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English translation in short lines, generally containing two stresses. Wickberg, R. First Swedish translation. Zinsser, G.
Jahresbericht of the Realschule at Forbach, The large figures refer to fitts, the small, to lines in the fitts.
Elder brother of Yrmenlaf. Killed by Grendel. Father of Healfdene, and grandfather of Hrothgar. Sprung from the stock of Geats, son of Ecgtheow.
Brought up by his maternal grandfather Hrethel, and figuring in manhood as a devoted liegeman of his uncle Higelac.
A hero from his youth. Has the strength of thirty men. Engages in a swimming-match with Breca. Goes to the help of Hrothgar against the monster Grendel.
Vanquishes Grendel and his mother. Afterwards becomes king of the Geats. Late in life attempts to kill a fire-spewing dragon, and is slain.
Is buried with great honors. His memorial mound. Brosinga mene. Other names for them are Victory-Scyldings, Honor-Scyldings, Armor-Danes, Bright-Danes, East-Danes, West-Danes, North-Danes, South-Danes, Ingwins, Hrethmen.
After slaying Heatholaf, a Wylfing, he flees his country. Eagle Cape. The reference to these brothers is vague, and variously understood. Heyne supposes as follows: Raising a revolt against their father, they are obliged to leave Sweden.
They go to the land of the Geats; with what intention, is not known, but probably to conquer and plunder.
The Geatish king, Heardred, is slain by one of the brothers, probably Eanmund. Marries Hildeburg. Later on, Finn himself is slain by Danish warriors.
Some of them were engaged in the struggle in which Higelac was slain. Married to Ingeld, a Heathobard prince.
Geats, Geatmen. Also called Weder-Geats, or Weders, War-Geats, Sea-Geats. Dwells in the fens and moors. Causes the king untold agony for years. Is finally conquered by Beowulf, and dies of his wound.
Younger brother of Hrothgar. Kills his brother Herebeald accidentally. Is slain at Ravenswood, fighting against Ongentheow.
Was a source of great sorrow to his people. Ruled the Danes long and well. Succeeds his father, with Beowulf as regent.
Is slain by the sons of Ohthere. Heort , Heorot. It is invaded by Grendel for twelve years. Finally cleansed by Beowulf, the Geat. It is called Heort on account of the hart-antlers which decorate it.
Killed by Grendel just before Beowulf grappled with that monster. Marries Wealhtheow, a Helming lady. Has two sons and a daughter. Is a typical Teutonic king, lavish of gifts.
A devoted liegelord, as his lamentations over slain liegemen prove. Also very appreciative of kindness, as is shown by his loving gratitude to Beowulf.
Gives Hengest a beautiful sword. Hygelac , Higelac. The son of their union is Heardred. Is slain in a war with the Hugs, Franks, and Frisians combined.
Beowulf is regent, and afterwards king of the Geats. There are some indications that she married Beowulf after she became a widow. Marries the terrible Thrytho who is so strongly contrasted with Hygd.
He is father of Eanmund and Eadgils. Married, perhaps, Elan, daughter of Healfdene. He dies, and his body is put on a vessel, and set adrift. He goes from Daneland just as he had come to it—in a bark.
They are also called Honor-Scyldings, Victory-Scyldings, War-Scyldings, etc. Known for her fierce and unwomanly disposition. She is introduced as a contrast to the gentle Hygd, queen of Higelac.
Taunts Beowulf for having taken part in the swimming-match. In the MS. Her queenly courtesy is well shown in the poem.
Weohstan , or Wihstan. He remains faithful to Beowulf in the fatal struggle with the fire-drake. Would rather die than leave his lord in his dire emergency.
Ongentheow disables him, and is thereupon slain by Eofor. This means: From the obligations of clientage, my friend Beowulf, and for assistance thou hast sought us.
The first passage v. The second passage v. Translate then: Wouldst let the South-Danes themselves decide about their struggle with Grendel.
With such collateral support as that afforded by B. The idiom above treated runs through A. The translation may be indicated as follows: Just as it is sad for an old man to see his son ride young on the gallows when he himself is uttering mournful measures, a sorrowful song, while his son hangs for a comfort to the raven, and he, old and infirm, cannot render him any kelp— he is constantly reminded, etc.
Several discrepancies and other oversights have been noticed in the H. Of these a good part were avoided by Harrison and Sharp, the American editors of Beowulf, in their last edition, The rest will, I hope, be noticed in their fourth edition.
As, however, this book may fall into the hands of some who have no copy of the American edition, it seems best to notice all the principal oversights of the German editors.
Forgeaf hilde-bille See H. Wunde Professor of English and History in The College of William and Mary. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year , by JNO: LESSLIE HALL, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
THE STORY. Beowulf leaves Dane-land. Hrothgar weeps and laments at his departure. Heyne, M. Paderborn, Wackerbarth, A. GLORY OF KINGS.
QUIT, QUITE. TARGE, TARGET. THE LIFE AND DEATH OF SCYLD. The famous race of Spear-Danes. Long did rule them. Soothly to tell us, they in halls who reside, 4.
God had perceived the malice-caused sorrow which they, lordless, had formerly long endured. Beowulf succeeds his father Scyld In the boroughs then Beowulf, bairn of the Scyldings,.
Then the mighty war-spirit 1 endured for a season,. A foe in the hall-building: this horrible stranger 2.
Who 3 dwelt in the moor-fens, the marsh and the fastness;. GRENDEL THE MURDERER. Then the lord Hrothgar came to the throne, son of the old King Healfdene, great-grandson of Scyld, and he was to become the greatest warrior king of them all.
Fierce in battle, he fetched back home more treasures from his conquests than had ever before been seen or even dreamed of in Denmark.
But he was generous too and a good father to his people, so that they obeyed him always gladly. Hearing of his increasing glory in battles, more and more warriors came to join him.
It seemed to them and to him that there could never be an end to all his power and wealth. The kingdom was safe from its enemies, the people warm at their hearths and well fed.
Truly it was a land of sweet content. To celebrate these years of prosperity and plenty, Hrothgar decided that he would raise for his people a huge mead-hall.
It must, he declared, be larger and more splendid than any mead-hall ever built. Only the best timbers were used, only the finest craftsmen. It was truly even more magnificent than he had ever imagined it could be.
Heorot, he called it, and at the first banquet he gave there, Hrothgar, by way of thanks, gave out to each and every person rings and armbands of glowing gold.
No king could have been kinder, no people as proud and as happy. Night after night they feasted in Heorot, and listened to the music of the harp and song of the poet.
And every night the poet told them that story they most loved to hear: how God had made the earth in all its beauty, its mountains and meadows, seas and skies; how he had made the sun and the moon to light it, the corn and the trees to grow on it; how he gave life and being to every living creature that crawls and creeps and moves on land or in the sea or in the air.
And man too he made to live in this paradise. But there was another listener. Outside the walls of Heorot, in the dim and the dark, there stalked an enemy from hell itself, the monster Grendel, sworn enemy of God and men alike, a beast born of evil and shame.
He heard the sweet music of the harp, and afterward the joyous laughter echoing through the hall as the mead-horn was passed around. Nothing had ever so enraged this beast as night after night he had to listen to all this happiness and harmony.
It was more than his evil heart could bear. The night Grendel struck was the darkest night of all. He waited until Hrothgar had gone to his bed, until only the lords who nightly guarded Heorot were left.
They were fast asleep when he pounced. He was upon them so suddenly and with such violence and fury that none could escape the terrible slaughter.
Thirty lords he murdered in his bloodlust, as savage and swift in his death-dealing as a maddened fox in a chicken coop. He left not one of them alive, but carried them off home to his lair to feast on their bloodied corpses at his leisure.
Only when day broke did Hrothgar and his warriors discover the dreadful evidence of the holocaust at Heorot. Gone now were the laughter and the music.
Hrothgar sat silent in his grief and despair. His warriors too mourned and lamented the loss of their friends and brothers-in-arms.
All were stunned at the merciless cruelty of this fatal fiend of the darkness. But the horrors were not yet over, for the next night Grendel came again, stalking over the foggy moors and down through the forests toward Heorot.
The warriors had barricaded themselves in this time, and believed they must be safe. They could not have known that against this hellish monster all such defenses would be useless.
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I tried my utmost to hold him fast, to squeeze the life out of him, but I did not have a good enough grip on him to prevent his escape.
By tearing himself away and leaving behind his arm, he must have hoped to save himself from death, wretched creature. But God did not wish it, and so the fiend lives no more.
He will no more haunt your land or plague your people. We may have his arm, but God has his evil soul and will do with him as he pleases.
Long they gazed at the grotesque arm up there, at the horrible hand and fearsome fingers, the nails as strong and sharp as steel, each one a spur-talon, each a vicious war-weapon for gouging and gashing.
Then Hrothgar the king ordered the banqueting hall to be made ready at once for a feast. How willingly they went to work to prepare the place, adorning it richly from golden gable to shining floor.
They hung glowing, gold-wrought tapestries. They mended or covered all the damage and destruction that the greatest of all mead-halls had suffered the night before, and prepared a great feast of thanksgiving, as the king had commanded.
That evening when all was ready, into that happy hall came Hrothgar and Beowulf again. All around them now, on the mead-benches, sat the thanes and warriors and as many of the good people of Denmark as the benches would allow.
And all rejoiced and feasted as never before, the mead-cup passing from hand to hand, until Heorot was filled once more with the laughter of friends, with sweet song and marvelous music, with unbounded joy.
Then, offering him the cup, the queen spoke to Hrothgar. And when he had drunk, then came the time of gifts. Two arm-wreaths were brought, and robes and more gold rings, but best of all, the richest collar, the finest prize, more ornate and finely wrought than any I ever saw, the most treasured jewel Hrothgar possessed, worn on the neck of great war-kings and heroes, a fabled collar for an already fabled warrior.
And may treasure come your way often and in large amounts! Be strong, but be gentle too, and a wise guardian too to my two boys. By them, and by me and my lord Hrothgar, your name will be held in honor and love till the end of time.
They did not know then that the joy would be short-lived, the hope destroyed even before the night was over. As the night-shadows fell over Heorot, Hrothgar and his queen escorted Beowulf and all the Geatish heroes to their beds, leaving the great mead-hall in the care of the thanes of Denmark.
They cleared away the benches and spread the floor with beds and bolsters and, as they had so often done before, made a dormitory of the great hall.
Out of habit these warriors kept their weapons near at hand, always ready for war, their shields and hand-swords at their sides, and, on the benches nearby, their mail-coats, their mighty helmets and spears.
But not one of them expected any attack that night. Safe in their hall, or so they thought, they fell asleep at once and slept soundly. It was a sleep they would pay for dearly and soon.
For Grendel had a mother, a murderous hag, as hideous a monster as her fiend of a son. Now she was a bereaved mother out for revenge, maddened by her loss, and she would be savage in her grief.
With vengeance brimming in her soul, she came to Heorot in the dead of that night, all the Danish lords fast asleep inside, each lost in his dreams.
How quickly were these dreams turned into a sudden nightmare! She may not have had the monster strength of her son, but she was thirsting for blood as she came in among them and powerful in her fury.