XXXIX

him. Wiglaf discoursed then, Weohstan his son, sad-mooded hero, Looked on the hated: “He who soothness will utter Can say that the liegelord who gave you the jewels, The ornament-armor wherein ye are standing, When on ale-bench often he offered to hall-men Helmet and burnie, the prince to his liegemen, As best upon earth he was able to find him⁠— That he wildly wasted his war-gear undoubtedly When battle o’ertook him. The troop-king no need had To glory in comrades; yet God permitted him, Victory-Wielder, with weapon unaided Himself to avenge, when vigor was needed. I life-protection but little was able To give him in battle, and I ’gan, notwithstanding, Helping my kinsman (my strength overtaxing): He waxed the weaker when with weapon I smote on My mortal opponent, the fire less strongly Flamed from his bosom. Too few of protectors Came round the king at the critical moment. Now must ornament-taking and weapon-bestowing, Home-joyance all, cease for your kindred, Food for the people; each of your warriors Must needs be bereavèd of rights that he holdeth In landed possessions, when faraway nobles Shall learn of your leaving your lord so basely, The dastardly deed. Death is more pleasant To every earlman than infamous life is!”