Beowulf

Beowulf is an anonymous heroic epic poem, the highest achievement of Old English literature. It recreates for us those ancient times when men lived roughly but nobly, and when heroes feared no one but imaginary creatures such as demons and dragons. Preserved in a single manuscript of about AD 1000, it narrates events of the early 6^th century. It was probably composed between 700 and 750, and did not appear in print until 1815. The poem is 3,182 lines long, making it the longest in Old English literature.

Beowulf is written in the Anglo-Saxon alliterative verse, where the poetic melodiousness depends upon similar sounds at the beginnings of words, or alliteration, and upon an arrangement of stressed and unstressed syllables. One of the most striking features of the Anglo-Saxon poetical style is the use of kennings, or striking metaphorical phrases standing for a noun, e.g. "war-sweat" meaning "blood" or "shadow-walker" meaning "monster".

The first part of Beowulf is set in Denmark, in the folk hall of King Hrothgar. After a short introduction we are told how Hrothgar, the king of a Danish tribe, called the Scyldings to build a large palace, called Heorot, between the seashore and a dark and marshy forest inhabited by demonic spirits. After Hrothgar with his court had settled in the new palace, one night came a gigantic monster, "demon of death", "grim and greedy" Grendel, a descendant of the first murderer Cain. Grendel carried off thirty of Hrothgar's warriors and returned over and over again until the court left the palace, which stood empty and silent for twelve years.

Meanwhile, the story of Grendel's mischiefs was spreading abroad by travelling scops, until it reached Beowulf, a young noble at the court of Hygelac, king of the Geats, in southern Sweden. Determined to free Heorot of the dreadful monster, Beowulf, together with fourteen warriors, crossed the sea to Denmark. Having introduced himself to King Hrothgar, Beowulf told of his own deeds and offered to meet Grendel singlehanded as no sword could injure the monster. After the feast, in which Hrothgar's gracious queen, Wealhtheow, took part, the king and his court left the palace. Beowulf and his men remained on guard. Night fell. The monster Grendel came from the moors, tore open the heavy door, and ate one of the sleeping warriors. He then approached Beowulf, whose powerful grip he could not escape, and left, mortally wounded. The next day the mead-hall Heorot saw great rejoicing. But at night, Grendel's mother came to get even for her son, killing one of Hrothgar's men. In the morning Beowulf found her in a cave at the bottom of a sea and killed her. The Danes rejoiced again. As a true hero, Beowulf, presented with honours and gifts, returned home to King Hygelac of the Geats.

The second part relates of King Hygelac's death in a battle (historically attested), the death of his son, and Beowulf's succession to the throne and his peaceful rule for 50 years. But now a fire-breathing dragon ravaged his land and the ageing Beowulf fought it. The fight was long and terrible; his followers, except for the young kinsman Wiglaf, deserted him. Beowulf killed the dragon but was mortally wounded. The poem ends with his funeral and a lament.

Metrically, stylistically, and thematically Beowulf belongs to the Germanic heroic tradition with its code of loyalty to chief and tribe. Like Heracles, Beowulf dedicates his life to making the world better. He risks life to help other people, and faces inevitable death with heroism and dignity.

Out from the marsh, from the foot of misty

Hills and bogs, bearing God's hatred,

Grendel came, hoping to kill

Anyone he could trap on this trip to high Heorot.

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 Heorot 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.

That shepherd of evil, guardian of crime,

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 Heorot than the hall he had emptied

But Hygelac'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 Heorot

Was a miserable journey for the writhing monster!

The high hall rang, its roof boards swayed,

And Danes shook with terror. Down

The aisles the battle swept, angry

And wild. [...] (18)

Translated into Modern English by Burton Raffel.

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