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| A PERILOUS path, it proved, he[1] trod |
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| who heinously hid, that hall within, |
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| wealth under wall! Its watcher had killed |
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| one of a few,[2] and the feud was avenged |
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| in woful fashion. Wondrous seems it, |
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| what manner a man of might and valor |
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| oft ends his life, when the earl no longer |
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| in mead-hall may live with loving friends. |
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| So Beowulf, when that barrow's warden |
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| he sought, and the struggle; himself knew not |
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| in what wise he should wend from the world at last. |
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| For[3] princes potent, who placed the gold, |
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| with a curse to doomsday covered it deep, |
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| so that marked with sin the man should be, |
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| hedged with horrors, in hell-bonds fast, |
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| racked with plagues, who should rob their hoard. |
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| Yet no greed for gold, but the grace of heaven, |
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| ever the king had kept in view.[4] |
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| Wiglaf spake, the son of Weohstan:— |
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| "At the mandate of one, oft warriors many |
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| sorrow must suffer; and so must we. |
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| The people's-shepherd showed not aught |
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| of care for our counsel, king beloved! |
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| That guardian of gold he should grapple not, urged we, |
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| but let him lie where he long had been |
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| in his earth-hall waiting the end of the world, |
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| the hest of heaven.—This hoard is ours |
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| but grievously gotten; too grim the fate |
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| which thither carried our king and lord. |
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| I was within there, and all I viewed, |
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| the chambered treasure, when chance allowed me |
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| (and my path was made in no pleasant wise) |
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| under the earth-wall. Eager, I seized |
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| such heap from the hoard as hands could bear |
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| and hurriedly carried it hither back |
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| to my liege and lord. Alive was he still, |
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| still wielding his wits. The wise old man |
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| spake much in his sorrow, and sent you greetings |
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| and bade that ye build, when he breathed no more, |
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| on the place of his balefire a barrow high, |
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| memorial mighty. Of men was he |
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| worthiest warrior wide earth o'er |
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| the while he had joy of his jewels and burg. |
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| Let us set out in haste now, the second time |
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| to see and search this store of treasure, |
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| these wall-hid wonders,—the way I show you,— |
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| where, gathered near, ye may gaze your fill |
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| at broad-gold and rings. Let the bier, soon made, |
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| be all in order when out we come, |
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| our king and captain to carry thither |
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| —man beloved—where long he shall bide |
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| safe in the shelter of sovran God." |
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| Then the bairn of Weohstan bade command, |
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| hardy chief, to heroes many |
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| that owned their homesteads, hither to bring |
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| firewood from far—o'er the folk they ruled— |
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| for the famed-one's funeral. " Fire shall devour |
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| and wan flames feed on the fearless warrior |
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| who oft stood stout in the iron-shower, |
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| when, sped from the string, a storm of arrows |
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| shot o'er the shield-wall: the shaft held firm, |
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| featly feathered, followed the barb." |
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| And now the sage young son of Weohstan |
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| seven chose of the chieftain's thanes, |
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| the best he found that band within, |
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| and went with these warriors, one of eight, |
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| under hostile roof. In hand one bore |
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| a lighted torch and led the way. |
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| No lots they cast for keeping the hoard |
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| when once the warriors saw it in hall, |
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| altogether without a guardian, |
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| lying there lost. And little they mourned |
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| when they had hastily haled it out, |
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| dear-bought treasure! The dragon they cast, |
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| the worm, o'er the wall for the wave to take, |
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| and surges swallowed that shepherd of gems. |
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| Then the woven gold on a wain was laden— |
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| countless quite!—and the king was borne, |
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| hoary hero, to Hrones-Ness. |
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