"Беовульф" Магия древнеанглийского языка. Том 1

BEOWULF (ENGLISH VERSION)

LO, praise of the prowess of people-kings

of spear-armed Danes, in days long sped,

we have heard, and what honor the athelings won!

Oft Scyld the Scefing from squadroned foes,

from many a tribe, the mead-bench tore,

awing the earls. Since erst he lay

friendless, a foundling, fate repaid him:

for he waxed under welkin, in wealth he throve,

till before him the folk, both far and near,

who house by the whale-path, heard his mandate,

gave him gifts: a good king he!

To him an heir was afterward born,

a son in his halls, whom heaven sent

to favor the folk, feeling their woe

that erst they had lacked an earl for leader

so long a while; the Lord endowed him,

the Wielder of Wonder, with world’s renown.

Famed was this Beowulf: far flew the boast of him,

son of Scyld, in the Scandian lands.

So becomes it a youth to quit him well

with his father’s friends, by fee and gift,

that to aid him, aged, in after days,

come warriors willing, should war draw nigh,

liegemen loyal: by lauded deeds

shall an earl have honor in every clan.

Forth he fared at the fated moment,

sturdy Scyld to the shelter of God.

Then they bore him over to ocean’s billow,

loving clansmen, as late he charged them,

while wielded words the winsome Scyld,

the leader beloved who long had ruled…

In the roadstead rocked a ring-dight vessel,

ice-flecked, outbound, atheling’s barge:

there laid they down their darling lord

on the breast of the boat, the breaker-of-rings,

by the mast the mighty one. Many a treasure

fetched from far was freighted with him.

No ship have I known so nobly dight

with weapons of war and weeds of battle,

with breastplate and blade: on his bosom lay

a heaped hoard that hence should go

far o’er the flood with him floating away.

No less these loaded the lordly gifts,

thanes’ huge treasure, than those had done

who in former time forth had sent him

sole on the seas, a suckling child.

High o’er his head they hoist the standard,

a gold-wove banner; let billows take him,

gave him to ocean. Grave were their spirits,

mournful their mood. No man is able

to say in sooth, no son of the halls,

no hero «neath heaven, – who harbored that freight!

Now Beowulf bode in the burg of the Scyldings,

leader beloved, and long he ruled

in fame with all folk, since his father had gone

away from the world, till awoke an heir,

haughty Healfdene, who held through life,

sage and sturdy, the Scyldings glad.

Then, one after one, there woke to him,

to the chieftain of clansmen, children four:

Heorogar, then Hrothgar, then Halga brave;

and I heard that – was – ’s queen,

the Heathoscylfing’s helpmate dear.

To Hrothgar was given such glory of war,

such honor of combat, that all his kin

obeyed him gladly till great grew his band

of youthful comrades. It came in his mind

to bid his henchmen a hall uprear,

a master mead-house, mightier far

than ever was seen by the sons of earth,

and within it, then, to old and young

he would all allot that the Lord had sent him,

save only the land and the lives of his men.

Wide, I heard, was the work commanded,

for many a tribe this mid-earth round,

to fashion the folkstead. It fell, as he ordered,

in rapid achievement that ready it stood there,

of halls the noblest: Heorot he named it

whose message had might in many a land.

Not reckless of promise, the rings he dealt,

treasure at banquet: there towered the hall,

high, gabled wide, the hot surge waiting

of furious flame. Nor far was that day

when father and son-in-law stood in feud

for warfare and hatred that woke again.

With envy and anger an evil spirit

endured the dole in his dark abode,

that he heard each day the din of revel

high in the hall: there harps rang out,

clear song of the singer. He sang who knew

tales of the early time of man,

how the Almighty made the earth,

fairest fields enfolded by water,

set, triumphant, sun and moon

for a light to lighten the land-dwellers,

and braided bright the breast of earth

with limbs and leaves, made life for all

of mortal beings that breathe and move.

So lived the clansmen in cheer and revel

a winsome life, till one began

to fashion evils, that field of hell.

Grendel this monster grim was called,

march-riever mighty, in moorland living,

in fen and fastness; fief of the giants

the hapless wight a while had kept

since the Creator his exile doomed.

On kin of Cain was the killing avenged

by sovran God for slaughtered Abel.

Ill fared his feud, and far was he driven,

for the slaughter’s sake, from sight of men.

Of Cain awoke all that woful breed,

Etins and elves and evil-spirits,

as well as the giants that warred with God

weary while: but their wage was paid them!

WENT 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,

of human hardship. Unhallowed wight,

grim and greedy, he grasped betimes,

wrathful, reckless, from resting-places,

thirty of the thanes, and thence he rushed

fain of his fell spoil, faring homeward,

laden 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,

atheling 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. Not late the respite;

with 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,

bed in the bowers, when that bale was shown,

was seen in sooth, with surest token, —

the hall-thane’s hate. Such held themselves

far and fast who the fiend outran!

Thus ruled unrighteous and raged his fill

one 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

tidings true to the tribes of men,

in sorrowful songs, how ceaselessly Grendel

harassed Hrothgar, what hate he bore him,

what murder and massacre, many a year,

feud unfading, – refused consent

to 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.

But the evil one ambushed old and young

death-shadow dark, and dogged them still,

lured, or lurked in the livelong night

of misty moorlands: men may say not

where the haunts of these Hell-Runes be.

Such heaping of horrors the hater of men,

lonely roamer, wrought unceasing,

harassings heavy. O’er Heorot he lorded,

gold-bright hall, in gloomy nights;

and ne’er could the prince approach his throne,

– «twas judgment of God, – or have joy in his hall.

Sore 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.

Whiles they vowed in their heathen fanes

altar-offerings, asked with words

that the slayer-of-souls would succor give them

for the pain of their people. Their practice this,

their heathen hope; «twas Hell they thought of

in mood of their mind. Almighty they knew not,

Doomsman of Deeds 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

to 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!

THUS seethed unceasing the son of Healfdene

with 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,

great 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. Yon battle-king, said he,

far 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.

And now the bold one from bands of Geats

comrades chose, the keenest of warriors

e’er he could find; with fourteen men

the sea-wood he sought, and, sailor proved,

led them on to the land’s confines.

Time had now flown; 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,

their 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,

the 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

the Weders’ 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,

a warden 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,

Hrothgar’s henchman; with hand of might

he shook his spear, and spake in parley.

«Who are ye, then, ye armed men,

mailed folk, that yon mighty vessel

have urged thus over the ocean ways,

here 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,

linden-wielders: 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

worthied 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,

ocean-travellers, take from me

simple advice: the sooner the better

I hear of the country whence ye came.»

To him the stateliest spake in answer;

the warriors’ leader his word-hoard unlocked:—

«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

aged 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!

To 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,

dark 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 may worst his foes, —

if ever the end of ills is fated,

of cruel contest, if cure shall follow,

and the boiling care-waves cooler grow;

else ever afterward anguish-days

he shall suffer in sorrow while stands in place

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.

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, —

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

shall succor and save from the shock of war.»

They bent them to march, – the boat lay still,

fettered by cable and fast at anchor,

broad-bosomed ship. – Then shone the boars

over the cheek-guard; chased with gold,

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,

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,

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.»

Stone-bright the street: it showed the way

to the crowd of clansmen. Corselets glistened

hand-forged, hard; on their harness bright

the steel ring sang, as they strode along

in mail of battle, and marched to the hall.

There, weary of ocean, the wall along

they set their bucklers, their broad shields, down,