Читать книгу The Tale of Beowulf, Sometime King of the Folk of the Weder Geats - Anonymous - Страница 12

Word then gave out Hrothgar the helm of the Scyldings:

I knew him in sooth when he was but a youngling,

And his father, the old man, was Ecgtheow hight;

Unto whom at his home gave Hrethel the Geat-lord

His one only daughter; and now hath his offspring

All hardy come hither a lief lord to seek him.

For that word they spake then, the sea-faring men,

E'en they who the gift-seat for the Geat-folk had ferry'd,

Brought thither for thanks, that of thirty of menfolk

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The craft of might hath he within his own handgrip,

That war-strong of men. Now him holy God

For kind help hath sent off here even to us,

We men of the West Danes, as now I have weening,

'Gainst the terror of Grendel. So I to that good one

For his mighty mood-daring shall the dear treasure bid.

Haste now and be speedy, and bid them in straightway,

The kindred-band gather'd together, to see us,

And in words say thou eke that they be well comen

To the folk of the Danes. To the door of the hall then

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Went Wulfgar, and words withinward he flitted:

He bade me to say you, my lord of fair battle,

The elder of East-Danes, that he your blood knoweth,

And that unto him are ye the sea-surges over,

Ye lads hardy-hearted, well come to land hither;

And now may ye wend you all in war-raiment

Under the battle-mask Hrothgar to see.

But here let your battle-boards yet be abiding,

With your war-weed and slaughter-shafts, issue of words.

Then rose up the rich one, much warriors around him,

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Chosen heap of the thanes, but there some abided

The war-gear to hold, as the wight one was bidding.

Swift went they together, as the warrior there led them,

Under Hart's roof: went the stout-hearted,

The hardy neath helm, till he stood by the high-seat.

Then Beowulf spake out, on him shone the byrny,

His war-net besown by the wiles of the smith:

Hail to thee, Hrothgar! I am of Hygelac

Kinsman and folk-thane; fair deeds have I many

Begun in my youth-tide, and this matter of Grendel

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On the turf of mine own land undarkly I knew.

'Tis the seafarers' say that standeth this hall,

The best house forsooth, for each one of warriors

All idle and useless, after the even-light

Under the heaven-loft hidden becometh.

Then lightly they learn'd me, my people, this lore,

E'en the best that there be of the wise of the churls,

O Hrothgar the kingly, that thee should I seek to,

Whereas of the might of my craft were they cunning;

For they saw me when came I from out of my wargear,

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Blood-stain'd from the foe whenas five had I bounden,

Quell'd the kin of the eotens, and in the wave slain

The nicors by night-tide: strait need then I bore,

Wreak'd the grief of the Weders, the woe they had gotten;

I ground down the wrathful; and now against Grendel

I here with the dread one alone shall be dooming,

In Thing with the giant. I now then with thee,

O lord of the bright Danes, will fall to my bidding,

O berg of Scyldings, and bid thee one boon,

Which, O refuge of warriors, gainsay me not now,

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Since, O free friend of folks, from afar have I come,

That I alone, I and my band of the earls,

This hard heap of men, may cleanse Hart of ill.

This eke have I heard say, that he, the fell monster,

In his wan-heed recks nothing of weapons of war;

Forgo I this therefore (if so be that Hygelac

Will still be my man-lord, and he blithe of mood)

To bear the sword with me, or bear the broad shield,

Yellow-round to the battle; but with naught save the hand-grip

With the foe shall I grapple, and grope for the life

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The loathly with loathly. There he shall believe

In the doom of the Lord whom death then shall take.

Now ween I that he, if he may wield matters,

E'en there in the war-hall the folk of the Geats

Shall eat up unafear'd, as oft he hath done it

With the might of the Hrethmen: no need for thee therefore

My head to be hiding; for me will he have

With gore all bestain'd, if the death of men get me;

He will bear off my bloody corpse minded to taste it;

Unmournfully then will the Lone-goer eat it,

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Will blood-mark the moor-ways; for the meat of my body

Naught needest thou henceforth in any wise grieve thee.

But send thou to Hygelac, if the war have me,

The best of all war-shrouds that now my breast wardeth,

The goodliest of railings, the good gift of Hrethel,

The hand-work of Weland. Weird wends as she willeth.