xi + 120 pp.; many small b/w drawings and 16 color lithographs in blue and orange. A moderately large-format (page is 18.4 × 26.8 cm) redesign for Leonard's translation, which was originally published in 1923 and reissued as a fine art book with illustrations by Rockwell Kent in 1932; here, it is newly illustrated by Lynd Ward. This 1939 version was reprinted by different presses in 1974 and 2004.

The translation is preceded by Leonard's brief introduction ("Something About the Poem Beowulf," iii-ix) and followed by his translation of The Fight at Finnsburg, described as "a fragment of a lost ballad" (119-20). The translation retains Leonard's interjected prose "explanations, which are jolly and encouraging" (Heritage Club pamphlet Sandglass, no. 5K, no date, [3]; the 4-page pamphlet describes in some detail the commissioning of Ward's lithographs, of John S. Fass's book design, and the book's physical features).

The translation begins:

Before chanting the deeds of the Geatman Beowulf, so brave and so strong, the 'Scop' (that is, the bard) chants the story of the ancestry of Hrothgar, the King of Danishmen (whose grandfather happened to be called Beowulf also), especially the strange story of the coming and the burial of Scyld, founder of the royal line. But why should the story of Beowulf, the Geat, begin with Hrothgar, the Dane? The Scop will strike his harp again and again and make all clear.

What ho! We've heard the glory     of Spear-Danes, clansmen-kings,
Their deeds of olden story,—     how fought the aethelings!
Often Scyld Scefing     reft his foemen all,
Reft the tribes at wassail     of bench and mead in hall.
Smote the jarls with terror;     gat good recompense
For that he came a foundling,     a child with no defense:
He waxed beneath the welkin,     grew in honors great,
Till each and every people,     of those around who sate
Off beyond the whale-road,     to him was underling,
To him must tender toll-fee.     That was a goodly King! (1-2)

And ends:

Then around the mound rode,     with cry and call,
Bairns of the aethelings,     twelve of all,
To mourn for their Master,     their sorrow to sing,
Framing a word-chant,     speaking of the King:
They vaunted his earlship,     they honored doughtily
His wonder-works of glory.     Let it ever be,
That heart of man shall cherish     and word of man shall praise
The Master-Friend, when in the end     his spirit goes its ways.
So the Geatish clansmen     bemoanéd their dearth,
The passing-forth of Beowulf,     these comrades of his hearth,
Calling him a World-King,     the mildest under crown,
And to his kin the kindest,     and keenest for renown. (118)

BAM.