Beowulf

XXVI

BE­OWULF spake, bairn of Ecgth­eow: — “Lo, we sea­far­ers say our will, far-​come men, that we fain would seek Hygelac now. We here have found hosts to our heart: thou hast har­bored us well. If ev­er on earth I am able to win me more of thy love, O lord of men, aught anew, than I now have done, for work of war I am will­ing still! If it come to me ev­er across the seas that neigh­bor foe­men an­noy and fright thee, — as they that hate thee erewhile have used, — thou­sands then of thanes I shall bring, heroes to help thee. Of Hygelac I know, ward of his folk, that, though few his years, the lord of the Geats will give me aid by word and by work, that well I may serve thee, wield­ing the war-​wood to win thy tri­umph and lend­ing thee might when thou lack­est men. If thy Hrethric should come to court of Geats, a sovran’s son, he will sure­ly there find his friends. A far-​off land each man should vis­it who vaunts him brave.” Him then an­swer­ing, Hroth­gar spake: — “These words of thine the wis­est God sent to thy soul! No sager coun­sel from so young in years e’er yet have I heard. Thou art strong of main and in mind art wary, art wise in words! I ween in­deed if ev­er it hap that Hrethel’s heir by spear be seized, by sword-​grim bat­tle, by ill­ness or iron, thine el­der and lord, peo­ple’s lead­er, — and life be thine, — no seem­li­er man will the Sea-​Geats find at all to choose for their chief and king, for hoard-​guard of heroes, if hold thou wilt thy kins­man’s king­dom! Thy keen mind pleas­es me the longer the bet­ter, Be­owulf loved!

Thou hast brought it about that both our peo­ples, sons of the Geat and Spear-​Dane folk, shall have mu­tu­al peace, and from mur­der­ous strife, such as once they waged, from war re­frain. Long as I rule this realm so wide, let our hoards be com­mon, let heroes with gold each oth­er greet o’er the gan­net’s-​bath, and the ringed-​prow bear o’er rolling waves to­kens of love. I trow my land­folk to­wards friend and foe are firm­ly joined, and hon­or they keep in the old­en way.” To him in the hall, then, Healf­dene’s son gave trea­sures twelve, and the trust-​of-​earls bade him fare with the gifts to his folk beloved, hale to his home, and in haste re­turn. Then kissed the king of kin renowned, Scyld­ings’ chief­tain, that choic­est thane, and fell on his neck. Fast flowed the tears of the hoary-​head­ed. Heavy with win­ters, he had chances twain, but he clung to this, {26a} — that each should look on the oth­er again, and hear him in hall. Was this hero so dear to him. his breast’s wild bil­lows he banned in vain; safe in his soul a se­cret long­ing, locked in his mind, for that loved man burned in his blood. Then Be­owulf strode, glad of his gold-​gifts, the grass-​plot o’er, war­rior blithe. The wave-​roamer bode rid­ing at an­chor, its own­er await­ing. As they has­tened on­ward, Hroth­gar’s gift they laud­ed at length. — ‘Twas a lord un­peered, ev­ery way blame­less, till age had bro­ken — it spareth no mor­tal — his splen­did might.