The Fatal Struggle—Beowulf’s Last Moments
Then I heard that at need of the king of the people The upstanding earlman exhibited prowess, Vigor and courage, as suited his nature; He his head did not guard, but the high-minded liegeman’s Hand was consumed, when he succored his kinsman, So he struck the strife-bringing strange-comer lower, Earl-thane in armor, that in went the weapon Gleaming and plated, that ’gan then the fire Later to lessen. The liegelord himself then Retained his consciousness, brandished his war-knife, Battle-sharp, bitter, that he bare on his armor: The Weder-lord cut the worm in the middle. They had felled the enemy (life drove out then Puissant prowess), the pair had destroyed him, Land-chiefs related: so a liegeman should prove him, A thaneman when needed. To the prince ’twas the last of His era of conquest by his own great achievements, The latest of world-deeds. The wound then began Which the earth-dwelling dragon erstwhile had wrought him To burn and to swell. He soon then discovered That bitterest bale-woe in his bosom was raging, Poison within. The atheling advanced then, That along by the wall, he prudent of spirit Might sit on a settle; he saw the giant-work, How arches of stone strengthened with pillars The earth-hall eternal inward supported. Then the long-worthy liegeman laved with his hand the Far-famous chieftain, gory from sword-edge, Refreshing the face of his friend-lord and ruler, Sated with battle, unbinding his helmet. Beowulf answered, of his injury spake he, His wound that was fatal (he was fully aware He had lived his allotted life-days enjoying The pleasures of earth; then past was entirely His measure of days, death very near): “My son I would give now my battle-equipments, Had any of heirs been after me granted, Along of my body. This people I governed Fifty of winters: no king ’mong my neighbors Dared to encounter me with comrades-in-battle, Try me with