The Collected Works of William Morris With Introductions by his Daughter May Morris |
 | I. |
| II. |
| III, IV, V, VI. |
| VII. |
 | IX. |
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| X. |
| XII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XXI. |
| XXIV. |
 | The Collected Works of William Morris |  |
268
XLI. MORE WORDS OF THE MESSENGER. HOW HE FEARS THE SWEDES WHEN THEY WOT OF BEOWULF DEAD.
Was the track of the war-sweat of Swedes and of Geats,
The men's slaughter-race, right wide to be seen,
How those folks amongst them were waking the feud.
Departed that good one, and went with his fellows,
Old and exceeding sad, fastness to seek;
The earl Ongentheow upward returned;
Of Hygelac's battle-might oft had he heard,
The war-craft of the proud one; in withstanding he trow'd not,
That he to the sea-folk in fight might debate,
Or against the sea-farers defend him his hoard,
His bairns and his bride. He bow'd him aback thence,
The old under the earth-wall. Then was the chase bidden
To the Swede-folk, and Hygelac's sign was up-reared,
And the plain of the peace forth on o'er-pass'd they,
After the Hrethlings onto the hedge throng'd.
The men's slaughter-race, right wide to be seen,
How those folks amongst them were waking the feud.
Departed that good one, and went with his fellows,
Old and exceeding sad, fastness to seek;
The earl Ongentheow upward returned;
Of Hygelac's battle-might oft had he heard,
The war-craft of the proud one; in withstanding he trow'd not,
That he to the sea-folk in fight might debate,
Or against the sea-farers defend him his hoard,
His bairns and his bride. He bow'd him aback thence,
The old under the earth-wall. Then was the chase bidden
To the Swede-folk, and Hygelac's sign was up-reared,
And the plain of the peace forth on o'er-pass'd they,
After the Hrethlings onto the hedge throng'd.
“There then was Ongentheow by the swords' edges,
The blent-hair'd, the hoary one, driven to biding,
So that the folk-king fain must he take
Sole doom of Eofor. Him in his wrath then
Wulf the Wonreding reach'd with his weapon,
So that from the stroke sprang the war-sweat in streams
Forth from under his hair; yet naught fearsome was he,
The aged, the Scylfing, but paid aback rathely
With chaffer that worse was, that war-crash of slaughter,
Sithence the folk-king turned him thither;
And nowise might the brisk one that son was of Wonred
Unto the old carle give back the hand-slaying,
For that he on Wulf's head the helm erst had sheared,
So that all with the blood stained needs must he bow,
And fell on the field; but not yet was he fey,
But he warp'd himself up, though the wound had touch'd nigh.
But thereon the hard Hygelac's thane there,
Whenas down lay his brother, let the broad blade,
The old sword of eotens, that helm giant-fashion'd
Break over the board-wall, and down the King bowed,
The Herd of the folk unto fair life was smitten.
There were many about there who bound up his kinsman,
Upraised him swiftly when room there was made them,
That the slaughter-stead there at the stour they might wield,
That while when was reaving one warrior the other:
From Ongentheow took he the iron-wrought byrny,
The hard-hilted sword, with his helm all together:
The hoary one's harness to Hygelac bare he;
The fret war-gear then took he, and fairly behight him
Before the folk due gifts, and even so did it;
Gild he gave for that war-race, the lord of the Geats,
The own son of Hrethel, when home was he come,
To Eofor and Wulf gave he over-much treasure,
To them either he gave an hundred of thousands,
Land and lock'd rings. Of the gift none needed to wyte him
Of mid earth, since the glory they gained by battle.
Then to Eofor he gave his one only daughter,
An home-worship soothly, for pledge of his good will.
The blent-hair'd, the hoary one, driven to biding,
So that the folk-king fain must he take
Sole doom of Eofor. Him in his wrath then
Wulf the Wonreding reach'd with his weapon,
So that from the stroke sprang the war-sweat in streams
Forth from under his hair; yet naught fearsome was he,
The aged, the Scylfing, but paid aback rathely
With chaffer that worse was, that war-crash of slaughter,
Sithence the folk-king turned him thither;
And nowise might the brisk one that son was of Wonred
Unto the old carle give back the hand-slaying,
For that he on Wulf's head the helm erst had sheared,
So that all with the blood stained needs must he bow,
And fell on the field; but not yet was he fey,
But he warp'd himself up, though the wound had touch'd nigh.
But thereon the hard Hygelac's thane there,
Whenas down lay his brother, let the broad blade,
269
Break over the board-wall, and down the King bowed,
The Herd of the folk unto fair life was smitten.
There were many about there who bound up his kinsman,
Upraised him swiftly when room there was made them,
That the slaughter-stead there at the stour they might wield,
That while when was reaving one warrior the other:
From Ongentheow took he the iron-wrought byrny,
The hard-hilted sword, with his helm all together:
The hoary one's harness to Hygelac bare he;
The fret war-gear then took he, and fairly behight him
Before the folk due gifts, and even so did it;
Gild he gave for that war-race, the lord of the Geats,
The own son of Hrethel, when home was he come,
To Eofor and Wulf gave he over-much treasure,
To them either he gave an hundred of thousands,
Land and lock'd rings. Of the gift none needed to wyte him
Of mid earth, since the glory they gained by battle.
Then to Eofor he gave his one only daughter,
An home-worship soothly, for pledge of his good will.
“That is the feud and the foeship full soothly,
The dead-hate of men, e'en as I have a weening,
Wherefor the Swede people against us shall seek,
Sithence they have learned that lieth our lord
All lifeless; e'en he that erewhile hath held
Against all the haters the hoard and the realm;
Who after the heroes' fall held the fierce Scylfings,
Framed the folk-rede, and further thereto
Did earlship-deeds.
The dead-hate of men, e'en as I have a weening,
Wherefor the Swede people against us shall seek,
Sithence they have learned that lieth our lord
All lifeless; e'en he that erewhile hath held
Against all the haters the hoard and the realm;
Who after the heroes' fall held the fierce Scylfings,
Framed the folk-rede, and further thereto
Did earlship-deeds.
“Now is haste best of all
That we now the folk-king should fare to be seeing,
And then that we bring him who gave us the rings
On his way to the bale: nor shall somewhat alone
With the moody be molten; but manifold hoard is,
Gold untold of by tale that grimly is cheapen'd,
And now at the last by this one's own life
Are rings bought, and all these the brand now shall fret,
The flame thatch them over: no earl shall bear off
One gem in remembrance; nor any fair maiden
Shall have on her halse a ring-honour thereof,
But in grief of mood henceforth, bereaved of gold,
Shall oft, and not once alone, alien earth tread,
Now that the host-learn'd hath laid aside laughter,
The game and the glee-joy. Therefore shall the spear,
Full many a morn-cold, of hands be bewounden,
Uphoven in hand; and no swough of the harp
Shall waken the warriors; but the wan raven rather
Fain over the fey many tales shall tell forth,
And say to the erne how it sped him at eating,
While he with the wolf was a-spoiling the slain.”
That we now the folk-king should fare to be seeing,
And then that we bring him who gave us the rings
On his way to the bale: nor shall somewhat alone
With the moody be molten; but manifold hoard is,
Gold untold of by tale that grimly is cheapen'd,
And now at the last by this one's own life
270
The flame thatch them over: no earl shall bear off
One gem in remembrance; nor any fair maiden
Shall have on her halse a ring-honour thereof,
But in grief of mood henceforth, bereaved of gold,
Shall oft, and not once alone, alien earth tread,
Now that the host-learn'd hath laid aside laughter,
The game and the glee-joy. Therefore shall the spear,
Full many a morn-cold, of hands be bewounden,
Uphoven in hand; and no swough of the harp
Shall waken the warriors; but the wan raven rather
Fain over the fey many tales shall tell forth,
And say to the erne how it sped him at eating,
While he with the wolf was a-spoiling the slain.”
So was the keen-whetted a-saying this while
Spells of speech loathly; he lied not much
Of weirds or of words. Then uprose all the war-band,
And unblithe they wended under the Ernes-ness,
All welling of tears, the wonder to look on.
Found they then on the sand, now lacking of soul,
Holding his bed, him that gave them the rings
In time erewhile gone by. But then was the end-day
Gone for the good one; since the king of the battle,
The lord of the Weders, in wonder-death died.
But erst there they saw a more seldom-seen sight,
The Worm on the lea-land over against him
Down lying there loathly; there was the fire-drake,
The grim of the terrors, with gleeds all beswealed.
He was of fifty feet of his measure
Long of his lying. Lift-joyance held he
In the whiles of the night, but down again wended
To visit his den. Now fast was he in death,
He had of the earth-dens the last end enjoyed.
There by him now stood the beakers and bowls,
There lay the dishes and dearly-wrought swords,
Rusty, through-eaten they, as in earth's bosom
A thousand of winters there they had wonned.
For that heritage there was, all craftily eked,
Gold of the yore men, in wizardry wounden;
So that that ring-hall might none reach thereto,
Not any of mankind but if God his own self,
Sooth King of victories, gave unto whom he would
(He is holder of men) to open that hoard,
E'en to whichso of mankind should seem to him meet.
Spells of speech loathly; he lied not much
Of weirds or of words. Then uprose all the war-band,
And unblithe they wended under the Ernes-ness,
All welling of tears, the wonder to look on.
Found they then on the sand, now lacking of soul,
Holding his bed, him that gave them the rings
In time erewhile gone by. But then was the end-day
Gone for the good one; since the king of the battle,
The lord of the Weders, in wonder-death died.
But erst there they saw a more seldom-seen sight,
The Worm on the lea-land over against him
Down lying there loathly; there was the fire-drake,
The grim of the terrors, with gleeds all beswealed.
He was of fifty feet of his measure
Long of his lying. Lift-joyance held he
In the whiles of the night, but down again wended
To visit his den. Now fast was he in death,
He had of the earth-dens the last end enjoyed.
There by him now stood the beakers and bowls,
There lay the dishes and dearly-wrought swords,
Rusty, through-eaten they, as in earth's bosom
A thousand of winters there they had wonned.
271
Gold of the yore men, in wizardry wounden;
So that that ring-hall might none reach thereto,
Not any of mankind but if God his own self,
Sooth King of victories, gave unto whom he would
(He is holder of men) to open that hoard,
E'en to whichso of mankind should seem to him meet.
| The Collected Works of William Morris | |