contains. Grateful acknowledgment is due also to Professor Derek Pearsall, whose comments on particular lines and words in my translation have made me turn my eyes to several parts that needed stylistic improvement. I thank Dr. Robin Parry for reading my typescript carefully and providing a number of helpful suggestions in the final stage of editing. Finally, I wish to express my heartfelt gratitude to Professor J. Harold Ellens, who has given me strong support on the project and recommended this work to Wipf and Stock Publishers to let it have the honor of being on the list of the Cascade Books.
Introduction
Reading Beowulf aloud always proves a unique experience: it allows the reader to relive the moments of listening to a minstrel’s recitation of the epic and participating in the poetic situation of oral delivery and aural reception. The lapse of ten centuries since the time when the poem was composed and recited is no hindrance to our reliving the moments of the mutual transaction between the vocal performer and the auditor. This realization consolidates our belief that the Beowulf-poet must have envisioned the “theatricality” of the poetic situation that the lines he was composing would create while being recited—an awareness of the poem in the making. Every single line reflects the poet’s keen awareness of the impact that its sound quality will have on the auditors’ imagination. Narration at any given moment thus mandated the poet’s full exertion of his verbal power for a maximum effect of striking the right notes in conveying the poetic messages.
The major task of a translator of the poem is thus to make the sound quality of the original lines felt all along in translation—to transfigure it in a modern tongue all the way through. In order to attain that goal, neither providing a word-to-word lexical rendition nor creating new verse for the sake of comfortable reading in a modern tongue will do. Within the confinement set by the verbal rhythm and the sound quality of the original poem, a translator must produce verses acceptable to the ears of the speakers of a modern tongue.
Here are some of the principles that I have tentatively set up in translating Beowulf:
i. Since the original text is heavily loaded with alliteration, the translation should reflect its sound quality by containing as much alliteration as possible;
ii. The verse rhythm maintained in the original text, each verse containing on-verse and off-verse, should be reflected in the translation with verses containing caesurae;
iii. The translation should be in a colloquial language with idiomatic expressions; it should be in a live language—easy to follow, both in aural perception and oral delivery;
iv. The translation should evoke the sense of remoteness both in time and place, but it should be attained through the use of familiar language;
v. The word order and the sentence structure in the original text should be honored; but the text of a translation should sound natural. In other words, the original lines should reverberate in the translation.
Rather than prolonging a discussion on the theory and practice in the translation of Beowulf with critical jargon, I will go directly to what I have done, sampling a few passages in my translation, in hopes of having the readers’ reception of them attuned to mine.
Beowulf’s first adventure is, of course, his encounter with Grendel. The appearance of Grendel in Heorot after Beowulf’s arrival at the Danish court, therefore, has to be narrated with a lot of dramatic tension, for it is the first encounter with the monster—not only for the hero of the epic, but for the audience or the reader:
Com on wanre niht
scriðan sceadugenga. Sceotend swæfon,
þa þæt hornreced healdan scoldon,
ealle buton anum. Þæt wæs yldum cuþ, 705
þæt hie ne moste, þa Metod nolde,
se scynscaþa under sceadu bregdan;—
ac he wæccende wraþum on andan
bad bolgenmod beadwa geþinges.
Đa com of more under misthleoþum 710
Grendel gongan, Godes yrre bær;
mynte se manscaða manna cynnes
sumne besyrwan in sele þam hean.
Wod under wolcnum to þæs þe he winreced,
goldsele gumena gearwost wisse 715
fættum fahne. Ne wæs þæt forma sið,
þæt he Hroþgares ham gesohte;
næfre he on aldordagum ær ne siþðan
heardran hæle, healðegnas fand!
Com þa to recede rinc siðian 720
dreamum bedæled. Duru sona onarn
fyrbendum fæst, syþðan he hire folmum æthran;
onbræd þa bealohydig, ða he gebolgen wæs,
recedes muþan. Raþe æfter þon
on fagne flor feond treddode, 725
eode yrremod; him of eagum stod
ligge gelicost leoht unfæger.
Geseah he in recede rinca manige,
swefan sibbegedriht samod ætgædere,
magorinca heap. Þa his mod ahlog; 730
mynte þæt he gedælde, ær þon dæg cwome,
atol aglæca anra gehwylces
lif wið lice, þa him alumpen wæs
wistfylle wen. (ll. 702b−34a)
It is a cliché that there should be correspondence between sound and sense in poetic lines. This principle of poetic composition is fully actualized in the above passage. Apart from the fact that the lines are heavily charged with alliteration, there is a certain sound quality that we can hardly miss. The resonance of the lingering sound [om], [un], and [um], for instance, helps to build up a certain atmosphere of ominous eeriness. The repeated use of the sibilant [s], along with the [sh] sound—
scriðan sceadugenga. Sceotend swæfon, (line 703);
se scynscaþa under sceadu bregdan;— (line 707);
mynte se manscaða manna cynnes
sumne besyrwan in sele þam hean. (ll. 712−13)—
creates the illusion of hearing the sound of serpentine gliding, or of sensing the gradual approach of foggy mist, though we cannot clearly envision Grendel with any definite physical shape. The gradual approach of the monster to Heorot, his tearing the door open in fury, stepping onto the hall floor, and casting his eyes glaringly on the thanes fast asleep—all this is narrated in one sweep of breath in the couple of dozen lines (ll. 710−34a) quoted above. My effort to make my translation reflect what I read in the above passage has led me to the following rendition:
Striding in the dark night,
