He Tells Of The Swedes And The Geatas
"Wäs sió swât-swaðu Sweona and Geáta,"wäl-ræs wera wîde gesýne,"hû þâ folc mid him fæhðe tôwehton."Gewât him þâ se gôda mid his gädelingum,"frôd fela geômor fästen sêcean,"eorl Ongenþió ufor oncirde;"häfde Higelâces hilde gefrunen,"wlonces wîg-cräft, wiðres ne trûwode,"þät he sæ-mannum onsacan mihte,"heáðo-lîðendum hord forstandan,"bearn and brýde; beáh eft þonan"eald under eorð-weall. Þâ wäs æht boden"Sweona leódum, segn Higelâce."Freoðo-wong þone forð ofereodon,"syððan Hrêðlingas tô hagan þrungon."Þær wearð Ongenþió ecgum sweorda,
“The blood-trail of Swedes and Geats, the death-rush of warriors,was widely seen, how those two peopleshad stirred up feud between them.Then the good man set out,with his kinsmen, old, deeply grieving, to seek out a stronghold,Earl Ongentheow turned away further inland;he had learned of Hygelac’s battle-skill,that proud one’s war-craft,did not trust that he could resistthe seafarers, defend his hoard against those hardened raiders,his wife and his children; so he turned back from there,old, behind the earth-wall. Then pursuit was offeredto the people of the Swedes,Hygelac’s banner going before them;they overran that peace-enclosure, once the Geatshad pressed on to the stronghold. There Ongentheow
"blonden-fexa on bîd wrecen,"þät se þeód-cyning þafian sceolde"Eofores ânne dôm: hyne yrringa"Wulf Wonrêding wæpne geræhte,"þät him for swenge swât ædrum sprong"forð under fexe. Näs he forht swâ þêh,"gomela Scilfing, ac forgeald hraðe"wyrsan wrixle wäl-hlem þone,"syððan þeód-cyning þyder oncirde:"ne meahte se snella sunu Wonrêdes"ealdum ceorle ond-slyht giofan,"ac he him on heáfde helm ær gescer,"þät he blôde fâh bûgan sceolde,"feóll on foldan; näs he fæge þâ git,"ac he hyne gewyrpte, þeáh þe him wund hrîne,"Lêt se hearda Higelâces þegn
was driven to bay by the edges of swords,that grey-haired man, so that the king had to submitto Eofor’s judgment alone: Wulf, son of Wonred,struck at him furiously with his weapon,so that from the blow the blood sprang out in streamsfrom under his hair. He was not afraid, even so,that old Scylfing, but quickly repaidthat wound-stroke with a worse one in return,once the king of the people turned toward him;the brave son of Wonred could not give the old mana blow back, for he had already sheared throughhis helmet first,so that, stained with blood,he had to bow down, fell to the ground;he was not doomed yet, though — he recovered,though the wound had touched him. Then Hygelac’s hardy thane
"brâdne mêce, þâ his brôðor läg,"eald sweord eotonisc, entiscne helm,"brecan ofer bord-weal: þâ gebeáh cyning,"folces hyrde, wäs in feorh dropen."Þâ wæron monige, þe his mæg wriðon,"ricone ârærdon, þâ him gerýmed wearð,"þät hie wäl-stôwe wealdan môston."Þenden reáfode rinc ôðerne,"nam on Ongenþió îren-byrnan,"heard swyrd hilted and his helm somod;"hâres hyrste Higelâce bär."He þâm frätwum fêng and him fägre gehêt"leána fore leódum and gelæste swâ:"geald þone gûð-ræs Geáta dryhten,"Hrêðles eafora, þâ he tô hâm becom,"Jofore and Wulfe mid ofer-mâðmum,
let his broad sword, once his brother lay there,an old giant-made blade, an ancient helmet,break through the shield-wall: then the king gave way,the shepherd of his people, struck to the heart.Then there were many who bound up his kinsman,quickly raised him up, once room was made for them,so that they could hold that battlefield.Meanwhile one warrior stripped the other,took from Ongentheow his iron mail-coat,his hard hilted sword and his helmet too;carried the old man’s gear to Hygelac.He took that treasure,and promised him rewardsfairly before the people, and kept his word:the king of the Geats repaid that war-rush,Hrethel’s heir, once he came home,
"sealde hiora gehwäðrum hund þûsenda"landes and locenra beága; ne þorfte him þâ leán ôðwîtan"mon on middan-gearde, syððan hie þâ mærða geslôgon;"and þâ Jofore forgeaf ângan dôhtor,"hâm-weorðunge, hyldo tô wedde."Þät ys sió fæhðo and se feónd-scipe,"wäl-nîð wera, þäs þe ic wên hafo,"þe ûs sêceað tô Sweona leóde,"syððan hie gefricgeað freán ûserne"ealdor-leásne, þone þe ær geheóld"wið hettendum hord and rîce,"äfter häleða hryre hwate Scylfingas,"folc-ræd fremede oððe furður gen"eorl-scipe efnde. Nu is ôfost betost,"þät we þeód-cyning þær sceáwian"and þone gebringan, þe ûs beágas geaf,
gave to Eofor and to Wulf treasures beyond measure,gave each of them a hundred thousandin land and linked rings; no man on earthneeded to reproach him for those rewards,once they had won such glory; and to Eofor he gavehis only daughter, an honor for his house,as a pledge of his favor. That is the feud,the enmity, the deadly hatred of men,that I expect will bring the Swedish people against us,once they learn that our lord is lifeless,he who earlier held, against attackers,hoard and kingdom, after the fall of heroes,the brave Scylfings, worked for the good of the people,or did still greater deeds of heroism.Now haste is best, that we go and look upon the king,and carry him, the one who gave us rings,
"on âd-färe. Ne scel ânes hwät"meltan mid þam môdigan, ac þær is mâðma hord."gold unrîme grimme geceápod"and nu ät sîðestan sylfes feore"beágas gebohte; þâ sceal brond fretan,"äled þeccean, nalles eorl wegan"mâððum tô gemyndum, ne mägð scýne"habban on healse hring-weorðunge,"ac sceall geômor-môd golde bereáfod"oft nalles æne el-land tredan,"nu se here-wîsa hleahtor âlegde,"gamen and gleó-dreám. Forþon sceall gâr wesan"monig morgen-ceald mundum bewunden,"häfen on handa, nalles hearpan swêg"wîgend weccean, ac se wonna hrefn"fûs ofer fægum, fela reordian,
to the funeral pyre. Not just a portionshall melt away with that brave man,but there is a hoard of treasure,gold beyond counting, grimly bought,and now, at the very last, bought again with his own life;all this the fire shall devour,the flame shall cover it over,no warrior shall wear a jewel in his memory,no fair maiden shall have a ring-ornamentaround her neck, but, sad in spirit,stripped of gold, she shall often, not just once,have to walk in a foreign land, now that the leader of the armyhas laid aside laughter, mirth and joy.Therefore many a spear, cold in the morning,shall be gripped, lifted in hand; no sound of the harpshall wake the warriors, but the dark raven,
"earne secgan, hû him ät æte speów,"þenden he wið wulf wäl reáfode."Swâ se secg hwata secgende wäslâðra spella; he ne leág felawyrda ne worda. Weorod eall ârâs,eodon unblîðe under Earna näswollen-teáre wundur sceáwian.Fundon þâ on sande sâwul-leásnehlim-bed healdan, þone þe him hringas geafærran mælum: þâ wäs ende-däggôdum gegongen, þät se gûð-cyning,Wedra þeóden, wundor-deáðe swealt.Ær hî gesêgan syllîcran wiht,wyrm on wonge wiðer-rähtes þærlâðne licgean: wäs se lêg-draca,grimlîc gryre-gäst, glêdum beswæled,
eager over the doomed, shall have much to say,shall tell the eagle how he fared at the feast,when he, with the wolf, went plundering the slain.”So that bold man went on speaking hateful tidings;he did not lie much, in fact or in word.The whole troop rose up; they went, unhappy,under Eagles’ Ness, with welling tears,to look on that wonder. They found there on the sand,holding his death-bed, lifeless now,the one who had given them rings in earlier days;then the death-day had come for that good man,so that the war-king, prince of the Weders,died a wondrous death. But first they sawa stranger creature,a worm lying opposite on the field,hateful to look at: that fire-dragon was
se wäs fîftiges fôt-gemearces.lang on legere, lyft-wynne heóldnihtes hwîlum, nyðer eft gewâtdennes niósian; wäs þâ deáðe fäst,häfde eorð-scrafa ende genyttod.Him big stôdan bunan and orcas,discas lâgon and dýre swyrd,ômige þurh-etone, swâ hie wið eorðan fäðmþûsend wintra þær eardodon:þonne wäs þät yrfe eácen-cräftig,iú-monna gold galdre bewunden,þät þam hring-sele hrînan ne môstegumena ænig, nefne god sylfa,sigora sôð-cyning, sealde þam þe he wolde(he is manna gehyld) hord openian,efne swâ hwylcum manna, swâ him gemet þûhte.
a terrible, grim spirit, scorched with its own flame;it measured fifty feet in lengthas it lay there. It had once held joy of the airby night, then turned back down againto seek its den; it was fast in death now,had made its last use of those earth-caverns.Beside it stood cups and vessels, dishes lay thereand precious swords, eaten through with rust,just as they had rested there in the earth’s embracefor a thousand winters; that enormous legacy,gold of men long past, was bound about with a spell,so that no man at all could touch that ring-hall,unless God himself, the true King of victories —he is mankind’s protector — granted itto whomever he wished to open that hoard,to whichever man seemed fitting to him.