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CHAPTER IX
The Scop continues to chant Beowulf’s story of the outcome of the
swimming match with Breca. That was the greatest swimming ever
done by man (but not the only time that Beowulf was mighty in
swimming, as we shall hear later).
‘Such prowess,’ said Beowulf to Unferth, ‘had never been shown
by thee; and, if thou wert as good as thy boasts, Grendel would
never have wrought such slaughter in Heorot.’ And just as Unferth
had heard of Beowulf before, so Beowulf had heard of Unferth,
since rumor and story were borne in those days by sailors and
gleemen’s ballads back and forth from tribe to tribe. Yes, Beowulf
could silence Unferth by reminding him that he was known to
have slain his own brothers.
‘Enough of him; let the Danes trust in me, Beowulf, the Geat.’ And
thus the feasting went on, and Wealhtheow, the Queen (for the
high-born ladies joined in those days the feasting of the warriors),
gave the ale-cup to the King, and to each and all, and to Beowulf
himself. And Beowulf addressed Wealhtheow, Hrothgar’s Queen,
avowing his purpose once more. And, then, after the feasting, as
night was drawing on, the clan arose and Hrothgar gave over the
Watch in Heorot to Beowulf and his men. Will Unferth forgive
Beowulf, or will he wait his chances to do Beowulf a harm and
thus keep the Strong One from freeing Heorot forever of Cannibal
Grendel? The Scop will tell you all.
Thus the loathly lurkers pressed me sore and oft.
I served them with my dear sword in ways not soft.
For those foul devisers the hope of fill was o’er To eat me, to sit
round a feast on ocean’s floor!
But upon the morrow, wounded by the glaive, They were lying up
along the leavings of the wave, Put to sleep by sword there-ne’er
to thwart again Sailor-folk in ferrying the fords of the main.
From the east a light rose-God’s beacon bright; The rolling seas
subsided, so that see I might Headlands and windy walls. Wyrd
will often save A jarl who is no fey man, if he be but brave.
And so to me ‘t was granted that with sword I slew Nine there of
the Nicors. Nay, I never knew Under the vault of the heavens by
night a fight more fierce, Nor on the streams of the ocean a man
put to it worse.
Way-weary, yet I ‘scaped the clutch of monsters fell; And the sea
up-cast me, flood-tide and swell, On the land of Finn-men. Never
about thee Such straits of strife, such terrors of sword-blades heard
I tell; Ne’er yet at war-play Breca, nor neither one of ye, Did deed