«Беовульф» Магия древнеанглийского языка. Том 1

brave and wise, the best of men, —

O sovran Hrothgar, to seek thee here,

for my nerve and my might they knew full well.

Themselves had seen me from slaughter come

blood-flecked from foes, where five I bound,

and that wild brood worsted. I» the waves I slew

nicors by night, in need and peril

avenging the Weders, whose woe they sought, —

crushing the grim ones. Grendel now,

monster cruel, be mine to quell

in single battle! So, from thee,

thou sovran of the Shining-Danes,

Scyldings’-bulwark, a boon I seek, —

and, Friend-of-the-folk, refuse it not,

O Warriors’-shield, now I’ve wandered far, —

that I alone with my liegemen here,

this hardy band, may Heorot purge!

More I hear, that the monster dire,

in his wanton mood, of weapons recks not;

hence shall I scorn – so Hygelac stay,

king of my kindred, kind to me! —

brand or buckler to bear in the fight,

gold-colored targe: but with gripe alone

must I front the fiend and fight for life,

foe against foe. Then faith be his

in the doom of the Lord whom death shall take.

Fain, I ween, if the fight he win,

in this hall of gold my Geatish band

will he fearless eat, – as oft before, —

my noblest thanes. Nor need’st thou then

to hide my head; for his shall I be,

dyed in gore, if death must take me;

and my blood-covered body he’ll bear as prey,

ruthless devour it, the roamer-lonely,

with my life-blood redden his lair in the fen:

no further for me need’st food prepare!

To Hygelac send, if Hild should take me,

best of war-weeds, warding my breast,

armor excellent, heirloom of Hrethel

and work of Wayland. Fares Wyrd as she must.»

Hrothgar spake, the Scyldings’-helmet:—

«For fight defensive, Friend my Beowulf,

to succor and save, thou hast sought us here.

Thy father’s combat a feud enkindled

when Heatholaf with hand he slew

among the Wylfings; his Weder kin

for horror of fighting feared to hold him.

Fleeing, he sought our South-Dane folk,

over surge of ocean the Honor-Scyldings,

when first I was ruling the folk of Danes,

wielded, youthful, this widespread realm,

this hoard-hold of heroes. Heorogar was dead,

my elder brother, had breathed his last,

Healfdene’s bairn: he was better than I!

Straightway the feud with fee I settled,

to the Wylfings sent, o’er watery ridges,

treasures olden: oaths he swore me.

Sore is my soul to say to any

of the race of man what ruth for me

in Heorot Grendel with hate hath wrought,

what sudden harryings. Hall-folk fail me,

my warriors wane; for Wyrd hath swept them

into Grendel’s grasp. But God is able

this deadly foe from his deeds to turn!

Boasted full oft, as my beer they drank,

earls o’er the ale-cup, armed men,

that they would bide in the beer-hall here,

Grendel’s attack with terror of blades.

Then was this mead-house at morning tide

dyed with gore, when the daylight broke,

all the boards of the benches blood-besprinkled,

gory the hall: I had heroes the less,

doughty dear-ones that death had reft.

– But sit to the banquet, unbind thy words,

hardy hero, as heart shall prompt thee.»

Gathered together, the Geatish men

in the banquet-hall on bench assigned,

sturdy-spirited, sat them down,

hardy-hearted. A henchman attended,

carried the carven cup in hand,

served the clear mead. Oft minstrels sang

blithe in Heorot. Heroes revelled,

no dearth of warriors, Weder and Dane.

Unferth spake, the son of Ecglaf,

who sat at the feet of the Scyldings’ lord,

unbound the battle-runes. – Beowulf’s quest,

sturdy seafarer’s, sorely galled him;

ever he envied that other men

should more achieve in middle-earth

of fame under heaven than he himself. —

«Art thou that Beowulf, Breca’s rival,

who emulous swam on the open sea,

when for pride the pair of you proved the floods,

and wantonly dared in waters deep

to risk your lives? No living man,

or lief or loath, from your labor dire

could you dissuade, from swimming the main.

Ocean-tides with your arms ye covered,

with strenuous hands the sea-streets measured,

swam o’er the waters. Winter’s storm

rolled the rough waves. In realm of sea

a sennight strove ye. In swimming he topped thee,

had more of main! Him at morning-tide

billows bore to the Battling Reamas,

whence he hied to his home so dear

beloved of his liegemen, to land of Brondings,

fastness fair, where his folk he ruled,

town and treasure. In triumph o’er thee

Beanstan’s bairn his boast achieved.

So ween I for thee a worse adventure

– though in buffet of battle thou brave hast been,

in struggle grim, – if Grendel’s approach

thou darst await through the watch of night!»

Beowulf spake, bairn of Ecgtheow:—

«What a deal hast uttered, dear my Unferth,

drunken with beer, of Breca now,

told of his triumph! Truth I claim it,

that I had more of might in the sea

than any man else, more ocean-endurance.

We twain had talked, in time of youth,

and made our boast, – we were merely boys,

striplings still, – to stake our lives

far at sea: and so we performed it.

Naked swords, as we swam along,

we held in hand, with hope to guard us

against the whales. Not a whit from me

could he float afar o’er the flood of waves,

haste o’er the billows; nor him I abandoned.

Together we twain on the tides abode

five nights full till the flood divided us,

churning waves and chillest weather,

darkling night, and the northern wind

ruthless rushed on us: rough was the surge.

Now the wrath of the sea-fish rose apace;

yet me «gainst the monsters my mailed coat,

hard and hand-linked, help afforded, —

battle-sark braided my breast to ward,

garnished with gold. There grasped me firm

and haled me to bottom the hated foe,

with grimmest gripe. «Twas granted me, though,

to pierce the monster with point of sword,

with blade of battle: huge beast of the sea

was whelmed by the hurly through hand of mine.

ME thus often the evil monsters

thronging threatened. With thrust of my sword,

the darling, I dealt them due return!

Nowise had they bliss from their booty then

to devour their victim, vengeful creatures,

seated to banquet at bottom of sea;

but at break of day, by my brand sore hurt,

on the edge of ocean up they lay,

put to sleep by the sword. And since, by them

on the fathomless sea-ways sailor-folk

are never molested. – Light from east,

came bright God’s beacon; the billows sank,

so that I saw the sea-cliffs high,

windy walls. For Wyrd oft saveth

earl undoomed if he doughty be!

And so it came that I killed with my sword

nine of the nicors. Of night-fought battles

ne’er heard I a harder «neath heaven’s dome,

nor adrift on the deep a more desolate man!

Yet I came unharmed from that hostile clutch,

though spent with swimming. The sea upbore me,

flood of the tide, on Finnish land,

the welling waters. No wise of thee

have I heard men tell such terror of falchions,

bitter battle. Breca ne’er yet,

not one of you pair, in the play of war

such daring deed has done at all

with bloody brand, – I boast not of it! —

though thou wast the bane of thy brethren dear,

thy closest kin, whence curse of hell

awaits thee, well as thy wit may serve!

For I say in sooth, thou son of Ecglaf,

never had Grendel these grim deeds wrought,

monster dire, on thy master dear,

in Heorot such havoc, if heart of thine

were as battle-bold as thy boast is loud!

But he has found no feud will happen;

from sword-clash dread of your Danish clan

he vaunts him safe, from the Victor-Scyldings.

He forces pledges, favors none

of the land of Danes, but lustily murders,

fights and feasts, nor feud he dreads

from Spear-Dane men. But speedily now

shall I prove him the prowess and pride of the Geats,

shall bid him battle. Blithe to mead

go he that listeth, when light of dawn

this morrow morning o’er men of earth,

ether-robed sun from the south shall beam!»

Joyous then was the Jewel-giver,

hoar-haired, war-brave; help awaited

the Bright-Danes’ prince, from Beowulf hearing,

folk’s good shepherd, such firm resolve.

Then was laughter of liegemen loud resounding

with winsome words. Came Wealhtheow forth,

queen of Hrothgar, heedful of courtesy,

gold-decked, greeting the guests in hall;

and the high-born lady handed the cup

first to the East-Danes’ heir and warden,

bade him be blithe at the beer-carouse,

the land’s beloved one. Lustily took he

banquet and beaker, battle-famed king.

Through the hall then went the Helmings’ Lady,

to younger and older everywhere

carried the cup, till come the moment

when the ring-graced queen, the royal-hearted,

to Beowulf bore the beaker of mead.

She greeted the Geats’ lord, God she thanked,

in wisdom’s words, that her will was granted,

that at last on a hero her hope could lean

for comfort in terrors. The cup he took,

hardy-in-war, from Wealhtheow’s hand,

and answer uttered the eager-for-combat.

Beowulf spake, bairn of Ecgtheow:—

«This was my thought, when my thanes and I

bent to the ocean and entered our boat,

that I would work the will of your people

fully, or fighting fall in death,

in fiend’s gripe fast. I am firm to do

an earl’s brave deed, or end the days

of this life of mine in the mead-hall here.»

Well these words to the woman seemed,

Beowulf’s battle-boast. – Bright with gold

the stately dame by her spouse sat down.

Again, as erst, began in hall

warriors’ wassail and words of power,

the proud-band’s revel, till presently

the son of Healfdene hastened to seek

rest for the night; he knew there waited

fight for the fiend in that festal hall,

when the sheen of the sun they saw no more,

and dusk of night sank darkling nigh,

and shadowy shapes came striding on,

wan under welkin. The warriors rose.

Man to man, he made harangue,

Hrothgar to Beowulf, bade him hail,

let him wield the wine hall: a word he added:—

«Never to any man erst I trusted,

since I could heave up hand and shield,

this noble Dane-Hall, till now to thee.

Have now and hold this house unpeered;

remember thy glory; thy might declare;

watch for the foe! No wish shall fail thee

if thou bidest the battle with bold-won life.»

Then Hrothgar went with his hero-train,

defence-of-Scyldings, forth from hall;

fain would the war-lord Wealhtheow seek,

couch of his queen. The King-of-Glory

against this Grendel a guard had set,

so heroes heard, a hall-defender,

who warded the monarch and watched for the monster.

In truth, the Geats’ prince gladly trusted

his mettle, his might, the mercy of God!

Cast off then his corselet of iron,

helmet from head; to his henchman gave, —

choicest of weapons, – the well-chased sword,

bidding him guard the gear of battle.

Spake then his Vaunt the valiant man,

Beowulf Geat, ere the bed be sought:—

«Of force in fight no feebler I count me,

in grim war-deeds, than Grendel deems him.

Not with the sword, then, to sleep of death

his life will I give, though it lie in my power.

No skill is his to strike against me,

my shield to hew though he hardy be,

bold in battle; we both, this night,

shall spurn the sword, if he seek me here,

unweaponed, for war. Let wisest God,

sacred Lord, on which side soever

doom decree as he deemeth right.»

Reclined then the chieftain, and cheek-pillows held

the head of the earl, while all about him

seamen hardy on hall-beds sank.

None of them thought that thence their steps

to the folk and fastness that fostered them,

to the land they loved, would lead them back!

Full well they wist that on warriors many

battle-death seized, in the banquet-hall,

of Danish clan. But comfort and help,

war-weal weaving, to Weder folk

the Master gave, that, by might of one,

over their enemy all prevailed,

by single strength. In sooth «tis told

that highest God o’er human kind

hath wielded ever! – Thro’ wan night striding,

came the walker-in-shadow. Warriors slept

whose hest was to guard the gabled hall, —

all save one. «Twas widely known

that against God’s will the ghostly ravager

him could not hurl to haunts of darkness;

wakeful, ready, with warrior’s wrath,

bold he bided the battle’s issue.

Then from the moorland, by misty crags,

with God’s wrath laden, Grendel came.

The monster was minded of mankind now

sundry to seize in the stately house.

Under welkin he walked, till the wine-palace there,

gold-hall of men, he gladly discerned,

flashing with fretwork. Not first time, this,

that he the home of Hrothgar sought, —

yet ne’er in his life-day, late or early,

such hardy heroes, such hall-thanes, found!

To the house the warrior walked apace,

parted from peace; the portal opended,

though with forged bolts fast, when his fists had struck it,

and baleful he burst in his blatant rage,

the house’s mouth. All hastily, then,

o’er fair-paved floor the fiend trod on,

ireful he strode; there streamed from his eyes

fearful flashes, like flame to see.

He spied in hall the hero-band,

kin and clansmen clustered asleep,

hardy liegemen. Then laughed his heart;

for the monster was minded, ere morn should dawn,

savage, to sever the soul of each,

life from body, since lusty banquet

waited his will! But Wyrd forbade him

to seize any more of men on earth

after that evening. Eagerly watched

Hygelac’s kinsman his cursed foe,

how he would fare in fell attack.

Not that the monster was minded to pause!

Straightway he seized a sleeping warrior

for the first, and tore him fiercely asunder,

the bone-frame bit, drank blood in streams,

swallowed him piecemeal: swiftly thus

the lifeless corse was clear devoured,

e’en feet and hands. Then farther he hied;

for the hardy hero with hand he grasped,

felt for the foe with fiendish claw,

for the hero reclining, – who clutched it boldly,

prompt to answer, propped on his arm.

Soon then saw that shepherd-of-evils

that never he met in this middle-world,

in the ways of earth, another wight

with heavier hand-gripe; at heart he feared,

sorrowed in soul, – none the sooner escaped!

Fain would he flee, his fastness seek,

the den of devils: no doings now

such as oft he had done in days of old!

Then bethought him the hardy Hygelac-thane

of his boast at evening: up he bounded,

grasped firm his foe, whose fingers cracked.

The fiend made off, but the earl close followed.

The monster meant – if he might at all —

to fling himself free, and far away

fly to the fens, – knew his fingers’ power

in the gripe of the grim one. Gruesome march

to Heorot this monster of harm had made!

Din filled the room; the Danes were bereft,

castle-dwellers and clansmen all,

earls, of their ale. Angry were both

those savage hall-guards: the house resounded.

Wonder it was the wine-hall firm

in the strain of their struggle stood, to earth

the fair house fell not; too fast it was

within and without by its iron bands

craftily clamped; though there crashed from sill

many a mead-bench – men have told me —

gay with gold, where the grim foes wrestled.

So well had weened the wisest Scyldings

that not ever at all might any man

that bone-decked, brave house break asunder,

crush by craft, – unless clasp of fire

in smoke engulfed it. – Again uprose

din redoubled. Danes of the North

with fear and frenzy were filled, each one,

who from the wall that wailing heard,

God’s foe sounding his grisly song,

cry of the conquered, clamorous pain

from captive of hell. Too closely held him

he who of men in might was strongest

in that same day of this our life.

Not in any wise would the earls’-defence

suffer that slaughterous stranger to live,

useless deeming his days and years

to men on earth. Now many an earl

of Beowulf brandished blade ancestral,

fain the life of their lord to shield,

their praised prince, if power were theirs;

never they knew, – as they neared the foe,

hardy-hearted heroes of war,

aiming their swords on every side

the accursed to kill, – no keenest blade,

no farest of falchions fashioned on earth,

could harm or hurt that hideous fiend!

He was safe, by his spells, from sword of battle,

from edge of iron. Yet his end and parting

on that same day of this our life

woful should be, and his wandering soul

far off flit to the fiends’ domain.

Soon he found, who in former days,

harmful in heart and hated of God,

on many a man such murder wrought,

that the frame of his body failed him now.

For him the keen-souled kinsman of Hygelac

held in hand; hateful alive

was each to other. The outlaw dire

took mortal hurt; a mighty wound

showed on his shoulder, and sinews cracked,

and the bone-frame burst. To Beowulf now

the glory was given, and Grendel thence

death-sick his den in the dark moor sought,

noisome abode: he knew too well

that here was the last of life, an end

of his days on earth. – To all the Danes

by that bloody battle the boon had come.

From ravage had rescued the roving stranger

Hrothgar’s hall; the hardy and wise one

had purged it anew. His night-work pleased him,

his deed and its honor. To Eastern Danes

had the valiant Geat his vaunt made good,

all their sorrow and ills assuaged,

their bale of battle borne so long,

and all the dole they erst endured

pain a-plenty. – «Twas proof of this,

when the hardy-in-fight a hand laid down,

arm and shoulder, – all, indeed,

of Grendel’s gripe, – «neath the gabled roof’

Many at morning, as men have told me,

warriors gathered the gift-hall round,

folk-leaders faring from far and near,

o’er wide-stretched ways, the wonder to view,

trace of the traitor. Not troublous seemed

the enemy’s end to any man

who saw by the gait of the graceless foe

how the weary-hearted, away from thence,

baffled in battle and banned, his steps

death-marked dragged to the devils’ mere.

Bloody the billows were boiling there,

turbid the tide of tumbling waves

horribly seething, with sword-blood hot,

by that doomed one dyed, who in den of the moor

laid forlorn his life adown,

his heathen soul, -and hell received it.

Home then rode the hoary clansmen

from that merry journey, and many a youth,

on horses white, the hardy warriors,

back from the mere. Then Beowulf’s glory

eager they echoed, and all averred

that from sea to sea, or south or north,

there was no other in earth’s domain,

under vault of heaven, more valiant found,

of warriors none more worthy to rule!

(On their lord beloved they laid no slight,

gracious Hrothgar: a good king he!)

From time to time, the tried-in-battle

their gray steeds set to gallop amain,

and ran a race when the road seemed fair.

From time to time, a thane of the king,

who had made many vaunts, and was mindful of verses,

stored with sagas and songs of old,

bound word to word in well-knit rime,

welded his lay; this warrior soon

of Beowulf’s quest right cleverly sang,

and artfully added an excellent tale,

in well-ranged words, of the warlike deeds

he had heard in saga of Sigemund.

Strange the story: he said it all, —

the Waelsing’s wanderings wide, his struggles,

which never were told to tribes of men,

the feuds and the frauds, save to Fitela only,

when of these doings he deigned to speak,

uncle to nephew; as ever the twain

stood side by side in stress of war,

and multitude of the monster kind

they had felled with their swords. Of Sigemund grew,

when he passed from life, no little praise;

for the doughty-in-combat a dragon killed

that herded the hoard: under hoary rock

the atheling dared the deed alone

fearful quest, nor was Fitela there.

Yet so it befell, his falchion pierced

that wondrous worm, – on the wall it struck,

best blade; the dragon died in its blood.

Thus had the dread-one by daring achieved

over the ring-hoard to rule at will,

himself to pleasure; a sea-boat he loaded,

and bore on its bosom the beaming gold,

son of Waels; the worm was consumed.

He had of all heroes the highest renown

among races of men, this refuge-of-warriors,

for deeds of daring that decked his name

since the hand and heart of Heremod

grew slack in battle. He, swiftly banished

to mingle with monsters at mercy of foes,

to death was betrayed; for torrents of sorrow

had lamed him too long; a load of care

to earls and athelings all he proved.

Oft indeed, in earlier days,

for the warrior’s wayfaring wise men mourned,

who had hoped of him help from harm and bale,

and had thought their sovran’s son would thrive,

follow his father, his folk protect,

the hoard and the stronghold, heroes’ land,

home of Scyldings. – But here, thanes said,

the kinsman of Hygelac kinder seemed

to all: the other was urged to crime!

And afresh to the race, the fallow roads

by swift steeds measured! The morning sun

was climbing higher. Clansmen hastened

to the high-built hall, those hardy-minded,

the wonder to witness. Warden of treasure,

crowned with glory, the king himself,

with stately band from the bride-bower strode;

and with him the queen and her crowd of maidens

measured the path to the mead-house fair.

Hrothgar spake, – to the hall he went,

stood by the steps, the steep roof saw,

garnished with gold, and Grendel’s hand:—

«For the sight I see to the Sovran Ruler

be speedy thanks! A throng of sorrows

I have borne from Grendel; but God still works

wonder on wonder, the Warden-of-Glory.

It was but now that I never more

for woes that weighed on me waited help

long as I lived, when, laved in blood,

stood sword-gore-stained this stateliest house, —

widespread woe for wise men all,

who had no hope to hinder ever

foes infernal and fiendish sprites

from havoc in hall. This hero now,

by the Wielder’s might, a work has done

that not all of us erst could ever do

by wile and wisdom. Lo, well can she say

whoso of women this warrior bore

among sons of men, if still she liveth,

that the God of the ages was good to her

in the birth of her bairn. Now, Beowulf, thee,

of heroes best, I shall heartily love

as mine own, my son; preserve thou ever

this kinship new: thou shalt never lack

wealth of the world that I wield as mine!

Full oft for less have I largess showered,

my precious hoard, on a punier man,

less stout in struggle. Thyself hast now

fulfilled such deeds, that thy fame shall endure

through all the ages. As ever he did,

well may the Wielder reward thee still!»

Beowulf spake, bairn of Ecgtheow:—

«This work of war most willingly

we have fought, this fight, and fearlessly dared