Beowulf

‘Beowulf’ is my favorite book this term. I read the original old-English poem, translated by Frederick Rebsamen, and I loved it. It definitely has its place among my favorites, and I highly recommend it.

The setting of the poem is up in the northern countries of Denmark, Sweden and Götland around the fifth or sixth century AD, and the hero of the poem is a Geatish warrior-lord – Beowulf. The author of the poem is unknown, but it is believed that he lived around 1000 AD. Probably the most well known event in the story is Beowulf’s arm wrestle with the monster Grendel who has attacked the Danes, and then his underwater fight with Grendel’s revengeful mother, the water-witch.

Later on in the story, Beowulf encounters a fire-dragon. (Now, listen carefully, does this sound a bit like the Hobbit or what? I always wondered where Tolkien got his ideas…)
Many years ago, this dragon stole a vast treasure-hoard from some Danish king or other who does not enter the story. He has never been a concern until an escaped slave stumbles upon the treasure while the dragon is sleeping and steals a golden cup in order to purchase his freedom. When the dragon realizes the loss, he ravages the entire countryside in revenge. The news is carried to Beowulf, who sets out to defeat the monster and bring peace to the land. The dragon is killed, and so is Beowulf. This last fight is so well-written and moving that I memorized it. You can read it below.

Interestingly, the poem has some Christian elements in it. God is mentioned thirty two times as ‘God,’ and over sixty times using another name – Shaper, Wielder, Glory-King, Measurer, Father, Deemer, etc. Throughout the story, it is shown how Beowulf, the magnanimous hero, trusts entirely on his own strength and courage, (see line 12) and in the end, it fails him. I thought that was very interesting.

The poem does not rhyme, because poems in the time that it was written used alliteration rather than rhyme. For example, (line 55) Flushed with fire fury to flash away the life. The alliteration gives the poem spirit and rhythm.

Today there are many versions of it in poetry and prose, and I have not read them all, but I think Rebsamen did a wonderful job in preserving the Germanic poetry in the translation. I also liked how Rebsamen created lots of compound words to capture the feel of the original language.

Here is the scene of the last fight between Beowulf and the dragon.

Notes: Wyrd is an old Germanic word for fate or destiny.
Naegling is Beowulf’s sword.

*See if you can find the alliteration and the compound words that the author has created.

“Wyrd will decide the way of this meeting
And man’s Measurer. My mind is strong
No more will I boast of monster in the past
Wait here in these woods in your webbed corselets
With shields and spears to see which of us
Will manage to survive vicious war wounds
Or kneel here to death. If luck moves with me
I will gather this gold, or give my life here
If cold death-bale carries me away.”
Beowulf rose then, with his round iron shield
War-helmet gleaming went with his years
Under the stone-cliff – in his strength he trusted
One against all, no way for a coward.
His tread was still young after years of war-clash
At borders of his land when boar-banners rushed
To the sounding of horns. He saw by the cliff-wall
A stone-barrow standing, a stream broke from it
Burst from the wall, bright with fire-flash
Blistering the sand - he could step no closer
Unburned by that breath nor bear that dragon-heat
Standing so close as his shield grew hotter.
Then from his breast, bolstered with anger
The lord of the Geats loosened a word-blast
Stormed stout-hearted - under steep gray-stone
His battle-stout voice boomed to the mound.
Hate was awakened the hoard-guardian knew
The sound of that leader – there was little time then
To settle for peace. From the stone-treasure cave
Burning breath-flame burst in a flash
Old anger-fire – the earth trembled.
The strong hall-king hefted his shield then
Sought some relief from that singeing blast
That ringed serpent was ready for combat
Greedy for revenge. The good warrior-king
Unsheathed his sword then, swift in its edges
Old treasure-blade. Each of those fighters
Warrior and monster was wary of the other.
Beowulf stood still with his steep iron shield
Death faced with death as the dragon coiled then
Swelling with fury simmering with rage.

Then Beowulf’s companion Wiglaf enters the scene:

He stepped through that hell-reek, hoisted his weapon
Brought help to his kinsmen, kindled him with words.
“Beloved Beowulf, bear up your heart
You said in your youth of glory in yore-days
That you never would allow while life held to you
The lowering of your name. Now known through the earth
Great-hearted Beowulf bear up your mind-strength
To finish this dragon – I will fight beside you.”
After those help-words the hell-serpent came
Raging gold-miser glaring with death eyes
Flushed with fire fury to flash away the life
Of that hateful challenger. Hard flame launching
Shriveled the shield-wood seared through mail-coats
Now helpless to bear that hot serpent breath.
The young hall-thane hid beside his lord
Held to the iron round hoping for relief
From those awesome flames-spears. The old battle-king
Remembered his glory-name mightily struck then
With his sharp blade-edge born so strongly
That is stuck in that neck. Naegling burst then
Broke upon that bone Beowulf’s trophy sword
Old and battle hard that best of honor-blades
Failed him at need. The finest of smith-steel
Could give him no help. His hand was too strong
Over-swung each sword as stories have told me
Struck too forcefully when he stepped to battle
Wonder-hard weapons did not work for him.
For the third time then, twisting in hate-coils
That monstrous fire-dragon mindful of his feud
Struck past that shield went straight to Beowulf
Bit round his neck. Beowulf stopped then
His life-force draining, in dark blood welling.
Then, as I heard, that hall-king’s champion
Young kin-warrior came to that monster
With craft and weapon-skill as his king had taught him
He ducked past that head, hot flame belching
Burned his hand then as he buried his sword,
Burnished treasure-blade in that black snake belly.
Then that great fire-breath grew feebler at last
That blistering blast bellowed more softly
As the blade took hold. Then Beowulf rose
Gathered his mind-thoughts, grasped his short-sword
Bitter and battle-sharp broad steel edges –
The Geat-lord struck severed the ringbones
They felled that fiend, found his life-core
Cut him to hell-death kinsmen together
King and his soldier so should a man
Be a thane with his lord. The leader of the Geats
Fought his last blood-fight the bourne of his deeds
Daytimes of this world.