—VII—
Hrothgar spoke, king of the Scyldings:
“For past deeds done and for past support
you have sought to find us, my friend Beowulf.
Once your father brought about a great feud
when he killed Heatholaf with his own hand
among the Wulfings, and his kin in the Weders
refused him protection for fear of war.
From there he sought the folk of the South-Danes,
us Honor-Scyldings, over the rolling waves.
I was then first ruling the folk of the Danes
wielding power in my youth over wide-spread lands,
with a stronghold of warriors. Heorogar was then dead,
my elder brother, from our father Healfdene,
was no longer living—a better man than I!
I then paid to settle the feud for your father.
I sent to the Wulfings over welling waters
ancient treasures, and Ecgtheow swore oaths to me.
12
I now suffer great sorrow in spirit to say,
before any man, what Grendel has brought
to humiliate Heorot with his hateful schemes
and his horrid attacks. My hall-troop dwindles,
now less of a war-band. Wyrd swept them off
in the terror of Grendel. May God quickly
cut off that mad pillager from power to act!
Often our warriors, when over their ale-cups,
made boasts during beer-drinking
that they in the beer-hall would wait and watch
to do battle with Grendel, wielding dread swords.
Then in the morning was this mead-hall
stained with their blood in the break of day:
all the hall-benches were steaming hot gore,
from the slaughter in the hall. Still less did I have
of well-loved warriors as death carried them off.
Now sit down to the feast and unfasten your thoughts
to these gallant men, as your spirit moves you.”
Then in the beer-hall were benches cleared
for the Geats as a group all gathered together.
Their strong chieftain went over to take his seat,
famed for his strength. A thane performed service,
who bore in his hands the adorned ale-cup,
and poured out sweet drink. At times the scop sang,
a clear voice in Heorot. There was joy among heroes,
the roar of retainers, of Danes and of Weders.