in measure of miles that the mere expands,
and o’er it the frost-bound forest hanging,
sturdily rooted, shadows the wave.
1365By night is a wonder weird to see,
fire on the waters. So wise lived none
of the sons of men, to search those depths!
Nay, though the heath-rover,[1] harried by dogs,
the horn-proud hart, this holt should seek,
1370long distance driven, his dear life first
on the brink he yields ere he brave the plunge
to hide his head: ’tis no happy place!
Thence the welter of waters washes up
wan to welkin when winds bestir
1375evil storms, and air grows dusk,
and the heavens weep. Now is help once more
with thee alone! The land thou knowst not,[2]
place of fear, where thou findest out
that sin-flecked being. Seek if thou dare!
1380I will reward thee, for waging this fight,
with ancient treasure, as erst I did,
with winding gold, if thou winnest back.”
- ↑ Bugge has shown how popular the stag or hart was among the northern folk for names of persons and places—so Hrothgar’s own hall Heorot, or “The Hart”—and for comparisons and the like.—There is a curious note by André Chénier, made in preparation for one of his poems (Œuvres Poétiques, II, 107), about a white animal that prefers to be torn to pieces rather than soil itself by rescue in a miry swamp. But the strength of the present suggestion lies in its uncompromising contrast of terrors, one with the other.
- ↑ Has been emended to read: “the land now thou knowst,” that is, “I have described the place: go thither if you dare.” By the text one understands: “Here is land unknown to you and horrible. If you dare, etc.”
