surging swells did. No such thing about you
Have I heard say of, so severe sword-slashing,
Such brutal butchering; Breca never yet
In the games of battle, nor either of the two of you,
Has done so daring a deed with shining swords— 585
Nor do I boast of it much—
Though you became the killer of your own brothers,
Your close kinsmen; for that you will in hell
Endure damnation, though your brain may be bright.
I tell you truly, son of Ecglaf, 590
That Grendel, that fearful ferocious foe, would never
Have inflicted so many infamous injuries on your lord,
Humiliation on Heorot, had your heart,
Your fervor, been as fierce as you deign to declare.
But he has found out that he need not much fear 595
Any angry retaliation, repercussion of swishing swords,
From your people, the Scyldings destined for victory.
nymeð nydbade, nænegum arað
leode Deniga, ac he lust wigeð,
swefeð ond sendeþ, secce ne weneþ 600
to Gar-Denum. Ac ic him Geata sceal
eafoð ond ellen ungeara nu,
guþe gebeodan. Gæþ eft se þe mot
to medo modig, siþþan morgenleoht
ofer ylda bearn oþres dogores, 605
sunne sweglwered suþan scineð.”
Þa wæs on salum sinces brytta,
gamolfeax ond guðrof; geoce gelyfde
brego Beorht-Dena, gehyrde on Beowulfe
folces hyrde fæstrædne geþoht. 610
Đær wæs hæleþa hleahtor, hlyn swynsode,
word wæron wynsume. Eode Wealhþeow forð,
cwen Hroðgares, cynna gemyndig,
grette goldhroden guman on healle,
ond þa freolic wif ful gesealde 615
ærest East-Dena eþelwearde,
bæd hine bliðne æt þære beorþege,
leodum leofne; he on lust geþeah
symbel ond seleful, sigerof kyning.
Ymbeode þa ides Helminga 620
duguþe ond geogoþe dæl æghwylcne,
sincfato sealde, oþ þæt sæl alamp,
þæt hio Beowulfe, beaghroden cwen
mode geþungen, medoful ætbær;
grette Geata leod, Gode þancode 625
wisfæst wordum þæs ðe hire se willa gelamp,
þæt heo on ænigne eorl gelyfde
He takes toll by force, reserving mercy for no man
Of the Danish stock, but he takes delight,
Destroys and dispatches, expects no deterrence 600
By the Spear-Danes; but I shall show to him
The strength and spirit of the Geats soon now,
How we fight. He who may will walk again
Toward mead in good mood, when the morning light
Of another day, the sun dressed in dazzling rays, 605
Throws beams from the south over the sons of men!”
Then glad was the giver of treasure, gray-haired
And brave in battle; the guardian of the Bright-Danes
Could hope for help: the herd of the folk
Had heard from Beowulf a firm and fixed resolution. 610
There was men’s laughter; din made delightful sound,
Words were pleasant. Wealhtheow walked forward,
Queen of Hrothgar, caring of courtesy,
The gold-adorned one greeted the men in the hall,
And the noble lady proffered to pass a cup, 615
First to the guardian of the land of the East-Danes,
And bade him to be blithe at his beer-drinking,
Beloved of his people. He partook of the pleasure,
The triumphant king did, of the feast and the hall-cup.
Then the woman of the Helmings* went round 620
To each group of men, well-tried warriors and youthful ones,
Offering them the valued vessel, till it came to pass
That she, the gold-adorned queen, the good gracious one,
Brought along the bowl for mead to Beowulf.
She greeted the man of the Geats, thanked God, 625
Wise in the use of words, since her pleasure had come to pass,
That she might put her trust in one man, who would
fyrena frofre. He þæt ful geþeah,
wælreow wiga, æt Wealhþêon,
ond þa gyddode guþe gefysed; 630
Beowulf maþelode, bearn Ecgþeowes:
“Ic þæt hogode, þa ic on holm gestah,
sæbat gesæt mid minra secga gedriht,
þæt ic anunga eowra leoda
willan geworhte, oþðe on wæl crunge 635
feondgrapum fæst. Ic gefremman sceal
eorlic
