Classic Poem

The L AY OF S IGEMUND THE V OLSUNG

Thereafter a royal thegn
—Of many a lay was he mindful, and was laden with vauntings bold,
And his memory was rich with knowledge of many a legend old—
Found another theme for his utterance, and truth was twined in its weft,
And he told of the voyage of Beowulf with ordering wise and deft,
Ay, a well-knit tale 'gan he utter, with traffic of many a word,
And spake of the glory of Sigemund, all the wonders that ever he heard
Of the Volsung's wars and his wanderings, and the feud and the hate, that were known
Aright to no children of mortals, save himself and Fitela alone:
—For at times unto nephew would uncle tell somewhat of his life,
Since shoulder aye unto shoulder had they battled in every strife
And many a brood of the jotuns with the sword had they felled and riven.
But to Sigemund after his death-day was store of glory given,
For that warrior stern in battle slew the dragon that kept the gold,
—'Neath the grey rock the son of the athling achieved that venture bold
Lone-handed, lacking Fitela: howbeit the falchion brave
Shore clean through the worm of wonder, and fast in the rock-wall clave,
And the dragon died in the welter. But the hero had won by his might
That the hoarded rings of the treasure he might use at his heart's delight,
And a ship for the ocean was laden by Waelse's son, and its wame
He freighted with glittering jewels: but the dragon was burnt with flame.
But ne'er yet was wanderer proven of warriors a chief more true
Nor a hero more famed 'mid the peoples: so alway his glory grew,
While Heremod's might was minished, and his valour and strength in the fray,
Till men lured him forth 'mid the Eotens and his haters took him for prey
And sheer to his doom was he driven. Too long by the surges of grief
Was he vexed, and a woe was he waxen to his nation and every chief,
Though aforetime had many a wise one that warrior's emprise rued,
For they weened thaThe held in his keeping the cure of the woe and the feud,
And they longed that that son of their sovereign should succeed to his father's might
And should thrive, and have sway of his people, and should govern their kingdom aright,
The burgh and the hoard of the Scyldings. Howbeit of more gracious mind
Than he was the kinsman of Hygelac to his friends and to all mankind,
But the other was mastered by malice.
Meanwhile in the zest of the race
On their steeds were they measuring the mileage of the fallow roadways apace
Till far on was the light of morning, and many a stalwart wight,
Eager to look on that marvel, was come to the hall of might,
And the monarch himself, most glorious for his virtues, in kingly pride,
The lord of the rings of the treasure, is come from the bower of his bride
With many a brave for his escort: and beside him the queen doth lead
Her maidens over the pathway to the hall where men quaff the mead.

But now to the hall hieth Hrothgar, by the pillar he taketh his stand,
And the roof fair-gilt and towering he espieth, and Grendel's hand,
And he saith: ‘For this token straightway let thanks arise to the Lord!
Much ill have I suffered from Grendel, yea, many a woe abhorred,
Yet can God, Who is Warden of Glory, wonders evermore increase.
Even now had I sworn that at no tide of my days should I find surcease
From woes, for my dwelling most glorious stood flecked and swilled with gore,
A sorrow immense to the wise ones, who weened not that any more
Could they safeguard that hold of the clansmen from demon and angry sprite.
But now hath a gallant compassed a deed through the Saviour's might
Too heavy for all our cunning: and she who of yore gave birth
To that weanling amid the nations, if she liveth yet upon earth,
May say that the Saviour blesTher when she bare so goodly a one.
—Now, Beowulf, bravest of mortals, will I love thee e'en as my son.
Cleave thou to our new-found kinship; no worldly delight shalt thou lack
Of all that I hold in my keeping. Oftentimes have I rendered back
For many a meaner emprise largesse of jewels enow
To many a fighter less lusty and fell in the fray than thou.
Thyself hast thou wrought by thy valiance that thy glory shall live for aye,
And may God ever with good requite thee, as He hath done e'en to this day.’
Then Beowulf the bairn of Ecgtheow outspake: ‘With mighty glee,
We braved the battle and ended that venture of jeopardy
With hearts of valiance, scorning the monster and all his might
But wouldst thou had seen that foeman when girt in his gear of the fight
He reeled and sank to his downfall! I thought in my stalwart clasp
To pin him down on his pallet of slaughter, and gar him gasp
His life-breath out in my hand-grip: but his body broke from my sway,
And I might not, since God so willed it, enforce him from fleeing away,
For not closely enough had I gripped him, that wager of deadly strife,
And too sturdy was he in his running: howbeit in pledge of his life
And for guard of his track hath he left us a hand and a shoulder and arm,
And e'en so hath that caitiff bought him but little respite from harm;
Yea, short life shall be left to the felon, for in sin's embrace doth he quail
And anguish hath gripped him straitly, and holds him in fetters of bale,
Wherein shall the outcast accurséd await the doom of might
That the God of all glory shall mete him.’—Not so boastful now was the wight,
E'en Ecglaf's son, of his valour, nay, no word he uttered of pride,
When by dint of the hero's daring each athling at gaze espied
The hand of the foe and his fingers set up on the lofty roof,
For each one of those nails at the forepart was doughty as steel of proof,
Ay, sharp and grim as a spear-point was each claw of the fighter's hand,
And 'twas plain that no warrior wielded so trusty and tried a brand
As could scathe the monster or sever his battle-arm red in the fight.

—Now swift went the hest thaTheorot should by hand within be dight,
And many a man and a woman decked the guest-house, the revellers' hall,
Till the sheen of its gold wall-hangings wonder-struck the gazers all.
But inward that dwelling of glory, though of steel were its stanchions stout,
Lay wrecked, and its hinges were shattered; ay, only the roof held out,
For no scathe had it met when the monster, stained with many a deed of sin,
Fled away, of his life despairing; yet not easy is it to win
Escape from such end by fleeing, whosoever the venture essay,
For doom shall enforce him to travel to the bourne that awaiteth aye
All mortals whom soul indwelleth, each wight that goeth on ground,
To where, fast and straight on its pallet, his body shall slumber sound
When the revellers' feast is over.
Now 'twas time and tide of the day
That Hrothgar should enter the guest-hall: ay, the monarch him self would essay
The revellers' feast: nor have ever, as I warrant, more clansmen bold
In seemlier conclave gathered round the lord that giveth them gold;
And straightway they turned to the benches, those champions of glorious breed,
And they took their fill of feasting; and many a beaker of mead
Was quaffed by Hrothgar and Hrothulf, kinsmen brave, in the lofty hall,
And all men were friendly in Heorot, for no work of treason at all
Had as yet been wrought by the Scyldings. Healfdene's son to Beowulf gave
A pennant with gold all glorious, for meed of that triumph brave,
A staff and a broidered banner, and a byrny and helm thereto,
And many beheld how a falchion bejewelled, a wonder to view,
Was borne forth before the hero. So Beowulf there in hall
Took the mazer, and needed nowise, before the bowmen all,
Show shame for the gifts that were made him: for of few men runneth the tale
That ever they gave unto others, at the bench where men quaff the ale,
Four presents of gold more glorious with heart more boon and kind.
—Now about the ridge of the morion great bosses wire-entwined
Ran without, that his head should be scatheless, lest swords by the file made keen
And tempered in clash of the battle might work the hero teen
When he fared 'neath the targe on his foemen. Then he who his earls doth shield
Bade bring eight steeds gold-bridled in under the roof of that bield,
And on one was a saddle aglitter with jewels and glorious with gold,
And that was the seat in battle of the war-lord mighty and bold
When Healfdene's son in the sword-play would engage. In front of the fight
Where the dead fall thickesThe failed not, but kept ever his glory bright.
And to Beowulf the lord of the Ingwines gave sway over each in their kind,
E'en the chargers and gems, and besought him that fair usage for each he would find.
Thus in fashion right gallant the high one who guardeth the warriors' gold
Gave guerdon of steeds and of jewels for meed of that onset bold,
So that none may say scorn of that offering if his speech unto truth incline.
Then the Ruler of Earls to each warrior that with Beowulf crossed the brine
Gave a precious gift at the mead-bench, a falchion of olden fame,
And he bade pay gold for the fighter whom Grendel slew by shame
—Ay, and more had he slain if in wisdom God had not stayed their fall,
God, and the might of the hero; for the Saviour had sway over all
Of man's kindred then, as He now hath: so is prudence alway best
And careful heed of the future, for much weal and much woe shall he test
Who tholeth for long life's ordeal in these ages of strife and care.
—But swift was there mingling of music, of singing and crowding fair
To pleasure Healfdene's war-lord: now was wakened the wood of glee,
And many a ballad was uttered, when with joyance and laughter free
In hall the minstrel of Hrothgar, down the boards where men quaff the mead,
Told the story of Finn's offspring, and the foray of doom they dreed:

The L AY OF F INN

‘Now Hnaef, Healfdene's champion 'mid the Scyldings, needs must fall
In battle against the Frisians, nor might Hildeburgh boast at all
Of the Eotens' faith. She had sinned not, yeTher bairn and her brother dear
Were reft from her both in the shield-play, ay, done to death by the spear
They bowed them as doom had bidden, and anguish sore she knew.
Stern cause, in sooth, had Hoc's daughter the doom of her fate to rue
When beneath the heavens in the dawning she espied the dear ones slain
In whom that lady aforetime her earthly joy had ta'en.
Howbeit in the fray were Finn's henchmen ta'en off, and few did it spare,
Nor now in that place of the rallying in any wise mighThe dare
To strive in battle with Hengest, nor his wretched remnant save
From the thegn of the king by combat: howsobeit terms they gave,
That the Frisians should grant them a guest-hall apart, with a stately throne,
And the Scyldings should use it for dwelling: and half of the sway should they own
For themselves with the sons of the Eotens: and Folcwalda's son alway
At the granting of gifts should honour the Dane-folk day by day,
Even Hengest's henchmen, with guerdon, when with gold and treasure dear
He favoured he folk of the Frisians in the hall where they birled at the beer.
—Even so was there fashioned a treaty that should bind their meinies both,
And Finn hath sworn unto Hengest with a solemn and steadfast oath
To govern that woeful remnant in grace at his wise ones' hest,
If none by his acts or utterance should the treaty break or wrest,
Nor make any plaint of grievance, with guile in his heart and hate,
Through the need that had left him lordless, on the will of him to wait
Who had murdered his bounteous master. So now the oath was made,
And the gold brought forth from the gold-hoard, and upon the pyre was laid
The bravest in fight of the Scyldings. By that pile might men behold
The war-sark blood-bedappled and the swine-shape wrought of gold,
The boar hammered hard as iron: and there lay there amid the slain
Full many a prince of the people whom wounds and death had ta'en.
Then Hildeburgh at Hnaef's burning bade be given up to the fire
Her own dear son, and his body be laid and burnt on the pyre,
And over the breast of her lost one that stricken woman wept
Crooning her dirge of sorrow. Straightway from the pile upleapt
The warrior fierce in battle, and up to the clouds he soared,
While over the mound of burial the mighty bale-fire roared.
But many a head was molten and many a wound gaped raw,
When the life-blood leapt from the gashes, and the fire engulfed in its maw,
Greediest of ravening spirits, every warrior who in fight
Had fallen, 'mid each of the nations. Gone were all their power and might!
So the warriors reft of their comrades once again to their dwellings hied,
And sought out the land of the Frisians, and their homes, and their cities of pride.
But ever with Finn dwelThengest through that winter of blood and woe
Keeping the pact unsullied. Home again he longed to go,
But never his curven prow-head mighThe urge across the wave,
For the sea rose up 'neath the tempest and against the storm-wind drave,
And the waters were locked by winter in fetters of ice, till came
The new year round to the homesteads, as e'en now she cometh the same,
That season of beauty and wonder, to them that awaiTher hour,
And fair was earth's bosom waxen, and sped was the winter's power.
But the exile out of that steading strove alway to depart,
Though more than the voyage over ocean was vengeance dear to his heart,
And ever he longed to compass a meeting of strife, and exact
A reckoning therein of the Eotens: wherefore the terms of the pact
He noway refused, when Hunlafing upon his bosom laid
The light that gleams out in the mellay, of swords the goodliest blade,
Whose edges were known 'mid the Eotens—By the fell sword was also ta'en
Fierce-hearted Finn at his homestead, what time across the main
Guthlaf and Oslaf journeyed, and made plaint of the ruthless raid
And the woe, and of all that suffering the burden on Finn they laid;
Whereby was his flickering spirit from his bosom quickly sped,
And with bodies of many a foeman was all the guest-hall red,
And King Finn was slain 'mid his meiny, and the queen was likewise ta'en,
And on shipboard the Danish fighters bore the wealth of the king's domain,
Ay, all they might find in Finn's dwelling of brooches and jewels fair,
And with them they brought over ocean that lady of lineage rare
To the Danes and the folk of her people.
So now was the lay at a close,
And the gleeman's chanting; and straightway the din of revel arose.
Joy brightened along the benches, and from vessels of worth untold
The wine was poured by the bearers. 'Neath her diadem of gold
Came Wealhtheow forth, and fared onward to where uncle and nephew good
Sat as yet in goodwill together, and in loving and kindly mood.
Likewise sat Unferth the spokesman at the feet of the Scylding lord,
And the people had faith in his manhood, and trusted with one accord
That his heart was mighty within him: yet steadfasThe ne'er had been
To his kinsmen at all in the sword-play. Then outspake the Scylding queen:
‘Take thou this cup, my master, that givest largesse to thy clan,
And may joy and mirth be thy portion, thou bounteous friend of man!
Speak words of grace to the Geats, e'en such as 'twere meet to use,
And be kindly unto the strangers, and forget not nor refuse
To grant them gifts of the bounty that from far and near thou hast won.
Men have told me that yonder hero thou wouldst cherish e'en as thy son,
Now Heorot is purged of its foulness, the shining hall of thy grace;
So be boon, while thou mayst, of thy bounty, and leave all of thy realm and race
To pass 'neath the sway of thy kinsmen, when forth from earth thou shalt fare
To look on the doom of the Master. I know that my nephew there,
My Hrothulf, is kindly and gentle, and a gracious lord will he be
To our younglings, lord of the Scyldings, if thou leavest this life ere he.
And I deem that with bounty alway will he guerdon the youth of our clan,
If he mind him of all the succour that we gave when his life began
For his joyance and worldly honour.’ Then she turned to the bench where her sons,
Hrethric and Hrothmund, were seated, and the bairns of the bravest ones,
Younglings of might together: and there sat by the brethren twain
Beowulf the noble Geat. Before him the cup was ta'en,
And friendly greeting was given him with grace of words well told
And they proffered him eke for his honour two armlets of coiling gold,
And a mantle and store of brooches, and a torque his neck to grace,
The fairest that ever I heard of on earth: ay, in never a place
'Neath the heaven have I learnt that of jewels a fairer treasure lay
In the keeping of any hero, since Hama carried away
To his radiant city the necklace of the Brosings, the jewel bright,
And its setting costly and precious. In the net of craft and spite
That Eormenric set, was he taken, and sought eternal grace.
But Hygelac, Swerting's nephew, the lord of the Geatish race,
Wore the torque on his life's last foray, when beneath his banner fair
He guarded the spoil as the warder of the battle's booty rare,
Till Fate took him off in his daring when he sought out peril and woe
And battle against the Frisians. Those jewels of splendid glow
He bore with him over the beaker of ocean, that monarch of might,
But the Franks gat hold of his body when he fell 'neath his shield in the fight,
And with it the mail that engirt him, and the circlet away they bore.
Ay, those corpses were plundered by warriors less brave when the battle was o'er,
And the Geats were strewn o'er the death-place.

—Then clamour arose in hall,
And Wealhtheow uttered her greeting before the revellers all:
‘Beowulf, belovéd youngling, take this ring and this sark of the fight
Of the nation's wealth, and enjoy them, and prosper, and show thy might,
And be boon to these lads of thy counsel. Thy meed will I surely pay,
For e'en so hast thou wrought that in all lands men shall honour thee ever and aye
Wheresoever ocean encircleth the wind-swept cliffs with his wave.
Fair fortune be thine while thou livest, and much treasure, thou athling brave!
By the glory and joy thou hast gotten may thy deeds to my son be kind:
—Each earl in this hall to his comrades is kindly and true, and his mind
Is leal alway to his master, ay, fair is each liegeman's will;
My people are ready: ye henchmen that of wine have drunk your fill
Do straightway e'en as I bid ye.’ She went to her settle, and fine
And choice was the banquet that followed, and the drink men drank was wine:
But of Wyrd they took no reckoning, nor of doom's remorseless spell,
How for many an earl it was ordered at the hour when evening fell,
And Hrothgar was gone to his dwelling, and the great one's toil was o'er.
—But of chieftains a mighty meiny, as oft in the days before,
Kept guard of the hall, and the benches they bared, and all over-strown
Was the flooring with beds and bolsters. One reveller alone,
Whom doom had marked for the slaying, lay down on his couch for the night.
Up over their heads the heroes hung their linden targes bright,
And along the bench o'er the athlings, where all could see full clear,
Lay the towering helm, and the byrny ring-wrought, and the might of the spear.
For often in sooth 'twas their custom to hold them alert for war
Whether at home or on foray, whene'er need and danger sore
Befell the prince of their people. A trusty clan were they!