In this passage it is easy to see that the variations which make it into modern English are for the most part of a very simple kind. Some of the words are absolutely identical, as _his_, _on_, _he_, _and_, _land_, or _north_. Others, though differences of spelling mask the likeness, are practically the same, as _sæ_, _sæde_, _cwæth_, _thæt_, _lang_, for which we now write _sea_, _said_, _quoth_, _that_, _long_. A few have undergone contraction or alteration, as _hlaford_, now _lord_, _cyning_, now _king_, and _steorbord_, now _starboard_. _Stow_, a place, is now obsolete, except in local names; _styccemælum_, stickmeal, has been Normanised into _piecemeal_. In other cases new terminations have been substituted for old ones; _huntath_ and _fiscath_ are now replaced by _hunting_ and _fishing_; while _hunta_ has been superseded by _hunter_. Only six words in the passage have died out wholly: _buan_, to abide (_bude_); _swithe_, very; _wician_, to dwell; _cirr_, an occasion; _fandian_, to enquire (connected with _find_); and _bæcbord_, port, which still survives in French from Norman sources. _Dæg_, day, and _ænig_, any, show how existing English has softened the final _g_ into a _y_. But the main difference which separates the modern passage from its ancient prototype is the consistent dropping of the grammatical inflexions in _hlaforde_, _Ælfrede_, _ealra_, _feawum_, and _fandian_, where we now say, _to his lord_, _of all_, _in few_, and _to enquire_. The next passage, from the old English epic of _Beowulf_, shows the language in another aspect. Here, as in all poetry, archaic forms abound, and the syntax is intentionally involved. It is written in the old alliterative rhythm, described in the next chapter:– Beowulf mathelode bearn Ecgtheowes; Hwæt! we the thas sæ-lac sunu Healfdenes Leod Scyldinga lustum brohton, Tires to tacne, the thu her to-locast. Ic thæt un-softe ealdre gedigde Wigge under wætere, weore genethde Earfothlice; æt rihte wæs Guth getwæfed nymthe mec god scylde. * * * * * Beowulf spake, the son of Ecgtheow: See! We to thee this sea-gift, son of Healfdene, Prince of the Scyldings, joyfully have brought, For a token of glory, that thou here lookest on. That I unsoftly, gloriously accomplished, In war under water: the work I dared, With much labour: rightly was The battle divided, but that a god shielded me. Or, to translate more prosaically:–