28 March 22 – Beowulf #17

COMING CLOSE TO THE END OF WORDS

We are using the translation of Beowulf created by Seamus Heaney. To his credit, he took responsibility for this poem, and turned it into something that regular people would want to read and enjoy. Who knew that a translation of a poem more than a thousand years old, about people killing dragons, could reach the top of the Times best-seller list? In the words of Andrew Motion, in the Financial Times, Heaney “made a masterpiece out of a masterpiece.” I have no doubt that Heaney grieved over some of the choices he had to make, but by his rules he had to act as an artist, create a new poem. This is the sacrifice always made in a “free” translation. To help those who could read Old English, he reproduced the original on facing pages.

One day, fifty years after Beowulf's battle with Grendel's mother, a slave steals a golden cup from the lair of a dragon When the dragon sees that the cup has been stolen, it leaves its cave in a rage, burning everything in sight. Beowulf and his warriors come to fight the dragon, but Beowulf tells his men that he will fight the dragon alone and that they should wait on the barrow. Beowulf descends to do battle with the dragon but finds himself outmatched. His men, upon seeing this and fearing for their lives, retreat into the woods. One of his men, Wiglaf, however, in great distress at Beowulf's plight, comes to his aid. The two slay the dragon, but Beowulf is mortally wounded. After Beowulf dies, Wiglaf remains by his side, grief-stricken. When the rest of the men finally return, Wiglaf bitterly admonishes them, blaming their cowardice for Beowulf's death. 

And now . . . The Beginning of the End of Our Story . . .

. . . Next thing, they say, the noble son of Weohstan 

Saw the king in danger at his side

And displayed his inborn bravery and strength. 

He left the head alone, but his fighting hand

Was burned when he came to his kinsman’s aid.

He lunged at the enemy lower down

So that his decorated sword sank into its belly 2700

And the flames grew weaker.

Once again the king

Gathered his strength and drew a stabbing knife 

He carried on his belt, sharpened for battle.

He stuck it deep into the dragon’s flank.

Beowulf dealt it a deadly wound.

They had killed the enemy, courage quelled his life; 

That pair of kinsmen, partners in nobility,

Had destroyed the foe. 

So, every man should act, 

Be at hand when needed; but now, for the king,

This would be the last of his many labors     2710

And triumphs in the world.

Then the wound Dealt by the ground-burner earlier began 

To scald and swell; Beowulf discovered 

Deadly poison suppurating inside him, Surges of nausea, and so, in his wisdom, 

The prince realized his state and struggled

Towards a seat on the rampart. 

He steadied his gazed 

On those gigantic stones, saw how the earthwork 

Was braced with arches built over columns.

And now that thane unequalled for goodness       2720

With his own hands washed his lord’s wounds,

Swabbed the weary prince with water, 

Bathed him clean, unbuckled his helmet.

Beowulf spoke in spite of his wounds,

Mortal wounds, he still spoke

For he well knew his days in the world

Had been lived out to the end: his allotted time 

Was drawing to a close, death was very near.

“Now is the time when I would have wanted

To bestow this armor on my own son,         2730

Had it been my fortune to have fathered an heir 

And live on in his flesh. 

For fifty years

I ruled this nation. 

No king

Of any neighboring clan would dare 

Face me with troops, none had the power 

“To intimidate me. I took what came,

Cared for and stood by things in my keeping,

 Never fomented quarrels, never

Swore to a lie. All this consoles me,

Doomed as I am and sickening for death;  2740

Because of my right way, the Ruler of Mankind

Need never blame me when the breath leaves my body 

For murder of kinsmen. 

Go now quickly,

Dearest Wiglaf, under the gray stone

Where the dragon is laid out, lost to his treasure; 

Hurry to feast your eyes on the hoard.

Away you go: I want to examine 

That ancient gold, gaze my fill

On those garnered jewels; my going will be easier

For having seen the treasure, a less troubled letting-go          2750

Of the life and lordship I have long maintained.”

And so, I have heard, the son of Weohstan 

Quickly obeyed the command of his languishing 

War-weary lord; he went in his chain-mail 

Under the rock-piled roof of the barrow, 

Exulting in his triumph, and saw beyond the seat 

A treasure-trove of astonishing richness,

Wall-hangings that were a wonder to behold, 

Glittering gold spread across the ground,

The old dawn-scorching serpent’s den         2760

Packed with goblets and vessels of the past, 

Tarnished and corroding. 

Rusty helmets all eaten away. 

Armbands everywhere, Artfully wrought. 

How easily treasure Buried in the ground, gold hidden

However skillfully, can escape from any man!

And he saw too a standard, entirely of gold, 

Hanging high over the hoard,

A masterpiece of filigree; it glowed with light

So he could make out the ground at his feet         2770

And inspect the valuables. 

Of the dragon there was no 

Remaining sign: the sword had dispatched him.

Then, the story goes, a certain man

Plundered the hoard in the immemorial howe, 

Filled his arms with flagons and plates, 

Anything he wanted; and took the standard also, 

Most brilliant of banners.

Already the blade

Of the old king’s sharp killing-sword

Had done its worst: the one who had for long

Minded the hoard, hovering over gold,         2780

Unleashing fire, surging forth

Midnight after midnight, had been mown down.

Wiglaf went quickly, keen to get back, 

Excited by the treasure. 

Anxiety weighed

On his brave heart--he was hoping he would find 

The leader of the Geats alive where he had left him 

Helpless, earlier, on the open ground.

So, he came to the place, carrying the treasure, 

And found his lord bleeding profusely,

His life at an end: again, he began to swab his body     2790

The beginnings of an utterance

Broke out from the king’s breast-cage. 

The old lord gazed sadly at the gold.

“To the everlasting Lord of All,

To the King of Glory, I give thanks

That I beheld this treasure here in front of me, 

That I have been allowed to leave my people 

So well-endowed on the day I die.

Now that I have bartered my last breath

To own this fortune, it is up to you            2800

To look after their needs. 

I can hold out no longer.

Order my troop to construct a barrow

On a headland on the coast, after my pyre has cooled.

It will loom in the horizon at Hronesness

And be a reminder among my people-- So that in coming times crews under sail

Will call it Beowulf’s barrow, as they steer

Through the life they had been lent.

Background

Here we find Beowulf suddenly fifty years a good king. This is quite a time warp from the immediately preceding arrival back home, a hero for wiping out the Grendel family. This time-muddled aspect of Beowulf rankles critics seeking a tidier poem. Things commentators are, to say the least, uncomfortable with frequent switching of time planes: the time-very-past, in which a noble tribe created the treasure that becomes the dragon’s hoard; the times-less-past (there are several), in which we are told of the greatness and the downfall of legendary kings and heroes; the time-present, in which Beowulf kills the monsters; the time-future, when other peoples, hearing of Beowulf’s death, will make bold to move against the Geats, and will conquer them, pressing them into slavery. Geatish maidens scream as they imagine it. They know that it will come to pass. Perhaps, for the folks in Beowulf, there is no segmentation of time: stories of the past live on, the present speaks for itself, and the future will mirror much of what is presently happening. Imagine Beowulf and his retainers checking their watches to be sure not to miss the quaffing of the mead – or maybe that, too, was a timeless occupation.

Exploration 1: To whom does Beowulf speak? As he dies, what is important for him to say?

“Beowulf spoke: in spite of his wounds,

 Mortal wounds, he still spoke

………………………………………………………

Was drawing to a close, death was very near.”

Exploration 2: “. . . Starting at about line 2730, Beowulf says his final words. He wishes he had a son. He reviews his years as king and is satisfied with his record. Then he asks Wiglaf to bring him the treasure.

Of all that Beowulf has done, why is it important to him to see the Dragon’s treasure above all else, including his kinsmen?

Exploration 3: The old Lord gazed sadly at the gold/ I can’t get no satisfaction

Observations?