Цитаты из книги «Принцесса Кентербери и другие английские легенды / Princess of Canterbury (сборник)», страница 2

Inspired again

By the thought of glory, the war-king threw

His whole strength behind a sword-stroke

And connected with the skull. And Naegling snapped.

Beowulf’s ancient iron-gray sword

Let him down in the fight. It was never his fortune

To be helped in combat by the cutting-edge

Of weapons made of iron.

That final day was the first time

When Beowulf fought and fate denied him

Glory in battle.

Yet the prince of the rings was too proud

To line up with a large army

Against the sky-plague. He had scant regard

For the dragon as a threat, no dread at all

Of its courage or strength, for he had kept going

Often in the past, through perils and ordeals

Of every sort, after he had purged

Hrothgar’s hall, triumphed in Heorot

And beaten Grendel.

Then Beowulf was given bad news,

A hard truth: his own home,

The best of buildings, had been burnt to a cinder,

The throne-room of the Geats. It threw the hero

Into deep anguish and darkened his mood:

The wise man thought he must have thwarted

Ancient ordinance of the eternal Lord,

Broken His commandment. His mind was in turmoil,

Unaccustomed anxiety and gloom

Confused his brain; the fire-dragon

Had rased the coastal region and reduced

Forts and earthworks to dust and ashes,

So the war-king planned and plotted his revenge.

They came against him and his conquering nation,

And with cruel force cut him down

So that afterwards

The wide kingdom

Reverted to Beowulf. He ruled it well

For fifty winters, grew old and wise

As warden of the land

Until one began

To dominate the dark, a dragon on the prowl

My liking for you

Deepens with time, dear Beowulf.

What you have done is to draw two peoples,

The Geat nation and us neighboring Danes,

Into shared peace and a pact of friendship

In spite of hatreds we have harbored in the past.

Then, in fury, he flung his sword away.

The keen, inlaid, worm-looped-patterned steel

Was hurled to the ground: he would have to rely

On the might of his arm. So must a man do

Who intends to gain enduring glory

In a combat. Life doesn’t cost him thought.

Beowulf got ready,

Donned his war-gear, indifferent to death;

Benches were pushed back, bedding gear and bolsters

Spread across the floor, and one man

Lay down to his rest, already marked for death.

So now, Beowulf,

adopt you in my heart as a dear son.

Nourish and maintain this new connection,

You noblest of men; there’ll be nothing you want for,

No worldly good that won’t be yours.

I have often honored smaller achievements,

Recognized warriors not nearly as worthy,

Lavished rewards on the less deserving.

But you have made yourself immortal

By your glorious action. May the Lord of Ages

Continue to keep and requite you well.”