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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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84 But upon the morrow, as I heard tell, One brother the other avenged right well With sword upon the murderer, when Eofor met the King, And war-helm of Ongentheow was split in plate and ring, And battle-wan he dropped adown, this old Scylfing. O Eofor’s hand that smote him had not forgot, I trow, The former feuds aplenty, nor withheld the blow!] My master I repaid in war with my sword so bright, For treasures he had given me, as fully as I might. With land had he endowed me, with stead and joy of home; He had no need to seek him from Danes across the foam, From Gifths or realm of Sweden, a worser warrior-wight, And buy the same with wages. Always I the man To fight before the foremost, alone before the van; And so forever shall I fight long as this sword shall last That hath so often served me in years now past, Ere since before the warriors ‘t was mine to slay with hand Daeghrefn, Champion of the Frankish band. The spoils of slaughtered Hygelac it was not his to bring, Not his, those deckings of the breast, unto the Frisian King; But in the fight he crumpled, he, banner-bearer too, This Aetheling of prowess; nor was’t the sword that slew, But my battling arm-grip his bone-house broke, And stopped his heart’s surgings. And now by the falchion’s stroke By hand and by hard blade, I’ll battle for the Hoard.” Beowulf made his speech then; spake a vaunting word, Even for the last time: “Lo, I dared my fill Of battles in my youth, I. Now this day I will, The folk’s old Warden, dare another still, And do a deed of glory, if this Pest-of- all Forth will come to seek me from his earth-hall.” Then each man he greeted, the helmet-bearers grim, Even for the final time, his fellows dear to him: “No sword would I bear me, no weapon to this Snake, If I only wist how to get upon the Drake The boasted grip of arm that I once on Grendel got. But yonder I do fear me battle-fire hot, Reek of breath and poison. And so I have on me Shield-board and byrnie. No foot-breadth I’ll flee From the barrow’s Keeper. Us twain it shall befall, Even as Wyrd allotteth, fighting at the wall Wyrd who is the master ever of us all. My mood is bold and I forbear my boast against this Flyer. Bide ye by the barrow, in your war-attire, Ye heroes in your harness, awaiting which of twain Shall better bear the onset and the battle-pain. This quest is not for you now, but mine alone the meed To match a might with Monster and do a jarlman’s deed. I’ll win this gold with prowess, or war shall take me hence |
