down;
Song was and glee there; the elder of Scyldings,
Asking of many things, told of things o'erpast;
Whiles hath the battle-deer there the harp's joy,
The wood of mirth greeted; whiles the lay said he
Soothfast and sorrowful; whiles a spell seldom told
Told he by right, the king roomy-hearted; 2110
Whiles began afterward he by eld bounden,
The aged hoar warrior, of his youth to bewail him,
Its might of the battle; his breast well'd within him,
When he, wont in winters, of many now minded.
So we there withinward the livelong day's wearing
Took pleasure amongst us, till came upon men
Another of nights; then eftsoons again
Was yare for the harm-wreak the mother of Grendel:
All sorry she wended, for her son death had taken,
The war-hate of the Weders: that monster of women 2120
Awreaked her bairn, and quelled a warrior
In manner all mighty. Then was there from Aeschere,
The wise man of old, life waning away;
Nor him might they even when come was the morning,
That death-weary wight, the folk of the Danes
Burn up with the brand, nor lade on the bale
The man well-belov'd, for his body she bare off
In her fathom the fiendly all under the fell-stream.
That was unto Hrothgar of sorrows the heaviest
Of them which the folk-chieftain long had befallen. 2130
Then me did the lord king, and e'en by thy life,
Mood-heavy beseech me that I in the holm-throng
Should do after earlship, my life to adventure,
And frame me main-greatness, and meed he behight me.
Then I of the welling flood, which is well kenned,
The grim and the grisly ground-herder did find.
There to us for a while was the blending of hands;
The holm welled with gore, and the head I becarved
In that hall of the ground from the Mother of Grendel
With the all-eked edges; unsoftly out thence 2140
My life forth I ferry'd, for not yet was I fey.
But the earls' burg to me was giving thereafter
Much sort of the treasures, e'en Healfdene's son.

XXXI. BEOWULF GIVES HROTHGAR'S GIFTS TO HYGELAC,
AND BY HIM IS REWARDED.
OF THE DEATH OF HYGELAC AND OF HEARDRED HIS SON,
AND HOW BEOWULF IS KING OF THE GEATS:
THE WORM IS FIRST TOLD OF.

So therewith the folk-king far'd, living full seemly;
By those wages forsooth ne'er a whit had I lost,
By the meed of my main, but to me treasure gave he,
The Hea