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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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44 That was a grieving Princess, and she, the daughter of Hoc, Had good cause to mourn her fate when the morning broke, And under the skies she set her eyes on murder-bale of kin,There, O where in all the world her greatest joys had been. The fray took off the thanes of Finn, all but only few; He might not in the parley-place ‘gainst Hengest battle do, Nor save by fight from Prince’s Wight the remnants of his crew. And so did they, the Frisians, a truce with Danemen call: They’d yield another floor to them, a high-seat and hall, And Danes with bairns of Jutemen should each rule half of all; And Finn, the son of Folcwald, should, with gifts of pay, Do the Danemen honor each and every day; Should, with his ring-giving, favor Hengest’s men,With costly boon of fretted gold, as much as Hengest then In beer-hall should cheer all the folk of Frisian kin. Then did they swear a peace-pact, unalterable for both; Finn did unto Hengest vow, without all strife, on oath: That, with his Witan’s counsel, he’d use Hnaef’s remnant right; That no man there, by word or work, should break the pact they plight, Nor Frisians e’er should speak thereof, by any evil sleight, Though Danes, bereft of ruler, in their need now were Followers of the man that slew Hnaef, their Ring-Giver; And if then any Frisian should by the taunt Of old hate and slaughter to the Danemen vaunt, Straight should it be settled then by the edge of sword. The oath was sworn, the costly gold uplifted from the hoard, The best of braves of War-Danes, Hnaef, on the pile lay stark; Upon that pyre was plain to sight the gore-bespattered sark, His swine all golden,- the boar-crest iron-strong,And aethelings, by wounds dead,- for they had fallen, a throng. And Hildeburh behested that at Hnaef’s own pyre The bairn of her own body be given unto the fire, His bone and brawn be burned there and laid upon the pile, By the uncle’s shoulder. The lady wept the while; Bemoaning in dirges. Her warrior-son they raise. There wound unto the welkin a huge bale’s blaze, And crackled at the grave-mound. Heads did melt asunder; Gashes burst and blood sprang from death-wounds under. Flame, of spirits greediest, did all of those devour, Of either folk, whom war had ta’en. Gone was their flower.] |
