Author: Anonymous
Release Date: July, 1997 [EBook #981] [This
file was first posted on March 12, 2003] [Most recently
updated: June 29, 2004]
Edition: 11
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
*** Start of the project gutenberg
EBOOK, Beowulf ***
Prepared by Robin Katsuya-Corbet (corbet@astro.psu.edu)
from scanner output provided by Internet Wiretap.
BEOWULF
PRELUDE OF THE FOUNDER OF THE DANISH HOUSE
Lo, praise of the prowess of people-kings of
spear-armed Danes, in days long sped, we have heard,
and what honor the athelings won! Oft Scyld the
Scefing from squadroned foes, from many a tribe, the
mead-bench tore, awing the earls. Since erst
he lay friendless, a foundling, fate repaid him:
for he waxed under welkin, in wealth he throve, till
before him the folk, both far and near, who house
by the whale-path, heard his mandate, gave him gifts:
a good king he! To him an heir was afterward
born, a son in his halls, whom heaven sent to favor
the folk, feeling their woe that erst they had lacked
an earl for leader so long a while; the Lord endowed
him, the Wielder of Wonder, with world’s renown.
Famed was this Beowulf: {0a} far flew the boast
of him, son of Scyld, in the Scandian lands.
So becomes it a youth to quit him well with his father’s
friends, by fee and gift, that to aid him, aged, in
after days, come warriors willing, should war draw
nigh, liegemen loyal: by lauded deeds shall
an earl have honor in every clan.
Forth he fared at the fated moment, sturdy Scyld
to the shelter of God. Then they bore him over
to ocean’s billow, loving clansmen, as late
he charged them, while wielded words the winsome Scyld,
the leader beloved who long had ruled.... In
the roadstead rocked a ring-dight vessel, ice-flecked,
outbound, atheling’s barge: there laid
they down their darling lord on the breast of the
boat, the breaker-of-rings, {0b} by the mast the mighty
one. Many a treasure fetched from far was freighted
with him. No ship have I known so nobly dight
with weapons of war and weeds of battle, with breastplate
and blade: on his bosom lay a heaped hoard that
hence should go far o’er the flood with him
floating away. No less these loaded the lordly
gifts, thanes’ huge treasure, than those had
done who in former time forth had sent him sole on
the seas, a suckling child. High o’er his
head they hoist the standard, a gold-wove banner;
let billows take him, gave him to ocean. Grave
were their spirits, mournful their mood. No man
is able to say in sooth, no son of the halls, no
hero ’neath heaven, — who harbored
that freight!
