Chapter 16: XV

THERE was hurry and hest in Heorot nowfor hands to bedeck it, and dense was the throngof men and women the wine-hall to cleanse,the guest-room to garnish. Gold-gay shone the hangingsthat were wove on the wall, and wonders manyto delight each mortal that looks upon them.Though braced within by iron bands,that building bright was broken sorely; {15a}rent were its hinges; the roof aloneheld safe and sound, when, seared with crime,the fiendish foe his flight essayed,of life despairing. -- No light thing that,the flight for safety, -- essay it who will!Forced of fate, he shall find his wayto the refuge ready for race of man,for soul-possessors, and sons of earth;and there his body on bed of deathshall rest after revel.Arrived was the hourwhen to hall proceeded Healfdene's son:the king himself would sit to banquet.Ne'er heard I of host in haughtier throngmore graciously gathered round giver-of-rings!Bowed then to bench those bearers-of-glory,fain of the feasting. Featly receivedmany a mead-cup the mighty-in-spirit,kinsmen who sat in the sumptuous hall,Hrothgar and Hrothulf. Heorot nowwas filled with friends; the folk of Scyldingsne'er yet had tried the traitor's deed.To Beowulf gave the bairn of Healfdenea gold-wove banner, guerdon of triumph,broidered battle-flag, breastplate and helmet;and a splendid sword was seen of manyborne to the brave one. Beowulf tookcup in hall: {15b} for such costly giftshe suffered no shame in that soldier throng.For I heard of few heroes, in heartier mood,with four such gifts, so fashioned with gold,on the ale-bench honoring others thus!O'er the roof of the helmet high, a ridge,wound with wires, kept ward o'er the head,lest the relict-of-files {15c} should fierce invade,sharp in the strife, when that shielded heroshould go to grapple against his foes.Then the earls'-defence {15d} on the floor {15e} bade leadcoursers eight, with carven head-gear,adown the hall: one horse was deckedwith a saddle all shining and set in jewels;'twas the battle-seat of the best of kings,when to play of swords the son of Healfdenewas fain to fare. Ne'er failed his valorin the crush of combat when corpses fell.To Beowulf over them both then gavethe refuge-of-Ingwines right and power,o'er war-steeds and weapons: wished him joy of them.Manfully thus the mighty prince,hoard-guard for heroes, that hard fight repaidwith steeds and treasures contemned by nonewho is willing to say the sooth aright.