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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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63 CHAPTER XXV The Scop to chant Hrothgar’s Sermon to Beowulf, from which I hope we may profit as much as Beowulf surely did. Then he chants how, after a night of more feasting and some sleep, the Geatish Visitors with the morning sun made ready to fare back to Geatland. Till wakes and waxeth in him pride, a mickle deal; Whilst the Watchman sleepeth, the Warden of souls’ weal Aye, very fast that sleeping, and bound with busy woe, The Slayer very nigh him who shoots from grievous bow. Then is he in his bosom, under helmet hit By a bitter arrow-he knoweth not a whit How he now may shield him from wonder- spells of wrong Of the cursed Demon. What he held so long He thinketh now too little. Greedy, grim, and bold, He never gives with goodly boast the rings of plated gold; Forgetteth he and spurneth the fate that comes to all, Because the King-of-Glory him gave such good of old. But in the end it happens his fleeting frame doth fall, Death- marked it sinketh. Another now succeeds, Who gladly deals that jarl’s old wealth and spurneth ugly deeds. Best of men, dear Beowulf, keep from bale and feud; Choose for thyself the better part, the everlasting good. Spurn, renowned Fighter, over-much of pride; Now shall thy fame in valor a little while abide: Soon shall be hereafter, that sickness or the glaive Part thee from thy prowess-or the whelming wave, Or the fang of fire, or the flight of spears, Or the grip of falchion, or the aging years; Or else thine eyes’ brightness shall fail and darkened be, And death anon, O Warrior-Son, shall over-master thee. Half a hundred winters, under the welkin, lo, I held my sway o’er Ring-Danes, and warded them in war With ash-stock and steel- edge, ‘gainst clans anear and far, So well that I did count me ‘neath all the skies no foe. Behold! a change there came to me then in my father’s home Grief instead of good times, when Grendel did become, He, the olden Enemy, invader of my floor; Ever for his raidings mickle care I bore. Thanks to God eternal, that I did bide in life Long enough with eyes to see, after olden strife, That head from sword so gory. Go, now, to thy seat; Enjoy the merry feasting, thou, honored by thy feat. Many a gift between us twain there’ll be upon the morrow.” |
