Beowulf: Grendel's Lair
"Our hearts must grow resolute, our courage more valiant,
our spirits must be greater, though our strength grows less."
The Battle of Maldon
Translation (sorry, I forget where this came from)
HROTHGAR spake, helmet-of-Scyldings:
"...Land-dwellers here and liegemen mine,
who house by those parts, I have heard relate
that such a pair they have sometimes seen,
march-stalkers mighty the moorland haunting, wandering spirits:
one of them seemed, so far as my folk could fairly judge, of womankind;
and one, accursed, in man's guise trod the misery-track of exile,
though huger than human bulk.
Grendel in days long gone they named him, folk of the land;
his father they knew not, nor any brood that was born to him
of treacherous spirits. Untrod is their home;
by wolf-cliffs haunt they and windy headlands,
fenways fearful, where flows the stream
from mountains gliding to gloom of the rocks, underground flood.
Not far is it hence in measure of miles that the mere expands,
and o'er it the frost-bound forest hanging, sturdily rooted, shadows the wave.
By night is a wonder weird to see, fire on the waters.
So wise lived none of the sons of men, to search those depths!
Nay, though the heath-rover, harried by dogs,
the horn-proud hart, this holt should seek,
long distance driven, his dear life first
on the brink he yields ere he brave the plunge
to hide his head: 'tis no happy place!
Thence the welter of waters washes up
wan to welkin when winds bestir evil storms,
and air grows dusk, and the heavens weep.
Now is help once more with thee alone!
The land thou knowst not, place of fear, where thou findest out
that sin-flecked being. Seek if thou dare!
I will reward thee, for waging this fight, with ancient treasure, as erst I did,
with winding gold, if thou winnest back."
The Original Anglo-Saxon
[line 1345]
Ic þæt londbuend, leode mine,
selerædende, secgan hyrde
þæt hie gesawon swylce twegen
micle mearcstapan moras healdan,
ellorgæstas. ðæra oðer wæs,
þæs þe hie gewislicost gewitan meahton,
idese onlicnæs; oðer earmsceapen
on weres wæstmum wræclastas træd,
næfne he wæs mara þonne ænig man oðer;
þone on geardagum Grendel nemdon
foldbuende. No hie fæder cunnon,
hwæþer him ænig wæs ær acenned
dyrnra gasta. Hie dygel lond
warigeað, wulfhleoþu, windige næssas,
frecne fengelad, ðær fyrgenstream
under næssa genipu niþer gewiteð,
flod under foldan. Nis þæt feor heonon
milgemearces þæt se mere standeð;
ofer þæm hongiað hrinde bearwas,
wudu wyrtum fæst wæter oferhelmað.
þær mæg nihta gehwæm niðwundor seon,
fyr on flode. No þæs frod leofað
gumena bearna, þæt þone grund wite;
ðeah þe hæðstapa hundum geswenced,
heorot hornum trum, holtwudu sece,
feorran geflymed, ær he feorh seleð,
aldor on ofre, ær he in wille
hafelan hydan. Nis þæt heoru stow!
þonon yðgeblond up astigeð
won to wolcnum, þonne wind styreþ,
lað gewidru, oðþæt lyft drysmaþ,
roderas reotað. Nu is se ræd gelang
eft æt þe anum. Eard git ne const,
frecne stowe, ðær þu findan miht
felasinnigne secg; sec gif þu dyrre.
Ic þe þa fæhðe feo leanige,
ealdgestreonum, swa ic ær dyde,
wundnum golde, gyf þu on weg cymest."
Isn't it nice that we can all speak English now?