Then Beowulf knew that his end drew very near, and when he had thanked Wiglaf for his loyal help, he bade him enter the cave and bring forth the treasure that he might please his dying eyes by looking on the riches that he had won for his people. And Wiglaf hastened into the cave, for he knew that he raced with Death, and brought forth armfuls of weapons, of magnificent ornaments, of goblets and of cups, of bars of red gold. Handfuls of sparkling jewels, too, he brought, and each time he came and went, seizing without choosing, whatever lay nearest, it seemed as though the Firedrake's hoard were endless. A magical golden standard and armour and swords that the dwarfs had made brought a smile of joy into the dying King's eyes. And when the ten shamed warriors, seeing that the fight was at an end, came to where their mighty ruler lay, they found him lying near the vile carcase of the monster he had slain, and surrounded by a dazzlement of treasure uncountable. To them, and to Wiglaf, Beowulf spoke his valediction, urging on them to maintain the honour of the land of the Goths, and then he said: "I thank God eternal, the great King of Glory, For the vast treasures which I here gaze upon, That I ere my death-day might for my people Win so great wealth-- Since I have given my life, Thou must now look to the needs of the nation; Here dwell I no longer, for Destiny calleth me! Bid thou my warriors after my funeral pyre Build me a burial-cairn high on the sea-cliffs head; It shall for memory tower up to Hronesness, So that the sea-farers Beowulf's Barrow Henceforth shall name it, they who drive far and wide Over the mighty flood their foaming Reels. Thou art the last of all the kindred of Wagmund! Wyrd[10] has swept all my kin, all the brave chiefs away! Now must I follow them!" Such was the passing of Beowulf, greatest of Northern heroes, and under a mighty barrow on a cliff very high above the sea, they buried him, and with him a great fortune from the treasure he had won. Then with heavy hearts, "round about the mound rode his hearth-sharers, who sang that he was of kings, of men, the mildest, kindest, to his people sweetest, and the readiest in search of praise": "Gentlest, most gracious, most keen to win glory." And if, in time, the great deeds of a mighty king of the Goths have become more like fairy tale than solid history, this at least we know, that whether it is in Saeland or on the Yorkshire coast--where "High on the sea-cliff ledges The white gulls are trooping and crying" --the barrow of Beowulf covers a very valiant hero, a very perfect gentleman. FOOTNOTES: [9] Shakespeare (_Julius Cæsar_). [10] Goddess of Fate. ROLAND THE PALADIN "Roland, the flower of chivalry, Expired at Roncevall." Thomas Campbell. "Hero-worship endures for ever while man endures."