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Nor then was that least of powerful aids which Hrothgar's orator1 lent him at need: Hrunting was named the hafted falchion. 'Twas among the foremost of olden treasures; its edge was iron, tainted with poison, harden'd with warrior-blood; ne'er in battle had it failed any of those that brandished it, who durst to travel the ways of terror, the perilous trysts. 'Twas not the first time that it a valorous deed should perform.

Surely Ecglaf's son remembered not, the mighty in power, what erst he had said, drunken with wine, when the weapon he lent to a better sword-warrior. He durst not himself 'mid the strife of the waves adventure his life, a great deed perform; there lost he his credit for valorous doing. Not so with the other when he had prepared himself for battle!

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had blood-thirsty held a hundred years, grim and greedy—that a man from above was there exploring the realm of strange creatures. Then at him she grasped, the warrior seized in her horrible claws. Nathless she crushed not his unhurt body; the ring-mail guarded him, so that she might not pierce that war-dress, the lock-linked sark, with her hostile fingers.

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Then when the sea-wolf reached the bottom, she bore to her dwelling the prince of rings so that he might not, brave as he was, his weapons wield; for many strange beings in the deep oppressed him, many a sea-beast with its battle tusks his war-sark broke; the wretches pursued him. Then the earl found he was in he knew not what dread hall, where him no water in aught could scathe, nor because of the roof could the sudden grip of the flood reach him; he saw a fire-light, a brilliant beam brightly shining.

The hero perceived then the wolf of the deeps, the mighty mere-wife; a powerful onslaught he made with his falchion, the sword-blow withheld not, 1520

so on her head the ringed brand sang how that the battle-beam would not bite, a horrid war-song. The guest then discovered would not scathe life, but that the edge failed its lord at his need; erst had it endured hand-conflicts many, slashed often the helm, war-garb of the doomed; then was the first time for the precious gift that its power failed. Still was he resolute, slacked not his ardor, of great deeds mindful was Hygelac's kinsman. Flung he the twisted brand, curiously bound,

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the angry champion, that stiff and steel-edged angry and resolute. Nor was the edge it lay on the earth; in his strength he trusted, to the war-prince useless; for he would forthhis powerful hand-grip. So shall man do, with when he in battle thinks of gaining lasting praise, nor cares for his life.

Grendel requite for the many raids

that he had made upon the West Danes,

By the shoulder then seized he (recked not of and not on one occasion only,

her malice),

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when he Hrothgar's hearth-companions slew in their rest, sleeping devoured fifteen men of the folk of the Danes, and as many others conveyed away, hateful offerings. He had so repaid him for that, the fierce champion, that at rest he saw,

weary of contest, Grendel lying

deprived of his life, as he had been scathed by

She pressed down the hall-guest, and drew her the conflict at Heorot; the corpse bounded far dagger, when after death he suffered the stroke,

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the broad gleaming blade,—would avenge her the hard sword-blow, and his head it severed. son,

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Then he saw 'mongst the arms a victorious falchion,

an old jotun-sword, of edges doughty,

Forthwith they saw, the sagacious men, those who with Hrothgar kept watch on the

water,

that the surge of the waves was all commingled, the deep stained with blood. The grizzly-haired old men together spake of the hero, how they of the atheling hoped no more that, victory-flush'd, he would come to seek their famous king, since this seemed a sign that him the sea-wolf had quite destroyed. The noon-tide* came, they left the nesses, the Scyldings bold; departed home thence the gold-friend of men. The strangers sat, sick of mood, and gazed on the mere, wished but weened not that they their dear lord himself should see.

Then that sword, the war-blade, with its battle-gore like bloody icicles,

the glory of warriors; of weapons 'twas choic- began to fade. A marvel it was,

est,

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save it was greater than any man else to the game of war could carry forth, good and gorgeous, the work of giants. The knotted hilt seized he, the Scyldings' warrior,

fierce and deadly grim, the ringed sword swung; despairing of life, he angrily struck, that 'gainst her neck it griped her hard, her bone-rings1 brake. Thro' her fated carcass the falchion passed; on the ground she sank. The blade was gory, the man joy'd in his work. The sword-beam shone bright, light rayed within,

even as from heaven serenely shines

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the candle of the firmament. He looked down the chamber,

then turned by the wall; his weapon upraised firm by the hilt Hygelac's thane,

1 vertebrae

how it all melted, most like to ice

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The ocean surges all were cleansed, the dwellings vast, when the stranger guest her life-days left and this fleeting existence. Then came to land the sailor's protector stoutly swimming, rejoiced in his sea-spoil, the mighty burden of what he brought with him.

the Danes' death-plague, as it was fitting. 1670 "I promise thee now that thou in Heorot mayest sleep secure with thy warrior-band, and thy thanes, each one, thanes of thy people, the tried and the youthful; that thou needest not,

oh prince of the Scyldings, fear from that side Then toward him they went, with thanks to life's bane to thy warriors as erst thou didst.''

God,

the stout band of thanes, rejoiced in their lord, because they beheld him safe and sound. From the vigorous chief both helm and byrnie were then soon loosed. The sea subsidedthe cloud-shadowed water with death-gore dappled.

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| wonderful smith-work; when quitted this world the fierce-hearted creature, God's adversary,

Thence forth they went retracing their steps of murder guilty, and his mother also, happy at heart, the high-way measured,

the well-known road. The nobly bold men up from the sea-shore bore the head, not without labor for each of them, the mightily daring. Four undertook with toil to bear on the battle-spear, up to the gold-hall, the head of Grendel; until straightway to the hall they came, resolute, warlike, four and ten of them, Geats all marching with their lord.

it passed to the keeping of the best

of the world-kings that by the two seas,

in Scania-land, treasures dealt.

Then Hrothgar spake; he gazed on the hilt, old relic whereon was the origin written

of an ancient war, when the flood had slainthe flowing ocean-the race of the giants;

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Proud amid the throng, he trod the meadows. Then entering came the prince of thanes, the deed-strong man with glory honored, the man bold in battle, Hrothgar to greet. And into the hall, where men were drinking, Grendel's head by the hair was borne, a thing of terror to nobles and lady. 'Twas a wonderful sight men looked upon.

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had advanced him, yet there grew in his heart | shall fail and darken; sudden 'twill be, a bloodthirsty spirit; he gave no rings

to the Danes, as was custom; joyless continued he,

so that of war he the misery suffered,

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that thee, noble warrior, death shall o'erpower. "Thus I the Ring-Danes half a hundred years had ruled 'neath the welkin, and saved them in 1770

war

long bale to the people. Learn thou from him; from many tribes through this mid-earth, lay hold of man's virtue! For thee have I told | with spears and swords, so that I counted

this,

wise in winters. 'Tis wondrous to say, how mighty God, to the race of men, through his ample mind, dispenses wisdom, lands and valor: He has power over all. Sometimes He lets wander at their own will the thoughts of a man of race renowned, in his country gives him the joy of earth, 1730 a shelter-city of men to possess;

thus makes to him subject parts of the world, ample kingdoms, that he himself may not, because of his folly, think of his end. He lives in plenty; no whit deters him disease or old age, no uneasy care darkens his soul, nor anywhere strife

breeds hostile hate; but for him the whole world

turns at his will; he the worse knows not,

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Glad was the Geat and straightway went to take his seat, as the sage commanded. Then as before were the famed for valor, the sitters at court right handsomely set feasting afresh. The night-helm grew murky,

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dark o'er the vassals; the courtiers all rose; the grizzly-haired prince would go to his bed, the aged Scylding; the Geat, exceedingly famed shield-warrior, desired to rest.

Him, journey-weary, come from afar,
a hall-thane promptly guided forth
who in respect had all things provided
for a thane's need, such as in that day
farers over the sea should have.

The great-hearted rested. High rose the hall vaulted and gold-hued; therein slept the guest, until the black raven, blithe-hearted, announced the joy of heaven. Then came the bright sun o'er the fields gliding.

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[Beowulf returns the sword Hrunting to Hunferth, then goes to the king and announces his intention of returning to his fatherland. The king repeats his thanks and praises.]

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that disease or the sword shall deprive thee of and round the neck clasped him; tears he shed,

strength,

or the clutch of fire, or rage of flood, or falchion's grip, or arrows' flight, or cruel age; or brightness of eyes

the hoary headed; chances two

there were to the aged, the second stronger, whether (or not) they should see each other again in conference. So dear was the man

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clearly divine how it might be.

that his breast's heaving he could not restrain, | her maidhood departed, and yet could nowise but in his bosom, in heart-bands fast, for the man beloved his secret longing burned in his blood. Beowulf thence, a gold-proud warrior, trod the greensward, in treasure exulting. The sea-ganger awaited, at anchor riding, its owner and lord.*

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Is the poem of Beowulf in any sense mytholog. ical? Perhaps the latest and best opinion on the subject is that it is not.

"Undoubtedly one is here on the borderland of myth. But in the actual poem the border is not crossed. Whatever the remote connection of Beowulf the hero with Beowa the god, to the poet of the epic its hero is a man, and the monsters are such as folk then believed to haunt sea and lake and moor."- -Francis B. Gummere : The Oldest English Epic.

"The poem loses nothing of its picturesqueness in being denied its mythology. The firedrake and Grendel and the she-demon are more terrible when conceived as uncanny and abominable beings whose activities in the world can only be dimly imagined by men than they are when made mere personifications of the forces of nature. Beowulf is no less heroic as a mortal facing with undaunted courage these grisly phantoms of the moor and mere, than as a god subduing the sea or the darkness. And the proud words that he utters in his dying hour are more impressive from the lips of a man than from those of a being who still retains some of the glory of a god about him.--In my home I awaited what time might bring me, held well my own, sought no treacherous feuds, swore no false oaths. In all this I can rejoice, though sick unto death with my wounds." "-William W.

Lawrence: Pub. Mod. Lang. Association,

June, 1909. Deor's Lament is one of the poems that may have been brought from the continent by the Angles in their early migrations. "Its form." says Stopford Brooke, "is remarkable. It has a refrain, and there is no other early English instance of this known to us. It is written in strophes, and one motive, constant throughout, is expressed in the refrain. This dominant cry of passion makes the poem a true lyric, the Father of all English lyrics. Deor has been deprived of his rewards and lands, and has seen a rival set above his head. It is this whirling down of Fortune's wheel that he mourns in song, and he compares his fate to that of others who have suffered, so that he may have some comfort. But the comfort is stern like that the Northmen take."

his

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That was o'erpassed; this may pass also. Of Hild's fate we have heard from many. Land-bereaved were the Geatish chieftains, so that sorrow left them sleepless.

That was o'erpassed; this may pass also. Theodoric kept for thirty winters in the burg of the Mærings; 'twas known of

many.

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That was o'erpassed; this may pass also. Heard have we likewise of Eormanric's mind, wolfishly tempered; widely enthralled he the folk of the Goth-realm; he was a grim king. Many a warrior sat locked in his sorrow, waiting on woe; wished, how earnestly! the reign of that king might come to an end. That was o'erpassed; this may pass also. Now of myself this will I say: Erewhile I was Scôp of the Heodenings, A many winters I knew good service; dear to my lord. Deor my name was. gracious was my lord. But now Heorrenda, by craft of his singing, succeeds to the landright

that Guardian of Men erst gave unto me.

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That was o'erpassed; this may pass also.

CAEDMON (f. 670)

FROM THE PARAPHRASE OF THE SCRIPTURES*

THE GARDEN OF EDEN

Then beheld our Creator

the beauty of his works and the excellence of his productions,

of the new creatures. Paradise stood
good and spiritual, filled with gifts,
with forward benefits. Fair washed
the genial land the running water,
the well-brook: no clouds as yet
over the ample ground bore rains
lowering with wind; yet with fruits stood
earth adorn'd. Held their onward course
river-streams, four noble ones,
from the new Paradise.

These were parted, by the Lord's might,
all from one (when he this earth created)

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These paraphrases of the Scriptures are commonly spoken of as Cædmon's, though ascribed to him on very uncertain grounds. Apart from their intrinsic worth they are interesting for their possible relation to Paradise Lost. See Eng. Lit., p. 23. The translation is the literal one of Benjamin Thorpe.

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