Authors: Frederick Rebsamen
 | with bright battle-dress breast-coat and helmet. |
 | To the Geat came next a great treasure-sword |
 | borne to his hands. To Beowulf at last |
 | an ale-cup was served. No shameful gifts |
 | were laid before him for his friends to seeâ |
 | I have not yet heard of a handsomer reward |
 | four such treasures trimmed well with gold |
 | brought with such grace to a guest in Heorot. |
1030 | On the helmet's crown a hammer-hard ridge |
 | wound with steel-wire stood against blade-bites |
 | a fire-tempered tube to toughen the head-guardâ |
 | no file-sharp edges would eat through that crown |
 | when shielded swordmen stepped into battle. |
 | Then the king of the Danes called for attentionâ |
 | eight fine horses entered the meadhall |
 | with gold-laced bridles. On the best was mounted |
 | a silver saddle studded with garnets |
 | the gleaming battle-seat of gladman Hrothgar |
1040 | when that son of Healfdene sallied to warplay |
 | rode before his men to the rush of swordswingsâ |
 | he was always in front when they fell around him. |
 | To Beowulf then the Battle-Danes' leader |
 | offered all of it urged him to take |
 | weapons and horses hold and use them. |
 | With royal manners the mighty Dane-lord |
 | guardian of that hoard gave from his treasure |
 | horses and weapons worthy of his kingdomâ |
 | no courteous man could quarrel with those gifts. |
1050 | Each of the Geats every man of them |
 | who crossed with Beowulf the curling sea-road |
 | was worthied with gifts by the wise old king |
 | honored with heirloomsâthen he offered wergild |
 | gold for that wretch ravaged by Grendel |
 | viciously murderedâas more would have been |
 | had not God in his wisdom and one man's courage |
 | withstood wyrd there. The Wielder controlled |
 | all of mankind as he always does. |
 | Forethought is best future in the mind |
1060 | plans for everything. All who are given |
 | loan-days in this world life before darkness |
 | will suffer and enjoy sorrow and happiness. |
A
T
THIS POINT
Hrothgar's minstrel celebrates Beowulf's victory with a highly allusive episode recounting an earlier fight between Danes and Frisians which he calls the
Freswael
(“Frisian slaughter”). A fragment of a heroic poem about half the length of this episode, printed in 1705 from a manuscript leaf now lost, gives Finnsburuh as the site of the battle. Those two accounts are the only extant versions of an obviously well-known story that has engaged
Beowulf
scholars for more than a century. From a wilderness of versions, drawing upon both episode and fragment, I summarize as follows:
A Danish king Hoc has two children, Hnaef and his sister, Hildeburh, who marries Finn Folcwalding, king of the Frisians. Hnaef and sixty retainers visit Hildeburh at Finnsburuh in Frisia. For some reason, the Frisians attack the Danes at dawn in the hall assigned to them and fight for five days with many Frisian casualties (including Hildeburh's son) but no Danish dead until Hnaef is finally killed, leaving the Frisian forces badly depleted and unable to vanquish the beleaguered Danes.
As winter approaches, a truce is made between Finn and Hengest (now in charge of the Danes), giving the Danes an honored place in Finn's hall and equal status with the Frisians, Finn paying wergild for Hnaef and staging a formal cremation for dead warriors, including Hnaef and his nephew, Hildeburh's son. Some Frisians apparently return to their homes, and Hengest spends an unhappy winter at Finnsburuh, his thoughts turning to vengeance with the coming of spring. Hunlafing (encouraged by Guthlaf and Oslaf) gives Hengest a sword to urge him on. The Danes attack and kill Finn, loot Finnsburuh, then carry Hildeburh back to Denmark.
 | Then sweet strumming silenced the company |
 | harpstrings sounded for Healfdene's son |
 | fingers drew notes found story-words |
 | hushed mead-benches when Hrothgar's minstrel |
 | mourned a winter-tale matched it with song |
 | of the house of Finn that fatal night-visit |
 | when that doomed hall-guest Hnaef the visitor |
1070 | fell to death-rest in Frisian slaughter. |
 | Nor was Hildeburh's heart rewarded |
 | by that hostile truceâtormented queen |
 | bereft of loved ones by linden-shield play |
 | her brother and son slain in treachery |
 | by deep spear-bitesâdark was her mourning. |
 | With heavy heart-thoughts Hoc's daughter-child |
 | measured destiny when darkness paled |
 | when the graylight sky spread before her eyes |
 | black murder-bale. Battle-slaughter won |
1080 | fetched from life-breath Finn's warrior-thanes |
 | all but a fewâended at last |
 | when Hengest and his men held against them allâ |
 | nothing could flush them fighting was stalled |
 | with ominous silenceâat the end of slaughter |
 | was no victory. They vowed peace-termsâ |
 | to Danes was offered their own winter-home |
 | hall-room and high-seat to hold peacefully |
 | with half of everything enemies togetherâ |
 | before the gift-throne Folcwalda's son |
1090 | would honor the Danes each day and night-time |
 | welcome with rings warriors of Hengest |
 | give from his treasure gold arm-bracelets |
 | in full friendship with Frisians around them |
 | equal in boasting beer-cups and song. |
 | So they swore together solemn companions |
 | a firm peace-pact. Finn gave to Hengest |
 | in full hall-council hard oath-bindings |
 | with his elders' advice: In honorable plenty |
 | he would hold them allâno envious hall-thane |
1100 | with words or with deeds would damage that peace |
 | no Dane would lament with malice on his tongue |
 | that they now followed forced by that truce |
 | their lord's life-taker through the long winterâ |
 | if one Frisian with foul hate-words |
 | mindful of mischief should mention battle-thoughts |
 | a sharp swordedge would silence that tongue. |
 | Oaths were honored old gold-treasures |
 | brought from the hoard. The best warrior |
 | lord of the War-Danes was laid upon the pyre. |
1110 | Heaped on the balefire battle-gear waited |
 | bloodstained corselets cloven mask-helmets |
 | gilded with boar-heads grim slaughter-guards |
 | with too many warriors wounded to rest. |
 | Then came Hildeburh where Hnaef lay waiting |
 | bade that her son be swallowed by flames |
 | next to her brother nephew by his side |
 | at his uncle's shoulderâshe sang in her grief |
 | a keen sorrow-song as they settled him there. |
 | The great slaughter-fire circled to the sky |
1120 | reared to the heavens. Heads melted there |
 | sword-woundings burst blood sprang from them |
 | fire-bitten bodies. Flames swallowed all |
 | greediest of spirits sucked them away |
 | the Finns and the Danesâfled was their glory. |
 | Frisians grew restive bereft of friends |
 | some took winter-leave sought their blood-kin |
 | homes and meadhalls. Hengest remained |
 | suffering with Finn a slaughter-stained winter |
 | dreaming of releaseâhe longed for Denmark |
1130 | though he dared not sail on the surging waters |
 | his ring-prowed ship. The sea howled at him |
 | wailing with storm-windâwinter locked the waves |
 | in icy bindings till the earth welcomed |
 | a young new-year as it yet calls forth |
 | the altered seasons always beckoning |
 | glory-bright weather. Then winter was gone |
 | fair was the earth-bosom. The exile yearned |
 | longed to be gone. Grief and vengeance |
 | stronger than escape seethed in his heart-bloodâ |
1140 | a final meeting formed in his mind |
 | memory of malice moved him to stay. |
 | He did not reject that gesture then |
 | when Hunlafing bore him a bright vengeance-sword |
 | bore to his bosom that best of warbladesâ |
 | its edges were known to all around him. |
 | Once more to Finn Frisian war-king |
 | came anxious swordbale in his own homeland |
 | when Guthlaf and Oslaf with grim memories |
 | spoke of their sorrows that sea-voyage to death |
1150 | woeful winter-grief. No wavering heart |
 | they found in Hengest. The hall grew red |
 | with Frisian blood-woundsâFinn perished there |
 | king with his men and his queen was taken. |
 | To their broad ship then the Shield-Danes bore |
 | whatever they found in Finn's meadhall |
 | stripped it of swords secret treasure-hoard |
 | wondrous gemstones. On the welling sea |
 | they ferried his wife to family in Denmark |
 | safe with her kin. |
 |                                    The song was ended |
1160 | the gleeman's tale. It was time for joy |
 | bench-laughter brightened bearers brought forth |
 | wine in wonder-cups. Then Wealhtheow approached |
 | with gold-gleaming neck-ring where nephew and king |
 | feasted in friendship yet faithful as kin. |
 | There was Unferth the heckler at Hrothgar's feetâ |
 | they held him in trust hailed his courage |
 | though to his family he failed in honor |
 | at clashing of swordedge. The queen spoke then: |
 | “Take this cupful my king and husband |
1170 | treasure-hall's lord. Look to happiness |
 | gold-friend to menâto these Geats offer |
 | welcoming words as a wise man should. |
 | Be glad with these Geats give of that treasure |
 | fetched to your goldhoard from far and from near. |
 | I have heard men say you would have for a son |
 | that hero among them. Heorot is purged |
 | this bright wine-hall. Wield while you can |
 | these fine riches and to family give |
 | this land and kingdom when you leave this world |
1180 | to seek your destiny. I am sure that Hrothulf |
 | our kind brother-son will care for our young ones |
 | guide and hold them if you go before him |
 | give up this world in your waning years. |
 | He will surely repay us shelter our sons |
 | if he well remembers how we watched over him |
 | held him as our own gave help in everything |
 | saw that our kin had a safe childhood.” |
 | She turned to the benches where her boys were sitting |
 | Hrethric and Hrothmund and a host of young ones |
1190 | the youth togetherâthere the good one sat |
 | Beowulf the Geat by the brothers' side. |