there showed.
All that throng was in joy, nor life-long saw I ever
Under vault of the heavens amidst any hall-sitters
More mirth of the mead. There the mighty Queen whiles,
Peace-sib of the folk, went all over the floor,
To the young sons bade heart up; oft she there the ring-wreath
Gave unto a man ere to settle she wended.
At whiles fore the doughty the daughter of Hrothgar 2020
To the earls at the end the ale-bucket bore;
E'en she whom Freawaru the floor-sitters thereat
Heard I to name; where she the nail'd treasure
Gave to the warriors. She was behight then
Youngling and gold-dight to the glad son of Froda.
This hath seemed fair to the friend of the Scyldings,
The herd of the realm, and good rede he accounts it,
That he with that wife of death-feuds a deal
And of strifes should allay. Oft unseldom eachwhere
After a lord's fall e'en but for a little 2030
Bows down the bane-spear, though doughty the bride be.

XXX. BEOWULF FOREBODES ILL FROM THE WEDDING OF FREAWARU:
HE TELLS OF GRENDEL AND HIS DAM.

Ill-liking this may be to the lord of the Heathobards,
And to each of the thanes of that same people.
When he with fair bride on the floor of hall wendeth,
That the Dane's noble bairn his doughty should wait on,
As on him glisten there the heirlooms of the aged,
Hard and with rings bedight, Heathobards' treasure,
Whileas the weapons yet they might wield;
Till astray did they lead there at the lind-play
Their own fellows belov'd and their very own lives. 2040
For then saith at the beer, he who seeth the ring,
An ancient ash-warrior who mindeth of all
The spear-death of men; grim is he of mind;
Sad of mood he beginneth to tell the young champion.
Through the thought of his heart his mind there to try,
The war-bale to waken, and sayeth this word:
Mayest thou, friend mine, wot of the war-sword,
That which thy father bore in the fight
Under the war-mask e'en on the last time,
That the dear iron, whereas the Danes slew him, 2050
Wielded the death-field, since Withergyld lay,
After fall of the heroes, the keen-hearted Scyldings?
Now here of those banesmen the son, whoseso he be,
All merry in fretwork forth on floor fareth;
Of the murder he boasteth, and that jewel he beareth,
E'en that which of right thou shouldest arede.
Thus he mindeth and maketh word