Read Online Beowulf by Frederick Rebsamen - Free Book Online Page A

life-breath Finn’s warrior-thanes
 
all but a few—ended at last
 
when Hengest and his men held against them all—
 
nothing could flush them fighting was stalled
 
with ominous silence—at the end of slaughter
 
was no victory. They vowed peace-terms—
 
to Danes was offered their own winter-home
 
hall-room and high-seat to hold peacefully
 
with half of everything enemies together—
 
before the gift-throne Folcwalda’s son
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would honor the Danes each day and night-time
 
welcome with rings warriors of Hengest
 
give from his treasure gold arm-bracelets
 
in full friendship with Frisians around them
 
equal in boasting beer-cups and song.
 
So they swore together solemn companions
 
a firm peace-pact. Finn gave to Hengest
 
in full hall-council hard oath-bindings
 
with his elders’ advice: In honorable plenty
 
he would hold them all—no envious hall-thane
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with words or with deeds would damage that peace
 
no Dane would lament with malice on his tongue
 
that they now followed forced by that truce
 
their lord’s life-taker through the long winter—
 
if one Frisian with foul hate-words
 
mindful of mischief should mention battle-thoughts
 
a sharp swordedge would silence that tongue.
 
Oaths were honored old gold-treasures
 
brought from the hoard. The best warrior
 
lord of the War-Danes was laid upon the pyre.
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Heaped on the balefire battle-gear waited
 
bloodstained corselets cloven mask-helmets
 
gilded with boar-heads grim slaughter-guards
 
with too many warriors wounded to rest.
 
Then came Hildeburh where Hnaef lay waiting
 
bade that her son be swallowed by flames
 
next to her brother nephew by his side
 
at his uncle’s shoulder—she sang in her grief
 
a keen sorrow-song as they settled him there.
 
The great slaughter-fire circled to the sky
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reared to the heavens. Heads melted there
 
sword-woundings burst blood sprang from them
 
fire-bitten bodies. Flames swallowed all
 
greediest of spirits sucked them away
 
the Finns and the Danes—fled was their glory.
 
Frisians grew restive bereft of friends
 
some took winter-leave sought their blood-kin
 
homes and meadhalls. Hengest remained
 
suffering with Finn a slaughter-stained winter
 
dreaming of release—he longed for Denmark
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though he dared not sail on the surging waters
 
his ring-prowed ship. The sea howled at him
 
wailing with storm-wind—winter locked the waves
 
in icy bindings till the earth welcomed
 
a young new-year as it yet calls forth
 
the altered seasons always beckoning
 
glory-bright weather. Then winter was gone
 
fair was the earth-bosom. The exile yearned
 
longed to be gone. Grief and vengeance
 
stronger than escape seethed in his heart-blood—
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a final meeting formed in his mind
 
memory of malice moved him to stay.
 
He did not reject that gesture then
 
when Hunlafing bore him a bright vengeance-sword
 
bore to his bosom that best of warblades—
 
its edges were known to all around him.
 
Once more to Finn Frisian war-king
 
came anxious swordbale in his own homeland
 
when Guthlaf and Oslaf with grim memories
 
spoke of their sorrows that sea-voyage to death
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woeful winter-grief. No wavering heart
 
they found in Hengest. The hall grew red
 
with Frisian blood-wounds—Finn perished there
 
king with his men and his queen was taken.
 
To their broad ship then the Shield-Danes bore
 
whatever they found in Finn’s meadhall
 
stripped it of swords secret treasure-hoard
 
wondrous gemstones. On the welling sea
 
they ferried his wife to family in Denmark
 
safe with her