cup for beer, 495
Let them share shining bubbles; a minstrel sang meanwhile,
To be heard in Heorot. There was mirth for the men,
Not a small band of the Danes and the Weather-Geats.
(VIII) Unferth spoke, son of Ecglaf,
Who sat near the feet of the lord of the Scyldings, 500
Revealing his revulsion—for him the plan of Beowulf,
A daring seafarer, was cause enough for displeasure,
Because he would not allow that any other man
Should ever dare attain more glory on earth
Than he himself under the heavens would: 505
“Are you that Beowulf, the one who contended with Breca,*
Competed in swimming across the wide waves?
ðær git for wlence wada cunnedon
ond for dolgilpe on deop wæter
aldrum neþdon? Ne inc ænig mon, 510
ne leof ne lað, belean mihte
sorhfullne sið, þa git on sund rêon;
þær git eagorstream earmum þehton,
mæton merestræta, mundum brugdon,
glidon ofer garsecg; geofon yþum weol, 515
wintrys wylmum.* Git on wæteres æht
seofon niht swuncon; he þe æt sunde oferflat,
hæfde mare mægen. Þa hine on morgentid
on Heaþo-Ræmas holm up ætbær;
ðonon he gesohte swæsne eþel, 520
leof his leodum, lond Brondinga,
freoðoburh fægere, þær he folc ahte,
burh ond beagas. Beot eal wið þe
sunu Beanstanes soðe gelæste.
Đonne wene ic to þe wyrsan geþingea, 525
ðeah þu heaðoræsa gehwær dohte,
grimre guðe, gif þu Grendles dearst
nihtlongne fyrst nêan bidan.”
Beowulf maþelode, bearn Ecgþeowes:
“Hwæt, þu worn fela, wine min Unferð, 530
beore druncen ymb Brecan spræce,
sægdest from his siðe. Soð ic talige,
þæt ic merestrengo maran ahte,
earfeþo on yðum, ðonne ænig oþer man.
Wit þæt gecwædon cnihtwesende 535
ond gebeotedon —wæron begen þa git
on geogoðfeore— þæt wit on gar-secg ut
There you two for vanity ventured the depths,
And for your dotard-like boast in the deep water
Risked your lives; no one, friend or foe, 510
Could keep the two of you from
Plunging into peril, when you dared into the deep.
There you two covered the sea-current in your arms,
Waded through the waves, hastened your hands,
Slid over the surge; the sea swelled with waves, 515
Winter’s welling. You two in water’s domain
Seven nights strove. He who overpowered in swimming
Was the one with more strength. Then in the morning
The sea bore him up where the Heatho-Ræmas* live;
From there he sought his sweet homeland, 520
Dear to his people, the land of the Brondings,*
The fair fortress where he had his folk,
Town, and treasures. All vow made against you
The son of Beanstan* faithfully fulfilled.
Then I expect an outcome worse for you— 525
Though you may have won in all war-storms,
In bloody battles—if you dare wait near
For Grendel in a vigil of nightlong watch.”
Beowulf spoke, son of Ecgtheow:
“What, my friend Unferth, drunk with beer, 530
You have said a bit too much about Breca,
Gabbled on about his feats! I maintain the truth,
That I have had more sea-faring strength,
Suffering on the sea-waves, than any other man:
We two agreed and avowed together 535
In our boyish boast—we were both then yet
In unripe years—that we two would risk our lives
aldrum neðdon, ond þæt geæfndon swa.
Hæfdon swurd nacod, þa wit on sund rêon,
heard on handa; wit unc wið hronfixas 540
werian þohton. No he wiht fram me
flodyþum feor fleotan meahte,
hraþor on holme; no ic fram him wolde.
Đa wit ætsomne on sæ wæron
fif nihta fyrst, oþ þæt unc flod todraf, 545
wado weallende, wedera cealdost,
nipende niht, ond norþanwind
heaðogrim ondhwearf; hreo wæron yþa.
Wæs merefixa mod onhrered;
þær me wið laðum licsyrce min, 550
heard hondlocen, helpe gefremede,
beadohrægl
