Morris Beowulf

Editor's Preface

To those Beowulf enthusiasts, William Morris is not the name that comes to mind when thinking about the best translators of the Old English epic poem. Seamus Heaney, J.R.R. Tolkien certainly. R.M. Liuzza if you are looking for a more academic, classroom version, sure. And even Maria Dahvana Headley's new feminist translation is now commonly recognized amongst the greats. Morris, however, is not. Known for his involvement in the Arts and Crafts Movement, Morris's translation was the product of his Kelmscott Press endevour. Morris's Beowulf, therefore, is not a product of academic scholarship but instead a result of many years fascinated with book art and an attempt to revive gothic stylings. It should be noted that Morris’ translation isn’t even entirely his. Instead, Morris transformed A.J. Wyatt's prose translation into a verse translation, hence why Wyatt is credited in the title. Without Wyatt, Morris would not have been able to create his translation.

Because of Morris's primary interest in the aesthetic of the book and not the scholarship of translation, few scholars have approached his translation with the same academic seriousness as other translations have received. This edition is an academic look at a portion of Morris's translation: Beowulf's battle with Grendel's mother. The purpose of the edition is to do twofold: firstly, to explore the translation decisions made by Morris (and by extension Wyatt), particularly his overuse of kennings, and secondly, to investigate how Morris depicts Grendel's mother in comparison to other translations. For example, one of the most important elements of Morris's translation is recognizing his attempt to "foreignize" his translation. Foreignizing a translation maintains the "otherness" of the source text, hence why Morris uses an over-abundance of kennings. Foreignized translations remind the reader that the original text was written in a different place, culture, and time. Instead of making the text accessible for the audience, the translation is focused on the "purity" of the text, on maintaining as much of the essence of the original translation as possible in the translated language. As Hugh Magennis writes in Translating Beowulf: Modern Versions in English: Morris's version is unlike any other, hitting the reader between the eye in suggesting the otherness of Beowulf.

The reaction to Morris’ translation might be categorized as extreme when looking at the immediate responses and even more recent responses. Chris Jones describes the main criticisms to be that Morris does not so much translate as transliterate, making diction obscure and the syntax archaic and affected. In other words, Morris was so concerned with producing a text that felt other and foreign that he forgot to ask himself whether that was a good idea to begin with. The result is a text that is bloated with kennings, an Old English literary device that is a compound expression resulting in a metaphorical meaning and confused by obsolete language. Nevertheless, Morris's text still deserves to be treated as a part of the grand tradition of translating Beowulf and given the same respect that other translators have received by the academic community in terms of analyzing their translations.

As to why I have chosen to transcribe the fight between Beowulf and Grendel's mother, the reason is due, in part, to an interest in how men view Grendel's mother and how that impression comes through in their translation decisions. With the emergence of Headley's Beowulf translation from 2020, in which Grendel's mother is described as a reclusive night-queen, the mighty mere-wife, I have begun to ask myself how male translations compare to this female translation of one of the only female characters in the entire epic. Headley transforms Grendel's mother into a warrior-woman who avenges her son, a character that we should cheer for and feel sorrow over when she is killed. Similarly, Meghan Purvis, in her not quite translation but rather disection of Beowulf into smaller poems, describes Grendel's mother as an avenger and asks the question: and was she less frightening / for being a woman? -- hardly. So how does Morris address the queen of the marshland? Is he in favor of her rights to protect her land and her son? Or is she merely a monster to be vanquished as other male translators have depicted her.

In terms of the actual editing process, I have kept the text as close to Morris's original edition as possible. This means that the transcription maintains the language which has now been categorized as archaic and obsolete. In addition, Morris does not mark when the characters are speaking through the use of quotation marks. This transcription has maintained the lack of quotation marks.The most important editing aspect that I have added to Morris's text is addition of my own notes and observations regarding his translation decisions which can be found in the footnotes of each section.

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Amelia Lehosit, Editor, 2022

The Tale of Sometime King of the Folk of the Weder Geats

The Battle Between Grendel's Mother and Beowulf

XX. Grendel's dam breaks into Hart and bears off Aeschere

So sank they to slumber; but one paid full sorely
 For his rest of the even, as to them fell full often 
Sithence that the gold-hall Grendel had guarded,
And won deed of upright, until that the end came
And death after sinning: but clear was it shown now,
Wide wotted of men, that e'en yet was a wreaker1
Living after the loathly, a long while of time
After the battle-care, Grendel's own mother;Of Grendel's dam
The woman, the monster-wife, minded her woe,
She who needs must in horror of waters be wonning,
The streams all a-cold, sithence2 Cain was become
For an edge-bane forsooth to his own brother,
The own son of his father. Forth bann'd then he fared,
All marked by murder, from man's joy to flee,
And dwelt in the waste-land. Thence woke there a many 
Ghosts shaped of old time, of whom one was Grendel, 
The fierce wolf, the hateful, who found him at Hart3
A man there a-watching, abiding the war-tide;
Where to him the fell ogre to hand-grips befell;
Howe'er he him minded of the strength of his might,
The great gift set fast in him given of God,
And trowed in grace by the All-wielder given,The Slaying of Aeschere
His fostering, his staying; so the fiend he overcame
And bow'd down the Hell's ghost, that all humble he wended
Fordone of all mirth death's house to go look on,
That fiend of all mankind. But yet was his mother,
The greedy,4 the glum-moody, fain to be going
A sorrowful journey her son's death to wreak.

So came she to Hart whereas now the Ring-Danes
Were sleeping down the hall; soon there befell
Change of days to the earl-folk, when in she came thrusting,
Grendel's mother: and soothly was minish'd the terror
By even so much as the craft-work of maidens,
The war-terror of wife, is beside the man weapon'd,
When the sword all hard boudin, by hammers to-beaten,
The sword all sweat stain'd, through the swine o'er the war-helm
With edges full doughty down rightly sheareth.

But therewith in the hall was tugg'd out the hard edge,
The sword o'er the settles, and wide shields a many
Heaved fast in the hand: no one the helm heeded,
Nor the brynyspan 5 wide-wrought, when the wild fear fell on them.
In haste was she then, and out would she thenceforth
For the saving her life, whenas she should be found there.
But one of the athelings she speedily handled
And caught up full fast, and fenward so fared.
But he was unto Hrothgar the liefest of heroes
Of the sort of the fellows; betwixt the two sea-floods
A mighty shield-warrior, whom she at rest brake up,
A war-wight well famed. There Beowulf was not;
Another house soothly had erewhile been dighted
After gift of that treasure to that great one of Geats.

Uprose cry then in Hart, all ‘mid gore had she takenBeowulf asks Hrothgar
The hand, then well-known, and now care wrought anew
That on both halves they needs must be buying that tide
With the life-days of friends. Then the lord king, the wise,
The hoary of war-folk, was harmed of mood
When his elder of thanes and he now unloving,
The dearest of all, he knew to be dead.
To the bower full swiftly was Beowulf brought now,
The man victory-dower'd; together with day-dawn
Went he, one of the earls, that champion beworthy'd,
Himself with his fellows, where the wise was abiding
To wot if the All-wielder ever will to him
After the tale of woe happy change work.
Then went down the floor he the war-worthy
With the host of his hand, when high dinn'd the hall wood,
Till he there was the wise one with words had well greeted,
The lord of Ingwines, and ask'd had the night been.
Since sore he was summon'd, a night of sweet easement.

XXI. Hrothgar laments the slaying of Aeschere, and tells of Grendel's mother and her den

Spake out then Hrothgar the helm of the Scyldings:
Ask no more after bliss; for Aeschere is dead,
He who was Yrmenlaf's elder of brethren,
My wise man of runes, my bearer of redes,
Mine own shoulder-fellow, when we in war-tide
Warded our heads and the host on the host fell,
And the boars were a-crashing; e'en such should an earl be,
An atheling exceeding good, e'en as was Aeschere.Hrothgar tells of Grendel's dam
Now in Hart hath befallen for a hand-bane unto him
A slaughter-ghost wandering; naught wot I whither
The fell one, the carrion-proud, far'd hath her back-fare,
By her fill made all famous. That feud hath she wreaked
Wherein yesternight gone by Grendel thou quelledst
Through thy hardihood fierce with grips hard enow.
For that he over-long the lief people of me
Made to wane and undid. In the war then he cringed,
Being forfeit of life. But now came another,
An ill-scather mighty, her son to awreak;
And further hath she now the feud set on foot
As many well be deemed of many a thane,
Who after the wealth-giver weepers in mind,
A hard bale of heart. Now the hand lieth low
Which well-night for every joy once did avail you.

The dwellers in land here, my people indeed,
The wise-of-rede hall-folk, have I heard say e'en this:
That they have set eyes on two such-like erewhile,
Two mickle mark-striders1 the moorland a-holding,
Ghosts come from elsewhere, but of them one there was,
As full certainly might they then know it to be,
In the likeness of woman; and other shap'd loathly
All after man's image trod the tracks of the exile,
Save that more was he shaped than any man other;
And in days gone away now they named him Grendel,
The dwellers in fold; they wot not if a father
Unto him was born ever in the days of erewhile
Of dark ghosts. They dwell in a dim hidden land,
The wolf bents they bide in, on the nesses2 the windy,
The perilous fen-paths where the stream of the fell-side
Midst the mists of the nesses wends netherward ever,
The flood under earth. Naught far away hence,Of the abode of those twain
But a mile-mark forsooth, there standeth the mere,3
And over it ever hang groves all berimed,
The wood fast by the roots over-helmeth the water.
But each night may one a dread wonder there see,
A fire in the flood. But none liveth so wise
Of the bairns4 of mankind, that the bottom may know.
Although the heath-stepper beswinked by hounds,
The hart strong of horns, the holt-wood should seek to
Driven fleeing from far, he shall sooner leave life,
Leave life-breath on the bank, or ever will he
Therein hide his head. No hallow'd stead is it:
Thence the blending of water-waves ever upriseth
Wan up to the welkin,5 whenso the wind stirreth
Weather-storms loathly, until the lift darkens
And weepeth the heavens. Now along the rede wendeth
Of thee again only. Of that earth yet thou know'st not,
The fearful of steads, wherein thou mayst find
That much-sinning wight; seek then if thou dare,
And thee for that feud will I guerdon6 with fee,
The treasures of old time, as erst did I do,
With the gold all-bewounden,7 if away thence thou get thee.

XXII. They follow Grendel's dam to her lair

Spake out then Beowulf of Ecgtheow's bairn:
O wise of men, mourn not; for to each man 'tis better
That his friend he wreak than weep overmuch.
Lo! each of us soothly abideth the ending
Of the life of the world. Then let him work who work may
High deeds ere the death: to the doughty of war-lads
When he is unliving shall it best be hereafter.They follow her slot
Rise up, warder of kingdom! And swiftly now wend we
The Grendel Kinswoman's late goings to look on;
And this I behote1 thee, that to holm shall she flee not,
Nor into earth's fathom, nor into the fell-holt,
Nor the grounds of the ocean, go whereas she will go.
For this one of days patience dree2 thou a while then
Of each one of thy woes, as I ween it of thee.
Then leapt up the old man, and lightly gave God thank,
That mighty of Lords, for the word which the man spake.
And for Hrothgar straightway then was bitted a horse,
A wave-maned steed: and the wise of princes
Went stately his ways; and stepp'd out the man-troop,
The linden-board bearers. Now lightly the tracks were
All through the woodland ways wide to be seen there,
Her goings o'er ground; she had gotten her forthright
Over the mirk-moor: bore she of kindred thanes
The best that there was, all bare of his soul,
Of them that with Hrothgar heeded the home.
Overwent then that bairn of the athelings
Steep bents of the stones, and stridings full narrow,
Strait paths nothing pass'd over, ways all uncouth,
Sheer nesses to wit, many houses of nicks.

He one of the few was going before
Of the wise of the men the meadow to look on,
Until suddenly there the trees of the mountains
Over the hoar-stone3 found he a-leaning,
A wood without gladness: the water stood under
Dreary and troubled. Unto all the Danes was it,
To the friends of the Scyldings, most grievous in mood
To many of thanes such a thing to be tholing,4They see marvelous beasts
Sore evil to each of earls, for of Aeschere
The head did they find e'en there on the holm-cliff;
The flood with gore welled (the folk looking on it),
With hot blood. But whiles then the horn fell to singing
A song of war eager. There sat down the band;
They saw down the water a many of worm-kind,
Sea-drakes seldom seen a-kenning the sound;
Likewise on the ness-bents nicors5 a-lying,
Who oft on the undern-tide wont are to hold them
A course full of sorrow all over the sail-road.
Now the worms and the wild' deer away did they speed
Bitter and wrath-swollen all as they heard it,
The war-horn a-wailing: but one the Geats' warden
With his bow of the shafts from his life-days there sunder'd,
From his strife of the waves; so that stood in his life-parts
The hard arrow of war; and he in the holm was
The slower in swimming as death away swept him.
So swiftly in sea-waves with boar-spears forsooth
Sharp-hook'd and hard-press'd was he thereupon,
Set on with fierce battle, and on to the ness tugg'd,
The wondrous wave-bearer; and men were beholding
The grisly guest, Beowulf therewith he gear'd him
With weeds of the earls: nowise of life reck'd he:
Needs must his war-byrny, braided by hands,
Wide, many-colour'd by cunning, the sound seek,
E'en that which his bone-coffer knew how to ward,
So that the war-grip his heart ne'er a while,
The foe-snatch of the wrathful his life ne'er should scathe;
Therewith the white war-helm warded his head,
E'en that which should mingle with ground of the mere,
And seek the sound-welter, with treasures beworthy'd,Of the sword Hrunting
All girt with the lordly chains, as in days gone by
The weapon-smith wrought it most wondrously done.
Beset with the swine-shapes, so that sithence
The brand or the battle-blades never might bite it.
Nor forsooth was that littlest of all of his mainstays,
Which to him in his need lent the spokesman6 of Hrothgar,
E'en the battle-sword hafted that had to name Hrunting,
That in fore days was one of the treasures of old,
The edges of iron with the poison twigs o'er-stain'd,
With battle-sweat harden'd; in the brunt never fail'd he
Any one of the warriors whose hand wound about him,
Who in grisly wayfarings durst ever to wend him
To the folk-stead of foemen. Not the first of times was it
That battle-work doughty7 it had to be doing.
Forsooth naught remember'd that son there of Ecglaf,
The crafty in mighty deeds, what ere he quoth
All drunken with wine, when the weapon he lent
To a doughtier sword-wolf: himself naught he durst it
Under war of the waves there his life to adventure
And warrior-ship work. So forwent he the glory,
The fair fame of valour. Naught far'd so the other
Seth he to the war-tide had gear'd him to wend.

XXIII. Beowulf reacheth the mere-bottom in a day's while, and contends with Grendel's dam

Out then spake Beowulf, Ecgtheow's bairn:
Forsooth be thou mindful, O great son of Healfdene,
O praise of the princes, now way-fain am I,
O gold-friend of men, what we twain spake aforetime:Beowulf goes to the sea-ground
If to me for thy need it might so befall
That I cease from my life-days, thou shouldest be ever
To me, forth away wended, in the stead of a father.
Do thou then bear in hand these thanes of my kindred,
My hand-fellows, if so be battle shall have me;
Those same treasures withal, which thou gavest me erst,
O Hrothgar the lief, unto Hygelac send thou;
By that gold then shall wot the lord of the Geat-folk,
Shall Hrethel's son see, when he stares on the treasure,
That I in fair man-deeds a good one have found me,
A ring-giver; while I might, joy made I thereof.
And let thou then Unferth the ancient loom have,
The wave-sword adorned, that men kenned widely,
The blade of hard edges; for I now with Hrunting
Will work me the glory, or else shall death get me.

So after these words the Weder-Geats' chieftain

With might of heart hasten'd; nor for answer then would he

Aught tarry; the sea-welter straightway took hold on

The warrior of men: wore the while of daytide

Or ever the ground-plain might he set eyes on.

Soon did she find, she who flood-ring
Sword-ravening had held for an hundred of seasons,
Greedy and grim, that there one man of grooms
The abode of the alien-wights sought from above;
Then toward him she grasp'd and gat hold on the warrior
With fell clutch, but no sooner she scathed withinward
The hale body; rings from without-ward it warded,
That she could in no wise the war-skin clutch through,
The fast locked limb-sark, with fingers all loathly.
So bare then that sea wolf when she came unto bottom
The king of the rings of the court-hall down
In such wise that he might not, though hard-moody was he,Hrunting will not bite the carline
Be wielding of weapons. But a many of wonders
In sea-swimming swine'd him, and many a sea-deer1
With his war-tusks was breaking his sark of the battle;
The fell wights him follow'd. 'Twas then the earl found it
That in foe-hall there was he, I wot not of which,
Where never the water might scathe him a whit,
Nor because of the roof-hall might reach to him there
The fear-grip of the flood. Now fire-light he saw,
The bleak beam forsooth all brightly a-shining.
Then the good one, he saw the wolf2 on the ground,
The mere-wife3 the mighty, and main onset made he
With his battle-bill; never his hand withheld sword-wing
So that there on her head sang the ring-sword forsooth
The song of war greedy. But then found the guest
That the beam of the battle would bite not therewith,
Or scathe life at all, but there failed the edge
The king in his need. It had ere thol'd a many
Of meetings of hand; oft it sheared the helm,
The host-rail of the fey one;4 and then was the first time
For that treasure dear lov'd that it might lay a-low.
But therewithal steadfast, naught sluggish of valour,
All mindful of high deeds of Hygelac's kinsman.
Cast then the wounded blade bound with the gem-stones
The warrior all angry, that it lay on the earth there,
Stiff-wrought and steel-edged. In strength now he trusted,
The hard hand-grip of might and main; so shall a man do
When he in the war-tide yet locket to winning
The praise that is longsome, nor aught for life careth.
The fast by the shoulder, of the feud nothing recking,
The lord of the War-Gets clutch'd Grendel's mother,
Cast down the battle-hard, pollen with anger,
That foe of the life, till she bow'd to the floor;Beowulf gets a new sword
But swiftly to him gave she back the hand-guerdon
With hand-grasping grim, and griped6 against him;
Then mood-weary stumbled the strongest of warriors,
The foot-kemp, until that down there he fell.
Then she sat on the hall-guest and tugg'd out her sax,7
The broad and brown-edged, to wreak8 her her son,
Her offspring her own. But lay yet on his shoulder
The breast-net well braided, the berg of his life,
The ‘gainst point and ‘gainst edge the entrance withstood.
Gone amiss then forsooth had been Ecgtheow's son
Underneath the wide ground there, the kemp of the Seats,
Save to him his war-byrny had Fram'd him him a help,
The hard host-net; and save that the Lord God the Holy
Had wielded the war-gain, the Lord the All-wise;
Save the skies' Ruler had right wisely doom'd it
All easily. Sithence he stood up again.

XXIV. Beowulf slayeth Grendel's dam, smitten off Grendel's head, and cometh back with his thanes to Hart

Midst the war-gear he saw then a bill victory-wealthy,
An old sword of eaters full doughty of edges,
The worship of warriors. That was choice of all weapons,
Save that more was it made than any man other
In the battle-play ever might bear it afield,
So goodly, all glorious, the work of giants.
Then girdled hilt seized he, the Wolf of the Scyldings,
The rough and sword-grim, and drew forth the ring-sword,
Naught weening of life, and wrathful he smote then
So that there on her halse1 the hard edge begripped,
And brake through the bone-rings: the bill all through-wadedHe slays Grendel's dam
Her flesh-sheathing fey; cring'd she down on the floor;
The sword was war-sweaty, the man in his work joy'd.
The bright beam shone forth, the light stood withinward,
E'en as down from the heavens' clear high aloft shineth
The sky's candle. He all along the house scanned;
Then turn'd by the wall along, heav'd up his weapon
Hard by the hilts the Hygelac's thane there,
Ireful one-reded; naught worthless the edge was
Unto the warrior; but rathely now would he
To Grendel make payment of many war-onsets,
Of them that he wrought on the folk of the West Danes
Oftener by mickle than one time alone,
When's he the hearth fellows of Hrothgar the King
Slew in their slumber and fretted them sleeping,
Men fifteen to wit of the folk of the Danes,
And e'en such another deal ferry'd off outward,
Loathly prey. Now he paid him his guerdon therefor,
The fierce champion; so well, that abed there he saw
Where Grendel war-weary was lying adown
Forlorn of his life, as him ere had scathed
The battle at Hart; sprang wide the body,
Sithence after death he suffer'd the stroke,
The hard swing of sword. Then he smote the head off him.

Now soon were they seeing, those sage of the carles,2
E'en they who with Hrothgar gaz'd down on the holm,
That the surge of the billows was blended about,
The sea stain'd with blood. Therewith the hoar-blended,
The old men, of the good one gat talking together
That they of the Atheling ween'd never eft-soon
That he, glad in his war-gain, should wend him a-seeking
The mighty king, since unto many it seemedThe Scyldings flee. Beowulf comes to land again
That him the mere-she-wolf3 had sunder'd and broken.
Came then nones of the day, and the ness there they gave up,
The Scyldings the brisk; and then busk'd him home thence-ward
The gold-friend of men. But the guests, there they sat
All sick of their mood, and star'd on the mere;
They wist not, they ween'd not if him their own friend-lord
Himself they should see.

Now that sword began
Because of the war-sweat into icicles war-made,
The war-bill, to wane: that was one of the wonders
That it melted away most like unto ice
When the bond of the frost the Father lets loosen,
Unwindeth the wave-ropes, e'en he that hath wielding
Of times and of seasons, who is the sooth Shaper.

In those wicks there he took not, the Weder-Geats' champion,
Of treasure-wealth more, though he saw there a many,
Than the off-smitten head and the sword-hilts together
With treasure made shifting; for the sword-blade was molten,
The sword broider'd was burn'd up, so hot was the blood,
So poisonous the alien ghost there that had died.
Now soon was a-swimming he who erst in the strife bode
The war-onset of wrath ones; he div'd up through the water;
And now were the wave-welters cleansed full well,
Yea the dwellings full wide, where the ghost of elsewhither
Let go of his life-days and the waning of living.
Came then unto land the helm of the ship-lads
Swimming stout-hearted, glad of his sea-spoil,
The burden so mighty of that which he bore there.
Yode then against him and gave thanks to God
That fair heap of thanes, and were fain of their lord,
For that hale and sound now they might see him with eyen;The Geats bring Grendel's head to Hrothgar
Then was from the bold one the helm and the byrny
All speedily loosen'd. The lake was now laid,
The water ‘neath welkin with war-gore destained.
Forth then they far'd them amongst of the foot-tracks,
Men fain of heart all, as they meted the earth-way,
The street the well known; then those king-bold of men
Away from the holm-cliff the head there they bore
Uneasily ever to each one that bore it,
The full stout-heart of men: it was four of them needs must
On the stake of the slaughter with strong toil there ferry
Unto the gold-hall the head of that Grendel;
Fierce, keen in the hosting, a fourteen of men
Of the Geat-folk a-ganging; and with them their lord,
The moody amidst of the throng, trod the mead-plains;
Came then in a-wending the foreman of thanes,
The man keen of his deeds all beworshipp'd of doom,
The hero, the battle-deer, Hrothgar to greet.
Then was by the fell borne in onto the floor
Grendel's head, whereas men were a-drinking in hall,
Awful before the earls, yea and the woman.

Footnotes for Section Twenty

1. Wreacker means one who takes vengeance; an avenger. Archaic. This is a wise translation of the Old English wrecend which means avenger. (OED)

2. Sithence means then, thereupon; afterwards, subsequently. Obsolete. (OED)

3. In Morris' text, Hereot is referred to as Hart, the translation of the Old English.

4. The choice to translate gifre is not the most accurate choice. A more accurate translation would be to describe Grendel's mother as being eager or desirous which points toward her revenge. She is not greedy in storming Hereot but desirous of revenge.

5. Byrny means a coat of mail. This is a Middle English term.

Footnotes for Section Twenty-One

1. Mickle is a Scottish term for very large

2. Nesses means a promontory, headland, or cape. From the Old English næs(OED)

3. Mere means a sheet of standing water; a lake; a pond; a pool. From the Old English meri(OED)

4. Bairns means children. From the Old English bearn(OED)

5. Welkin means cloud. From the Old English wolcen(OED)

6. Guerdon means to reward, recompense. From the Middle English guerdone(OED)

7. Bewounden is not found in the Oxford English Dictionary so the meaning here can be deduced to speak of Beowulf being given a great amount of gold

Footnotes for Section Twenty-Two

1. Behote means a promise. From the Old English behát(OED)

2. Dree means to perform, do, carry out (OED)

3. A hoar-stone or "hoarstone" is a stone used to either mark a boundary or serve as a memorial. Based on context, we can assume this hoar-stone was meant to mark the boundary between the civilized world of the Danes and the uncivilized marshland of Grendel and his mother.

4. Thole means to be subjected to exposed to (something evil); to be afflicted with; to have to bear, suffer, endure, undergo. From the Old English þolian

5. The Old English nicormeans "nixie," a shape-shifting water creature

6. In the original Old English text, this is Unferth, marking a shift in his relationship with Beowulf when compared to their earlier boasting scene.

7. Doughty means characterized by or exhibiting courage and determination. From the Old English dihtig

Footnotes for Section Twenty-Three

1. It is unclear as to why Morris decides to translate sædēor which means "sea-beasts" as "sea-deer," especially since the next line references "war-tusks."

2. Here Morris maintains a close translation of the Old English grundwyrgenne which means a wolf of the deep. In contrast, Seamus Heaney translates the word to be "swamp-thing from hell" (1518) and R.M. Liuzza calls her a "water-witch" (1518)

3. Morris offers a literal translation of merewīf. Other translators have used "tarn-hag" (Heaney ln 1519) and other monstrous words to emphasize the monstrocity of Grendel's mother.

4. Fey here means fated to die, doomed to death; at the point of dying. From the Old English fæges(OED)

5. This is an interesting kenning as "guerdon" means reward, requital, or recompense (OED). This kenning suggests Grendel's mother being an equal match to Beowulf's strength, able to return his previous attack through gripping her shoulder.

6. Griped means to grasp or clutch. From the Old English grípan. Here Morris has maintained the Old English as closely as he could.

7. Sax here means a knife, short sword or dagger (OED) but a modern reader cannot also help but think of her sex as she sits on Beowulf and the position of the female over the male.

8. Wreak means to avenge (a person). From the Old English wrecan(OED)

Footnotes for Section Twenty-Four

1. Halse means neck. From the Old English hals, heals(OED)

2. Carle means a man of the common people. (OED)

3. Morris's description of Beowulf's championing over the mere-she-wolf relfects the common depiction of Beowulf as triumphant hero. This depiction is shifting with the progress of the academic discourse in which Beowulf is viewed as invader and Grendel's mother--and to an extent Grendel-- is viewed as defender of their lands in a hostile takeover. For further reading, turn to Maria Dahvana Headley's translation and Meghan Purvis's.

The Tale of Beowulf

Anonymous

Edited and Translated by William Morris

1895

Based on Translations by A.J. Wyatt