No few of the world-folk widely hath scattered!” So, woeful of spirit one after all Lamented mournfully, moaning in sadness By day and by night, till death with its billows Dashed on his spirit. Then the ancient dusk-scather Found the great treasure standing all open, He who flaming and fiery flies to the barrows, Naked war-dragon, nightly escapeth Encompassed with fire; men under heaven Widely beheld him. ’Tis said that he looks for The hoard in the earth, where old he is guarding The heathenish treasure; he’ll be nowise the better. So three-hundred winters the waster of peoples Held upon earth that excellent hoard-hall, Till the forementioned earlman angered him bitterly: The beat-plated beaker he bare to his chieftain And fullest remission for all his remissness Begged of his liegelord. Then the hoard was discovered, The treasure was taken, his petition was granted The lorn-mooded liegeman. His lord regarded The old-work of earth-folk⁠—’twas the earliest occasion. When the dragon awoke, the strife was renewed there; He snuffed ’long the stone then, stout-hearted found he