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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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22 “Hail and health, O Hrothgar! Of Hyglac’s kin and kith Am I, who’ve gained in young days glories not a few. Afar this thing of Grendel on my home-turf I knew. Sea-farers say it standeth, this excelling hall, Idle and empty unto each and all, When under heaven’s hollows the evening-light is hid. So my best of henchmen, my canny carls, they did Teach me, Sovran Hrothgar, that I should seek thee out, For that so well they wotted this strength of mine how stout. Themselves had they seen me from sore straits come alive, Blood- flecked from foemen, where I’d bounden five, Killed the kin of ettins, out upon the main By night had smote the nicors, suffered stress and pain, Avenged their hate of Geatmen (they hoped to harry us!) And crunched and crushed those grim ones. And now with Gren-del thus, With the Grisly, this Giant, alone I’d hold debate. So now, O Prince of Bright-Danes, thou Shelter-of-the-Great, Of thee one boon I’m begging: O Scyldings’ Bulwark-Bar, Deny not, noble Folk-Friend, now I have come so far, That I alone with mine here, who still would share my lot, This throng of hardy thanemen, may purge thee Heorot. Eke have I learned this Terror, in wanton mood and vain, Recketh not of weapons. Therefore will I disdain (Thus Hyglac’s heart, my Master’s, may it rejoice through me) To bear or sword or broad shield, that yellow disk, to strife. With grip I’ll grasp this Grendel, and we’ll contend for life, A loather ‘gainst a loather. The one whom death shall hale, Let him believe the Lord’s doom. He will, if he prevail, Methinketh, in that war-hall, eat unfearingly The Geatfolk, as so often the Danishmen did he. No need for thee to hide, then, this head of mine or veil; He’ll have me, sprent with gore, if ‘t is I whom Death shall hale; He’ll bear his bloody quarry, he’ll think to taste his prey; He’ll eat-this lonely Stalker-unmournfully away; He’ll track with me his fen-lair: the need will ne’er be thine In death to have the care of the body which was mine. Send Hygelac this war-coat, which wardeth now my breast (Of all men’s battle-byrnies the brightest and the best) If that Hild should hale me-Hrethel left in trust, And smith Weland worked it. Wyrd goeth as she must.” |
