National Epics Part 22

The den was filled with rings of gold, cups, banners, jewels, dishes, and the arms of the old owner of the treasure. All these did Wiglaf bear forth to his lord, who surveyed them, and uttered thanks to his Maker, that he could win such a treasure. Then, turning to Wiglaf, he said, "Now I die.

Build for me upon the lofty sh.o.r.e a bright mound that shall ever remind my people of me. Far in the distance their s.h.i.+ps shall descry it, and they shall call it Beowulf's mound." Then, giving his arms to Wiglaf, he bade him enjoy them. "Thou art the last of our race. All save us, fate-driven, are gone to doom. Thither go I too."

Bitterly did Wiglaf denounce his comrades when he saw them steal from their hiding-places. "Well may it be said of you that he who gave you your arms threw them away. No thanks deserve ye for the slaughter of the dragon! I did my little, but it was not in my power to save my kinsman.

Too few helpers stood about him! Now shall your kin be wanting in gifts.

Void are ye of land-rights! Better is it for an earl to die than to live with a blasted name!"

Sorrowful were the people when they heard of the death of Beowulf. Full well they knew with what joy the tidings would be hailed by their enemies, who would hasten to harry the land, now that their great leader was gone.

The Frisians, the Merovingians, the Franks, the Swedes,--all had their grievances, which they would hasten to wreak on the Goths when they learned that the dreaded king was gone. Dreary would be the land of the Goths; on its battle-fields the wolves would batten; the ravens would call to the eagles as they feasted on the slain.

Straight to the Eagle's Nest went the band, and found their dead monarch; there, too, lay the loathsome fire-drake, full fifty feet long, and between them the great h.o.a.rd, rust-eaten from long dwelling in the earth.

Ever had that h.o.a.rd brought ill with it.

Down from the cliff they thrust the dragon into the deep, and carried their chief to Hronesness. There they built a lofty pile, decked it with his armor, and burned thereon the body of their glorious ruler. According to his wish, they reared on the cliff a broad, high barrow, surrounded it with a wall, and laid within it the treasure. There yet it lies, of little worth to men!

Then around the barrow rode twelve of the bravest, boldest n.o.bles, mourning their king, singing his praises, chanting a dirge, telling of his glorious deeds, while over the broad land the Gothic folk lamented the death of their tender prince, their n.o.ble king, Beowulf.

SELECTION FROM BEOWULF.

GRENDEL'S MOTHER.

There was great rejoicing in Heorot when Beowulf slew Grendel, and at night the earls again slept in the hall as they had not dared to do since the coming of the fiend. But Grendel's mother came to avenge her son's death and slew aeschere, a favorite liegeman of Hrothgar's. In the morning, Beowulf, who had slept in another part of the palace, was sent for and greeted Hrothgar, unaware of his loss.

Hrothgar rejoined, helm of the Scyldings: "Ask not of joyance! Grief is renewed to The folk of the Danemen. Dead is aeschere, Yrmenlaf's brother, older than he, My true-hearted counsellor, trusty adviser, Shoulder-companion, when fighting in battle Our heads we protected, when troopers were clas.h.i.+ng, And heroes were das.h.i.+ng; such an earl should be ever, An erst-worthy atheling, as aeschere proved him.

The flickering death-spirit became in Heorot His hand-to-hand murderer; I cannot tell whither The cruel one turned, in the carca.s.s exulting, By cramming discovered. The quarrel she wreaked then, The last night igone Grendel thou killedst In grewsomest manner, with grim-holding clutches, Since too long he had lessened my liege-troop and wasted My folk-men so foully. He fell in the battle With forfeit of life, and another has followed, A mighty crime-worker, her kinsman avenging, And henceforth hath 'stablished her hatred unyielding, As it well may appear to many a liegeman, Who mourneth in spirit the treasure-bestower, Her heavy heart-sorrow; the hand is now lifeless Which availed yon in every wish that you cherished.

Land-people heard I, liegemen, this saying, Dwellers in halls, they had seen very often A pair of such mighty march-striding creatures, Far-dwelling spirits, holding the moorlands: One of them wore, as well they might notice, The image of woman, the other one wretched In guise of a man wandered in exile, Except that he was huger than any of earthmen; Earth-dwelling people ent.i.tled him Grendel In days of yore; they knew not their father, Whe'r ill-going spirits any were borne him Ever before. They guard the wolf-coverts, Lands inaccessible, wind-beaten nesses, Fearfullest fen-deeps, where a flood from the mountains 'Neath mists of the nesses netherward rattles, The stream under earth: not far is it henceward Measured by mile-lengths that the mere-water standeth, Which forests hang over, with frost-whiting covered, A firm-rooted forest, the floods overshadow.

There ever at night one an ill-meaning portent A fire-flood may see; 'mong children of men None liveth so wise that wot of the bottom; Though hara.s.sed by hounds the heath-stepper seek for, Fly to the forest, firm-antlered he-deer, Spurred from afar, his spirit he yieldeth, His life on the sh.o.r.e, ere in he will venture To cover his head. Uncanny the place is: Thence upward ascendeth the surging of waters, Wan to the welkin, when the wind is stirring The weathers unpleasing, till the air groweth gloomy, And the heavens lower. Now is help to be gotten From thee and thee only! The abode thou know'st not, The dangerous place where thou'rt able to meet with The sin-laden hero: seek if thou darest!

For the feud I will fully fee thee with money, With old-time treasure, as erstwhile I did thee, With well-twisted jewels, if away thou shalt get thee."

Beowulf answered, Ecgtheow's son: "Grieve not, O wise one! for each it is better, His friend to avenge than with vehemence wail him; Each of us must the end-day abide of His earthly existence; who is able accomplish Glory ere death! To battle-thane n.o.ble Lifeless lying, 't is at last most fitting.

Arise, O king, quick let us hasten To look at the footprint of the kinsman of Grendel!

I promise thee this now: to his place he'll escape not, To embrace of the earth, nor to mountainous forest, Nor to depths of the ocean, wherever he wanders.

Practice thou now patient endurance Of each of thy sorrows, as I hope for thee soothly!"

Then up sprang the old one, the All-Wielder thanked he, Ruler Almighty, that the man had outspoken.

Then for Hrothgar a war-horse was decked with a bridle, Curly-maned courser. The clever folk-leader Stately proceeded: stepped then an earl-troop Of linden-wood bearers. Her foot-prints were seen then Widely in wood-paths, her way o'er the bottoms, Where she far-away fared o'er fen-country murky, Bore away breathless the best of retainers Who pondered with Hrothgar the welfare of country.

The son of the athelings then went o'er the stony, Declivitous cliffs, the close-covered pa.s.ses, Narrow pa.s.sages, paths unfrequented, Nesses abrupt, nicker-haunts many; One of a few of wise-mooded heroes, He onward advanced to view the surroundings, Till he found unawares woods of the mountain O'er h.o.a.r-stones hanging, holt-wood unjoyful; The water stood under, welling and gory.

'T was irksome in spirit to all of the Danemen, Friends of the Scyldings, to many a liegeman Sad to be suffered, a sorrow unlittle To each of the earlmen, when to aeschere's head they Came on the cliff. The current was seething With blood and with gore (the troopers gazed on it).

The horn anon sang the battle-song ready.

The troop were all seated; they saw 'long the water then Many a serpent, mere-dragons wondrous Trying the waters, nickers a-lying On the cliffs of the nesses, which at noonday full often Go on the sea-deeps their sorrowful journey, Wild-beasts and worm-kind; away then they hastened Hot-mooded, hateful, they heard the great clamor, The war-trumpet winding. One did the Geat-prince Sunder from earth-joys, with arrow from bowstring, From his sea-struggle tore him, that the trusty war-missile Pierced to his vitals; he proved in the currents Less doughty at swimming whom death had off-carried.

Soon in the waters the wonderful swimmer Was straitened most sorely and pulled to the cliff-edge; The liegemen then looked on the loath-fas.h.i.+oned stranger.

Beowulf donned then his battle-equipments, Cared little for life; inlaid and most ample, The hand-woven corselet which could cover his body, Must the wave-deeps explore, that war might be powerless To harm the great hero, and the hating one's grasp might Not peril his safety; his head was protected By the light-flas.h.i.+ng helmet that should mix with the bottoms, Trying the eddies, treasure-emblazoned, Encircled with jewels, as in seasons long past The weapon-smith worked it, wondrously made it, With swine-bodies fas.h.i.+oned it, that thenceforward no longer Brand might bite it, and battle-sword hurt it.

And that was not least of helpers in prowess That Hrothgar's spokesman had lent him when straitened; And the hilted hand-sword was Hrunting ent.i.tled, Old and most excellent 'mong all of the treasures; Its blade was of iron, blotted with poison, Hardened with gore; it failed not in battle Any hero under heaven in hand who it brandished, Who ventured to take the terrible journeys, The battle-field sought; not the earliest occasion That deeds of daring 't was destined to 'complish.

Ecglaf's kinsman minded not soothly, Exulting in strength, what erst he had spoken Drunken with wine, when the weapon he lent to A sword-hero bolder; himself did not venture 'Neath the strife of the currents his life to endanger, To fame-deeds perform; there he forfeited glory, Repute for his strength. Not so with the other When he, clad in his corselet, had equipped him for battle.

Beowulf spoke, Ecgtheow's son: "Recall now, oh, famous kinsman of Healfdene, Prince very prudent, now to part I am ready, Gold-friend of earl-men, what erst we agreed on, Should I lay down my life in lending thee a.s.sistance, When my earth-joys were over, thou wouldst evermore serve me In stead of a father; my faithful thanemen, My trusty retainers, protect thou and care for, Fall I in battle: and, Hrothgar beloved, Send unto Higelac the high-valued jewels Thou to me hast allotted. The lord of the Geatmen May perceive from the gold, the Hrethling may see it When he looks on the jewels, that a gem-giver found I Good over-measure, enjoyed him while able.

And the ancient heirloom Unferth permit thou, The famed one to have, the heavy-sword splendid, The hard-edged weapon; with Hrunting to aid me, I shall gain me glory, or grim death shall take me."

The atheling of Geatmen uttered these words and Heroic did hasten, not any rejoinder Was willing to wait for; the wave-current swallowed The doughty-in-battle. Then a day's-length elapsed ere He was able to see the sea at its bottom.

Early she found then who fifty of winters The course of the currents kept in her fury, Grisly and greedy, that the grim one's dominion Some one of men from above was exploring.

Forth did she grab them, grappled the warrior With horrible clutches; yet no sooner she injured His body unscathed: the burnie out-guarded, That she proved but powerless to pierce through the armor, The limb-mail locked, with loath-grabbing fingers.

The sea-wolf bare then, when bottomward came she, The ring-prince homeward, that he after was powerless.

(He had daring to do it) to deal with his weapons, But many a mere-beast tormented him swimming, Flood-beasts no few with fierce-biting tusks did Break through his burnie, the brave one pursued they.

The earl then discovered he was down in some cavern Where no water whatever anywise harmed him, And the clutch of the current could not come anear him, Since the roofed-hall prevented; brightness a-gleaming Fire-light he saw, flas.h.i.+ng, resplendent.

The good one saw then the sea-bottom's monster, The mighty mere-woman; he made a great onset With weapon-of-battle, his hand not desisted From striking, that war-blade struck on her head then A battle-song greedy. The stranger perceived then The sword would not bite, her life would not injure, But the falchion failed the folk prince when straitened: Erst had it often onsets encountered, Oft cloven the helmet, the fated one's armor: 'T was the first time that ever the excellent jewel Had failed of its fame. Firm-mooded after, Not heedless of valor, but mindful of glory, Was Higelac's kinsman; the hero-chief angry Cast then his carved-sword covered with jewels That it lay on earth, hard and steel-pointed; He hoped in his strength, his hand-grapple st.u.r.dy.

So any must act whenever he thinketh To gain him in battle glory unending, And is reckless of living. The lord of the War-Geats (He shrank not from battle) seized by the shoulder The mother of Grendel; then mighty in struggle Swung he his enemy, since his anger was kindled, That she fell to the floor. With furious grapple She gave him requital early thereafter, And stretched out to grab him; the strongest of warriors Faint-mooded stumbled, till he fell in his traces, Foot-going champion. Then she sat on the hall-guest And wielded her war-knife wide-bladed, flas.h.i.+ng, For her son would take vengeance, her one only bairn.

His breast-armor woven bode on his shoulder; It guarded his life, the entrance defended 'Gainst sword-point and edges. Ecgtheow's son there Had fatally journeyed, champion of Geatmen, In the arms of the ocean, had the armor not given, Close-woven corselet, comfort and succor, And had G.o.d most holy not awarded the victory, All-knowing Lord; easily did heaven's Ruler most righteous arrange it with justice; Uprose he erect ready for battle.

Then he saw 'mid the war-gems a weapon of victory, An ancient giant-sword, of edges a-doughty, Glory of warriors: of weapons 't was choicest, Only 't was larger than any man else was Able to bear in the battle-encounter, The good and splendid work of the giants.

He grasped then the sword-hilt, knight of the Scyldings, Bold and battle-grim, brandished his ring-sword, Hopeless of living, hotly he smote her, That the fiend-woman's neck firmly it grappled, Broke through her bone-joints, the bill fully pierced her Fate-cursed body, she fell to the ground then: The hand-sword was b.l.o.o.d.y, the hero exulted.

The brand was brilliant, brightly it glimmered, Just as from heaven gemlike s.h.i.+neth The torch of the firmament. He glanced 'long the building, And turned by the wall then, Higelac's va.s.sal Raging and wrathful raised his battle-sword Strong by the handle. The edge was not useless To the hero-in-battle, but he speedily wished to Give Grendel requital for the many a.s.saults he Had worked on the West-Danes not once, but often, When he slew in slumber the subjects of Hrothgar, Swallowed down fifteen sleeping retainers Of the folk of the Danemen, and fully as many Carried away, a horrible prey.

He gave him requital, grim-raging champion, When he saw on his rest-place weary of conflict Grendel lying, of life-joys bereaved, As the battle at Heorot erstwhile had scathed him; His body far bounded, a blow when he suffered, Death having seized him, sword-smiting heavy, And he cut off his head then. Early this noticed The clever carles who as comrades of Hrothgar Gazed on the sea-deeps, that the surging wave-currents Were mightily mingled, the mere-flood was gory: Of the good one the gray-haired together held converse, The h.o.a.ry of head, that they hoped not to see again The atheling ever, that exulting in victory He'd return there to visit the distinguished folk-ruler: Then many concluded the mere-wolf had killed him.

The ninth hour came then. From the ness-edge departed The bold-mooded Scyldings; the gold-friend of heroes Homeward betook him. The strangers sat down then Soul-sick, sorrowful, the sea-waves regarding: They wished and yet weened not their well-loved friend-lord To see any more. The sword-blade began then, The blood having touched it, contracting and shrivelling With battle-icicles; 't was a wonderful marvel That it melted entirely, likest to ice when The Father unbindeth the bond of the frost and Unwindeth the wave-bands, He who wieldeth dominion Of time and of tides: a truth-firm Creator.

Nor took he of jewels more in the dwelling, Lord of the Weders, though they lay all around him, Than the head and the handle handsome with jewels; The brand early melted, burnt was the weapon: So hot was the blood, the strange-spirit poisonous That in it did perish. He early swam off then Who had bided in combat the carnage of haters, Went up through the ocean; the eddies were cleansed, The s.p.a.cious expanses, when the spirit from farland His life put aside and this short-lived existence.

The seamen's defender came swimming to land then Doughty of spirit, rejoiced in his sea-gift, The bulky burden which he bore in his keeping.

The excellent va.s.sals advanced then to meet him, To G.o.d they were grateful, were glad in their chieftain, That to see him safe and sound was granted them.

From the high-minded hero, then, helmet and burnie Were speedily loosened: the ocean was putrid, The water 'neath welkin weltered with gore.

Forth did they fare, then, their footsteps retracing, Merry and mirthful, measured the earth-way, To highway familiar: men very daring Bare then the head from the sea-cliff, burdening Each of the earlmen, excellent-valiant.

Four of them had to carry with labor The head of Grendel to the high towering gold-hall Upstuck on the spear, till fourteen most-valiant And battle-brave Geatmen came there going Straight to the palace: the prince of the people Measured the mead-ways, their mood-brave companion, The atheling of earlmen entered the building, Deed-valiant man, adorned with distinction, Doughty s.h.i.+eld-warrior, to address King Hrothgar: Then hung by the hair, the head of Grendel Was borne to the building, where beer-thanes were drinking, Loth before earlmen and eke 'fore the lady: The warriors beheld then a wonderful sight.

_J. L. Hall's Translation, Parts XXI.-XXIV._

THE NIBELUNGEN LIED.

The Nibelungen Lied, or Song of the Nibelungen, was written about the beginning of the thirteenth century, though the events it chronicles belong to the sixth or seventh century. The ma.n.u.script poem was discovered about the middle of the eighteenth century.

Lachmann a.s.serts that the Nibelungen Lied consists of twenty songs of various dates and authors.h.i.+p; other scholars, while agreeing that it is the work of a single author, ascribe it variously to Conrad von Kurenburger, Wolfram von Eschenbach, Heinrich von Ofterdingen, and Walther von der Vogelweide.

Whoever was its author, he was only a compiler of legends that were the property of the people for centuries, and are found in many other of the popular German epics of the Middle Ages.

The poem consists of thirty-nine adventures, containing two thousand four hundred and fifty-nine stanzas of four lines each. The action covers thirty years. It is based on material obtained from four sources: (1) The Frankish saga-cycle, whose hero is Siegfried; (2) the saga-cycle of Burgundy, whose heroes are Gunther, king of Worms, and his two brothers; (3) the Ostrogothic saga-cycle, whose hero is Dietrich of Bern; and (4) the saga-cycle of Etzel, king of the Huns, with his allies and va.s.sals.

Dietrich of Bern is supposed to be Theodoric of Italy, in exile at the Hunnish court. Etzel is Attila the Hun, and Gunther, Gunducarius, king of the Burgundians, who was destroyed by the Huns with his followers in the year 436.

The Nibelungen Lied very much resembles the Iliad, not only in the uncertainty of its origin and the impersonality of its author, but also in its objectivity, its realism, the primitive pa.s.sions of its heroes, and the wondrous acts of valor performed by them. It contains many pa.s.sages of wonderful beauty, and gives a striking picture of the social customs and the religious belief of the time.

BIBLIOGRAPHY AND CRITICISM, THE NIBELUNGEN LIED.

Mary Elizabeth Burt's Story of the German Iliad, 1892;