3. Mere Ne Andswarode (Ancient English)

[Intro — low drums beneath a single lyre] Oþer niht com; eald sorh aras. Grendles modor geat Heorot sohte. Æschere bær heo fram beorhtum sele; morgen us brohte morðres tacen. Hroðgar weop; we wæpna fengon. Lastas lægdon ofer langne mor. Beowulf foran, we him æfter— blodig spor under blacum miste. [Verse 1 — rapid marching cadence] Ofer myrcne mor, þurh mistige holt, ofer stanhleoþu, stige nearwe, we þone feondlast fylgdon georne, niþer to næsse, þær niht wunode. Þær on holmclife heafod fundon— Æscheres heafod, eorl unlyfigend. Nænig man spræc; horn ana sang. Wind ofer wætre wearð us andswaru. Mere under clife murcne weoll, blodfag, brimfull, beorhtnes bedæled. Wudu oferhelmade wonne yþa; hrimcealde bearwas bugon ofer grund. Fyr on flode feorran glitnode; niceras hwearfdon under neowle wæg. Wyrmas on wætre, wilde sædeor— nænig hors wolde neah þam brime. [Refrain — Geatish voices] Mere ne andswarode! (Mere ne andswarode!) Deop under eorþan, dim under miste! Niþer gæþ se cempa—hwider, ne witon! Mere ne andswarode; mere ana weoll. Niþer! Niþer! (Under yða gewin!) Niþer! Niþer! (Under nihtes grund!) Beowulf gæþ þær nan oðer ne dearr— we on ofre bidaþ, and mere ne spricþ. [Verse 2 — percussion accelerates] Unferð þa brohte ealdne hildebil, Hrunting gehaten, heardecg and mær. Oft hit æt guðe gumena blod dranc; nu læg þæt iren on Beowulfes hand. Byrne ymb breost, beorht helm on heafde, wæpen æt sidan, wyrd him beforan. He beseah us ænne, þa brim he genam— ne bæd he rædes, ne ræste gewat. Holm hine onfeng. Helm niþer hwearf. Hand ofer wæge— þa næs he gesewen. Yþ ofer yþe eode ofer hine; dæg hwile drog, deopnes ne sægde. Ic starode niþer, oþþæt min eage nænigne leoman under lagu fand. [Refrain] Mere ne andswarode! (Mere ne andswarode!) Deop under eorþan, dim under miste! Niþer gæþ se cempa—hwider, ne witon! Mere ne andswarode; mere ana weoll. Niþer! Niþer! (Under yða gewin!) Niþer! Niþer! (Under nihtes grund!) Beowulf niþer; we on ofre bidaþ— word ne com upp, ne wæpnes sweg. [Verse 3 — relentless double-time] Tid eode forð; tungol ne sægon, sunne ofer wolcnum slowlice hwearf. We Geatas sæton, garas æt handa; Dene mid Hroðgare deopne holm beheoldon. Þa wearð wæter wræþlice hrered, yðgeblond ymbhwearf, eall blode fah. Read brim aras—þa rincas cwædon: “Feond hafað sige; freca ne cymþ.” Non dæges com; Dene gewiton, Hroðgar mid him, hreow on mode. Ac we ne ferdon. We Geatas sæton. Nænig us wolde þone næs forlæten. Ic hæfde his scyld; oþer his spere. Þridda stille on þæt wæter starode. We wiston lytel; we wendon wyrst— ac winegedriht ne gewat fram wine. Mere ne andswarode. Blod ana fleow. [Bridge — what Beowulf later told us] Siþþan he aras, sægde us sylfa hwæt under yðum him on weg gelamp: Brimwylf hine grap mid bitrum clommum, bær hine to botme, þær brondleoht scan. Sædeor biton on sidne byrnan; hringnet heold, þeah heard wæs se ræs. In niðsele heo him ongean stod; Hrunting he sloh—ac seo ecg ne bat. Beadoleoma sang, ac blod ne brohte; fyrstmære iren æt þearfe geswac. Þa mundum gefeng se mæg Hygelaces; heo hine oferwearp, seax up ateah. Brunecg wolde þurh byrnan secan— ac hringloca heold his hreþer gesund. Þær on wage hangode wundorlic mece, enta geweorc, eald and ormæte. Nænig oðer mon þone mece bæran meahte; Beowulf hine brægd þurh beaduþearfe. He sloh æt halse— banhringas burston. Merewif feoll— mægnes orwena. Leoht stod inne swa leoma dæges. Þær Grendel læg, guðwundum dead. Beowulf forgyld þa ealdan fæhðe: heafod fram hræw he hearde ascead. Hat blod æt þam hildebille fret; ecg mealt away swa is æt þæwe. Hilt ana belaf, hondum to berenne— and Grendles heafod, gryrelic tacen. [Final Refrain — full ensemble] Þa mere andswarode! (Þa mere andswarode!) Græg helm aras þurh geofenes hrof! Hand ofer wæge! Heafod æfter! Beowulf aras—brim hine ageaf! Þa mere andswarode! (Us þone frean ageaf!) We urnon him to, wæter of byrnan; helm we alysdon, halne hine fundon. Sorg wearð to sige, swigendum dream— Geata gedriht eft hæfde heora wine! Feower þa bæron þæt feondes heafod, heard on wælsteng, Heorote ongean. Hilt bær se hæleð; holm behindan dreorig and dim under dægeseage læg. [Outro — lyre and low drum only] Ic eft beseah þone egeslican mere. Nu wæs he stille; ne styrede se wind. Ac ic ne wende þæt stille wæter sibb hæfde under his sweartan hrofe. Mere ne andswarode— oþþæt hit Beowulf ageaf!