Beowulf
Beowulf poet, 1000
A hall under nightly siege, a stranger who volunteers to face the thing in the dark, and a poet who makes boasting, grief and fate sound like weather. The oldest English epic.
Beowulf poet
1856–1928
The only surviving manuscript, written around 1000, was scorched in a 1731 fire at Ashburnham House. Nobody knows who composed the poem, and the manuscript gives it no title.
Feels like awe, adventure and dread.
What happens to a person when nothing has ever gone wrong.
He often permitteth the mood-thought of man of The illustrious lineage to lean to possessions, 80 Allows him earthly delights at his manor, A high-burg of heroes to hold in his keeping, Maketh portions of earth-folk hear him, And a wide-reaching kingdom so that, wisdom failing him, He himself is unable to reckon its boundaries; 85 He liveth in luxury, little debars him, Nor sickness nor age, no treachery-sorrow Becloudeth his spirit, conflict nowhere, No sword-hate, appeareth, but all of the world doth Wend as he wisheth; the worse he knoweth not, 90 Till arrant arrogance inward pervading, Waxeth and springeth, when the warder is sleeping, The guard of the soul: with sorrows encompassed, Too sound is his slumber, the slayer is near him, Who with bow and arrow aimeth in malice. Books by Beowulf poet
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