Читать книгу The Tale of Beowulf, Sometime King of the Folk of the Weder Geats - Anonymous - Страница 9

So care that was time-long the kinsman of Healfdene

190 Still seeth'd without ceasing, nor might the wise warrior

Wend otherwhere woe, for o'er strong was the strife

All loathly so longsome late laid on the people,

Need-wrack and grim nithing, of night-bales the greatest.

Now that from his home heard the Hygelac's thane,

Good midst of the Geat-folk; of Grendel's deeds heard he.

But he was of mankind of might and main mightiest

In the day that we tell of, the day of this life,

All noble, strong-waxen. He bade a wave-wearer

Right good to be gear'd him, and quoth he that the war-king

Over 200 the swan-road he would be seeking,

The folk-lord far-famed, since lack of men had he.

Forsooth of that faring the carles wiser-fashion'd

Laid little blame on him, though lief to them was he;

The heart-hardy whetted they, heeded the omen.

There had the good one, e'en he of the Geat-folk,

Champions out-chosen of them that he keenest

Might find for his needs; and he then the fifteenth,

Sought to the sound-wood. A swain thereon show'd him,

A sea-crafty man, all the make of the land-marks.

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Wore then a while, on the waves was the floater,

The boat under the berg, and yare then the warriors

Strode up on the stem; the streams were a-winding

The sea 'gainst the sands. Upbore the swains then

Up into the bark's barm the bright-fretted weapons,

The war-array stately; then out the lads shov'd her,

The folk on the welcome way shov'd out the wood-bound.

Then by the wind driven out o'er the wave-holm

Far'd the foamy-neck'd floater most like to a fowl,

Till when was the same tide of the second day's wearing

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The wound-about-stemm'd one had waded her way,

So that then they that sail'd her had sight of the land,

Bleak shine of the sea-cliffs, bergs steep up above,

Sea-nesses wide reaching; the sound was won over,

The sea-way was ended: then up ashore swiftly

The band of the Weder-folk up on earth wended;

They bound up the sea-wood, their sarks on them rattled,

Their weed of the battle, and God there they thanked

For that easy the wave-ways were waxen unto them.

But now from the wall saw the Scylding-folks' warder,

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E'en he whom the holm-cliffs should ever be holding,

Men bear o'er the gangway the bright shields a-shining,

Folk-host gear all ready. Then mind-longing wore him,

And stirr'd up his mood to wot who were the men-folk.

So shoreward down far'd he his fair steed a-riding,

Hrothgar's Thane, and full strongly then set he a-quaking

The stark wood in his hands, and in council-speech speer'd he:

What men be ye then of them that have war-gear,

With byrnies bewarded, who the keel high up-builded

Over the Lake-street thus have come leading.

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Hither o'er holm-ways hieing in ring-stem?

End-sitter was I, a-holding the sea-ward,

That the land of the Dane-folk none of the loathly

Faring with ship-horde ever might scathe it.

None yet have been seeking more openly hither

Of shield-havers than ye, and ye of the leave-word

Of the framers of war naught at all wotting,

Or the manners of kinsmen. But no man of earls greater

Saw I ever on earth than one of you yonder,

The warrior in war-gear: no hall-man, so ween I,

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Is that weapon-beworthy'd, but his visage belie him,

The sight seen once only. Now I must be wotting

The spring of your kindred ere further ye cast ye,

And let loose your false spies in the Dane-land a-faring

Yet further afield. So now, ye far-dwellers,

Ye wenders o'er sea-flood, this word do ye hearken

Of my one-folded thought: and haste is the handiest

To do me to wit of whence is your coming.