Then he charged that the battle be announced at the hedge Up o’er the cliff-edge, where the earl-troopers bided The whole of the morning, mood-wretched sat them, Bearers of battle-shields, both things expecting, The end of his lifetime and the coming again of The liegelord belovèd. Little reserved he Of news that was known, who the ness-cliff did travel, But he truly discoursed to all that could hear him: “Now the free-giving friend-lord of the folk of the Weders, The folk-prince of Geatmen, is fast in his death-bed, By the deeds of the dragon in death-bed abideth; Along with him lieth his life-taking foeman Slain with knife-wounds: he was wholly unable To injure at all the ill-planning monster With bite of his sword-edge. Wiglaf is sitting, Offspring of Wihstan, up over Beowulf, Earl o’er another whose end-day hath reached him, Head-watch holdeth o’er heroes unliving, For friend and for foeman. The folk now expecteth A season of strife when the death of the folk-king To Frankmen and Frisians in far-lands is published. The war-hatred waxed warm ’gainst the Hugmen,