’ve heard, was widely proclaimed 75 to many nations throughout this middle-earth, to come adorn the folk-stead. It came to pass swiftly among men, and it was soon ready, the greatest of halls; he gave it the name “Heorot,”2 he who ruled widely with his words. 80 He remembered his boast; he gave out rings, treasure at table. The hall towered high and horn-gabled—it awaited hostile fires, the surges of war; the time was not yet near that the sword-hate of sworn in-laws should arise after ruthless violence.3 85 A bold demon who waited in darkness wretchedly suffered all the while, for every day he heard the joyful din loud in the hall, with the harp’s sound, the clear song of the scop. 4 90 He said who was able to tell of the origin of men that the Almighty created the earth, a bright and shining plain, by seas embraced, and set, triumphantly, the sun and moon 95 to light their beams for those who dwell on land, adorned the distant corners of the world with leaves and branches, and made life also, all manner of creatures that live and move. — Thus this lordly people lived in joy, 100 blessedly, until one began to work his foul crimes—a fiend from Hell. This grim spirit was called Grendel, mighty stalker of the marches, who held the moors and fens; this miserable man 105 lived for a time in the land of giants, after the Creator had condemned him among Cain’s race—when he killed Abel5 the eternal Lord avenged that death. No joy in that feud—the Maker forced him 110 far from mankind for his foul crime. From thence arose all misbegotten things, trolls and elves and the living dead, and also the giants who strove against God for a long while—He gave them their reward for that. 2 115 When night descended he went to seek out the high house, to see how the Ring-Danes had bedded down after their beer-drinking. He found therein a troop of nobles asleep after the feast; they knew no sorrow 120 or human misery. The unholy creature, grim and ravenous, was ready at once, ruthless and cruel, and took from their rest thirty thanes;6 thence he went rejoicing in his booty, back to his home, 125 to seek out his abode with his fill of slaughter. When in the dim twilight just before dawn Grendel’s warfare was made known to men, then lamentation was lifted up after the feasting, a great mourning-sound. Unhappy sat 130 the mighty lord, long-good nobleman, suffered greatly, grieved for his thanes, once they beheld that hostile one’s tracks, the accursed spirit; that strife was too strong, loathsome and long. It was not longer 135 than the next night until he committed a greater murder, mourned not at all for his feuds and sins—he was too fixed in them Then it was easy to find a thane who sought his rest elsewhere, farther away, a bed in the outbuildings,1 140 when was pointed out— truly announced with clear tokens— that hall-thane’s hate; he kept himself afterwards farther and safer, who escaped the fiend. So he ruled, and strove against right, 145 one against all, until empty stood the best of houses. And so for a great while— for twelve long winters the lord of the Scyldings suffered his grief, every sort of woe, great sorrow, for to the sons of men 150 it became known, and carried abroad in sad tales, that Grendel strove long with Hrothgar, bore his hatred, sins and feuds, for many seasons, perpetual conflict; he wanted no peace 155 with any man of the Danish army, nor ceased his deadly hatred, nor settled with money, nor did any of the counselors need to expect bright compensation from the killer’s hands,2 for the great ravager relentlessly stalked, 160 a dark death-shadow, lurked and struck old and young alike, in perpetual night held the misty moors. Men do not know whither such whispering demons wander about. Thus the foe of mankind, fearsome and solitary, 165 often committed his many crimes, cruel humiliations; he occupied Heorot, the jewel-adorned hall, in the dark nights— he saw no need to salute the throne, he scorned the treasures; he did not know their love.3 170 That was deep misery to the lord of the Danes, a breaking of spirit. Many a strong man sat in secret counsel, considered advice, what would be best for the brave at heart to save themselves from the sudden attacks. 175 At times they offered honor to idols at pagan temples, prayed aloud that the soul-slayer4 might offer assistance in the country’s distress. Such was their custom, the hope of heathens—they remembered Hell 180 in their minds, they did not know the Maker, the Judge of deeds, they did not know the Lord God, or even how to praise the heavenly Protector, Wielder of glory. Woe unto him who must thrust his soul through wicked force 185 in the fire’s embrace, expect no comfort, no way to change at all! It shall be well for him who can seek the Lord after his deathday and find security in the Father’s embrace. 3 With the sorrows of that time the son of Healfdene5 190 seethed constantly; nor could the wise hero turn aside his woe—too great was the strife, long and loathsome, which befell that nation, violent, grim, cruel, greatest of night-evils. Then from his home the thane of Hygelac,6 195 a good man among the Geats, heard of Grendel’s deeds— he was of mankind the strongest of might in those days of this life, noble and mighty. He commanded to be made a good wave-crosser, said that that war-king 200 he would seek out over the swan’s-riding, the renowned prince, when he was in need of men. Wise men did not dissuade him at all from that journey, though he was dear to them; they encouraged his bold spirit, inspected the omens. 205 From the Geatish nation that good man had chosen the boldest champions, the best he could find; one of fifteen, he sought the sea-wood. A wise sailor showed the way to the edge of the shore. 210 The time came—the craft was on the waves, moored under the cliffs. Eager men climbed on the prow—the currents eddied, sea against sand—the soldiers bore into the bosom of the ship their bright gear, 215 fine polished armor; the men pushed off on their wished-for journey in that wooden vessel. Over the billowing waves, urged by the wind, the foamy-necked floater flew like a bird, until in due time on the second day 220 the curved-prowed vessel had come so far that the seafarers sighted land, shining shore-cliffs, steep mountains, wide headlands—then the waves were crossed, the journey at an end. Thence up quickly the people of the Weders1 225 climbed onto the plain, moored their ship, shook out their mail-shirts, their battle-garments; they thanked God that the sea-paths had been smooth for them.