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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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41 CHAPTER XV The Scop chants how men with busy women-folk set Heorot Hall to rights and gloriously decked it for another feast. Feasting and song and battle and sleep,the ale-cup, the harp, the good sword, the pillow,- seem to have taken up all the time of these high-born Danishmen. But no, not all the time; for there was always time too for the giving of presents and for the making of speeches. Here the Scop tells us of Hrothgar’s rich gifts to Beowulf, the gleaming war- gear and the caparisoned horses, which were brought before the Hero right then and there in Heorot Hall. All were merry, and Hrothulf, Hrothgar’s nephew, was still friendly, though the people who used to listen to the story knew that later he slew Hrethric, Hrothgar’s son; and, knowing this, they could feel a sense of doom, like a shadow, over the bright scene. Our Scop likes to touch the joys of men with shadows,- likes to remind us of the ironies of fate that dog, unseen, the footsteps of our mirth. Then quick the hest was given. Within was Heorot then By many hands bedecked. Of women and of men Aye, full many were there who did make ready all That wine-house and guest-room. Gleamed on every wall Woven hangings, gold-gay-of wondrous sights so much, For each and every mortal of those who gaze at such. It had been greatly battered, that building brave and bright, Though all within-ward bounden by bands of iron tight; And the door-hinges rended; the roof alone held out Sound all-together, when Grendel turned about, That Ogre in his fleeing, outlawed by deeds of ill, And of his life in wanhope. Ah, let each try who will, It is not over-easy to flee away from death! But each of bairns of mankind, each who beareth breath, Each who dwelleth on the ground, shall seek, as fate shall force, The place made ready for him, where his body-corse Shall sleep upon its resting-bed, when the feasting’s done. ‘T was time and tide when hall-ward hied Halfdane’s son; The King himself, this Hrothgar, would in the revel share. Ne’er heard I tell of tribesmen themselves who better bare Around their treasure-giver, in a goodlier press. They bent them to the benches, owners of success! Merrily they feasted; took again, again, Cheerily the mead-cup. And kinsmen still withal Were both of those stout-hearted ones in that high hall Hrothgar and Hrothulf. Within was Heorot then Filled alone with friends all-never in those times Had the folk of Scyldings wrought the traitor-crimes. |
