Feasted anew. The night-veil fell then Dark o’er the warriors. The courtiers rose then; The gray-haired was anxious to go to his slumbers, The hoary old Scylding. Hankered the Geatman, The champion doughty, greatly, to rest him: An earlman early outward did lead him, Fagged from his faring, from far-country springing, Who for etiquette’s sake all of a liegeman’s Needs regarded, such as seamen at that time Were bounden to feel. The big-hearted rested; The building uptowered, spacious and gilded, The guest within slumbered, till the sable-clad raven Blithely foreboded the beacon of heaven. Then the bright-shining sun o’er the bottoms came going; The warriors hastened, the heads of the peoples Were ready to go again to their peoples, The high-mooded farer would faraway thenceward Look for his vessel. The valiant one bade then, Offspring of Ecglaf, off to bear Hrunting, To take his weapon, his well-beloved iron; He him thanked for the gift, saying good he accounted The war-friend and mighty, nor chid he with words then The blade of the brand: ’twas a brave-mooded hero.