Encircled with jewels, as in seasons long past The weapon-smith worked it, wondrously made it, With swine-bodies fashioned it, that thenceforward no longer Brand might bite it, and battle-sword hurt it. And that was not least of helpers in prowess That Hrothgar’s spokesman had lent him when straitened; And the hilted hand-sword was Hrunting entitled, Old and most excellent ’mong all of the treasures; Its blade was of iron, blotted with poison, Hardened with gore; it failed not in battle Any hero under heaven in hand who it brandished, Who ventured to take the terrible journeys, The battle-field sought; not the earliest occasion That deeds of daring ’twas destined to ’complish. Ecglaf’s kinsman minded not soothly, Exulting in strength, what erst he had spoken Drunken with wine, when the weapon he lent to A sword-hero bolder; himself did not venture ’Neath the strife of the currents his life to endanger, To fame-deeds perform; there he forfeited glory, Repute for his strength. Not so with the other When he clad in his corslet had equipped him for battle.