Translation of the song Beowulf (Lines 1-53) artist The Beowulf Poet

Hwæt! We Gardena in geardagum,

What! We of Goredanes' in days of yore,

þeodcyninga, þrym gefrunon,

Of theedkings' thrim heard in our lore,

hu ða æþelingas ellen fremedon.

How the athelings ellen bore.

Oft Scyld Scefing sceaþena þreatum,

Oft Shield Sheaving from foeband's stead

monegum mægþum, meodosetla ofteah,

From many maiths, meadsettles led,

egsode eorlas. Syððan ærest wearð

Left earls in awe. Since erst was poor

feasceaft funden, he þæs frofre gebad,

Feeshaft foundling, he fared to more,

weox under wolcnum, weorðmyndum þah,

Waxed under welkins, in worthy labours,

oðþæt him æghwylc þara ymbsittendra

Till ever each and all his neighbours,

ofer hronrade hyran scolde,

Over whaleroad, a-hearing should,

gomban gyldan. þæt wæs god cyning.

Yield him tribute. That king was good!

Ðæm eafera wæs æfter cenned,

Afterwards for him, an heir was meant

geong in geardum, þone god sende

Youngling in yards, God hither sent

folce to frofre; fyrenðearfe ongeat

To folk as frover, feeling their sore,

þe hie ær drugon aldorlease

That they lordless, a long time bore.

lange hwile. Him þæs liffrea,

The Lord of Life lent to his name,

wuldres wealdend, woroldare forgeaf;

Woulder's Wieldend, worldwide fame.

Beowulf wæs breme blæd wide sprang,

Beewolf was bream, broad glory spanned

Scyldes eafera Scedelandum in.

For Shield's son in the Scandian land.

Swa sceal geong guma gode gewyrcean,

So shall a young gome by good fare

fromum feohgiftum on fæder bearme,

With fair feegifts, in father's care,

þæt hine on ylde eft gewunigen

That in his eld, again those stand

wilgesiþas, þonne wig cume,

Wellwilling friends, when war's at hand

leode gelæsten; lofdædum sceal

The people last. From lovedeeds, so,

in mægþa gehwære man geþeon.

In every maith, shall man grow.

Him ða Scyld gewat to gescæphwile

Then Shield went forth at fated tide

felahror feran on frean wære.

From a full life to the lord's side.

Hi hyne þa ætbæron to brimes faroðe,

They bore him then to the sea's blue

swæse gesiþas, swa he selfa bæd,

His sweet friends, as he bade them do

þenden wordum weold wine Scyldinga;

When he wielded words, Shieldings' lief,

leof landfruma lange ahte.

That long owned the land, leader and chief.

þær æt hyðe stod hringedstefna,

At harbour stood a ringedstem rare

isig ond utfus, æþelinges fær.

Icey and outfouse, atheling's fare.

Aledon þa leofne þeoden,

Then they laid down their theeden blessed

beaga bryttan, on bearm scipes,

The lord of rings, in that ship's breast;

mærne be mæste. þær wæs madma fela

Mear one by mast. Many mathoms got

of feorwegum, frætwa, gelæded;

From farways, many fortunes brought.

ne hyrde ic cymlicor ceol gegyrwan

I heard not dearer keel, dight indeed

hildewæpnum ond heaðowædum,

With hildweapons and battleweed,

billum ond byrnum; him on bearme læg

With bills and byrnies. On his barm

madma mænigo, þa him mid scoldon

Should go with him many a charm,

on flodes æht feor gewitan.

On the flood's flow, afar to fare.

Nalæs hi hine læssan lacum teodan,

They bestowed not less treasures rare

þeodgestreonum, þon þa dydon

Theedstrains, than those before lent,

þe hine æt frumsceafte forð onsendon

That him at fromshaft forth asent,

ænne ofer yðe umborwesende.

One over waves, bairn on the brine.

þa gyt hie him asetton segen geldenne

Then yet for him, set a golden sign

heah ofer heafod, leton holm beran,

High over head. Let the holm heave

geafon on garsecg; him wæs geomor sefa,

Gave to goresedge, with yomer seave

murnende mod. Men ne cunnon

With mourning mood. No men may,

secgan to soðe, selerædende,

In truth tell us, with knowledge say,

hæleð under heofenum, hwa þæm hlæste onfeng.

Counsellors in halls, sages soothfast,