The Oldest English Epic/Chapter 1/Beowulf 08

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The Oldest English Epic
by unknown author, translated by Francis Barton Gummere
Beowulf: VIII
1313740The Oldest English Epic — Beowulf: VIIIFrancis Barton GummereUnknown

VIII

Unferth[1] spake, the son of Ecglaf,
500who sat at the feet of the Scyldings’ lord,
unbound the battle-runes.[2]—Beowulf’s quest,
sturdy seafarer’s, sorely galled him;
ever he envied that other men
should more achieve in middle-earth
505of 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
510to 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,
515swam 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,[3]
520whence 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[4] his boast achieved.
525So 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:—
530“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.
535We 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,
540we 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
545five 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[5] rose apace;
550yet me ’gainst the monsters my mailéd 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,
555with 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.

  1. Spelled Hunferth in the text, but always riming with vowels.
  2. “Began the fight.”—But here is scarcely the flyting, or song-contest, found everywhere among peoples in a primitive stage of culture. It is rather a report of the spirited way in which Beowulf carried off the laurels in the “hazing” of the guest by a competent official of the host. Probably this test was part of the formal reception; but it seems a strange survival in epic by the side of the courtly and extravagant complimenta exchanged between Beowulf and Hrothgar. In Scandinavian sources one gets the rough flyting in its coarseness and strength. See the Lokasenna, above all, and the cases reported by Saxo. In one the prizes are peculiar: a queen’s necklace, the man’s life.
  3. Bugge places the home of these Heathoreamas in Southern Norway. He also notes a parallel swimming-match in the Egilssaga.
  4. Breca.
  5. Partly founded on actual experience of angry whales, as York Powell pointed out, and partly on doings of mythical beasts of the sea.