Wiglaf Plunders the Dragon’s Den—Beowulf’s Death
Then heard I that Wihstan’s son very quickly, These words being uttered, heeded his liegelord Wounded and war-sick, went in his armor, His well-woven ring-mail, ’neath the roof of the barrow. Then the trusty retainer treasure-gems many Victorious saw, when the seat he came near to, Gold-treasure sparkling spread on the bottom, Wonder on the wall, and the worm-creature’s cavern, The ancient dawn-flier’s, vessels a-standing, Cups of the ancients of cleansers bereavèd, Robbed of their ornaments: there were helmets in numbers, Old and rust-eaten, arm-bracelets many, Artfully woven. Wealth can easily, Gold on the sea-bottom, turn into vanity Each one of earthmen, arm him who pleaseth! And he saw there lying an all-golden banner High o’er the hoard, of hand-wonders greatest, Linkèd with lacets: a light from it sparkled, That the floor of the cavern he was able to look on, To examine the jewels. Sight of the dragon Not any was offered, but edge offcarried him. Then I heard that the hero the hoard-treasure plundered, The giant-work ancient reaved in the cavern, Bare on his bosom the beakers and platters, As himself would fain have it, and took off the standard, The brightest of beacons; the bill had erst injured (Its edge was of iron), the old-ruler’s weapon, Him who long had watched as ward of the jewels, Who fire-terror carried hot for the treasure, Rolling in battle, in middlemost darkness, Till murdered he perished. The messenger hastened, Not loth to return, hurried by jewels: Curiosity urged him if, excellent-mooded, Alive he should find the lord of the Weders Mortally wounded, at the place where he left him. ’Mid the jewels he found then the famous old chieftain, His liegelord belovèd, at his life’s-end gory: He thereupon ’gan to lave him with water, Till the point of his word piercèd his breast-hoard. Beowulf spake (the gold-gems he noticed), The old one in sorrow: