Smiting the fire-drake with sword that was precious, That bright on the bone the blade-edge did weaken, Bit more feebly than his folk-leader needed, Burdened with bale-griefs. Then the barrow-protector, When the sword-blow had fallen, was fierce in his spirit, Flinging his fires, flamings of battle Gleamed then afar: the gold-friend of Weders Boasted no conquests, his battle-sword failed him Naked in conflict, as by no means it ought to, Long-trusty weapon. ’Twas no slight undertaking That Ecgtheow’s famous offspring would leave The drake-cavern’s bottom; he must live in some region Other than this, by the will of the dragon, As each one of earthmen existence must forfeit. ’Twas early thereafter the excellent warriors Met with each other. Anew and afresh The hoard-ward took heart (gasps heaved then his bosom): Sorrow he suffered encircled with fire Who the people erst governed. His companions by no means Were banded about him, bairns of the princes, With valorous spirit, but they sped to the forest,