The Gleeman'S Tale Is Ended
"Gewiton him þâ wîgend wîca neósian,"freóndum befeallen Frysland geseón,"hâmas and heá-burh. Hengest þâ gyt"wäl-fâgne winter wunode mid Finne"ealles unhlitme; eard gemunde,"þeáh þe he ne meahte on mere drîfan"hringed-stefnan; holm storme weól,"won wið winde; winter ýðe beleác"îs-gebinde ôð þät ôðer com"geâr in geardas, swâ nu gyt dêð,"þâ þe syngales sêle bewitiað,"wuldor-torhtan weder. Þâ wäs winter scacen,"fäger foldan bearm; fundode wrecca,"gist of geardum; he tô gyrn-wräce
“Then the warriors went to seek out their homes,stripped of friends, to look on Frisia,their houses and high stronghold. Hengest still remained,through that death-stained winter, with Finn,with no choice in the matter; he thought of home,though he could not drive his ring-prowed shipout onto the sea — the water churned with storm,fought against the wind; winter locked the currentsin bonds of ice, until another yearcame round to men’s dwellings, as it still does now,those bright and glorious seasons that keep their turning.Then winter was gone, the earth’s lap grew fair;the exile grew restless, the guest eager to leavethat household; he thought more of vengeance for the wrong done him
"swîðor þôhte, þonne tô sæ-lâde,"gif he torn-gemôt þurhteón mihte,"þät he Eotena bearn inne gemunde."Swâ he ne forwyrnde worold-rædenne,"þonne him Hûnlâfing hilde-leóman,"billa sêlest, on bearm dyde:"þäs wæron mid Eotenum ecge cûðe."Swylce ferhð-frecan Fin eft begeat"sweord-bealo slîðen ät his selfes hâm,"siððan grimne gripe Gûðlaf ond Ôslâf"äfter sæ-siðe sorge mændon,"ätwiton weána dæl; ne meahte wäfre môd"forhabban in hreðre. Þâ wäs heal hroden"feónda feorum, swilce Fin slägen,
than of the sea-crossing — whether he could bring abouta hostile meeting, in which he might yetcall the sons of the Jutes to account.So he did not refuse the world’s way,when Hunlaf’s son laid the battle-lightin his lap, finest of blades: its edgeswere well known among the Jutes. In just that waycruel sword-evil came, later,to fierce Finn himself, in his own home,after Guthlaf and Oslaf, back from that sea-voyage,spoke bitterly of the grim onslaught,laid their share of sorrows at his door;his restless heart could not hold still in his breast.Then the hall ran red with the blood of enemies,
"cyning on corðre, and seó cwên numen."Sceótend Scyldinga tô scypum feredon"eal in-gesteald eorð-cyninges,"swylce hie ät Finnes hâm findan meahton"sigla searo-gimma. Hie on sæ-lâde"drihtlîce wîf tô Denum feredon,"læddon tô leódum." Leóð wäs âsungen,gleó-mannes gyd. Gamen eft âstâh,beorhtode benc-swêg, byrelas sealdonwîn of wunder-fatum. Þâ cwom Wealhþeó forðgân under gyldnum beáge, þær þâ gôdan twegensæton suhter-gefäderan; þâ gyt wäs hiera sib ätgädereæghwylc ôðrum trýwe. Swylce þær Ûnferð þyle
and Finn too was killed, the king among his troop,and the queen was taken. The Scylding warriorscarried to their ships all the household treasureof that earth-king, whatever they could findat Finn’s home of jewels, of finely worked gems.They bore that noble woman on the sea-crossingback to the Danes, brought her home to her people.”The lay was finished, the minstrel’s song.Merriment rose again, bench-noise brightened,cup-bearers poured wine from wondrous vessels.Then Wealhtheow came forward, walkingunder her golden crown, to where the two good men sat,uncle and nephew; their kinship thenwas still whole between them, each true to the other.
ät fôtum sät freán Scyldinga: gehwylc hiora his ferhðe treówde,þät he häfde môd micel, þeáh þe he his mâgum næreârfäst ät ecga gelâcum. Spräc þâ ides Scyldinga:"Onfôh þissum fulle, freó-drihten mîn,"sinces brytta; þu on sælum wes,"gold-wine gumena, and tô Geátum sprec"mildum wordum! Swâ sceal man dôn."Beó wið Geátas gläd, geofena gemyndig;"neán and feorran þu nu friðu hafast."Me man sägde, þät þu þe for sunu wolde"here-rinc habban. Heorot is gefælsod,"beáh-sele beorhta; brûc þenden þu môte"manigra mêda and þînum mâgum læf
And Unferth the spokesman sat there too,at the feet of the Scyldings’ lord: everyone trustedhis courage, though he had not always shown honortoward his own kin in the play of swords.Then the lady of the Scyldings spoke:“Take this cup, my own dear lord,giver of treasure; be joyful,gold-friend of men, and speak to the Geatswith gentle words, as a man should do!Be gracious to the Geats, mindful of your gifts;you have peace now, near and far. I am toldyou mean to take this warrior for a son.Heorot is cleansed, the bright ring-hall;
"folc and rîce, þonne þu forð scyle"metod-sceaft seón. Ic mînne can"glädne Hrôðulf, þät he þâ geogoðe wile"ârum healdan, gyf þu ær þonne he,"wine Scildinga, worold oflætest;"wêne ic, þät he mid gôde gyldan wille"uncran eaferan, gif he þät eal gemon,"hwät wit tô willan and tô worð-myndum"umbor wesendum ær ârna gefremedon."Hwearf þâ bî bence, þær hyre byre wæron,Hrêðrîc and Hrôðmund, and häleða bearn,giogoð ätgädere; þær se gôda sätBeówulf Geáta be þæm gebrôðrum twæm.
enjoy, while you may, your many rewards,and leave to your kinsmen the folk and the kingdomwhen you must go forth to meet your fate.I know my gracious Hrothulf will holdthe young men in honor, if you, friend of the Scyldings,leave this world before he does; I trusthe will repay our sons well, if he remembersall we did for his pleasure and his honorwhile he was still a child.” Then she turnedto the bench where her own sons sat,Hrethric and Hrothmund, and the sons of warriors,the young men together; there the good man sat,Beowulf of the Geats, between the two brothers.