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And now the bold one from bands of Geats comrades chose, the keenest of warriors e'er he could find; with fourteen men the sea-wood[1] he sought, and, sailor proved, led them on to the land's confines. Time had now flown;[2] afloat was the ship, boat under bluff. On board they climbed, warriors ready; waves were churning sea with sand; the sailors bore on the breast of the bark their bright array, their mail and weapons: the men pushed off, on its willing way, the well-braced craft. Then moved o'er the waters by might of the wind that bark like a bird with breast of foam, till in season due, on the second day, the curved prow such course had run that sailors now could see the land, sea-cliffs shining, steep high hills, headlands broad.

Their haven was found, their journey ended. Up then quickly the Weders'[3] clansmen climbed ashore, anchored their sea-wood, with armor clashing and gear of battle: God they thanked for passing in peace o'er the paths of the sea. Now saw from the cliff a Scylding clansman, a warden that watched the water-side, how they bore o'er the gangway glittering shields, war-gear in readiness; wonder seized him to know what manner of men they were.

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Straight to the strand his steed he rode, Hrothgar's henchman; with hand of might he shook his spear, and spake in parley. A warden I, sentinel set o'er the sea-march here, lest any foe to the folk of Danes with harrying fleet should harm the land. No aliens ever at ease thus bore them, linden-wielders:[4] yet word-of-leave clearly ye lack from clansmen here, my folk's agreement. No henchman he worthied by weapons, if witness his features, his peerless presence! I pray you, though, tell your folk and home, lest hence ye fare suspect to wander your way as spies in Danish land.

Now, dwellers afar, ocean-travellers, take from me simple advice: the sooner the better I hear of the country whence ye came. IV To him the stateliest spake in answer; the warriors' leader his word-hoard unlocked "We are by kin of the clan of Geats, and Hygelac's own hearth-fellows we. To folk afar was my father known, noble atheling, Ecgtheow named. Full of winters, he fared away aged from earth; he is honored still through width of the world by wise men all.

To thy lord and liege in loyal mood we hasten hither, to Healfdene's son, people-protector: be pleased to advise us! To that mighty-one come we on mickle errand, to the lord of the Danes; nor deem I right that aught be hidden. We hear -- thou knowest if sooth it is -- the saying of men, that amid the Scyldings a scathing monster, dark ill-doer, in dusky nights shows terrific his rage unmatched, hatred and murder.

To Hrothgar I in greatness of soul would succor bring, so the Wise-and-Brave[1] may worst his foes, -- if ever the end of ills is fated, of cruel contest, if cure shall follow, and the boiling care-waves cooler grow; else ever afterward anguish-days he shall suffer in sorrow while stands in place high on its hill that house unpeered! I gather, this band is graciously bent to the Scyldings' master. March, then, bearing weapons and weeds the way I show you.

I will bid my men your boat meanwhile to guard for fear lest foemen come, -- your new-tarred ship by shore of ocean faithfully watching till once again it waft o'er the waters those well-loved thanes, -- winding-neck'd wood, -- to Weders' bounds, heroes such as the hest of fate shall succor and save from the shock of war. The sturdy shieldsman showed that bright burg-of-the-boldest; bade them go straightway thither; his steed then turned, hardy hero, and hailed them thus "Tis time that I fare from you.

Father Almighty in grace and mercy guard you well, safe in your seekings. Seaward I go, 'gainst hostile warriors hold my watch. The boar was sacred to Freyr, who was the favorite god of the Germanic tribes about the North Sea and the Baltic. Rude representations of warriors show the boar on the helmet quite as large as the helmet itself. Corselets glistened hand-forged, hard; on their harness bright the steel ring sang, as they strode along in mail of battle, and marched to the hall. There, weary of ocean, the wall along they set their bucklers, their broad shields, down, and bowed them to bench: the breastplates clanged, war-gear of men; their weapons stacked, spears of the seafarers stood together, gray-tipped ash: that iron band was worthily weaponed!

Messenger, I, Hrothgar's herald! Heroes so many ne'er met I as strangers of mood so strong. I am seeking to say to the son of Healfdene this mission of mine, to thy master-lord, the doughty prince, if he deign at all grace that we greet him, the good one, now. Wulfgar spake to his winsome lord "Hither have fared to thee far-come men o'er the paths of ocean, people of Geatland; and the stateliest there by his sturdy band is Beowulf named. This boon they seek, that they, my master, may with thee have speech at will: nor spurn their prayer to give them hearing, gracious Hrothgar!

In weeds of the warrior worthy they, methinks, of our liking; their leader most surely, a hero that hither his henchmen has led. Their offspring bold fares hither to seek the steadfast friend. And seamen, too, have said me this, -- who carried my gifts to the Geatish court, thither for thanks, -- he has thirty men's heft of grasp in the gripe of his hand, the bold-in-battle. Blessed God out of his mercy this man hath sent to Danes of the West, as I ween indeed, against horror of Grendel.

I hope to give the good youth gold for his gallant thought. Be thou in haste, and bid them hither, clan of kinsmen, to come before me; and add this word, -- they are welcome guests to folk of the Danes. Ye may wend your way in war-attire, and under helmets Hrothgar greet; but let here the battle-shields bide your parley, and wooden war-shafts wait its end. Then hied that troop where the herald led them, under Heorot's roof: [the hero strode,] hardy 'neath helm, till the hearth he neared. Beowulf spake, -- his breastplate gleamed, war-net woven by wit of the smith "Thou Hrothgar, hail!

Hygelac's I, kinsman and follower. Fame a plenty have I gained in youth! These Grendel-deeds I heard in my home-land heralded clear. Seafarers say how stands this hall, of buildings best, for your band of thanes empty and idle, when evening sun in the harbor of heaven is hidden away. So my vassals advised me well, -- brave and wise, the best of men, -- O sovran Hrothgar, to seek thee here, for my nerve and my might they knew full well.

Themselves had seen me from slaughter come blood-flecked from foes, where five I bound, and that wild brood worsted. I' the waves I slew nicors[1] by night, in need and peril avenging the Weders,[2] whose woe they sought, -- crushing the grim ones. Grendel now, monster cruel, be mine to quell in single battle! So, from thee, thou sovran of the Shining-Danes, Scyldings'-bulwark, a boon I seek, -- and, Friend-of-the-folk, refuse it not, O Warriors'-shield, now I've wandered far, -- that I alone with my liegemen here, this hardy band, may Heorot purge!

More I hear, that the monster dire, in his wanton mood, of weapons recks not; hence shall I scorn -- so Hygelac stay, king of my kindred, kind to me! Then faith be his in the doom of the Lord whom death shall take. Fain, I ween, if the fight he win, in this hall of gold my Geatish band will he fearless eat, -- as oft before, -- my noblest thanes. Nor need'st thou then to hide my head;[3] for his shall I be, dyed in gore, if death must take me; and my blood-covered body he'll bear as prey, ruthless devour it, the roamer-lonely, with my life-blood redden his lair in the fen: no further for me need'st food prepare!

To Hygelac send, if Hild[4] should take me, best of war-weeds, warding my breast, armor excellent, heirloom of Hrethel and work of Wayland. But that water-goblin who covers the space from Old Nick of jest to the Neckan and Nix of poetry and tale, is all one needs, and Nicor is a good name for him. Thy father's combat[1] a feud enkindled when Heatholaf with hand he slew among the Wylfings; his Weder kin for horror of fighting feared to hold him.

Fleeing, he sought our South-Dane folk, over surge of ocean the Honor-Scyldings, when first I was ruling the folk of Danes, wielded, youthful, this widespread realm, this hoard-hold of heroes. Heorogar was dead, my elder brother, had breathed his last, Healfdene's bairn: he was better than I!

Straightway the feud with fee[2] I settled, to the Wylfings sent, o'er watery ridges, treasures olden: oaths he[3] swore me. Sore is my soul to say to any of the race of man what ruth for me in Heorot Grendel with hate hath wrought, what sudden harryings. Hall-folk fail me, my warriors wane; for Wyrd hath swept them into Grendel's grasp. But God is able this deadly foe from his deeds to turn!

Boasted full oft, as my beer they drank, earls o'er the ale-cup, armed men, that they would bide in the beer-hall here, Grendel's attack with terror of blades. Then was this mead-house at morning tide dyed with gore, when the daylight broke, all the boards of the benches blood-besprinkled, gory the hall: I had heroes the less, doughty dear-ones that death had reft. A henchman attended, carried the carven cup in hand, served the clear mead.

Oft minstrels sang blithe in Heorot. Heroes revelled, no dearth of warriors, Weder and Dane. Hrothgar sees in Beowulf's mission a heritage of duty, a return of the good offices which the Danish king ren- dered to Beowulf's father in time of dire need. No living man, or lief or loath, from your labor dire could you dissuade, from swimming the main.

Ocean-tides with your arms ye covered, with strenuous hands the sea-streets measured, swam o'er the waters. Winter's storm rolled the rough waves. In realm of sea a sennight strove ye. In swimming he topped thee, had more of main! Him at morning-tide billows bore to the Battling Reamas, whence he hied to his home so dear beloved of his liegemen, to land of Brondings, fastness fair, where his folk he ruled, town and treasure.

In triumph o'er thee Beanstan's bairn[2] his boast achieved. So ween I for thee a worse adventure -- though in buffet of battle thou brave hast been, in struggle grim, -- if Grendel's approach thou darst await through the watch of night! Truth I claim it, that I had more of might in the sea than any man else, more ocean-endurance. We twain had talked, in time of youth, and made our boast, -- we were merely boys, striplings still, -- to stake our lives far at sea: and so we performed it.

Naked swords, as we swam along, we held in hand, with hope to guard us against the whales. Not a whit from me could he float afar o'er the flood of waves, haste o'er the billows; nor him I abandoned. Together we twain on the tides abode five nights full till the flood divided us, churning waves and chillest weather, darkling night, and the northern wind ruthless rushed on us: rough was the surge.

Now the wrath of the sea-fish rose apace; yet me 'gainst the monsters my mailed coat, hard and hand-linked, help afforded, -- battle-sark braided my breast to ward, garnished with gold. There grasped me firm and haled me to bottom the hated foe, with grimmest gripe. IX ME thus often the evil monsters thronging threatened. With thrust of my sword, the darling, I dealt them due return! Nowise had they bliss from their booty then to devour their victim, vengeful creatures, seated to banquet at bottom of sea; but at break of day, by my brand sore hurt, on the edge of ocean up they lay, put to sleep by the sword.

And since, by them on the fathomless sea-ways sailor-folk are never molested. For Wyrd oft saveth earl undoomed if he doughty be! And so it came that I killed with my sword nine of the nicors. Of night-fought battles ne'er heard I a harder 'neath heaven's dome, nor adrift on the deep a more desolate man! Yet I came unharmed from that hostile clutch, though spent with swimming. The sea upbore me, flood of the tide, on Finnish land, the welling waters. No wise of thee have I heard men tell such terror of falchions, bitter battle.

Breca ne'er yet, not one of you pair, in the play of war such daring deed has done at all with bloody brand, -- I boast not of it! For I say in sooth, thou son of Ecglaf, never had Grendel these grim deeds wrought, monster dire, on thy master dear, in Heorot such havoc, if heart of thine were as battle-bold as thy boast is loud! But he has found no feud will happen; from sword-clash dread of your Danish clan he vaunts him safe, from the Victor-Scyldings.

He forces pledges, favors none of the land of Danes, but lustily murders, fights and feasts, nor feud he dreads from Spear-Dane men. But speedily now shall I prove him the prowess and pride of the Geats, shall bid him battle. Blithe to mead go he that listeth, when light of dawn this morrow morning o'er men of earth, ether-robed sun from the south shall beam! Then was laughter of liegemen loud resounding with winsome words.

Came Wealhtheow forth, queen of Hrothgar, heedful of courtesy, gold-decked, greeting the guests in hall; and the high-born lady handed the cup first to the East-Danes' heir and warden, bade him be blithe at the beer-carouse, the land's beloved one. Lustily took he banquet and beaker, battle-famed king. Through the hall then went the Helmings' Lady, to younger and older everywhere carried the cup, till come the moment when the ring-graced queen, the royal-hearted, to Beowulf bore the beaker of mead.

She greeted the Geats' lord, God she thanked, in wisdom's words, that her will was granted, that at last on a hero her hope could lean for comfort in terrors. The cup he took, hardy-in-war, from Wealhtheow's hand, and answer uttered the eager-for-combat. Beowulf spake, bairn of Ecgtheow "This was my thought, when my thanes and I bent to the ocean and entered our boat, that I would work the will of your people fully, or fighting fall in death, in fiend's gripe fast. I am firm to do an earl's brave deed, or end the days of this life of mine in the mead-hall here.

Again, as erst, began in hall warriors' wassail and words of power, the proud-band's revel, till presently the son of Healfdene hastened to seek rest for the night; he knew there waited fight for the fiend in that festal hall, when the sheen of the sun they saw no more, and dusk of night sank darkling nigh, and shadowy shapes came striding on, wan under welkin. The warriors rose.

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Man to man, he made harangue, Hrothgar to Beowulf, bade him hail, let him wield the wine hall: a word he added "Never to any man erst I trusted, since I could heave up hand and shield, this noble Dane-Hall, till now to thee. Have now and hold this house unpeered; remember thy glory; thy might declare; watch for the foe! No wish shall fail thee if thou bidest the battle with bold-won life. X THEN Hrothgar went with his hero-train, defence-of-Scyldings, forth from hall; fain would the war-lord Wealhtheow seek, couch of his queen. The King-of-Glory against this Grendel a guard had set, so heroes heard, a hall-defender, who warded the monarch and watched for the monster.

In truth, the Geats' prince gladly trusted his mettle, his might, the mercy of God! Cast off then his corselet of iron, helmet from head; to his henchman gave, -- choicest of weapons, -- the well-chased sword, bidding him guard the gear of battle. Spake then his Vaunt the valiant man, Beowulf Geat, ere the bed be sought "Of force in fight no feebler I count me, in grim war-deeds, than Grendel deems him.

Not with the sword, then, to sleep of death his life will I give, though it lie in my power. No skill is his to strike against me, my shield to hew though he hardy be, bold in battle; we both, this night, shall spurn the sword, if he seek me here, unweaponed, for war. Let wisest God, sacred Lord, on which side soever doom decree as he deemeth right. None of them thought that thence their steps to the folk and fastness that fostered them, to the land they loved, would lead them back!

Full well they wist that on warriors many battle-death seized, in the banquet-hall, of Danish clan. But comfort and help, war-weal weaving, to Weder folk the Master gave, that, by might of one, over their enemy all prevailed, by single strength. In sooth 'tis told that highest God o'er human kind hath wielded ever!

Warriors slept whose hest was to guard the gabled hall, -- all save one. The monster was minded of mankind now sundry to seize in the stately house. Under welkin he walked, till the wine-palace there, gold-hall of men, he gladly discerned, flashing with fretwork. Not first time, this, that he the home of Hrothgar sought, -- yet ne'er in his life-day, late or early, such hardy heroes, such hall-thanes, found! To the house the warrior walked apace, parted from peace;[1] the portal opended, though with forged bolts fast, when his fists had struck it, and baleful he burst in his blatant rage, the house's mouth.

All hastily, then, o'er fair-paved floor the fiend trod on, ireful he strode; there streamed from his eyes fearful flashes, like flame to see. He spied in hall the hero-band, kin and clansmen clustered asleep, hardy liegemen. Then laughed his heart; for the monster was minded, ere morn should dawn, savage, to sever the soul of each, life from body, since lusty banquet waited his will!

But Wyrd forbade him to seize any more of men on earth after that evening. Eagerly watched Hygelac's kinsman his cursed foe, how he would fare in fell attack. Not that the monster was minded to pause! Straightway he seized a sleeping warrior for the first, and tore him fiercely asunder, the bone-frame bit, drank blood in streams, swallowed him piecemeal: swiftly thus the lifeless corse was clear devoured, e'en feet and hands.

Then farther he hied; for the hardy hero with hand he grasped, felt for the foe with fiendish claw, for the hero reclining, -- who clutched it boldly, prompt to answer, propped on his arm. Soon then saw that shepherd-of-evils that never he met in this middle-world, in the ways of earth, another wight with heavier hand-gripe; at heart he feared, sorrowed in soul, -- none the sooner escaped!

Fain would he flee, his fastness seek, the den of devils: no doings now such as oft he had done in days of old! Then bethought him the hardy Hygelac-thane of his boast at evening: up he bounded, grasped firm his foe, whose fingers cracked.


The fiend made off, but the earl close followed. The monster meant -- if he might at all -- to fling himself free, and far away fly to the fens, -- knew his fingers' power in the gripe of the grim one. Gruesome march to Heorot this monster of harm had made! Din filled the room; the Danes were bereft, castle-dwellers and clansmen all, earls, of their ale. Angry were both those savage hall-guards: the house resounded. Wonder it was the wine-hall firm in the strain of their struggle stood, to earth the fair house fell not; too fast it was within and without by its iron bands craftily clamped; though there crashed from sill many a mead-bench -- men have told me -- gay with gold, where the grim foes wrestled.

So well had weened the wisest Scyldings that not ever at all might any man that bone-decked, brave house break asunder, crush by craft, -- unless clasp of fire in smoke engulfed it. Danes of the North with fear and frenzy were filled, each one, who from the wall that wailing heard, God's foe sounding his grisly song, cry of the conquered, clamorous pain from captive of hell. Too closely held him he who of men in might was strongest in that same day of this our life. XII NOT in any wise would the earls'-defence[1] suffer that slaughterous stranger to live, useless deeming his days and years to men on earth.

Now many an earl of Beowulf brandished blade ancestral, fain the life of their lord to shield, their praised prince, if power were theirs; never they knew, -- as they neared the foe, hardy-hearted heroes of war, aiming their swords on every side the accursed to kill, -- no keenest blade, no farest of falchions fashioned on earth, could harm or hurt that hideous fiend!

He was safe, by his spells, from sword of battle, from edge of iron.

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Yet his end and parting on that same day of this our life woful should be, and his wandering soul far off flit to the fiends' domain. Soon he found, who in former days, harmful in heart and hated of God, on many a man such murder wrought, that the frame of his body failed him now. For him the keen-souled kinsman of Hygelac held in hand; hateful alive was each to other. The outlaw dire took mortal hurt; a mighty wound showed on his shoulder, and sinews cracked, and the bone-frame burst. To Beowulf now the glory was given, and Grendel thence death-sick his den in the dark moor sought, noisome abode: he knew too well that here was the last of life, an end of his days on earth.

From ravage had rescued the roving stranger Hrothgar's hall; the hardy and wise one had purged it anew. His night-work pleased him, his deed and its honor. To Eastern Danes had the valiant Geat his vaunt made good, all their sorrow and ills assuaged, their bale of battle borne so long, and all the dole they erst endured pain a-plenty. XIII MANY at morning, as men have told me, warriors gathered the gift-hall round, folk-leaders faring from far and near, o'er wide-stretched ways, the wonder to view, trace of the traitor. Not troublous seemed the enemy's end to any man who saw by the gait of the graceless foe how the weary-hearted, away from thence, baffled in battle and banned, his steps death-marked dragged to the devils' mere.

Bloody the billows were boiling there, turbid the tide of tumbling waves horribly seething, with sword-blood hot, by that doomed one dyed, who in den of the moor laid forlorn his life adown, his heathen soul,-and hell received it. Home then rode the hoary clansmen from that merry journey, and many a youth, on horses white, the hardy warriors, back from the mere.

Then Beowulf's glory eager they echoed, and all averred that from sea to sea, or south or north, there was no other in earth's domain, under vault of heaven, more valiant found, of warriors none more worthy to rule! On their lord beloved they laid no slight, gracious Hrothgar: a good king he! From time to time, the tried-in-battle their gray steeds set to gallop amain, and ran a race when the road seemed fair. From time to time, a thane of the king, who had made many vaunts, and was mindful of verses, stored with sagas and songs of old, bound word to word in well-knit rime, welded his lay; this warrior soon of Beowulf's quest right cleverly sang, and artfully added an excellent tale, in well-ranged words, of the warlike deeds he had heard in saga of Sigemund.

Strange the story: he said it all, -- the Waelsing's wanderings wide, his struggles, which never were told to tribes of men, the feuds and the frauds, save to Fitela only, when of these doings he deigned to speak, uncle to nephew; as ever the twain stood side by side in stress of war, and multitude of the monster kind they had felled with their swords.

Of Sigemund grew, when he passed from life, no little praise; for the doughty-in-combat a dragon killed that herded the hoard:[1] under hoary rock the atheling dared the deed alone fearful quest, nor was Fitela there. Yet so it befell, his falchion pierced that wondrous worm, -- on the wall it struck, best blade; the dragon died in its blood. Thus had the dread-one by daring achieved over the ring-hoard to rule at will, himself to pleasure; a sea-boat he loaded, and bore on its bosom the beaming gold, son of Waels; the worm was consumed. He had of all heroes the highest renown among races of men, this refuge-of-warriors, for deeds of daring that decked his name since the hand and heart of Heremod grew slack in battle.

He, swiftly banished to mingle with monsters at mercy of foes, to death was betrayed; for torrents of sorrow had lamed him too long; a load of care to earls and athelings all he proved. Oft indeed, in earlier days, for the warrior's wayfaring wise men mourned, who had hoped of him help from harm and bale, and had thought their sovran's son would thrive, follow his father, his folk protect, the hoard and the stronghold, heroes' land, home of Scyldings. And afresh to the race,[3] the fallow roads by swift steeds measured!

The morning sun was climbing higher. Clansmen hastened to the high-built hall, those hardy-minded, the wonder to witness. Warden of treasure, crowned with glory, the king himself, with stately band from the bride-bower strode; and with him the queen and her crowd of maidens measured the path to the mead-house fair.

The time-relations are not altogether good in this long passage which describes the rejoicings of "the day after"; but the present shift from the riders on the road to the folk at the hall is not very violent, and is of a piece with the general style. A throng of sorrows I have borne from Grendel; but God still works wonder on wonder, the Warden-of-Glory. It was but now that I never more for woes that weighed on me waited help long as I lived, when, laved in blood, stood sword-gore-stained this stateliest house, -- widespread woe for wise men all, who had no hope to hinder ever foes infernal and fiendish sprites from havoc in hall.

This hero now, by the Wielder's might, a work has done that not all of us erst could ever do by wile and wisdom. Lo, well can she say whoso of women this warrior bore among sons of men, if still she liveth, that the God of the ages was good to her in the birth of her bairn. Now, Beowulf, thee, of heroes best, I shall heartily love as mine own, my son; preserve thou ever this kinship new: thou shalt never lack wealth of the world that I wield as mine! Full oft for less have I largess showered, my precious hoard, on a punier man, less stout in struggle.

Thyself hast now fulfilled such deeds, that thy fame shall endure through all the ages. As ever he did, well may the Wielder reward thee still! Fain, too, were I hadst thou but seen himself, what time the fiend in his trappings tottered to fall! Swiftly, I thought, in strongest gripe on his bed of death to bind him down, that he in the hent of this hand of mine should breathe his last: but he broke away. Him I might not -- the Maker willed not -- hinder from flight, and firm enough hold the life-destroyer: too sturdy was he, the ruthless, in running!

For rescue, however, he left behind him his hand in pledge, arm and shoulder; nor aught of help could the cursed one thus procure at all. None the longer liveth he, loathsome fiend, sunk in his sins, but sorrow holds him tightly grasped in gripe of anguish, in baleful bonds, where bide he must, evil outlaw, such awful doom as the Mighty Maker shall mete him out.

XV THERE was hurry and hest in Heorot now for hands to bedeck it, and dense was the throng of men and women the wine-hall to cleanse, the guest-room to garnish. Gold-gay shone the hangings that were wove on the wall, and wonders many to delight each mortal that looks upon them. Though braced within by iron bands, that building bright was broken sorely;[1] rent were its hinges; the roof alone held safe and sound, when, seared with crime, the fiendish foe his flight essayed, of life despairing. Forced of fate, he shall find his way to the refuge ready for race of man, for soul-possessors, and sons of earth; and there his body on bed of death shall rest after revel.

Arrived was the hour when to hall proceeded Healfdene's son: the king himself would sit to banquet. Ne'er heard I of host in haughtier throng more graciously gathered round giver-of-rings! Bowed then to bench those bearers-of-glory, fain of the feasting. Featly received many a mead-cup the mighty-in-spirit, kinsmen who sat in the sumptuous hall, Hrothgar and Hrothulf. Heorot now was filled with friends; the folk of Scyldings ne'er yet had tried the traitor's deed.

To Beowulf gave the bairn of Healfdene a gold-wove banner, guerdon of triumph, broidered battle-flag, breastplate and helmet; and a splendid sword was seen of many borne to the brave one. Beowulf took cup in hall:[2] for such costly gifts he suffered no shame in that soldier throng. For I heard of few heroes, in heartier mood, with four such gifts, so fashioned with gold, on the ale-bench honoring others thus!

O'er the roof of the helmet high, a ridge, wound with wires, kept ward o'er the head, lest the relict-of-files[3] should fierce invade, sharp in the strife, when that shielded hero should go to grapple against his foes. Then the earls'-defence[4] on the floor[5] bade lead coursers eight, with carven head-gear, adown the hall: one horse was decked with a saddle all shining and set in jewels; 'twas the battle-seat of the best of kings, when to play of swords the son of Healfdene was fain to fare.

Ne'er failed his valor in the crush of combat when corpses fell. To Beowulf over them both then gave the refuge-of-Ingwines right and power, o'er war-steeds and weapons: wished him joy of them. Manfully thus the mighty prince, hoard-guard for heroes, that hard fight repaid with steeds and treasures contemned by none who is willing to say the sooth aright. In spite of the ruin that Grendel and Beowulf had made within the hall, the framework and roof held firm, and swift repairs made the interior habitable. Tapestries were hung on the walls, and willing hands prepared the banquet.

He is also the "refuge of the friends of Ing," below. Ing belongs to myth. XVI AND the lord of earls, to each that came with Beowulf over the briny ways, an heirloom there at the ale-bench gave, precious gift; and the price[1] bade pay in gold for him whom Grendel erst murdered, -- and fain of them more had killed, had not wisest God their Wyrd averted, and the man's[2] brave mood. The Maker then ruled human kind, as here and now. Therefore is insight always best, and forethought of mind. How much awaits him of lief and of loath, who long time here, through days of warfare this world endures!

Then song and music mingled sounds in the presence of Healfdene's head-of-armies[3] and harping was heard with the hero-lay as Hrothgar's singer the hall-joy woke along the mead-seats, making his song of that sudden raid on the sons of Finn. None doubted why the daughter of Hoc bewailed her doom when dawning came, and under the sky she saw them lying, kinsmen murdered, where most she had kenned of the sweets of the world!

By war were swept, too, Finn's own liegemen, and few were left; in the parleying-place[7] he could ply no longer weapon, nor war could he wage on Hengest, and rescue his remnant by right of arms from the prince's thane. A pact he offered: another dwelling the Danes should have, hall and high-seat, and half the power should fall to them in Frisian land; and at the fee-gifts, Folcwald's son day by day the Danes should honor, the folk of Hengest favor with rings, even as truly, with treasure and jewels, with fretted gold, as his Frisian kin he meant to honor in ale-hall there.

Pact of peace they plighted further on both sides firmly. Finn to Hengest with oath, upon honor, openly promised that woful remnant, with wise-men's aid, nobly to govern, so none of the guests by word or work should warp the treaty,[8] or with malice of mind bemoan themselves as forced to follow their fee-giver's slayer, lordless men, as their lot ordained. Should Frisian, moreover, with foeman's taunt, that murderous hatred to mind recall, then edge of the sword must seal his doom. Oaths were given, and ancient gold heaped from hoard. All on the pyre were plain to see the gory sark, the gilded swine-crest, boar of hard iron, and athelings many slain by the sword: at the slaughter they fell.

It was Hildeburh's hest, at Hnaef's own pyre the bairn of her body on brands to lay, his bones to burn, on the balefire placed, at his uncle's side. In sorrowful dirges bewept them the woman: great wailing ascended. Then wound up to welkin the wildest of death-fires, roared o'er the hillock:[10] heads all were melted, gashes burst, and blood gushed out from bites[11] of the body. Balefire devoured, greediest spirit, those spared not by war out of either folk: their flower was gone.

As before about Sigemund and Heremod, so now, though at greater length, about Finn and his feud, a lay is chanted or recited; and the epic poet, counting on his readers' familiarity with the story, -- a fragment of it still exists, -- simply gives the headings. Finn, a Frisian chieftain, who nevertheless has a "castle" outside the Frisian border, marries Hildeburh, a Danish prin- cess; and her brother, Hnaef, with many other Danes, pays Finn a visit.

Relations between the two peoples have been strained before. Something starts the old feud anew; and the visitors are attacked in their quarters. Hnaef is killed; so is a son of Hildeburh. Many fall on both sides. Peace is patched up; a stately funeral is held; and the surviving visitors become in a way vassals or liegemen of Finn, going back with him to Frisia. So matters rest a while. Hengest is now leader of the Danes; but he is set upon revenge for his former lord, Hnaef.

Probably he is killed in feud; but his clansmen, Guthlaf and Oslaf, gather at their home a force of sturdy Danes, come back to Frisia, storm Finn's stronghold, kill him, and carry back their kinswoman Hildeburh. If, again, one of Finn's Frisians began a quarrel, he should die by the sword. Hengest still through the death-dyed winter dwelt with Finn, holding pact, yet of home he minded, though powerless his ring-decked prow to drive over the waters, now waves rolled fierce lashed by the winds, or winter locked them in icy fetters.

Then fared another year to men's dwellings, as yet they do, the sunbright skies, that their season ever duly await. Far off winter was driven; fair lay earth's breast; and fain was the rover, the guest, to depart, though more gladly he pondered on wreaking his vengeance than roaming the deep, and how to hasten the hot encounter where sons of the Frisians were sure to be. So he escaped not the common doom, when Hun with "Lafing," the light-of-battle, best of blades, his bosom pierced: its edge was famed with the Frisian earls. On fierce-heart Finn there fell likewise, on himself at home, the horrid sword-death; for Guthlaf and Oslaf of grim attack had sorrowing told, from sea-ways landed, mourning their woes.

The burg was reddened with blood of foemen, and Finn was slain, king amid clansmen; the queen was taken. To their ship the Scylding warriors bore all the chattels the chieftain owned, whatever they found in Finn's domain of gems and jewels. The gentle wife o'er paths of the deep to the Danes they bore, led to her land.

The lay was finished, the gleeman's song. Then glad rose the revel; bench-joy brightened. Bearers draw from their "wonder-vats" wine. Comes Wealhtheow forth, under gold-crown goes where the good pair sit, uncle and nephew, true each to the other one, kindred in amity. Unferth the spokesman at the Scylding lord's feet sat: men had faith in his spirit, his keenness of courage, though kinsmen had found him unsure at the sword-play. The Scylding queen spoke: "Quaff of this cup, my king and lord, breaker of rings, and blithe be thou, gold-friend of men; to the Geats here speak such words of mildness as man should use.

Be glad with thy Geats; of those gifts be mindful, or near or far, which now thou hast. Men say to me, as son thou wishest yon hero to hold. Thy Heorot purged, jewel-hall brightest, enjoy while thou canst, with many a largess; and leave to thy kin folk and realm when forth thou goest to greet thy doom.

For gracious I deem my Hrothulf,[2] willing to hold and rule nobly our youths, if thou yield up first, prince of Scyldings, thy part in the world. I ween with good he will well requite offspring of ours, when all he minds that for him we did in his helpless days of gift and grace to gain him honor! Collect- ing a force, they return to Frisia and kill Finn in his home.

There is something finely femi- nine in this speech of Wealhtheow's, apart from its somewhat irregular and irrelevant sequence of topics. Both she and her lord probably distrust Hrothulf; but she bids the king to be of good cheer, and, turning to the suspect, heaps affectionate assurances on his probity. Of wounden gold, she offered, to honor him, arm-jewels twain, corselet and rings, and of collars the noblest that ever I knew the earth around. Ne'er heard I so mighty, 'neath heaven's dome, a hoard-gem of heroes, since Hama bore to his bright-built burg the Brisings' necklace, jewel and gem casket.

Hygelac Geat, grandson of Swerting, on the last of his raids this ring bore with him, under his banner the booty defending, the war-spoil warding; but Wyrd o'erwhelmed him what time, in his daring, dangers he sought, feud with Frisians. Fairest of gems he bore with him over the beaker-of-waves, sovran strong: under shield he died.

Fell the corpse of the king into keeping of Franks, gear of the breast, and that gorgeous ring; weaker warriors won the spoil, after gripe of battle, from Geatland's lord, and held the death-field. Din rose in hall. Wealhtheow spake amid warriors, and said "This jewel enjoy in thy jocund youth, Beowulf lov'd, these battle-weeds wear, a royal treasure, and richly thrive!

Preserve thy strength, and these striplings here counsel in kindness: requital be mine. Hast done such deeds, that for days to come thou art famed among folk both far and near, so wide as washeth the wave of Ocean his windy walls. Through the ways of life prosper, O prince! I pray for thee rich possessions. To son of mine be helpful in deed and uphold his joys! Here every earl to the other is true, mild of mood, to the master loyal!

Thanes are friendly, the throng obedient, liegemen are revelling: list and obey! Wyrd they knew not, destiny dire, and the doom to be seen by many an earl when eve should come, and Hrothgar homeward hasten away, royal, to rest. The room was guarded by an army of earls, as erst was done. They bared the bench-boards; abroad they spread beds and bolsters.

With sorrow one bought his rest of the evening, -- as ofttime had happened when Grendel guarded that golden hall, evil wrought, till his end drew nigh, slaughter for sins. The livelong time after that grim fight, Grendel's mother, monster of women, mourned her woe. She was doomed to dwell in the dreary waters, cold sea-courses, since Cain cut down with edge of the sword his only brother, his father's offspring: outlawed he fled, marked with murder, from men's delights warded the wilds.

But the man remembered his mighty power, the glorious gift that God had sent him, in his Maker's mercy put his trust for comfort and help: so he conquered the foe, felled the fiend, who fled abject, reft of joy, to the realms of death, mankind's foe. And his mother now, gloomy and grim, would go that quest of sorrow, the death of her son to avenge. To Heorot came she, where helmeted Danes slept in the hall. Too soon came back old ills of the earls, when in she burst, the mother of Grendel.

Less grim, though, that terror, e'en as terror of woman in war is less, might of maid, than of men in arms when, hammer-forged, the falchion hard, sword gore-stained, through swine of the helm, crested, with keen blade carves amain. Then was in hall the hard-edge drawn, the swords on the settles,[1] and shields a-many firm held in hand: nor helmet minded nor harness of mail, whom that horror seized. Haste was hers; she would hie afar and save her life when the liegemen saw her.

Yet a single atheling up she seized fast and firm, as she fled to the moor. He was for Hrothgar of heroes the dearest, of trusty vassals betwixt the seas, whom she killed on his couch, a clansman famous, in battle brave. Long-tried king, the hoary hero, at heart was sad when he knew his noble no more lived, and dead indeed was his dearest thane. To his bower was Beowulf brought in haste, dauntless victor.

As daylight broke, along with his earls the atheling lord, with his clansmen, came where the king abode waiting to see if the Wielder-of-All would turn this tale of trouble and woe. Strode o'er floor the famed-in-strife, with his hand-companions, -- the hall resounded, -- wishing to greet the wise old king, Ingwines' lord; he asked if the night had passed in peace to the prince's mind. Pain is renewed to Danish folk.

Dead is Aeschere, of Yrmenlaf the elder brother, my sage adviser and stay in council, shoulder-comrade in stress of fight when warriors clashed and we warded our heads, hewed the helm-boars; hero famed should be every earl as Aeschere was! But here in Heorot a hand hath slain him of wandering death-sprite.

I wot not whither,[1] proud of the prey, her path she took, fain of her fill. The feud she avenged that yesternight, unyieldingly, Grendel in grimmest grasp thou killedst, -- seeing how long these liegemen mine he ruined and ravaged. Reft of life, in arms he fell. Now another comes, keen and cruel, her kin to avenge, faring far in feud of blood: so that many a thane shall think, who e'er sorrows in soul for that sharer of rings, this is hardest of heart-bales. The hand lies low that once was willing each wish to please.

Land-dwellers here[2] and liegemen mine, who house by those parts, I have heard relate that such a pair they have sometimes seen, march-stalkers mighty the moorland haunting, wandering spirits: one of them seemed, so far as my folk could fairly judge, of womankind; and one, accursed, in man's guise trod the misery-track of exile, though huger than human bulk.

Grendel in days long gone they named him, folk of the land; his father they knew not, nor any brood that was born to him of treacherous spirits. Untrod is their home; by wolf-cliffs haunt they and windy headlands, fenways fearful, where flows the stream from mountains gliding to gloom of the rocks, underground flood. Not far is it hence in measure of miles that the mere expands, and o'er it the frost-bound forest hanging, sturdily rooted, shadows the wave. By night is a wonder weird to see, fire on the waters.

So wise lived none of the sons of men, to search those depths! Nay, though the heath-rover, harried by dogs, the horn-proud hart, this holt should seek, long distance driven, his dear life first on the brink he yields ere he brave the plunge to hide his head: 'tis no happy place! Thence the welter of waters washes up wan to welkin when winds bestir evil storms, and air grows dusk, and the heavens weep. Now is help once more with thee alone! The land thou knowst not, place of fear, where thou findest out that sin-flecked being.

Seek if thou dare! I will reward thee, for waging this fight, with ancient treasure, as erst I did, with winding gold, if thou winnest back. The words of mourning, of acute grief, are said; and according to Germanic sequence of thought, inexorable here, the next and only topic is revenge. But is it possible? Hrothgar leads up to his appeal and promise with a skillful and often effective description of the horrors which surround the monster's home and await the attempt of an avenging foe. It beseems us better friends to avenge than fruitlessly mourn them. Each of us all must his end abide in the ways of the world; so win who may glory ere death!

When his days are told, that is the warrior's worthiest doom. Rise, O realm-warder! Ride we anon, and mark the trail of the mother of Grendel. No harbor shall hide her -- heed my promise! But thou this day endure in patience, as I ween thou wilt, thy woes each one. For Hrothgar soon a horse was saddled wave-maned steed.

The sovran wise stately rode on; his shield-armed men followed in force. The footprints led along the woodland, widely seen, a path o'er the plain, where she passed, and trod the murky moor; of men-at-arms she bore the bravest and best one, dead, him who with Hrothgar the homestead ruled. On then went the atheling-born o'er stone-cliffs steep and strait defiles, narrow passes and unknown ways, headlands sheer, and the haunts of the Nicors. Foremost he[1] fared, a few at his side of the wiser men, the ways to scan, till he found in a flash the forested hill hanging over the hoary rock, a woful wood: the waves below were dyed in blood.

The Danish men had sorrow of soul, and for Scyldings all, for many a hero, 'twas hard to bear, ill for earls, when Aeschere's head they found by the flood on the foreland there. Waves were welling, the warriors saw, hot with blood; but the horn sang oft battle-song bold. The band sat down, and watched on the water worm-like things, sea-dragons strange that sounded the deep, and nicors that lay on the ledge of the ness -- such as oft essay at hour of morn on the road-of-sails their ruthless quest, -- and sea-snakes and monsters.

These started away, swollen and savage that song to hear, that war-horn's blast. The warden of Geats, with bolt from bow, then balked of life, of wave-work, one monster, amid its heart went the keen war-shaft; in water it seemed less doughty in swimming whom death had seized. Swift on the billows, with boar-spears well hooked and barbed, it was hard beset, done to death and dragged on the headland, wave-roamer wondrous. Warriors viewed the grisly guest. Then girt him Beowulf in martial mail, nor mourned for his life. His breastplate broad and bright of hues, woven by hand, should the waters try; well could it ward the warrior's body that battle should break on his breast in vain nor harm his heart by the hand of a foe.

And the helmet white that his head protected was destined to dare the deeps of the flood, through wave-whirl win: 'twas wound with chains, decked with gold, as in days of yore the weapon-smith worked it wondrously, with swine-forms set it, that swords nowise, brandished in battle, could bite that helm.

Nor was that the meanest of mighty helps which Hrothgar's orator offered at need: "Hrunting" they named the hilted sword, of old-time heirlooms easily first; iron was its edge, all etched with poison, with battle-blood hardened, nor blenched it at fight in hero's hand who held it ever, on paths of peril prepared to go to folkstead[2] of foes. Not first time this it was destined to do a daring task. For he bore not in mind, the bairn of Ecglaf sturdy and strong, that speech he had made, drunk with wine, now this weapon he lent to a stouter swordsman.

Himself, though, durst not under welter of waters wager his life as loyal liegeman. So lost he his glory, honor of earls. With the other not so, who girded him now for the grim encounter. XXII BEOWULF spake, bairn of Ecgtheow "Have mind, thou honored offspring of Healfdene gold-friend of men, now I go on this quest, sovran wise, what once was said: if in thy cause it came that I should lose my life, thou wouldst loyal bide to me, though fallen, in father's place! Be guardian, thou, to this group of my thanes, my warrior-friends, if War should seize me; and the goodly gifts thou gavest me, Hrothgar beloved, to Hygelac send!

Geatland's king may ken by the gold, Hrethel's son see, when he stares at the treasure, that I got me a friend for goodness famed, and joyed while I could in my jewel-bestower. And let Unferth wield this wondrous sword, earl far-honored, this heirloom precious, hard of edge: with Hrunting I seek doom of glory, or Death shall take me. Long while of the day fled ere he felt the floor of the sea.

Soon found the fiend who the flood-domain sword-hungry held these hundred winters, greedy and grim, that some guest from above, some man, was raiding her monster-realm. She grasped out for him with grisly claws, and the warrior seized; yet scathed she not his body hale; the breastplate hindered, as she strove to shatter the sark of war, the linked harness, with loathsome hand.

Then bore this brine-wolf, when bottom she touched, the lord of rings to the lair she haunted whiles vainly he strove, though his valor held, weapon to wield against wondrous monsters that sore beset him; sea-beasts many tried with fierce tusks to tear his mail, and swarmed on the stranger. But soon he marked he was now in some hall, he knew not which, where water never could work him harm, nor through the roof could reach him ever fangs of the flood.

Firelight he saw, beams of a blaze that brightly shone. Then the warrior was ware of that wolf-of-the-deep, mere-wife monstrous. For mighty stroke he swung his blade, and the blow withheld not. Then sang on her head that seemly blade its war-song wild. But the warrior found the light-of-battle[1] was loath to bite, to harm the heart: its hard edge failed the noble at need, yet had known of old strife hand to hand, and had helmets cloven, doomed men's fighting-gear. First time, this, for the gleaming blade that its glory fell.

Firm still stood, nor failed in valor, heedful of high deeds, Hygelac's kinsman; flung away fretted sword, featly jewelled, the angry earl; on earth it lay steel-edged and stiff. His strength he trusted, hand-gripe of might. So man shall do whenever in war he weens to earn him lasting fame, nor fears for his life! Seized then by shoulder, shrank not from combat, the Geatish war-prince Grendel's mother. Flung then the fierce one, filled with wrath, his deadly foe, that she fell to ground. Swift on her part she paid him back with grisly grasp, and grappled with him.

Spent with struggle, stumbled the warrior, fiercest of fighting-men, fell adown. On the hall-guest she hurled herself, hent her short sword, broad and brown-edged,[2] the bairn to avenge, the sole-born son. Life would have ended for Ecgtheow's son, under wide earth for that earl of Geats, had his armor of war not aided him, battle-net hard, and holy God wielded the victory, wisest Maker. The Lord of Heaven allowed his cause; and easily rose the earl erect.

XXIII 'MID the battle-gear saw he a blade triumphant, old-sword of Eotens, with edge of proof, warriors' heirloom, weapon unmatched, -- save only 'twas more than other men to bandy-of-battle could bear at all -- as the giants had wrought it, ready and keen. Seized then its chain-hilt the Scyldings' chieftain, bold and battle-grim, brandished the sword, reckless of life, and so wrathfully smote that it gripped her neck and grasped her hard, her bone-rings breaking: the blade pierced through that fated-one's flesh: to floor she sank.

Bloody the blade: he was blithe of his deed. Then blazed forth light. The hall he scanned. By the wall then went he; his weapon raised high by its hilts the Hygelac-thane, angry and eager. That edge was not useless to the warrior now. He wished with speed Grendel to guerdon for grim raids many, for the war he waged on Western-Danes oftener far than an only time, when of Hrothgar's hearth-companions he slew in slumber, in sleep devoured, fifteen men of the folk of Danes, and as many others outward bore, his horrible prey.

Well paid for that the wrathful prince! For now prone he saw Grendel stretched there, spent with war, spoiled of life, so scathed had left him Heorot's battle. The body sprang far when after death it endured the blow, sword-stroke savage, that severed its head. Soon,[1] then, saw the sage companions who waited with Hrothgar, watching the flood, that the tossing waters turbid grew, blood-stained the mere. Old men together, hoary-haired, of the hero spake; the warrior would not, they weened, again, proud of conquest, come to seek their mighty master.

To many it seemed the wolf-of-the-waves had won his life. The ninth hour came. The noble Scyldings left the headland; homeward went the gold-friend of men. Now that sword began, from blood of the fight, in battle-droppings,[3] war-blade, to wane: 'twas a wondrous thing that all of it melted as ice is wont when frosty fetters the Father loosens, unwinds the wave-bonds, wielding all seasons and times: the true God he!

Nor took from that dwelling the duke of the Geats precious things, though a plenty he saw, save only the head and that hilt withal blazoned with jewels: the blade had melted, burned was the bright sword, her blood was so hot, so poisoned the hell-sprite who perished within there. There are sahiyh ahadiysth collected in other compendiums outside of Al-Bukhaariy and Muslim as well. Even Al-Bukhaariy admit this.

That he did not wrote down all the sahiyh ahadiysth inside his Jami'g. To say that Al-Mahdiy is doubtful because of the four Sunaan is not completely Sahiyh is a low blow one would expect from the likes of Al-Albaaniy and his ilk. There are Sahiyh and Hasan ahadiysth in the four Sunaan too! There are compendiums on Hadiysth in actuality. Today thanks to those Wahhabi retards, ahadiysth has practically been reduced to two books. Da'iyf is not mawduw'g spurious. If enough da'iyf ahadiysth exist to support each other shawaahid the content acceptibility increases.

Ahlussunna follows consensus not this scholar or that scholar. If we did that, it will certainly be chaos with each and everyone of following the opinion of the scholar to our liking. Only after the Ahlussunna scholarship have debated an issue from every angle and an opinion reached either ijmaa or jumhuwr; a Mu'gtamad decision will made and put in effect. Last time I check majority of Sunni 'ulamaa believed in the advent of Al-Mahdiy and considered it as part of Faith.

They totally reject the Shiy'a version of Mahdiy by ijmaa complete consensus though. Many ahadiysth needs to be combined to get the full picture. Taking ahadiysth in isolation even if they are sa'hiyh is a sure way to get deviated. As example the ISIS khawaarij group and their likes. They only uses Sahiyh ahadiysth rejecting the use. Did not save them from misguidance. Given his assocation with Ahmad Kuftaro, it's important to take note of Rev. Moon's involvement with the CIA. I spent 10 years reading new age books and doing TM before getting saved in l at God sent me into the psych system to be a witness against their atheism and genocide by drugs, which are deadly, By Design.

The purpose of psych drugs is mind control and genocide. I spent 7 years in psych wards, on the drugs. The first time I set foot in a psych ward God said to me "The covering over this place is sorcery". Sorcery is by definition using drugs to invoke demons to control people. The word Pharmacy comes from Pharmakaia which translates as drugs, sorcery.

Kundalini is the serpent devil in the garden of Eden. It is demon possession. I had a vietnamese Buddhist roommate who did yoga on the floor where I slept. One day while sitting there on the phone, I felt something go up my spine, causing excruciating pain. I screamed and my friend on the phone prayed til it left. It must have been a kundalini demon going into me.

When we pray or speak things, we invoke spiritual assignments in that same spot. Words all invoke things, they do not just describe. The nazis killed mental patients with psych drugs in the t4 euthenasia program. This genocide has continued worldwide since using mental health as a cover. Dr's 2nd question is always "do you hear voices" and anyone who says they hear God or demons is thought to have 'auditory hallucinations' a supposed symptom of schizophrenia. Jesus said "my sheep hear my voice" John THey come from the spiritual realm.

The word "inspiration" means "a spirit goes into it". God talks to everyone thru the Holy Spirit, the Spirit of Truth, which has been on earth for years since Jesus sent it from Heaven. Demons also talk to people if given an opening. Psych drugs cause mental illness, suicide, homicide. All the mass shooters were on them. Whatever spirit 'inspires' something is transmitted by it and by having it around. Removing it removes the demonic oppression. Mental and physical illnesses are caused by demonic spirits whose 'assignments' are the names of those diseases.

I have done it. I have rebuked canc-, asthm-, depress-. I know about ecstatic worship: I lived in a church for 2 years, playing alone at night. I could feel angels touch my head as I sang.

Planetary Management

God gave me a loud singing voice I did not previously have. You can listen to a track I recorded that was a prayer. I sing in tongues on it. I also sing like the hasids sing. It was a prayer for Jews, among other things. The 3rd song Glorify Your Name I wrote in a psych ward and sung for 2 years while there.

If you sing along, you will be. The bible says that anyone who asks for the Holy Spirit will be given it. Being Born Again means being filled with the Holy Spirit. All the Sunni groups from salafi to sufi accept Mahdi and Jesus. Even the shia accept the coming of Mahdi and 2nd coming of Jesus. There is only 1 group claiming to be Muslim denies Mahdi and 2nd coming of Jesus, and qadyani have never been Accepted as Muslims their every attempt to label them selves Muslims failed. In UK the so called relaxed Muslims sufi's are at the forefront of refuting qadyani's.

Please when you give reasons on Islam don't quote botanical encyclopedia quran and hadith are sufficient for us you continue With your belief for us Mahdi and Jesus is part of our belief. Sufism, kabalah and gnosticism have roots in the Vedas. Doctrines of Abrahamic religions are derived from Vedas and its clones as Zoroastrism. All started arround BC with apocalypse at Saraswati river as 2 earth's plates colided and one get under another and rised it. It was accompanied by seizmic and volcanic activities. Hyksos in Egypt on spoked wheel chariots- Aryans, Hittites, Mitani- who spoked sanskrit and have vedic gods as Mithra, Varuna etc.

This era ended up arround BC by Sea people. There is couple scientifically provable floods which would be taken as Vedic flood. Vedic flood is fundamentaly identical with biblical flood. It's center figure is Manu roots of german and english word "man". Manu build boat and has sons whom he sent world wide. But sacred bull slamed in cave and labyrinth stayed in this area till Jesus's times of Mithraism.

Floods: In vedic scripts is stated that Kashmir was lake. Actually 45, years ago mountain ridge broke by seismic activity. Someone was there, saw it and passed from generation to generation. Another flood in Aryan lifespace is Black Sea deluge, as 5, years ago seismic activities broke Bosporus and water flooded valley which is this days The Black Sea. Vedic goddes of water is Danu and all rivers heading to Black sea bear her name. Agni is vedic god, also Etruscans have one.

There is theories that Jesus went to Bharat-India, also that he was buddhist monk. To understand that we must answer the fundamental question: what religion was Jesus. Jesus was Essene, and essenes practiced kabalah, three of life, they were healers-ayurvedic? Why should Jesus go to Bharat. Another story is that Jesus's grave is in kashmir. On web page askwhy. Famous by bible are pharisees. Pharisee are Pharsi or Parsi means persians. Phariseeism became rabinism and rabinism transformed into judaism.

How can my great grand father be more intelligent than me? It is our attitude. We forget that it is our great ancestors who taught us how to count. India was the mother of our philosophy, of much of our mathematics, of the ideals embodied in Christianity… of self-government and democracy. In many ways, Mother India is the mother of us all. It is a thoroughly scientific religion, where religion and science meet hand in hand. Here theology is based on science and philosophy. Conspiracy theorists like myself believe modern history reflects a long-term conspiracy by an international financial elite to enslave humanity.

Like blind men examining an elephant, we attribute this conspiracy to Jews, Illuminati, Vatican, Jesuits, Freemasons, Black Nobility, and Bildersbergs etc. The real villains are at the heart of our economic and cultural life. Their identity is secret but Rothschild is certainly one of them. The City of London is run by the Bank of England, a private corporation. The square-mile-large City is a sovereign state located in the heart of greater London.

On the contrary, the bankers dictate to the British Parliament. The Bank of England assumed control of the U. Roosevelt administration when its agent J. Anton Chaitkin, Treason in America, It dominates the world supply of petroleum, gold, diamonds, and many other vital raw materials; and deploys these assets at the disposal of its geopolitical agenda. Who are Donmehs? Donmehs or crypto jews are judaists who were forced to christianity after reconquista in Spain. Those who setled in Salonika-Thessaloniki created sect called Donmeh.

Spiritual guru was Shabatai Tzvi or Zevi or Zvi. All freemasons and illuminati were established and paid by Britain aka East India Company. In fact, Carvajal was a Marrano or crypto-Jew, a descendent of Iberian Jews compelled to accept Catholicism in the previous century. Like many of his secret co-religionists, Carvajal hated Spain and all it stood for. In , Carvajal arranged for Rabbi Menasseh ben Israel to come from Amsterdam and make a personal appeal to Cromwell.

The Lord Protector formally repealed the Edict two years later. Jump ahead years and British agents in the Middle East, among them a certain T. Who are members of the Club of the Isles? They created French revolution to eliminate competition and set East India Company system on European continent. This system is also called globalization,. Also a lot of Sheiks are just impostors and predatory types praying on the person who is deperate. Some use Hasjiesj. I think after the new ager goes through the drugs-phase and doesnt find the Fix or illusion they are chasing after, th sufi path becomes the next thing as a more ''sobered up'' less toxic path.

But for me it is still brainwashing, altough i have nor found really destructive things in the teachings except :. Why not try to live in this world the best you can instead of trying to flee from it in zikr and other trance-hypnotic trips without drugs? As my experience goes, the qawwali music does have a strong impact on the mind and fou feel elevation and lighter and quieter in the mind, but i nowadays rather use my mind and think critically about things because i'm interested in the world and do not wish to spend too much time wasting.

I don't agree that religion is a cult, but you made a lot of other very good points. I entirely agree with what you say is the problem about the life-denying tendencies of asceticism. And mysticism tends to promote aspiring to achieve "other-worldly" experiences, instead of improving one's role in the world. And that is the fundamental difference between mysticism and orthodox tradition, as that, despite its heavy corruption by mysticism, was its original intent.

It's all about social justice, and taking care of the here and now. Here's a great quote my famous historian Ibn Khaldun, who explained that there were two types of Sufis, one was legitimate, and the other deviant. James Morris explains, Ibn Khaldun denounced the other-worldly aspirations of Sufism, and:.

I think there is a time and place for some form of sjamanic practise , and psychedelic plants as they are grown in nature and are so compatible with our brainchemistry. I think it can be a beneficial tool if it is coupled with a mind wich is trained in critical thinking and has freed itself of irrational beliefs wich have been assimilated over a lifetime. The mind gets blocked from certain thoughts so one can be trapped in a invisible caged perception of reality and not even know one is.

I find it very suffocating as i am very curious to the nature of reality and keep an open mind and the privilige to entertain any idea without fear of punishment, and i upgrade my beliefs if i gain new insights. I think that if i do not physically-mentally impose my will on people i am morally being a good person. And I have the right to defend myself to survive and reserve the right to take out predators if my life is threatened. I do not really need all the other aspects wich for me take up to much energy and time. I think the Intelligent force wich we call god is just our limited view on something our wildest imagination could not fully appreciate.

And people in history have seen a glimpse of a valid aspect of this intelligence and tried to reform society for the better as i believe most of the prohets of the world have done. The problem is that after death and codification of the teachings people get stuck and the teachings become a wall in stead of a road that needs to grow to get ahead. I still commend you for your work in exposing negative aspects of your religion as most people dont even see them or dare not to be critical in fear of repression from their peers.

You will note that the doublespeak version of that word ends up being like sex, drugs and music i. That is the direct opposite of religion as per its etymology. Which according to Cicero was from relegere meaning re-read. And also the opposite of negligens ie religiens meaning careful. But I learned that a certain group of scholars who believed in the idea that polytheism was the original belief, they pushed another claim of origin. And you can see that their belief was a bias against the original meaning and modern compared to Cicero. I think people are missing the point of Sufism.

One should not lose oneself, but instead build awareness of themselves and the world around them. Gurdjieff's belief that people were asleep means they lacked awareness. This awareness is hindered by internal chatter,the dialogue in a persons head that requires strong effort to control. Rosicrucians were gnostics. Sufism,gnosticism and kabalah have roots in the Vedas. Another name for Tara is Terra Mari. Mari is main godddes in original Basque religion, while symbol of Basque religion is Lauburu what means four heads. It is swastika and I think four animal heads like horses are origins of swastika.

Back to Tara. Symbol of Tara is rose. Tara is also goddes of wisdom.

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Wisdom in greek language is sophia. Sophia became goddes of wisdom. Symbol of Sophia is rose. If you look at Hagia Sophia in Istanbul you can see those symbols on wall instead cross. Put rose on cross means put supreme goddes on cross. Baphomet in kabalah is deciphered as Sophia. What is important on famous picture of Baphomet is tatoo and means Divide and control. Jesus as essene was no doubt follower of teachings derived from vedas. Famous Cathars were followers of essenes. Cathars and templars escaped to Spain where they fought in reconquista. They met there with judaists and output was: alumbrado aka illuminati, jesuits and donmehs.

I was looking at Scythians this afternoon and the connection with the warlike tribes of Benjamin and Dan. At closer to 60 than I would like it is great fun to have your ideas substantiated or refuted even though someone else got to the answer before you. As you are aware its always about the research and thought; the journey too perhaps.

I hope to be your first UK reviewer soon after. Thanks Andrew. Hope you find the information in BTWS valuable. I've expanded some on the Scythians. Fascinating topic, as is the entire issue of the so-called Lost Tribes. Whether they existed or not, they were a very important theme throughout the occult tradition. Interesting to note that Scotland means land of the Scythians. Im still struggling wit the notion the london nased intel services were that together and so far sighted as to set up Wahabism as a trojaan horse.

The auther William Engdahls concept of weaponising Islam into destroying itself seems apposite but thats used by him to describe more current events setting Sunni and Shia etc etc against each other. Plus the hippies in a field thing for post new agers is a sharp point. However SAM wrote a book in which he called himself 'the new age in person' and thats the title of the book I think.

He also brought a lot of attention to the Sufi message of Inayat Khan - whose daughter Noor Inayat Khan was killed in a concentration camp for being a brave unarmed spy. Is the phrase I recall 'people of purity' or such like - Sufis consider they are older than the Quran and Prophet Mohammed - how do these fit in with your views that it was a farsighted subtefuge against Islam if it does have a real claim to predate it? The Abrahamic tradition meme you refer to was the last shred of inclusive peacemaking I could believe in re the insanity in the Holy Land - if you are saying its syncretism etc then I have no peg to hang my hopes on as Sufis seemed to be a 3rd way out of the Sunni Shia thing-.

The details of the British creation of the Wahhabi sect are found in the Memoirs of Hempher. I don't know if we can say that the British planned the use of Wahhabism that far back. The British did create other groups as well, like the Sanussi Brotherhood, and also used many Sufi orders, like the Bektashi. But of all of them, the Wahhabis likely it proved to be most useful over the centuries. As for the Sufism, when they say they are older than the Quran and Mohammed, that is a dead give-away to their heretical leanings.

The only tradition that precedes Islam is that of the recognized Prophets of the Bible and People of the Book. What Sufis are referring to in such cases is the occult, showing that their adherence to Islam is merely a cover. What does occult mean? New age is a spiritual movement that started or was brought in the 's by the Freemasons. The New Age Spirituality is the Envisioned religion for the future. Here is a great article describing the New Age and its key beliefs. Since this was written it has been revealed that Barak Hussein Obama, like his mother, is very likely a Subud follower.

It is also been conjectured that Bapak Mohammad Subuh is his biological father!!!! I was surprised to see you mention Shaykh Abdalqadir alSufi in your article as supporting freemasonry because he has written against them extensively as he has also written against Hitler and Nazism. My surprise was lessened when I saw that you take your information from the mad Italian, Uthman, who is a well known murderous psychopath.