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Support the Monkey! Tell All your Friends and Teachers |
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Support the Monkey! Tell All your Friends and Teachers |
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11 CHAPTER I Hrothgar, grown to rule powerfully over wide regions, had his people build a splendid hall which he named Heorot, or, in our speech today ‘Hart,’ that is, ‘Stag,’ perhaps from antlers adorning the gables (though the Scop doesn’t say so). Here with his retainers he feasted in joy, but Grendel, a sullen and violent Cannibal Monster, who haunted the swamps and moors and prowled on the outskirts of the dwellings of men by night, was not pleased with the revel. What did Grendel, the Man-Eater, do? Ruled Beowulf, the Scylding, in burg for many a year, Famed among the people, a folk-king dear (His father was ta’en elsewhere, that chief from home was ta’en), Until for him there woke a son, the high Halfdane. And Halfdane, named the Aged and the Fierce-in-fray, O’er the gracious Scyldings held, all his life, the sway. And, lo, for him four children (to count them as they be) Awoke unto the world’s light: warrior-leaders three, Heorogar, and Hrothgar, and Halga, named the good; And daughter, queen (says story) in Sweden o’er the flood. Now was there given to Hrothgar such valor in the van, Such honor in the onset, that all his kin-of-clan Eagerly obeyed him, till waxed around his throne Host of comrade-tribesmen, warrior-youths well-grown. It came into his mood then to bid his serfs up-raise A hall-chamber, a mead-house, a mightier far for praise Than sons of men e’er heard of, and then within the hall Unto young and unto old to deal his treasures all, Such as God had lent him, except men’s lives and lands. To many tribes (I’ve heard too) he gave his wide commands Around this earth to deck it, this folkstead, with their hands. Nor was it long thereafter, men saw its finished frame, The greatest of hall-houses: Heorot was the name That he whose word was mighty had fashioned for the same. He failed not of his vaunting, he dealt the rings thereby, The treasure at carousal. Heorot towered high, With stag-horn on each gable ...waiting its fiery fate The burning after battle; nor far the day when hate, After old feuds, should waken, once more betwixt the twainBetwixt the daughter’s father and him her wedded thane. But now that bold Hobgoblin, who dwelt in fenways dark, Ill bore the sullen grievance that he each day must hark To revel loud at banquet. The noise of harp was there, In hall clear song of singer. He spake who knew full fair |
