Beowulf (6 page)

The translation given here has several objectives. First of all, it is a poetic translation that attempts to convey at least something of the flavor of the Old English poetry. But as is well known, translating poetry into poetry often faces difficulties in representing the literal sense of the original, and it is a commonplace of translators that one can represent the literal meaning more closely in prose translation. But then much of the poetry of the original is lost. A more seductive problem is the temptation for the translator to draw attention to her or his own poetry—and therefore skill as a poet—at the expense of the original poetry. This is perhaps especially tempting in dramatic scenes of action, though the translator may wish to “enliven” some of the more prosaic passages as well. Another question has been getting increasing attention among translators and theorists of translation: whether producing smoothness and easy accessibility in translating really is superior to representing something of the antiquity and “otherness” of the original. Is it possible that a translation of an old poem might be so successful as modern poetry that the very “otherness” of the original is obscured or even lost? And is it not the very “otherness” of the original that attracted many modern readers in the first place? These questions have been raised mainly in debates about the politics of language and of translation in colonial and postcolonial cultures (for example, Ireland, South Asia, and the Middle East), but such questions can also be raised about our translations of early cultures into our own. In the translation of
Beowulf
given here, every effort has been made to make the poem accessible to modern readers, while at the same time preserving some sense of its “otherness” in diction, syntax, poetic movement, and cultural worldview.

At the same time, it is of course essential to make the often puzzling passages in
Beowulf
clear to readers who are not specialists in Old English. Accordingly, this edition keeps the lines of the translation as close as possible to the positions of the lines in the original, while recognizing that sometimes small rearrangements of verses may be necessary for the sake of clarity. This is especially important in instances of variation, where the sequence of verses follows rules of Old English grammatical usage but obscures the grammatical relations in Modern English. We face a similar problem with pronoun references. These are frequently vague or uncertain in the original, and only careful analysis can make them clear. It may be that non-verbal cues would have designated pronoun references in oral performance (gestures, changes in bodily position, intonation), but these would obviously not work for us. So, in this translation, the actual names of persons and places are used to replace unclear pronouns (Hygelac for “he,” Geatland for “it,” and the like).

Finally, of course, it is crucial to represent at least something of the vitality of the poetics. As discussed earlier, the poetic line consists of two verses or half-lines, which are separated by a pause and joined by alliteration, typically on strongly stressed syllables. In this translation, almost all of the lines contain some alliteration, though often it has not been possible to reproduce the exact pattern of the original and at the same time convey its sense. In addition, occasionally verses or whole lines are “filled out” to produce metrical regularity. Sometimes the Old English compresses its meaning into wording that, when translated literally into Modern English, would reduce a whole line to a half-line. In a few cases, therefore, the translation expands a word to a phrase—with the provision that the expansion be consistent with poetic usage elsewhere in the epic and that it not alter the fundamental meaning of the line in question. Once again, the value of the translation is to be seen in its loyalty to the original—as a faithful retainer should be to whom the lord has given a great gift.

—John McNamara

SWEDES
Scylfings

Hail! We have heard tales sung of the Spear-Danes,
¹
the glory of their war-kings in days gone by,
how princely nobles performed heroes’ deeds!

Oft Scyld Scefing
^a
captured the mead halls
from many peoples, from troops of enemies,
terrifying their chieftains. Though he was first
a poor foundling, he lived to find comfort;
under heavens he flourished, with honors fulfilled—
till each neighboring nation, those over the whale-road,
bowed under his rule, paid the price of tribute.
That was a good king!
²
And then to the king a boy was born,
a son in the hall, who was sent by God
as relief to the Danes; for their ruler well knew
the distress of his people while long without leader
before his coming. To that child the Lord of Life,
the Ruler of Heaven, gave worldly honor.
So Scyld’s son Beow
³
himself won fame,
his glory spread wide among nations of the North.
The young man did as he ought, won good will,
while under his father he gave out great gifts,
so that his dear comrades, when he became king,
would then stand by him, as steadfast retainers,
when war came. By such deeds of honor
shall a man prosper among all the peoples.
⁴

Then still full of strength, at his fated time,
Scyld passed away, left for the Lord’s keeping.
Friends bore him out to the flow of the sea,
as he had earlier directed his dear comrades,
while as lord of the Scyldings he still wielded words,
the long-loved ruler over the broad realm.
There at the harbor stood a ring-prowed ship,
icy and eager to set out, a nobleman’s vessel.
Then they laid down the beloved leader,
their renowned ring-giver, in the bosom of the ship
⁵
next to the mast. There was a mass of treasures,
wealth brought there from far-away lands.
Nor have I heard of a ship more splendidly laden
with weapons for battle and dress for war,
with swords and shirts of mail. On his breast lay
many of these treasures, to travel with him
through the mighty power of the plunging sea.
Nor did they give to him any lesser gifts,
from the people’s treasures, than did those
who, at the first, had sent him forth,
alone as a child, over the stretch of the sea.
Next they set over him a golden standard,
high over his head, and let the tide bear him off,
out over the ocean. Sad were the people,
mindful of mourning. Nor, to speak truth,
do any men know—among wise advisors,
those heroes under the heavens—who received that cargo.

Then was Beow of the Scyldings a beloved king
^b
for a long time, in the town-forts of the people,
famed among the folk-his father had passed on,
that king gone from his home-till to Beow was born
Healfdene the High, who nobly ruled the Scyldings
as long as he lived, old and battle-fierce.
To that wise ruler, the leader of warriors,
children awoke into the world, four altogether:
Heorogar and Hrothgar and Halga the Good,
and I heard that [... was On]ela’s queen,
⁶
dear bed-fellow of the Heatho-Scylfing king.

Then was bold Hrothgar given battle-success,
honor in warfare, so his comrades in combat
followed him eagerly, until the youths grew
to a great warrior band. To his mind came a plan
that he would order a hall to be built:
they would raise on high a great mead-hall
⁷
whose fame would forever be heard among men;
there from within he would deal out,
both to young and to old, all that God gave him—
except common land and men’s life-blood.
Then I have heard that many among nations,
throughout this middle-earth, were mustered to work,
to adorn the high hall as a place for the people.
As men reckon time, it was all ready with speed,
the greatest of hall-buildings. Hrothgar the king,
who wielded power with words, named the
hall Heorot.

He fulfilled his pledge, dealt out precious rings,
treasures at the feast. The great hall towered,
high and horn-vaulted—yet awaiting hostile flames,
a most hateful fire. For it would not be long
till sword-heat between son-in-law and father-in-law,
would waken their feud after deadly hatred.
⁸

Then a fierce evil demon suffered distress,
long in torment, who dwelt in darkness.
For day after day, he heard rejoicing
loud in the hall: there was music of the harp,
and clear song of the scop,
⁹
who sang of creation,
the beginnings of men far back in time.
He proclaimed the Almighty created the earth,
a land of beauty, surrounded by seas;
the Triumphant One made the sun and the moon
as lights to shine on all land-dwellers,
and clothed the corners of the world
with limbs and leaves, and created life
for every kind of the quick who stir with life.
Thus did loyal men live their lives in joy,
happy in the hall, till that one began
to work his wickedness, a fiend from hell.
Grendel was the name of this ghastly stranger,
famed wanderer in wastelands, who held the moors,
the fens and fastnesses. Once this unhappy beast
dwelt in the country of monstrous creatures,
after the Creator had condemned all those
among Cain’s kin—the eternal Lord
avenged the crime of the one who killed Abel.
For Cain got no joy from committing that wrong,
but God banished him far away from mankind.
From him all wicked offspring were born:
giants and elves, and evil demon-creatures,
and gigantic monsters—those who fought God,
time beyond time. But God repaid them!

When night grew dark, Grendel sought out
the high hall, to see how the Ring-Danes
after beer-drinking had settled to bed.
He found within a noble warrior-band,
asleep after feasting; they knew not sorrow,
the misery of men. The wicked creature,
grim and greedy, was at the ready,
savage and cruel, and seized in their rest
thirty of the thanes.
^c
He then went from there,
exulting in spoils, to seek his own home,
to find his dwelling, with his fill of slaughter.