The Fight at Finnsburg story in Beowulf

The fight at Finnsburg is a story within a story

here's the middle of the Finnsburg story

[Line 1080]

Wīg ealle fornam Finnes þegnas, nemne fēaum ānum, þæt hē ne mehte on þæm meðel-stede wig Hengeste with gefeohtan, nē þā wēa-lāfe wige forþringan, þēodnes ðegnē; þac hig him geþingo budon, þæt hīe him ōðer flet eal gerymdon, healle ond hēah-setl, þæt hīe healfre geweald wið Eotena bearn āgan mōston, ond æt feoh-gyftum, Folc-waldan sunu dōgra gehwylce Dene weorþode, Hengestes hēap hringgum wenede efne swā swīðe,

Rendering

Battle swept Finn's retainers near all away, but only few was he able, to muster for a final-fight, with Hengeste the prince's retainer, nor were those wounded brought out, so to him he offered truce, to entirely clear out another house, for hall and throne, and there allowed Hengeste's men to once more, in treasure-giving share half with the sons of Jute. Thus, the Folk-warden’s son honored the Danes each day, just the same as Hengeste's troops were ring-treated,

and this the end

Battle swept Finn's retainers near all away, but only few was he able, to muster for a final-fight, with Hengeste the prince's retainer, nor were those wounded brought out, so to him he offered truce, to entirely clear out another house, for hall and throne, and there allowed Hengeste's men to once more, in treasure-giving share half with the sons of Jute. Thus, the Folk-warden’s son honored the Danes each day, just the same as Hengeste's troops were ring-treated,

and this the end

[line 1109]

Here-scyldinga betst beado-rinca wæs on bæl gearu. æt þæm ade wæs eþgesyne swat-fah syrce, swyn ealgylden, eofer irenheard, æþeling manig wundum awyrded; sume on wæle crungon. Het ða Hildeburh æt Hnæfes ade hire selfre sunu sweoloðe befæstan, ban-fatu bærnan ond on bæl don eame on eaxle. Ides gnornode, geomrode giddum. Guðrinc astah; wand to wolcnum wæl-fyra mæst, hlynode for hlawe; hafelan multon, ben-geato burston, ðonne blod ætspranc, lað-bite lices. Lig ealle forswealg, gæsta gifrost, þara ðe þær guð fornam bega folces; wæs hira blæd scacen.

Rendering

Armed-Scyld's best warriors made ready for the fire. As ready seen on the pyre, bloodstained-battle-shirts, all golden swine, these iron-hard boars, that many wounds took away; these great ones, noblemen felled duly-slain. By order of Hildeburh on Hnæfe's pyre her son she commited to the blaze, at his uncle's shoulder a body laid to be devoured by fire's-flame. This Lady mourns, with dirge laments, these warriors rise: then curl to the clouds as the great funeral fire, roars over the wooden heap; heads melt, wounds bust on, then blood springs forth from this loathsome bite. Fire consumed all, with spirit most eager, both kin that war swept-away; and now her good-fortune must thus depart.