Unit Two Section B
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Beowulf tells Hrothgar "Grendel and I are called together ... Fate will unwind as it must! " Who will win this battle? Does fate alone determine the winner? Beowulf and his men reach the Danish shore. They are escorted to Herot. Beowulf greets King Hrothgar. Beowulf
Higlac is my cousin and my king; the days Of my youth have been filled with glory. Now Grendel's Name has echoed in our land: sailors Have brought us stories of Herot, the best Of all mead-halls, deserted and useless when the moon Hangs in skies the sun had lit, Light and life fleeing together. My people have said, the wisest, most knowing And best of them, that my duty was to go to the Danes' Great king. They have seen my strength for themselves, Have watched me rise from the darkness of war, Dripping with my enemies' blood. I drove Five great giants into chains, chased All of that race from the earth. I swam In the blackness of night, hunting monsters Out of the ocean, and killing them one By one; death was my errand and the fate They had earned. Now Grendel and I are called Together, and I've come. Grant me, then, Lord and protector of this noble place, A single request! I have come so far, Oh shelterer of warriors and your people's loved friend, That this one favor you should not refuse me- That I, alone and with the help of my men, May purge all evil from this hall. I have heard, Too, that the monster's scorn of men Is so great that he needs no weapons and tears none. Nor will I. My lord Higlac Might think less of me if I let my sword Go where my feet were afraid to, if I hid Behind some broad linden shield: my hands Alone shall fight for me, struggle for life Against the monster. God must decide Who will be given to death's cold grip. Grendel's plan, I think, will be What it has been before, to invade this hall And gorge his belly with our bodies. If he can, If he can. And I think, if my time will have come, There'll be nothing to mourn over, no corpse to prepare For Its grave: Grendel will carry our bloody Flesh to the moors, crunch on our bones And smear torn scraps of our skin on the walls Of his den. No, I expect no Danes Will fret about sewing our shrouds, if he wins. And if death does take me, send the hammered Mail of my armor to Higlac, return The inheritance I had from Hrethel, and he From Wayland. Fate will unwind as it must!" Yielded benches to the brave visitors And led them to the feast. The keeper of the mead Came carrying out the carved flasks, And poured that bright sweetness. A poet Sang, from time to time, in a clear Pure voice. Danes and visiting Geats Celebrated as one, drank and rejoiced.... Great protector, followed by his court; the queen Had preceded him and he went to lie at her side, Seek sleep near his wife, It was said that God Himself had set a sentinel in Herot, Brought Beowulf as a guard against Grendel and a shield Behind whom the king could safely rest. And Beowulf was ready, firm with our Lord's High favor and his own bold courage and strength. Hammered from the hardest iron, and handed All his weapons and armor to a servant, Ordered his war--gear guarded till morning. And then, standing beside his bed, He exclaimed: Than I am! I could kill him with my sword; I shall not, Easy as it would be. This fiend is a bold And famous fighter, but his claws and teeth Scratching at my shield, his clumsy fists Beating at my sword blade, would be helpless. I will meet him With my hands empty--unless his heart Fails him, seeing a soldier waiting Weaponless, unafraid, Let God in His wisdom Extend His hand where He wills, reward Whom He chooses!" His head to his pfllow, and around him, as ready As they could be, lay the soldiers who had crossed the sea At his side, each of them sure that he was lost To the home he loved, to the high-walled towns And the friends he had left behind where both he And they had been raised, Each thought of the Danes Murdered by Grendel in a hall where Geats And not Danes now slept, But God's dread--loom Was woven with defeat for the monster, good fortune For the Geats; help against Grendel was with them, And through the might of a single man They would win, Who doubts that God in His wisdom And strength holds the earth forever In His hands? Out in the darkness the monster Began to walk, The warriors slept In that gabled hall where they hoped that He Would keep them safe from evil, guard them From death till the end of their days was determined And the thread should be broken. But Beowulf lay wakeful, Watching, waiting, eager to meet His enemy, and angry at the thought of his coming. The Battle with Grendel
Hills and bogs, bearing God's hatred, Grendel came, hoping to kill Anyone he could trap on this trip to high Herot. He moved quickly through the cloudy night, Up from his swampland, sliding silently Toward that gold-shining hall. He had visited Hrothgar's Home before, knew the way- But never, before nor after that night, Found Herot defended so firmly, his reception So harsh. He journeyed, forever joyless, Straight to the door, then snapped it open, Tore Its iron fasteners with a touch And rushed angrily over the threshold. He strode quickly across the inlaid Floor, snarling and fierce: his eyes Gleamed in the darkness, burned with a gruesome Light. Then he stopped, seeing the hall Crowded with sleeping warriors, stuffed With rows of young soldiers resting together. And his heart laughed, he relished the sight, Intended to tear the life from those bodies By morning; the monster's mind was hot With the thought of food and the feasting his belly Would soon know. But fate, that night, intended Grendel to gnaw the broken bones Of his last human supper. Human Eyes were watching his evil steps, Waiting to see his swift hard claws. Grendel snatched at the first Geat He came to, ripped him apart, cut His body to bits with powerful jaws, Drank the blood from his veins and bolted Him down, hands and feet; death And Grendel's great teeth came together, Snapping life shut. Then he stepped to another Still body, clutched at Beowulf with his claws, Grasped at a strong-hearted wakeful sleeper --And was instantly seized himself, claws Bent back as Beowulf leaned up on one arm. Knew at once that nowhere on earth Had he met a man whose hands were harder; His mind was flooded with fear-but nothing Could take his talons and himself from that tight Hard grip. Grendel's one thought was to run From Beowulf, flee back to his marsh and hide there: This was a different Herot than the hall he had emptied. But Higlac's follower remembered his final Boast and, standing erect, stopped The monster's flight, fastened those claws In his fists till they cracked, clutched Grendel Closer. The infamous killer fought For his freedom, wanting no flesh but retreat, Desiring nothing but escape; his claws Had been caught, he was trapped. That trip to Herot Was a miserable journey for the writhing monster! And Danes shook with terror. Down The aisles the battle swept, angry And wild. Herot trembled, wonderfully Built to withstand the blows, the struggling Great bodies beating at its beautiful walls; Shaped and fastened with Iron, inside And out, artfully worked, the building Stood firm. Its benches rattled, fell To the floor, gold-covered boards grating As Grendel and Beowulf battled across them. Hrothgar's wise men had fashioned Herot To stand forever; only fire, They had planned, could shatter what such skill had put Together, swallow in hot flames such splendor Of ivory and iron and wood. Suddenly The sounds changed, the Danes started In new terror, cowering in their beds as the terrible Screams of the Almighty's enemy sang In the darkness, the horrible shrieks of pain And defeat, the tears torn out of Grendel's Taut throat, hell's captive caught in the arms Of him who of all the men on earth Was the strongest. Meant to hold the monster till its life Leaped out, knowing the fiend was no use To anyone in Denmark. All of Beowulf's Band had jumped from their beds, ancestral Swords raised and ready, determined To protect their prince if they could. Their courage Was great but all wasted: they could hack at Grendel From every side, trying to open A path for his evil soul, but their points Could not hurt him, the sharpest and hardest iron Could not scratch at his skin, for that sin-stained demon Had bewitched all men's weapons, laid spells That blunted every mortal man's blade. And yet his time had come, his days Were over, his death near; down To hell he would go, swept groaning and helpless To the waiting hands of still worse fiends. Now he discovered-once the afflictor Of men, tormentor of their days-what it meant To feud with Almighty God: Grendel Saw that his strength was deserting him, his claws Bound fast, Higlac's brave follower tearing at His hands. The monster's hatred rose higher, But his power had gone. He twisted in pain, And the bleeding sinews deep in his shoulder Snapped, muscle and bone split And broke. The battle was over, Beowulf Had been granted new glory: Grendel escaped, But wounded as he was could flee to his den, His miserable hole at the bottom of the marsh, Only to die, to wait for the end Of all his days. And after that bloody Combat the Danes laughed with delight. He who had come to them from across the sea, Bold and strong-minded, had driven affliction Off, purged Herot clean. He was happy, Now, with that night's fierce work; the Danes Had been served as he'd boasted he'd serve them; Beowulf, A prince of the Geats, had killed Grendel, Ended the grief, the sorrow, the suffering Forced on Hrothgar's helpless people By a bloodthirsty fiend. No Dane doubted The victory, for the proof, hanging high From the rafters where Beowulf had hung it, was the monster's Arm, claw and shoulder and all. Herot, warriors coming to that hall From faraway lands, princes and leaders Of men hurrying to behold the monster's Great staggering tracks. They gaped with no sense Of sorrow, felt no regret for his suffering, Went tracing his bloody footprints, his beaten And lonely flight, to the edge of the lake Where he'd dragged his corpselike way, doomed And already weary of his vanishing life. The water was bloody, steaming and boiling In horrible pounding waves, heat Sucked from his magic veins; but the swirling Surf had covered his death, hidden Deep in murky darkness his miserable End, as hell opened to receive him. From that happy pilgrimage, mounted their hardhooved Horses, high-spirited stallions, and rode them Slowly toward Herot again, retelling Beowulf's bravery as they jogged along. And over and over they swore that nowhere On earth or under the spreading sky Or between the seas, neither south nor north, Was there a warrior worthier to rule over men. |
1. Beowulf greets Hrothgar by telling of his brave deeds. What feats caused Beowulf’s days to be "filled with glory"? |