Chapter 25

He knoweth no evil until his share of pride wasteth and groweth, while sleepeth the guardian, the ward of his soul. And the sleep is too deep, bound up in afflictions, and the banesman draweth near who shooteth cruelly his arrows from the bow. Then in his soul under helmet is he stricken with bitter shaft. Nor can he save himself from the crooked behests of the cursed ghost. And little doth he think of that which long he hath ruled. And the enemy doth covet, nor at all doth he give in boast the plated rings, and he then forgetteth and despiseth his fate his share of honour which God before gave him, He the Wielder of wonder. And in the end it doth happen that the body sinks fleeting and doomed to death falleth. And another succeeds thereto who joyfully distributeth gifts, the old treasure of the earl, and careth not for terrors. Guard thee against malicious hate, O my dear Beowulf, thou noblest of men, and choose for thyself that better part, eternal wisdom. Have no care for pride, O glorious champion. Now is the fame of thy strength proclaimed for a while. Soon will it be that disease or sword-edge or grasp of fire or whelming of floods or grip of sword or flight of arrow or dire old age will sever thee from strength, or the lustre of thine eyes will fail or grow dim. Then forthwith will happen that death will o’erpower thee, O thou noble man. Thus have I for fifty years held sway over the Ring-Danes under the welkin and made safe by war many a tribe throughout the world with spears and swords, so that I recked not any man my foeman under the sweep of heaven. Lo! then there came to me change in my homeland, sorrow after gaming, when Grendel, that ancient foe became my invader. And ever I bore much sorrow of mind through that feud. And may God be thanked, the eternal lord, that I lingered in life, till I looked with mine eyes on that head stained with sword-blood after the old strife. Go now to thy seat and enjoy the feasting, thou who art glorious in war. And when morning cometh there shall be a host of treasures in common between us.’

He knows no evil until his pride grows and wastes him away, while the guardian of his soul sleeps. The guardian’s sleep is too deep, weighed down by troubles. And the killer draws near, cruelly shooting arrows from his bow. Then a bitter arrow strikes the man’s soul beneath his helmet. He cannot save himself from the twisted commands of the cursed spirit. And he gives little thought to all he has long ruled. And the enemy covets, while the man gives away no plated rings in displays of generosity. Then he forgets and scorns his destiny, the share of honor God once gave him, the Ruler of wonders. In the end, his short-lived body sinks and falls, doomed to death. And another takes his place and gladly gives away the earl’s old treasures, with no fear of terrors. Guard yourself against spiteful hatred, my dear Beowulf, noblest of men. Choose for yourself the better path, eternal wisdom. Do not give yourself to pride, glorious warrior. For now, your strength is famous. Soon, disease or a sword’s edge, fire’s grasp or overwhelming floods will rob you of your strength. So may a sword’s grip, an arrow’s flight, or dreadful old age. Or your eyes will lose their brightness and grow dim. Then death will quickly overpower you, noble man. For fifty years I have ruled the Ring-Danes beneath the sky. Through war, with spears and swords, I made many tribes throughout the world safe. So I feared no man as my enemy beneath the heavens. But then my homeland’s fortunes changed. Sorrow followed celebration when Grendel, that ancient enemy, came to invade my land. And throughout that feud, I suffered great sorrow. And thanks be to God, the eternal Lord, that I lived long enough to see that head, stained with sword-blood, after the long struggle. Go now to your seat and enjoy the feast, warrior famed in battle. And when morning comes, we shall share a wealth of treasures.’

And the Geat was glad of mind, and soon he went up to the high seat as the proud chief had bidden him. Then renewed was fair chanting as before ’mongst these brave ones who sat on the floor. And the helmet of night grew dark over men. And the noble warriors arose. The venerable king wished to go to his bed, the old prince of the Danes. And the Geat, the shield-warrior, desired greatly to go to his rest. And straightway a hall-thane guided the far-comer, weary of his journey, he who so carefully attended to all his needs such as that day the ocean-goers would fain be having. And the great-hearted one rested himself. The House towered on high that was spacious and gold-decked. The guest slept within until the black raven heralded the joy of heaven.

The Geat was happy and soon took the high seat, as the proud chief had ordered. Beautiful singing began again among the brave men seated on the floor. Night spread its dark helmet over the men, and the noble warriors rose. The old and honored king of the Danes wanted to go to bed. The Geat, the shield-warrior, also longed to rest. At once, a hall attendant guided the visitor, who was tired from his journey. The attendant carefully saw to all the needs the seafarers wished to have met that day. And the great-hearted warrior lay down to rest. The spacious, gold-decked hall towered high. The guest slept inside until the black raven announced the joy of daylight.

Then came the sun, hastening and shining over the earth. Warriors were hurrying and Athelings were eager to go to their people. The bold-hearted comer would visit the ship far away. He the hardy one bade the son of Ecglaf carry forth Hrunting, and commanded him to take his sword, that lovely piece of steel. And he gave thanks for the lending, and said he reckoned him a good war-comrade and crafty in fighting. Not at all did he blame the edge of the sword. He was a proud man. When ready for the journey were all the warriors, then Beowulf the Atheling, of good worth to the Danes, went up to the dais where was Hrothgar the faithful and bold, and greeted him there.

Then the sun came, moving swiftly and shining over the earth. Warriors hurried, and the princes were eager to return to their people. The brave visitor was going to the distant ship. The hardy warrior told the son of Ecglaf to bring out Hrunting and take back his sword, that beautiful steel blade. He thanked him for lending it. He said he considered Ecglaf’s son a good companion in war and a skilled fighter. He did not blame the sword’s edge at all. He was a proud man. When all the warriors were ready for the journey, Beowulf, the prince who had served the Danes well, approached the platform. Hrothgar, faithful and brave, was there, and Beowulf greeted him.