Цитаты из книги Беовульф

Боги не сделают за нас то, что мы должны сделать сами.

Страны дальние хороши для того, кто и сам неплох.

Судьба от смерти того спасает, кто сам бесстрашен!

“We are retainers From Hygelac’s band. Beowulf is my name. If your lord and master, the most renowned Son of Halfdane, will hear me out And graciously allow me to greet him in person, I am ready and willing to report my errand.”

So they went on their way. The ship rode the water, Broad-beamed, bound by its hawser And anchored fast. Boar-shapes flashed Above their cheek-guards, the brightly forged Work of goldsmiths, watching over Those stern-faced men. They marched in step, Hurrying on till the timbered hall Rose before them, radiant with gold. Nobody on earth knew of another Building like it. Majesty lodged there, And its light shone over many lands.

They said that of all the kings upon the earth He was the man most gracious and fair-minded, Kindest to his people and keenest to win fame.

“Now shall flame consume Our leader in battle, the blaze darken Round him who stood his ground in the steel-hail, When the arrow-storm shot from bowstrings Pelted from the shield-wall. The shaft hit home. Feather-fledged, it finned the barb in flight.”

There, on the sand, where his soul had left him, They found him at rest, their ring-giver From days gone by. The great man Had breathed his last. Beowulf the King Had indeed met with a marvelous death.

We must hurry now To take a last look at the king And launch him, lord and lavisher of rings, On the funeral road. His royal pyre Will melt no small amount of gold: Heaped there in the hoard, it was bought at heavy cost, And that pile of rings he paid for at the end With his own life will go up in flames, Be furled in fire: treasure no follower Will wear in his memory, nor lovely woman Link and attach as a torque around her neck--

“So this bad blood between us and the Swedes, This vicious feud, I am convinced, Is bound to revive; they will cross our borders And attack in force once they find out That Beowulf is dead. In days gone by When our warriors fell and we were undefended He kept our coffers and our kingdoms safe. He worked for the people, but as well as that He behaved like a hero.

“You are the last of us, the only one left Of the Waegmundings. Fate swept us away, Sent my whole brave high-born clan To their final doom. Now I must follow them.” That was the warrior’s last word. He had no more to confide. The furious heat Of the pyre would assail him. His soul fled from his breast To its destined place among the steadfast ones.

Inspired again By the thought of glory, the war-king threw His whole strength behind a sword-stroke And connected with the skull. And Naegling snapped. Beowulf’s ancient iron-gray sword Let him down in the fight. It was never his fortune To be helped in combat by the cutting-edge Of weapons made of iron.

That final day was the first time When Beowulf fought and fate denied him Glory in battle.

Yet the prince of the rings was too proud To line up with a large army Against the sky-plague. He had scant regard For the dragon as a threat, no dread at all Of its courage or strength, for he had kept going Often in the past, through perils and ordeals Of every sort, after he had purged Hrothgar’s hall, triumphed in Heorot And beaten Grendel.

They came against him and his conquering nation, And with cruel force cut him down So that afterwards The wide kingdom Reverted to Beowulf. He ruled it well For fifty winters, grew old and wise As warden of the land Until one began To dominate the dark, a dragon on the prowl

My liking for you Deepens with time, dear Beowulf. What you have done is to draw two peoples, The Geat nation and us neighboring Danes, Into shared peace and a pact of friendship In spite of hatreds we have harbored in the past.

Then, in fury, he flung his sword away. The keen, inlaid, worm-looped-patterned steel Was hurled to the ground: he would have to rely On the might of his arm. So must a man do Who intends to gain enduring glory In a combat. Life doesn’t cost him thought.

Beowulf got ready, Donned his war-gear, indifferent to death;

Benches were pushed back, bedding gear and bolsters Spread across the floor, and one man Lay down to his rest, already marked for death.