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| WIGLAF his name was, Weohstan's son, |
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| linden-thane loved, the lord of Scylfings, |
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| Aelfhere's kinsman. His king he now saw |
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| with heat under helmet hard oppressed. |
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| He minded the prizes his prince had given him, |
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| wealthy seat of the Waegmunding line, |
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| and folk-rights that his father owned |
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| Not long he lingered. The linden yellow, |
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| his shield, he seized; the old sword he drew:— |
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| as heirloom of Eanmund earth-dwellers knew it, |
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| who was slain by the sword-edge, son of Ohtere, |
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| friendless exile, erst in fray |
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| killed by Weohstan, who won for his kin |
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| brown-bright helmet, breastplate ringed, |
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| old sword of Eotens, Onela's gift, |
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| weeds of war of the warrior-thane, |
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| battle-gear brave: though a brother's child |
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| had been felled, the feud was unfelt by Onela.[1] |
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| For winters this war-gear Weohstan kept, |
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| breastplate and board, till his bairn had grown |
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| earlship to earn as the old sire did: |
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| then he gave him, mid Geats, the gear of battle, |
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| portion huge, when he passed from life, |
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| fared aged forth. For the first time now |
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| with his leader-lord the liegeman young |
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| was bidden to share the shock of battle. |
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| Neither softened his soul, nor the sire's bequest |
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| weakened in war.[2] So the worm found out |
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| when once in fight the foes had met! |
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| Wiglaf spake,—and his words were sage; |
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| sad in spirit, he said to his comrades:— |
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| "I remember the time, when mead we took, |
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| what promise we made to this prince of ours |
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| in the banquet-hall, to our breaker-of-rings, |
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| for gear of combat to give him requital, |
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| for hard-sword and helmet, if hap should bring |
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| stress of this sort! Himself who chose us |
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| from all his army to aid him now, |
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| urged us to glory, and gave these treasures, |
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| because he counted us keen with the spear |
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| and hardy 'neath helm, though this hero-work |
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| our leader hoped unhelped and alone |
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| to finish for us,—folk-defender |
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| who hath got him glory greater than all men |
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| for daring deeds! Now the day is come |
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| that our noble master has need of the might |
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| of warriors stout. Let us stride along |
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| the hero to help while the heat is about him |
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| glowing and grim! For God is my witness |
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| I am far more fain the fire should seize |
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| along with my lord these limbs of mine![3] |
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| Unsuiting it seems our shields to bear |
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| homeward hence, save here we essay |
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| to fell the foe and defend the life |
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| of the Weders' lord. I wot 'twere shame |
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| on the law of our land if alone the king |
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| out of Geatish warriors woe endured |
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| and sank in the struggle! My sword and helmet, |
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| breastplate and board, for us both shall serve!" |
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| Through slaughter-reek strode he to succor his chieftain, |
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| his battle-helm bore, and brief words spake:— |
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| "Beowulf dearest, do all bravely, |
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| as in youthful days of yore thou vowedst |
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| that while life should last thou wouldst let no wise |
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| thy glory droop! Now, great in deeds, |
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| atheling steadfast, with all thy strength |
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| shield thy life! I will stand to help thee." |
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| At the words the worm came once again, |
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| murderous monster mad with rage, |
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| with fire-billows flaming, its foes to seek, |
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| the hated men. In heat-waves burned |
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| that board[4] to the boss, and the breastplate failed |
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| to shelter at all the spear-thane young. |
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| Yet quickly under his kinsman's shield |
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| went eager the earl, since his own was now |
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| all burned by the blaze. The bold king again |
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| had mind of his glory: with might his glaive |
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| was driven into the dragon's head,— |
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| blow nerved by hate. But Naegling[5] was shivered, |
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| broken in battle was Beowulf's sword, |
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| old and gray. 'Twas granted him not |
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| that ever the edge of iron at all |
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| could help him at strife: too strong was his hand, |
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| so the tale is told, and he tried too far |
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| with strength of stroke all swords he wielded, |
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| though sturdy their steel: they steaded him nought. |
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| Then for the third time thought on its feud |
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| that folk-destroyer, fire-dread dragon, |
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| and rushed on the hero, where room allowed, |
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| battle-grim, burning; its bitter teeth |
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| closed on his neck, and covered him |
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| with waves of blood from his breast that welled. |
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