Читать книгу Hero-Myths & Legends of the British Race - M. I. Ebbutt - Страница 16

“I have heard it reported by some of my people

That they have looked on two such unearthly ones,

Huge-bodied march-striders holding the moor wastes;

One of them seemed to be shaped like a woman,

Her fellow in exile bore semblance of manhood,

Though huger his stature than man ever grew to:

In years that are long gone by Grendel they named him,

But know not his father nor aught of his kindred.

Thus these dire monsters dwell in the secret lands,

Haunt the hills loved by wolves, the windy nesses,

Dangerous marshy paths, where the dark moorland stream

’Neath the o’erhanging cliffs downwards departeth,

Sinks in the sombre earth. Not far remote from us

Standeth the gloomy mere, round whose shores cluster

Groves with their branches mossed, hoary with lichens grey

A wood firmly rooted o’ershadows the water.

There is a wonder seen nightly by wanderers,

Flame in the waterflood: liveth there none of men

Ancient or wise enough to know its bottom.

Though the poor stag may be hard by the hounds pursued,

Though he may seek the wood, chased by his cruel foes,

Yet will he yield his life to hunters on the brink

Ere he will hide his head in the dark waters.

’Tis an uncanny place. Thence the surge swelleth up

Dark to the heavens above, when the wind stirreth oft

Terrible driving storms, till the air darkens,

The skies fall to weeping.”

Then Hrothgar burst forth in uncontrollable emotion: “O Beowulf, help us if thou canst! Help is only to be found in thee. But yet thou knowest not the dangerous place thou must needs explore if thou seek the fiend in her den. I will richly reward thy valour if thou returnest alive from this hazardous journey.”

Beowulf was touched by the sorrow of the grey-haired king, and replied:

“Grieve not, O prudent King! Better it is for each

That he avenge his friend, than that he mourn him much.

Each man must undergo death at the end of life.

Let him win while he may warlike fame in the world!

That is best after death for the slain warrior.”

“Arise, my lord; let us scan the track left by the monster, for I promise thee I will never lose it, wheresoever it may lead me. Only have patience yet for this one day of misery, as I am sure thou wilt.”

Hrothgar sprang up joyously, almost youthfully, and ordered his horse to be saddled; then, with Beowulf beside him, and a mixed throng of Geats and Danes following, he rode away towards the home of the monsters, the dread lake which all men shunned. The blood-stained tracks were easy to see, and the avengers moved on swiftly till they came to the edge of the mere, and there, with grief and horror, saw the head of Aschere lying on the bank.

Beowulf finds the head of Aschere

“The lake boiled with blood, with hot welling gore;

The warriors gazed awe-struck, and the dread horn sang

From time to time fiercely eager defiance.

The warriors sat down there, and saw on the water

The sea-dragons swimming to search the abysses.

They saw on the steep nesses sea-monsters lying,

Snakes and weird creatures: these madly shot away

Wrathful and venomous when the sound smote their ears,

The blast of the war-horn.”

As Beowulf stood on the shore and watched the uncouth sea-creatures, serpents, nicors, monstrous beasts of all kinds, he suddenly drew his bow and shot one of them to the heart. The rest darted furiously away, and the thanes were able to drag the carcase of the slain beast on shore, where they surveyed it with wonder.