Thursday, June 30, 2011

Part 3.1 - Unferth's Challenge

Unferth spoke, Ecglaf’s son,
Who sat at Hrothgar’s feet, spoke harshly
And sharp (vexed by Beowulf’s adventure,
By their visitor’s courage, and angry that anyone
In Denmark or anywhere on earth had ever
Acquired glory and fame greater
Than his own):
“You’re Beowulf, are you—the same
Boastful fool who fought a swimming
Match with Brecca, both of you daring
And young and proud, exploring the deepest
Seas, risking your lives for no reason
But the danger?
With Brecca at your side you swam along
The sea-paths. Then winter
Churned through the water, the waves ran you
As they willed, and you struggled seven long nights
To survive. And at the end victory was his,
Not yours. The sea carried him close
To his home, to southern Norway, near
The land of the Brondings, where he ruled and was loved. He’d promised to outswim you:
Bonstan’s son made that boast ring true.
You’ve been lucky in your battles, Beowulf, but I think
Your luck may change if you challenge Grendel,
Staying a whole night through in this hall,
Waiting where that fiercest of demons can find you.”
Beowulf answered, Edgetho’s great son:
“Ah! Unferth, my friend, your face
Is hot with ale, and your tongue has tried
To tell us about Brecca’s doings. But the truth
Is simple: No man swims in the sea
As I can, no strength is a match for mine.
As boys, Brecca and I had boasted—
We were both too young to know better—that we’d risk
Our lives far out at sea, and so
We did. Each of us carried a naked
Sword.
He could never leave me behind, swim faster
Across the waves than I could, and I
Had chosen to remain close to his side.
I remained near him for five long nights,
Until a flood swept us apart;
The frozen sea surged around me,
It grew dark, the wind turned bitter, blowing
From the north, and the waves were savage. Creatures
Who sleep deep in the sea were stirred
Into life—A monster seized me, drew me
Swiftly toward the bottom, swimming with its claws
Tight in my flesh. But fate let me
Find its heart with my sword, hack myself
Free; I fought that beast’s last battle,
Left it floating lifeless in the sea.
Other monsters crowded around me,
Continually attacking. I treated them politely,
Offering the edge of my razor-sharp sword
By morning they’d decided to sleep on the shore,
Lying on their backs, their blood spilled out
On the sand. Afterwards, sailors could cross
That sea-road and feel no fear; nothing
Would stop their passing.
And at last I could see the land, wind-swept
Cliff-walls at the edge of the coast.
Lucky or not, nine was the number
Of sea-huge monsters I killed. What man,
Anywhere under Heaven’s high arch, has fought
In such darkness, endured more misery, or been harder
Pressed? Yet I survived the sea, smashed
The monsters’ hot jaws, swam home from my journey.
The swift-flowing waters swept me along
And I landed on Finnish soil. I’ve heard
No tales of you, Unferth, telling
Of such clashing terror, such contests in the night!
Brecca’s battles were never so bold;
Neither he nor you can match me—and I mean
No boast, have announced no more than I know
To be true.
Grendel learned that terror is his alone,
Discovered he can come for your people with no fear
Of reprisal; he’s found no fighting, here,
But only food, only delight.
He murders as he likes, with no mercy, gorges
And feasts on your flesh, and expects no trouble,
No quarrel from the quiet Danes. Now
The Geats will show him courage, soon
He can test his strength in battle. And when the sun
Comes up again, opening another
Bright day from the south, anyone in Denmark
May enter this hall: That evil will be gone!”
Hrothgar, gray-haired and brave, sat happily
Listening, the famous ring-giver sure,
At last, that Grendel could be killed; he believed
In Beowulf’s bold strength and the firmness of his spirit.
There was the sound of laughter, and the cheerful clanking
Of cups, and pleasant words.
Then Welthow,
Hrothgar’s gold-ringed queen, greeted
The warriors; a noble woman who knew
What was right, she raised a flowing cup
To Hrothgar first, holding it high
For the lord of the Danes to drink, wishing him
Joy in that feast. The famous king
Drank with pleasure and blessed their banquet.
Then Welthow went from warrior to warrior,
Pouring a portion from the jeweled cup
For each, and it was Beowulf’s
Turn to be served. She saluted the Geats’
Great prince, thanked God for answering her prayers,
For allowing her hands the happy duty
Of offering mead to a hero who would help
Her afflicted people. He drank what she poured,
Edgetho’s brave son, then assured the Danish
Queen that his heart was firm and his hands
Ready:
“When we crossed the sea, my comrades
And I, I already knew that all
My purpose was this: to win the good will
Of your people or die in battle, pressed
In Grendel’s fierce grip. Let me live in greatness
And courage, or here in this hall welcome
My death!”
Welthow was pleased with his words,
His bright-tongued boasts; she carried them back
To her lord, walked nobly across to his side.
The feast went on, laughter and music
And the brave words of warriors celebrating
Their delight. Then Hrothgar rose, Healfdane’s
Son, heavy with sleep; as soon
As the sun had gone, he knew that Grendel
Would come to Herot, would visit that hall
When night had covered the earth with its net
And the shapes of darkness moved black and silent
Through the world. Hrothgar’s warriors rose with him.
He went to Beowulf, embraced the Geats’
Brave prince, wished him well, and hoped
That Herot would be his to command. And then
He declared:
“No one strange to this land
Has ever been granted what I’ve given you,
No one in all the years of my rule.
Make this best of all mead-halls yours, and then
Keep it free of evil, fight
With glory in your heart! Purge Herot
And your ship will sail home with its treasure-holds full.” . . .

Part 3- The Arrival of the Hero

Then they sailed, set their ship
Out on the waves.
The wind hurried them over the waves,
The ship foamed through the sea like a bird
They could see sparkling hills, high and green
In those rock-steep cliffs they quietly ended
Their voyage. Jumping to the ground, the Geats
Pushed their boat to the sand and tied it.
And then they gave thanks to God for their easy crossing.
High on the wall a Danish watcher
Patrolling along the cliffs saw
The travelers crossing to the shore, their shield raised and shining.
Shaking his heavy spear
In their faces he spoke:
“Whose soldiers are you,
You who’ve been carried in your ship
Across the sea to this country of mine?
None have ever come more openly –
And yet you’ve offered no password, no sign
From my prince, no permission from my people.
You! Tell me your name,
And your father’s. Tell it,
And tell it quickly, the quicker the better.

Their leader answered him, Beowulf unlocking words from deep in his breast:
“We are Geats, Men who follow Higlaf. My father
Was a famous soldier, known far and wide
As a leader of men. His name was Edgetho.
And we have come seeking your prince, Healfdane’s son, protector of this people.
Our errand is a great one, our business with the glorious king of the Danes no secret.
You know that your country is cursed with some strange, vicious creature.
Perhaps Hrothgar can hunt, here in my heart,
For some way to drive this devil out –
If anything will ever end the evils
Afflicting your wise and famous lord.
Here he can cool his burning sorrow.

The mounted officer
Answered him bluntly, the brave watchman:
“A soldier should know the difference between words
And deeds, and keep that knowledge clear
In his brain. I believe your words, I trust in
Your friendship. Go forward!

Then Wulfgar went to the door and addressed
The waiting seafarers with soldier’s words:
“My lord, the great king of the Danes, commands me
To tell you that he knows of your noble birth
And that having come to him from over the open
Sea you have come bravely and are welcome.”
Now go to him as you are, in your armor and helmets,
But leave your battle-shields here, and your spears,
Let them lie waiting for the promises your words
May make.”
Beowulf arose, with his men
Around him, ordering a few to remain
With their weapons, leading the others quickly
Along under Herot’s steep roof into Hrothgar’s
Presence. He greeted the Danes’ great lord:
“Hail, Hrothgar!
Higlac is my cousin and my king; the days
Of my youth have been filled with glory. Now Grendel’s
Name has echoed in our land: Sailors
Have brought us stories of Herot, the best
Of all mead-halls, deserted and useless when the moon
Hangs in skies the sun had lit,
Light and life fleeing together.
My people have said, the wisest, most knowing
And best of them, that my duty was to go to the Danes’
Great king. They have seen my strength for themselves,
Have watched me rise from the darkness of war,
Dripping with my enemies’ blood. I drove
Five great giants into chains, chased
All of that race from the earth. I swam
In the blackness of night, hunting monsters
Out of the ocean, and killing them one
By one; death was my errand and the fate
They had earned. Now Grendel and I are called
Together, and I’ve come. Grant me, then,
Lord and protector of this noble place,
A single request! I have come so far,
Oh shelterer of warriors and your people’s loved friend,
That this one favor you should not refuse me—
That I, alone and with the help of my men,
May purge all evil from this hall. I have heard,
Too, that the monster’s scorn of men
Is so great that he needs no weapons and fears none.
Nor will I. My hands
Alone shall fight for me, struggle for life
Against the monster. God must decide
Who will be given to death’s cold grip.
Grendel’s plan, I think, will be
What it has been before, to invade this hall

And gorge his belly with our bodies. If he can,
If he can. And I think, if my time will have come,
There’ll be nothing to mourn over, no corpse to prepare
For its grave: Grendel will carry our bloody
Flesh, and crunch on our bones. No, I expect no Danes
Will fret about sewing our shrouds, if he wins.
And if death does take me, send my armor to Higlac, return
The inheritance I had from Hrethel,°
Hrothgar replied, protector of the Danes:
“Beowulf, you’ve come to us in friendship.
My tongue grows heavy,
And my heart, when I try to tell you what Grendel
Has brought us, the damage he’s done, here
In this hall. Surely the Lord Almighty
Could stop his madness, smother his lust!
How many times have my men, glowing
With courage drawn from too many cups
Of ale, sworn to stay after dark
And stem that horror with a sweep of their swords.
And then, in the morning, this mead-hall glittering
With new light would be drenched with blood, the benches
Stained red, the floors, all wet from that fiend’s
Savage assault—and my soldiers would be fewer
Still, death taking more and more.
But to table, Beowulf, a banquet in your honor:
Let us toast your victories, and talk of the future.”
Then Hrothgar’s men gave places to the Geats,
Yielded benches to the brave visitors,
And led them to the feast. The keeper of the mead
Came carrying out the carved flasks,
And poured that bright sweetness. A poet
Sang, from time to time, in a clear
Pure voice. Danes and visiting Geats
Celebrated as one, drank and rejoiced

Part 2- The Monster Grendel

Part 2- The Monster Grendel

A powerful monster, living down
In the darkness, growled in pain, impatient
As day after day the music rang
Loud in that hall, the harp’s rejoicing
Call and the poet’s clear songs, sung
Of the ancient beginnings of us all, recalling
The Almighty making the earth, shaping
These beautiful plains marked off by oceans,
Then proudly setting the sun and moon
To glow across the land and light it;
The corners of the earth were made lovely with trees
And leaves, made quick with life, with each
Of the nations who now move on its face.
And then As now warriors sang of their pleasure:
So Hrothgar’s men lived happy in his hall
Till the monster stirred, that demon, that fiend,
Grendel, who haunted the moors, the wild
Marshes, and made his home in a hell
Not hell but earth.
Conceived by a pair of those monsters born
Of Cain, murderous creatures banished
By God, punished forever for the crime
Of Abel’s death. The Almighty drove
Those demons out, and their exile was bitter,
Shut away from men; they split
Into a thousand forms of evil—spirits
And fiends, goblins, monsters, giants,
A brood forever opposing the Lord’s
Will, and again and again defeated.
Then, when darkness had dropped, Grendel
Went up to Herot, wondering what the warriors
Would do in that hall when their drinking was done.
He found them sprawled in sleep, suspecting
Nothing, their dreams undisturbed. The monster’s
Thoughts were as quick as his greed or his claws:
He slipped through the door and there in the silence
Snatched up thirty men, smashed them
The blood dripping behind him, back
To his lair, delighted with his night’s slaughter.
At daybreak, with the sun’s first light, they saw
How well he had worked, and in that gray morning
Broke their long feast with tears and laments
For the dead. Hrothgar, their lord, sat joyless
In Herot, a mighty prince mourning
The fate of his lost friends and companions,
Knowing by its tracks that some demon had torn
His followers apart. He wept, fearing
The beginning might not be the end. And that night
Grendel came again, so set
On murder that no crime could ever be enough,

No savage assault quench his lust
For evil. Then each warrior tried
To escape him, searched for rest in different
Beds, as far from Herot as they could find,
Seeing how Grendel hunted when they slept.
Distance was safety; the only survivors
Were those who fled him. Hate had triumphed.
So Grendel ruled, fought with the righteous,
One against many, and won; so Herot
Stood empty, and stayed deserted for years,
Twelve winters of grief for Hrothgar, king
Of the Danes
His misery leaped
The seas, was told and sung in all
Men’s ears: how Grendel’s hatred began,
How the monster relished his savage war
On the Danes, keeping the bloody feud
Alive, seeking no peace, offering
No truce, accepting no settlement,
Killing as often as he could, coming
Alone, bloodthirsty and horrible. Though he lived
In Herot, when the night hid him, he never
Dared to touch king Hrothgar’s glorious
Throne, protected by God
But Hrothgar’s
Heart was bent. The best and most noble
Of his council debated remedies, sat
In secret sessions, talking of terror
And wondering what the bravest of warriors could do
So the living sorrow of Healfdane’s son
Simmered, bitter and fresh, and no wisdom
Or strength could break it: That agony hung
On king and people alike, harsh
And unending, violent and cruel, and evil.
In his far-off home Beowulf, Higlac’s
Follower and the strongest of the Geats—greater
And stronger than anyone anywhere in this world—
Heard how Grendel filled nights with horror
And quickly commanded a boat fitted out,
Proclaiming that he’d go to that famous king,
Would sail across the sea to Hrothgar,
Now when help was needed. None
Of the wise ones regretted his going, much
As he was loved by the Geats
The omens were good,
And they urged the adventure on. So Beowulf
Chose the mightiest men he could find,
The bravest and best of the Geats, fourteen
In all, and led them down to their boat;
He knew the sea, would point the prow
Straight to that distant Danish shore. . .

Seatwork #2

1. Describe Grendal’s lair. How does it compare to Herot?
2. What is the story of Cain and Abel?
3. What is the significance of Grendel being descended from Cain?
4. What does Grendel do in his first attack on Herot?
5. Why does Grendel attack Herot?
6. What extreme measure do some of Hrothgar’s men go to in order to find some power to defeat Grendel?

Sunday, June 12, 2011

Assignment #1 - To be submitted on tuesday, not later than 7:10 Am.

Assignment #1

DIRECTIONS: Answer all of the questions below.
Use yellow pad and answer IN COMPLETE SENTENCES.


1. In your own words, what is the concept and nature of heroism. What acts are usually considered heroic? What characteristics do most heroes have in common? Who are considered real-life heroes?
2. What is an epic? What makes something/someone an epic?
3. Who wrote Beowulf, around what time, and what was the original
document known called?
4. Who is Beowulf? In what part of the world does the story of Beowulf take place?

First Handout - Juniors SY 2011-2012 (Beowulf)

*Some lines and parts were deleted for easy
comprehension

Prologue

Hear me! We’ve heard of Danish Heroes,
ancient kings and glory they cut
for themselves, swinging mighty swords!
How Shild* made slaves of soldiers from every
land, crowds of captives he’d beaten
into terror; he’d traveled to Denmark alone,
an abandoned child, but changed his own fate,
lived to be rich and much honored. He ruled
lands on all sides: whatever the sea
would take them his soldiers sailed, returned
with tribute and obedience. There was a brave
King! And he gave them more than his glory,
conceived a son for the Danes, a new leader
allowed them by the grace of God.
Now the Lord of all life, Ruler
of glory, blessed them with a prince, Beo*,
whose power and fame soon spread through the world.
Shild’s strong son was the glory of Denmark;
His father’s warriors were wound round his heart
with golden rings, bound to their prince
by his father’s treasure.
When his time was come the old king died,
still strong but called to the Lord’s hands.
His comrades carried him down to the shore,
Bore him as their leader had asked, their lord
and companion, while words could move on his tongue.
Shild’s reign had been long; he’d ruled them well.
There in the harbor was a ship, its timber icy, waiting,
and there they brought the beloved body
of their ring – giving lord, and laid him near
the mast. Next to that noble corpse
they heaped up treasures, jeweled helmets,
hooked swords, coats and armor
carried from the ends of the earth: no ship
had ever sailed so brightly fitted,
No king sent forth more deeply mourned.
High over his head they flew
his shining banner, then sadly let
the water pull at the ship, watched it
slowly sliding to where neither rulers
nor heroes nor anyone can say into whose hands
opened to take that motionless cargo.

Part 1

Then Beo was king in that Danish castle,
Shild’s son ruling as long as his father
and as loved, a famous lord of men.
And he in turn gave his people a son,
the great Healfdane*, a fierce fighter
who led the Danes to the end of his long
life and left them four children,
Three princes to guide them in battle, Hergar*
And Hrothgar* and Halga* the good, and one daughter.
Yrs*, who was given to Onela*, king of the Swedes,
and became his wife and their queen.
Then Hrothgar, taking the throne, led the Danes
to such glory.
And he thought of greatness and resolved to build a hall
that would hold his mighty band and reach higher
toward Heaven than anything that had ever been known to the sons of men.
And in that hall that he’d divide the spoils of their
victories, to old and young what they’d earned
in battle.
The work was ordered, the timbers tied and shaped
by the hosts that Hrothgar ruled. It was quickly
ready, that most beautiful dwellings, built
as he’d wanted, and then he whose word was obeyed
All over the earth named it Herot.
His boast come true he commanded a banquet,
opened out his treasure – full hands.

Assignment #2 - To be submitted tomorrow not later than 7:10 AM

1. Who is Shild? Why does the poem begin here, rather than with Hrothgar and Grendel?
2. Describe what is done for Shild after he dies.
3. Describe the relationship (genealogy) between the following: Shild, Beo. Healfdane, Hergar, Hrothgar, Halga the Good, Yrs, and Onela.
4. Describe Herot.

*Bring magazines and art materials (e.g. colored pens, markers, scissors etc.)