THEN hastened those heroes their home to see, 
friendless, to find the Frisian land, 
houses and high burg. Hengest still 
through the death-dyed winter dwelt with Finn, 
holding pact, yet of home he minded, 
though powerless his ring-decked prow to drive 
over the waters, now waves rolled fierce 
lashed by the winds, or winter locked them 
in icy fetters. Then fared another 
year to men's dwellings, as yet they do, 
the sunbright skies, that their season ever 
duly await. Far off winter was driven; 
fair lay earth's breast; and fain was the rover, 
the guest, to depart, though more gladly he pondered 
on wreaking his vengeance than roaming the deep, 
and how to hasten the hot encounter 
where sons of the Frisians were sure to be. 
So he escaped not the common doom, 
when Hun with "Lafing," the light-of-battle, 
best of blades, his bosom pierced: 
its edge was famed with the Frisian earls. 
On fierce-heart Finn there fell likewise, 
on himself at home, the horrid sword-death; 
for Guthlaf and Oslaf of grim attack 
had sorrowing told, from sea-ways landed, 
mourning their woes. Finn's wavering spirit 
bode not in breast. The burg was reddened 
with blood of foemen, and Finn was slain, 
king amid clansmen; the queen was taken. 
To their ship the Scylding warriors bore 
all the chattels the chieftain owned, 
whatever they found in Finn's domain 
of gems and jewels. The gentle wife 
o'er paths of the deep to the Danes they bore, 
led to her land. 
The lay was finished, 
the gleeman's song. Then glad rose the revel; 
bench-joy brightened. Bearers draw 
from their "wonder-vats" wine. Comes Wealhtheow forth, 
under gold-crown goes where the good pair sit, 
uncle and nephew, true each to the other one, 
kindred in amity. Unferth the spokesman 
at the Scylding lord's feet sat: men had faith in his spirit, 
his keenness of courage, though kinsmen had found him 
unsure at the sword-play. The Scylding queen spoke: 
"Quaff of this cup, my king and lord, 
breaker of rings, and blithe be thou, 
gold-friend of men; to the Geats here speak 
such words of mildness as man should use. 
Be glad with thy Geats; of those gifts be mindful, 
or near or far, which now thou hast. 

Men say to me, as son thou wishest 
yon hero to hold. Thy Heorot purged, 
jewel-hall brightest, enjoy while thou canst, 
with many a largess; and leave to thy kin 
folk and realm when forth thou goest 
to greet thy doom. For gracious I deem 
my Hrothulf, willing to hold and rule 
nobly our youths, if thou yield up first, 
prince of Scyldings, thy part in the world. 
I ween with good he will well requite 
offspring of ours, when all he minds 
that for him we did in his helpless days 
of gift and grace to gain him honor!" 
Then she turned to the seat where her sons wereplaced, 
Hrethric and Hrothmund, with heroes' bairns, 
young men together: the Geat, too, sat there, 
Beowulf brave, the brothers between