linked by hand; the bright chain-mail
Clanged in the armors, as they first approached
The hall in their fearsome battle-gear.
Sea-weary, they set down their broad shields, 325
The strong shield-bosses against the wall;
Then they sat on benches. Their mail-coats rang,
The warriors’ battle-wear did. Spears stood,
sæmanna searo, samod ætgædere,
æscholt ufan græg; wæs se irenþreat 330
wæpnum gewurþad. Þa ðær wlonc hæleð
oretmecgas æfter æþelum frægn:
“Hwanon ferigeað ge fætte scyldas,
græge syrcan ond grimhelmas,
heresceafta heap? Ic eom Hroðgares 335
ar ond ombiht. Ne seah ic elþeodige
þus manige men modiglicran.
Wen ic þæt ge for wlenco, nalles for wræcsiðum,
ac for higeþrymmum Hroðgar sohton.”
Him þa ellenrof andswarode, 340
wlanc Wedera leod, word æfter spræc,
heard under helme: “We synt Higelaces
beodgeneatas; Beowulf is min nama.
Wille ic asecgan sunu Healfdenes,
mærum þeodne, min ærende, 345
aldre þinum, gif he us geunnan wile,
þæt we hine swa godne gretan moton.”
Wulfgar maðelode —þæt wæs Wendla leod;
wæs his modsefa manegum gecyðed,
wig ond wisdom—: “Ic þæs wine Deniga, 350
frean Scildinga, frinan wille,
beaga bryttan, swa þu bena eart,
þeoden mærne, ymb þinne sið,
ond þe þa ondsware ædre gecyðan,
ðe me se goda agifan þenceð.” 355
Hwearf þa hrædlice þær Hroðgar sæt
eald ond anhar mid his eorla gedriht;
eode ellenrof, þæt he for eaxlum gestod
The seamen’s arms put together—
The ash-spears gray from above: the armed troop 330
Was worthy of their weapons. Then a proud warrior there
Asked the men-at-arms about their lineage:
“Wherefrom do you bring your ornamented shields,
Gray mail-shirts and masked helmets,
And so many spears? I am Hrothgar’s 335
Messenger and officer. I have not yet seen
A band of foreign men looking more warlike.
I think that you have sought Hrothgar
For a daring and high purpose, not in exile.”
Then to him answered the brave strong man, 340
The proud Weather-Geat spoke the words,
Hardy under his helmet: “We are Hygelac’s
Table-sharers; Beowulf is my name.
I wish to tell the son of Healfdene
My mission to the renowned prince, 345
Your lord, if he will grant us
That we be allowed to greet his good grace.”
Wulfgar spoke, a man of the Wendlas,*
Whose spirit was well known to many—
A man of valor and wisdom—: “I will ask on this 350
The friend of the Danes, Lord of the Scyldings,
Our ring-giver, our renowned prince,
As you have requested, about your undertaking,
And speedily make the answer known to you,
That the good man thinks fit to give me.” 355
He then quickly went to where Hrothgar sat,
Old and gray-haired, with his retinue of earls;
The bold man stepped to stand before the shoulders
Deniga frêan; cuþe he duguðe þeaw.
Wulfgar maðelode to his winedrihtne: 360
“Her syndon geferede, feorran cumene
ofer geofenes begang Geata leode;
þone yldestan oretmecgas
Beowulf nemnað. Hy benan synt,
þæt hie, þeoden min, wið þe moton 365
wordum wrixlan; no ðu him wearne geteoh
ðinra gegncwida, glædman Hroðgar.
Hy on wiggetawum wyrðe þinceað
eorla geæhtlan; huru se aldor deah,
se þæm heaðorincum hider wisade.” 370
(VI) Hroðgar maþelode, helm Scyldinga:
“Ic hine cuðe cnihtwesende;
wæs his eald fæder Ecgþeo haten,
ðæm to ham forgeaf Hreþel Geata
angan dohtor; is his eafora nu 375
heard her cumen, sohte holdne wine.
Đonne sægdon þæt sæliþende,
þa ðe gifsceattas Geata fyredon
þyder to þance, þæt he þritiges
manna
