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SUDDENLY A BEAUTIFUL MAIDEN APPEARED IN FRONT O F H IM .AND VOU MUSTNEVER SPEAK ANUNKIND WORD TOME. THE MOMENTYOUPO EfTWER,

S T O P ! WHO ARE YOU pO WICKED WOMAN, HOWV CAN VOU MURDER jVOUR OWN /VW CHILDREN?

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The friendship made, which both had sought: How Báli and Sugríva fought.

The fair Videhan  1b lady's rape.

How Janak's child he wooed and won, Aud broke the bow that bent to none.

He sate, in reverent attitude On holy grass,  2 the points all bent Together toward the orient

The tuneful lines thy lips rehearsed Spontaneous from thy bosom burst, Then come, O best of seers, relate The life of Ráma good and great

The heavenly Father smiled in glee, And said, 'O best of hermits', see, A verse, unconscious thou hast made; No longer be the task delayed.

Woe to the fowler's impious hand That did the deed that folly planned; That could to needless death devote The curlew of the tuneful throat!'

The hermit saw the slaughtered bird, And all his heart with ruth was stirred. The fowler's impious deed distressed His gentle sympathetic breast

And bring my zone of bark, I pray. Here will I bathe: the rill has not, To lave the limbs a fairer spot.

CANTO I: NÁRAD.  4b ********* OM.  5b    To sainted Nárad, prince of those Whose lore in words of wisdom flows. Whose constant care and chief delight Were Scripture and ascetic rite, The good Válmíki, first and best p. 2 Of hermit saints, these words addressed: 1 'In all this world, I pray thee, who Is virtuous, heroic, true? Firm in his vows, of grateful mind, To every creature good and kind? Bounteous, and holy, just, and wise, Alone most fair to all men's eyes? Devoid of envy, firm, and sage, Whose tranquil soul ne'er yields to rage? Whom, when his warrior wrath is high, Do Gods embattled fear and fly? Whose noble might and gentle skill The triple world can guard from ill? Who is the best of princes, he Who loves his people's good to see? The store of bliss, the living mine Where brightest joys and virtues shine? Queen Fortune's  2 best and dearest friend, Whose steps her choicest gifts attend? Who may with Sun and Moon compare, With Indra,  3 Vishnu,  4 Fire, and Air? Grant, Saint divine,  5 the boon I ask, For thee, I ween, an easy task, To whom the power is given to know If such a man breathe here below.' Then Nárad, clear before whose eye The present, past, and future lie,  1b Made ready answer: 'Hermit, where Are graces found so high and rare? Yet listen, and my tongue shall tell In whom alone these virtues dwell. From old Ikshváku's  2b line he came, Known to the world by Ráma's name: With soul subdued, a chief of might, In Scripture versed, in glory bright, His steps in virtue's paths are bent, Obedient, pure, and eloquent. In each emprise he wins success, And dying foes his power confess. Tall and broad-shouldered, strong of limb, Fortune has set her mark on him. Graced with a conch-shell's triple line, His threat displays the auspicious sign. 3b p. 3 High destiny is clear impressed On massive jaw and ample chest, His mighty shafts he truly aims, And foemen in the battle tames. Deep in the muscle, scarcely shown, Embedded lies his collar-bone. His lordly steps are firm and free, His strong arms reach below his knee; 1 All fairest graces join to deck His head, his brow, his stately neck, And limbs in fair proportion set: The manliest form e'er fashioned yet. Graced with each high imperial mark, His skin is soft and lustrous dark. Large are his eyes that sweetly shine With majesty almost divine. His plighted word he ne'er forgets; On erring sense a watch he sets. By nature wise, his teacher's skill Has trained him to subdue his will. Good, resolute and pure, and strong, He guards mankind from scathe and wrong, And lends his aid, and ne'er in vain, The cause of justice to maintain. Well has he studied o'er and o'er The Vedas 2 and their kindred lore. Well skilled is he the bow to draw, 1b Well trained in arts and versed in law; High-souled and meet for happy fate, Most tender and compassionate; The noblest of all lordly givers, Whom good men follow, as the rivers Follow the King of Floods, the sea: So liberal, so just is he. The joy of Queen Kaus'alyá's 2b heart, In every virtue he has part: Firm as Himálaya's 3b snowy steep, Unfathomed like the mighty deep: The peer of Vishnu's power and might, And lovely as the Lord of Night; 4b Patient as Earth, but, roused to ire, Fierce as the world-destroying fire; In bounty like the Lord of Gold, 5b And Justice self ia human mould. With him, his best and eldest son, By all his princely virtues won King Das'aratha 6b willed to share His kingdom as the Regent Heir. But when Kaikeyí, youngest queen, With eyes of envious hate had seen The solemn pomp and regal state Prepared the prince to consecrate, She bade the hapless king bestow Two gifts he promised long ago, That Ráma to the woods should flee, And that her child the heir should be. By chains of duty firmly tied, Thw wretched king perforce complied. p. 4 Ráma, to please Kaikeyí went Obedient forth to banishment. Then Lakshman's truth was nobly shown, Then were his love and courage known, When for his brother's sake he dared All perils, and his exile shared. And Sítá, Ráma's darling wife, Loved even as he loved his life, Whom happy marks combined to bless, A miracle of loveliness, Of Janak's royal lineage sprung, Most excellent of women, clung To her dear lord, like Rohiní Rejoicing with the Moon to be.  1 The King and people, sad of mood, The hero's car awhile pursued. But when Prince Ráma lighted down At S'riugavera's pleasant town, Where Gangá's holy waters flow, He bade his driver turn and go. Guha, Nishádas' king, he met, And on the farther bank was set. Then on from wood to wood they strayed, O'er many a stream, through constant shade, As Bharadvája bade them, till They came to Chitrakúta's hill. And Ráma there, with Lakshman's aid, A pleasant little cottage made, And spent his days with Sítá, dressed In coat of bark and deerskin vest.  1b And Chitrakuta grew to be As bright with those illustrious three An Meru's  2b sacred peaks that shine With glory, when the Gods recline Beneath them: Siva's  3b self between The Lord of Gold and Beauty's Queen. The aged king for Rama pined, And for the skies the earth resigned, Bharat, his son, refused to reign, Though urged by all the twice-born  4b train. Forth to the woods he fared to meet Hia brother, fell before his feet, And cried, 'Thy claim all men allow: O come, our lord and king be thou.' But Rama nobly chose to be Observant of his sire's decree. He placed his sandals  5b in his hand A pledge that he would rule the land: And bade his brother turn again. Then Bharat. finding prayer was vain, The sandals took and went away; Nor in Ayodhyá would he stay. But turned to Nandigráma, where He ruled the realm with watchful care, Still longing eagerly to learn Tidings of Ráma's safe return. Then lest the people should repeat Their visit to his calm retreat, Away from Chitrakúta's hill Fared Ráma ever onward till p. 5 Beneath the shady trees he stood Of Dandaká's primeval wood, Virádha, giant fiend, he slew, And then Agastya's friendship knew. Counselled by him he gained the sword And bow of Indra, heavenly lord: A pair of quivers too, that bore Of arrows an exhaustless store. While there he dwelt in greenwood shade The trembling hermits sought his aid, And bade him with his sword and bow Destroy the fiends who worked them woe: To come like Indra strong and brave, A guardian God to help and save. And Ráma's falchion left its trace Deep cut on Súrpanakhá's face: A hideous giantess who came Burning for him with lawless flame. Their sister's cries the giants heard. And vengeance in each bosom stirred: The monster of the triple head. And Dúshan to the contest sped. But they and myriad fiends beside Beneath the might of Ráma died. When Rávan, dreaded warrior, knew The slaughter of his giant crew: Rávan, the king, whose name of fear Earth, hell, and heaven all shook to hear: He bade the fiend Márícha aid The vengeful plot his fury laid. In vain the wise Márícha tried To turn him from his course aside: Not Rávan's self, he said, might hope With Ráma and his strength to cope. Impelled by fate and blind with rage He came to Ráma's hermitage. There, by Márícha's magic art, He wiled the princely youths apart, The vulture 1 slew, and bore away The wife of Ráma as his prey. The son of Raghu 2 came and found Jatáyu slain upon the ground. He rushed within his leafy cot; He sought his wife, but found her not. Then, then the hero's senses failed; In mad despair he wept and wailed, Upon the pile that bird he laid, And still in quest of Sitá strayed. A hideous giant then he saw, Kabandha named, a shape of awe. The monstrous fiend he smote and slew, And in the flame the body threw; When straight from out the funeral flame In lovely form Kabandha came, And bade him seek in his distress A wise and holy hermitess. By counsel of this saintly dame To Pampá's pleasant flood he came, And there the steadfast friendship won Of Hanumán the Wind-God's son. Counselled by him he told his grief To great Sugríva, Vánar chief, Who, knowing all the tale, before The sacred flame alliance swore. Sugríva to his new-found friend Told his own story to the end: His hate of Báli for the wrong And insult he had borne so long. And Ráma lent a willing ear And promised to allay his fear. Sugríva warned him of the might Of Báli, matchless in the fight, And, credence for his tale to gain, Showed the huge fiend 1b by Báli slain. The prostrate corpse of mountain size Seemed nothing in the hero's eyes; He lightly kicked it, as it lay, And cast it twenty leagues 2b away. To prove his might his arrows through Seven palms in line, uninjured, flew. He cleft a mighty hill apart, And down to hell he hurled his dart, Then high Sugríva's spirit rose, Assured of conquest o'er his foes. With his new champion by his side To vast Kishkindhá's cave he hied. Then, summoned by his awful shout, King Báli came in fury out, First comforted his trembling wife, Then sought Sugríva in the strife. One shaft from Ráma's deadly bow The monarch in the dust laid low. Then Ráma bade Sugríva reign In place of royal Báli slain. Then speedy envoys hurried forth Eastward and westward, south and north, Commanded by the grateful king Tidings of Ráma's spouse to bring. Then by Sampáti's counsel led, Brave Hanumán, who mocked at dread, Sprang at one wild tremendous leap Two hundred leagues across the deep. To Lanká's 3b town he urged his way, Where Rávan held his royal sway. p. 6 There pensive 'neath As'oka  1 boughs He found poor Sitá, Ráma's spouse. He gave the hapless girl a ring, A token from her lord and king. A pledge from her fair hand he bore; Then battered down the garden door. Five captains of the host be slew, Seven sons of councillors o'erthrew; Crushed youthful Aksha on the field, Then to his captors chose to yield. Soon from their bonds his limbs were free, But honouring the high decree Which Brahmá had pronounced of yore,  2 He calmly all their insults bore. The town he burnt with hostile flame, And spoke again with Ráma's dame, Then swiftly back to Ráma flew With tidings of the interview.    Then with Sugríva for his guide, Came Ráma to the ocean side. He smote the sea with shafts as bright As sunbeams in their summer height, And quick appeared the Rivers' King  3 Obedient to the summoning. A bridge was thrown by Nala o'er The narrow sea from shore to shore.  4 They crossed to Lanká's golden town, Where Ráma's hand smote Rávan down. Vibhishan there was left to reign Over his brother's wide domain. To meet her husband Sitá came; But Ráma, stung with ire and shame, With bitter words his wife addressed Before the crowd that round her pressed. But Sitá, touched with noble ire, Gave her fair body to the fire. Then straight the God of Wind appeared, And words from heaven her honour cleared. And Ráma clasped his wife again, Uninjured, pure from spot and stain, Obedient to the Lord of Fire And the high mandate of his sire. Led by the Lord who rules the sky, The Gods and heavenly saints drew nigh, And honoured him with worthy meed, Rejoicing in each glorious deed. His task achieved, his foe removed, He triumphed, by the Gods approved, By grace of Heaven he raised to life The chieftains slain in mortal strife; Then in the magic chariot through The clouds to Nandigráma flew. Met by his faithful brothers there, He loosed his votive coil of hair: Thence fair Ayodhyá's town he gained, And o'er his father's kingdom reigned. Disease or famine ne'er oppressed His happy people, richly blest With all the joys of ample wealth, Of sweet content and perfect health. No widow mourned her well-loved mate, No sire his son's untimely fate. They feared not storm or robber's hand; No fire or flood laid waste the land: The Golden Age  1b had come again To bless the days of Ráma's reign.    From him, the great and glorious king, Shall many a princely scion spring. And he shall rule, beloved by men, Ten thousand years and hundreds ten, 2b And when his life on earth is past To Brahmá's world shall go at last.'    Whoe'er this noble poem reads That tells the tale of Ráma's deeds, Good as the Scriptures, he shall be From every sin and blemish free. Whoever reads the saving strain, With all his kin the heavens shall gain. Bráhmans who read shall gather hence The highest praise for eloquence. The warrior, o'er the laud shall reign, The merchant, luck in trade obtain; And S'údras listening  3b ne'er shall fail To reap advantage from the tale.  4b

Bhishma is one of the central characters of the Mahabharata. Bhishma was born as Devevrata and is the grand sire of the heros and villans of the epic mahabharata. Once the eight Vasus visited Vashishta's ashram with their wives, one of the wives took a fancy to Nandini and asked her husband Prabhasa, to steal it from Vashishta. Prabhasa the vasu,stole it with the help of the others, and was cursed by Vashishta to be born in the world of men. The seven Vasus who assist in stealing Nandini have their curse softened to be liberated from their human birth as soon as they are born, but Prabhasa, due to his being instrumental in the theft, is cursed to endure a longer life on the earth, though the curse is softened so that he becomes one of the most illustrious men of his times.The youngest brother is born as Bhishma the youngest son of Shantanu by his first wife Ganga (the holy River), The other 7, were born as the older siblings of Bhishma, who were drowned by their mother Ganga as soon as they were born, thus fulfilling the softened curse on them.Shantanu was the 12th king of a line starting from Dushyanta and Bharata, though the vansh (family or progeny) is said to have started with Bharata the great.Bhishma learnt political science from Brihaspati, the guru of the Devas, Vedas and Vedangas from rishi Vasishta, and archery from Parashurama, also known as Bhargava, thus becoming an exceptionally skilled administrator, as well as an undefeatable warrior. His banner in battle was a golden palm tree.He was known as 'Bhishma Pitamaha' (i.e., Bhishma, the grandfather or grandsire) among the Pandavas and the Kauravas. Bhishma is considered to be one of the greatest examples of a dutibound officer.'Bhishma' means 'He of the terrible oath', referring to his vow of life-long celibacy. Devavrata became known as Bhishma because he took the bhishan pratigya — the vow of life-long celibacy and of service to whoever sat on the throne of his father (the throne of Hastinapur). This was because when his father Shantanu wanted to marry a fisherwoman Satyavati, her father refused, on the grounds that his daughter's children would never be rulers as Shantanu already had a son (Devavrata). This made Shantanu despondent. To placate Satyavati's father, Devavrata promised that he would never stake a claim to the throne, implying that the child born to Shantanu and Satyavati would become the ruler after Shantanu. At this, Satyavati's father retorted that even if Devavrata gave up his claim to the throne, his (Devavrata's) children would still claim the throne. At this, Devavrata, to make his father happy, took the terrible vow, thus sacrificing his 'crown-prince' title and denying himself the pleasures of intercourse. This gave him immediate recognition among the gods and his father granted him the boon of Ichha Mrityu (control over his own death — he could choose the time of his death, but not, as may be suggested, one of immortality).Bhishma was a great archer and a warrior of peerless valour and courage. In the process of finding a bride for the young king Vichitravirya (son of Shantanu and Satyavati) for whom he was the regent, Bhishma challenged the assemblage of suitors at the swayamvar of princesses Amba, Ambika and Ambalika of Kashi (Varanasi) and defeated all of them. Unknown to Bhishma, Salwa, the ruler of Saubala was in love with Amba (the eldest princess) who reciprocated his feelings. On the way to Hastinapura with the princesses, Bhishma was confronted by Salwa who challenged him to a battle for the hand of Amba in marriage. After a hard fight, Salwa was vanquished and admitted defeat. Upon reaching Hastinapur Amba confided in Bhishma that she wished to wed Salwa and no other. When Bhishma sent her back to Salwa, the vanquished ruler turned her down in humiliation of losing the combat. Upon being turned down by Vichitravirya too, as a maiden who had loved another man, Amba was incensed at Bhishma, whose interference she perceived as the root cause of her troubles.Amba took refuge with Parasurama, the guru of bhisma. Parasurama ordered Bhishma to marry Amba. Bhishma politely refused saying that he is ready to leave his life at the command of the teacher but not the promise that he had made. Upon the refusal Parasurama called him for a fight at Kurukshetra.At the battlegrounds, while Bhishma was on a chariot, he saw his guru on the ground. He requested Parasurama to be equal to him by taking a chariot and Kavacham (armor). Parasurama blessed Bhishma with the power of divine vision and asked him to look again. When Bhishma looked at his guru with the divine eye-sight, he saw the Earth as Parasurama's chariot, the four Vedas as the horses, the Upanishads as the reins, Vayu as the sarathy (Charioteer) and the Vedic goddesses Gayatri, Savitri & Saraswati as the armor.Bhishma got down from the chariot and sought the blessings of Parasurama to adhere to his dharma. Parasurama told him that if he would not have behaved in this manner Parasurama would have cursed him. Parasurama advised him to fight to protect his dharma of bramacharya and Prasurama would fight to protect his duty towards the word given to Amba.They fought for 23 days without any result. Parasurama is a chiranjeev or immortal whereas Bhishma had the boon of death at his wish. On the 22nd night, Bhishma prayed to his ancestors to help him to bring the war to an end. His anscestors gave him a weapon which was not known to Parasurama . They told him that it would put Parasurama to sleep in the battlefield. A person who sleeps in the battlefield is considered to be dead as per Vedas. They advised Bhishma to call back the weapon at the end of day after sunset so that Parasurama will come back to his sense and that shall bring the end to war.On the 23rd day, when Bhishma took the weapon given by his pitru's, a divine voice spoke to him asking not to use the weapon and insult his guru Parasurama and it told Parasurama that he cannot win over Bhishma in the war. But Parasurama said that he cannot go back from the war when Bhishma is still standing against him in the battlefield. Bhishma in respect of his teacher walked away from the combat and allowed a graceful exit for Parasurama.Parasurama told amba that he could not win over Bhishma and gave her the boon of "mahakal shiva". Amba did penance to please Shiva. Shiva gave the boon that she will be instrumental for the death of Bhishma. Amba would be born as a princess in the house of king Drupada, and as a consequence of another boon would be transformed into Shikhandi (a male) and be the root cause of Bhishma's death.He is the one who witnessed the Mahābhārata completely from the beginning since the rule of the Shantanu.In the great battle at Kurukshetra, Bhishma, bound by his oath to serve the ruler of Hastinapura, fought very reluctantly on the side of the Kauravas; nevertheless, he gave it his best effort. At one stage, his impeccable military prowess, combined with Arjuna's disinclination to fight him, almost made Lord Krishna break His vow of not actually fighting in the war. Krishna charged at Bhishma to kill him with a chariot wheel and was welcomed with folded hands by the grandsire. Then Arjuna pleaded with Krishna to stop and reminded him of the vow.Bhishma was finally grievously wounded on the tenth day of the battle by Arjuna, who hid behind another warrior Shikhandi, and rained arrows on the grandsire. Bhishma knew that Shikhandi was born a woman and to strike a woman he deemed unworthy of the chivalrous. Thus, the warrior did not resist but merely remarked to Dushasana, "These are Arjuna's arrows, they cannot be Shikhandi's because they tear my flesh as a crab's young ones tear their mother's body." Of all of Duryodhana's commander-in-chiefs, Bhishma had held off the inevitable defeat the longest. He was the supreme commander of the Kaurava forces for ten days compared to Drona's five, Karna's two and Salya on the final day. Bhishma fell, his entire body resting on a pincushion of Arjuna's arrows. After that Drona become the Commander-in-Chief of Kaurav army. After his demise Karna replaced him. Soon after this, Karna, who in the face of Bhishma's criticism had sworn his vow to keep out of the Kurukshetra till the withdrawal of Bhishma, approached the grandsire to seek his blessings. Bhishma reveals to Karna that he always knew the truth of the latter's parentage and implored him to persuade Duryodhana (at this point he also told Karna that he had not allowed to fight him under his command as he did not want the real brothers to fight with each other) to end the carnage that had already resulted in such great slaughter. Upon Karna's refusal and insistence to remain true to Duryodhana, he nevertheless received the grandsire's blessing. He lay on the 'bed of arrows' till the end of the battle, and chose to die only after learning that the Pandavas had won, as he was now assured that the throne of Hastinapura was in safe hands. In his last days before he ascended to heaven, he recited to Yudhisthira the famous hymn to Vishnu, the Vishnu sahasranama. Bhishma also admitted he had been wrong to fight for Duryodhana even though he was the king's employee since one's only allegiance is towards righteousness.

The play is set in Troezen, a coastal town in the north-eastern Peloponnese. Theseus, the king of Athens, is serving a year's voluntary exile after having murdered a local king and his sons. His illegitimate son is Hippolytus, whose birth is the result of Theseus's rape of the Amazon Hippolyta. Hippolytus has been trained since childhood by the king of Troezen, Pittheus. At the opening of the play Aphrodite, Goddess of love, explains that Hippolytus has sworn chastity and refuses to revere her. Instead, he honours the Goddess of the hunt, Artemis. This has led her to initiate a plan of vengeance on Hippolytus. When Hippolytus went to Athens two years previously Aphrodite inspired Phaedra, Hippolytus' stepmother, to fall in love with him. Hippolytus appears with his followers and shows reverence to a statue of Artemis, a chaste goddess. A servant warns him about slighting Aphrodite, but Hippolytus refuses to listen. The chorus, consisting of young married women of Troezen, enters and describes how Theseus's wife, Phaedra has not eaten or slept in three days. Phaedra, sickly, appears with her nurse. After an agonizing discussion, Phaedra finally confesses why she is ill: she loves Hippolytus. The nurse and the chorus are shocked. Phaedra explains that she must starve herself and die with her honour intact and to save Theseus from shame. However, the nurse quickly retracts her initial response and tells Phaedra that she has a magical charm to cure her. However, in an aside she reveals different plans. The nurse, after making Hippolytus swear not to tell anyone, informs Hippolytus of Phaedra's desire and suggests that Hippolytus consider yielding to her. He reacts with a furious tirade and threatens to tell his father, Theseus, everything as soon as he arrives. Phaedra realizes disaster has fallen. After making the chorus swear secrecy, she goes inside and hangs herself. Theseus returns and discovers his wife's dead body. Because the chorus is sworn to secrecy, they cannot tell Theseus why she killed herself. Theseus discovers a letter on Phaedra's body, which falsely asserts that she was raped by Hippolytus. Enraged, Theseus curses his son either to death or at least exile. To execute the curse, Theseus calls upon his father, the god Poseidon, who has promised to grant his son three wishes. Hippolytus enters and protests his innocence but cannot tell the truth because of the binding oath that he swore. Taking Phaedra's letter as proof, Hippolytus proudly defends his innocence, saying that he has never looked at any women with sexual desire. Theseus does not believe his son and still exiles him. As Hippolytus is departing he swears that if he lying then Zeus should strike him down on the spot. The chorus sings a lament for Hippolytus. A messenger enters and describes a gruesome scene to Theseus; as Hippolytus got in his chariot to leave the kingdom, a bull roared out of the sea, frightening his horses, which dashed his chariot among the rocks, dragging Hippolytus behind. Hippolytus seems to be dying. The messenger protests Hippolytus' innocence, but Theseus refuses to believe him. Theseus is glad that Hippolytus is suffering and about to die. But then the goddess, Artemis, appears and rages at Theseus for killing his own son; she brutally tells him the truth and that Aphrodite was behind all their suffering due to her feeling disrespected due to Hippolytus's pride in his chastity: there was no rape, Phaedra had lied, his son was innocent. Theseus is painfully devastated by this revelation. Hippolytus is carried in physically battered and barely clinging to life. In the last moments of the play, Hippolytus forgives his father, kind words are exchanged between father and son, and then Hippolytus dies. Theseus is then left living to dwell on the fact that he killed his beloved son.

IV To him the stateliest[1] spake in answer; the warriors’ leader his word-hoard unlocked:— 260“We are by kin of the clan of Geats, and Hygelac’s own hearth-fellows we. To folk afar was my father known, noble atheling, Ecgtheow named. Full of winters, he fared away 265agéd from earth; he is honored still through width of the world by wise men all. To thy lord and liege in loyal mood we hasten hither, to Healfdene’s son, people-protector: be pleased to advise us! 270To that mighty-one come we on mickle errand, to the lord of the Danes; nor deem I right that aught be hidden. We hear—thou knowest if sooth it is—the saying of men, that amid the Scyldings a scathing monster, 275dark ill-doer, in dusky nights shows terrific his rage unmatched, hatred and murder. To Hrothgar I in greatness of soul would succor bring, so the Wise-and-Brave[2] may worst his foes.— 280 if ever the end of ills is fated, of cruel contest, if cure shall follow, and the boiling care-waves[3] cooler grow; else ever afterward anguish-days he shall suffer in sorrow while stands in place 285 high on its hill that house unpeered!” Astride his steed, the strand-ward answered, clansman unquailing: ”The keen-souled thane must be skilled to sever and sunder duly words and works, if he well intends. 290 I gather, this band is graciously bent to the Scyldings’ master. March, then, bearing weapons and weeds the way I show you. I will bid my men your boat meanwhile to guard for fear lest foemen come,— 295 your new-tarred ship by shore of ocean faithfully watching till once again it waft o’er the waters those well-loved thanes, —winding-neck’d wood,—to Weders’ bounds, heroes such as the hest of fate 300shall succor and save from the shock of war.”[4] They bent them to march,—the boat lay still, fettered by cable and fast at anchor, broad-bosomed ship.—Then shone the boars[5] over the cheek-guard; chased with gold, 305 keen and gleaming, guard it kept o’er the man of war, as marched along heroes in haste, till the hall they saw, broad of gable and bright with gold: that was the fairest, ’mid folk of earth, 310 of houses ’neath heaven, where Hrothgar lived, and the gleam of it lightened o’er lands afar. The sturdy shieldsman showed that bright burg-of-the-boldest; bade them go straightway thither; his steed then turned, 315 hardy hero, and hailed them thus:— “ ’Tis time that I fare from you. Father Almighty in grace and mercy guard you well, safe in your seekings. Seaward I go, ’gainst hostile warriors hold my watch.”

III Thus seethed[1] unceasing the son of Healfdene 190with the woe of these days; not wisest men assuaged his sorrow; too sore the anguish, loathly and long, that lay on his folk, most baneful of burdens and bales of the night. This heard in his home Hygelac’s thane, 195great among Geats, of Grendel’s doings. He was the mightiest man of valor in that same day of this our life, stalwart and stately. A stout wave-walker he bade make ready.[2] Yon battle-king, said he, 200far o’er the swan-road he fain would seek, the noble monarch who needed men! The prince’s journey by prudent folk was little blamed, though they loved him dear; they whetted the hero, and hailed good omens.[3] 205And now the bold one from bands of Geats comrades chose, the keenest of warriors e’er he could find; with fourteen men[4] the sea-wood[5] he sought, and, sailor[6] proved, led them on to the land’s confines. 210⁠Time had now flown;[7] afloat was the ship, boat under bluff. On board they climbed, warriors ready; waves were churning sea with sand; the sailors bore on the breast of the bark their bright array, 215their mail and weapons: the men pushed off, on its willing way, the well-braced craft. Then moved o’er the waters by might of the wind that bark like a bird with breast of foam, till in season due, on the second day, 220the curved prow such course had run that sailors now could see the land, sea-cliffs shining, steep high hills, headlands broad. Their haven was found, their journey ended. Up then quickly 225the Weders’[8] clansmen climbed ashore, anchored their sea-wood, with armor clashing and gear of battle: God they thanked for passing in peace o’er the paths of the sea. ⁠Now saw from the cliff a Scylding clansman, 230a warden[9] that watched the water-side, how they bore o’er the gangway glittering shields, war-gear in readiness; wonder seized him to know what manner of men they were. Straight to the strand his steed he rode, 235Hrothgar’s henchman; with hand of might he shook his spear,[10] and spake in parley. “Who are ye, then, ye arméd men, mailéd folk, that yon mighty vessel have urged thus over the ocean ways, 240here o’er the waters? A warden I, sentinel set o’er the sea-march here, lest any foe to the folk of Danes with harrying fleet should harm the land. No aliens ever at ease thus bore them, 245linden-wielders:[11] yet word-of-leave clearly ye lack from clansmen here, my folk’s agreement.—A greater ne’er saw I of warriors in world than is one of you,— yon hero in harness! No henchman he 250worthied by weapons, if witness his features, his peerless presence! I pray you, though, tell your folk and home, lest hence ye fare suspect to wander your way as spies in Danish land. Now, dwellers afar, 255ocean-travellers, take from me simple advice: the sooner the better I hear of the country whence ye came.”

II 115Went he forth to find at fall of night that haughty house, and heed wherever the Ring-Danes, outrevelled, to rest had gone. Found within it the atheling band asleep after feasting and fearless of sorrow, 120of human hardship. Unhallowed wight, grim and greedy, he grasped betimes, wrathful, reckless, from resting-places, thirty[1] of the thanes, and thence he rushed fain of his fell spoil, faring homeward, 125laden with slaughter, his lair to seek. Then at the dawning, as day was breaking, the might of Grendel to men was known; then after wassail was wail uplifted, loud moan in the morn. The mighty chief, 130atheling excellent, unblithe sat, labored in woe for the loss of his thanes, when once had been traced the trail of the fiend, spirit accurst: too cruel that sorrow, too long, too loathsome.[2] Not late the respite; 135with night returning, anew began ruthless murder; he recked no whit, firm in his guilt, of the feud and crime. They were easy to find who elsewhere sought in room remote their rest at night, 140bed in the bowers,[3] when that bale was shown, was seen in sooth, with surest token,— the hall-thane’s[4] hate. Such held themselves far and fast who the fiend outran! Thus ruled unrighteous and raged his fill 145one against all; until empty stood that lordly building, and long it bode so. Twelve years’ tide the trouble he bore, sovran of Scyldings, sorrows in plenty, boundless cares. There came unhidden 150tidings true to the tribes of men, in sorrowful songs,[5] how ceaselessly Grendel harassed Hrothgar, what hate he bore him, what murder and massacre, many a year, feud unfading,—refused consent 155to deal with any of Daneland’s earls, make pact of peace, or compound for gold: still less did the wise men ween to get great fee for the feud from his fiendish hands.[6] But the evil one ambushed old and young, 160death-shadow dark, and dogged them still, lured, and lurked in the livelong night of misty moorlands: men may say not where the haunts of these Hell-Runes[7] be. Such heaping of horrors the hater of men, 165lonely roamer, wrought unceasing, harassings heavy. O’er Heorot he lorded, gold-bright hall, in gloomy nights; and ne’er could the prince[8] approach his throne, —’twas judgment of God,—or have joy in his hall. 170Sore was the sorrow to Scyldings’-friend, heart-rending misery. Many nobles sat assembled, and searched out counsel how it were best for bold-hearted men against harassing terror to try their hand. 175Whiles they vowed in their heathen fanes altar-offerings, asked with words[9] that the slayer-of-souls[10] would succor give them for the pain of their people. Their practice this, their heathen hope; ’twas Hell they thought of 180in mood of their mind. Almighty they knew not, Doomsman of Deeds[11] and dreadful Lord, nor Heaven’s-Helmet heeded they ever, Wielder-of-Wonder.—Woe for that man who in harm and hatred hales his soul 185to fiery embraces;—nor favor nor change awaits he ever. But well for him that after death-day may draw to his Lord, and friendship find in the Father’s arms!