Wiglaf so hight he, the son of Weohstan, Lief linden-warrior, and lord of Scylfings, The kinsman of Aelfhere: and he saw his man-lord Under his host-mask tholing the heat; He had mind of the honour that to him gave he erewhile. The wick-stead the wealthy of them, the Waegmundings, And the folk-rights each one which his father had owned. Then he might not withhold him, his hand gripp'd the round, Yellow linden; he tugg'd out withal the old sword, That was known among men for the heirloom of Eanmund, 2610 Ohthere's son, unto whom in the strife did become, To the exile unfriended, Weohstan for the bane With the sword-edge, and unto his kinsmen bare off The helm the brown-brindled, the byrny beringed, And the old eoten-sword that erst Onela gave him; Were they his kinsman's weed of the war, Host-fight-gear all ready. Of the feud nothing spake he. Though he of his brother the bairn had o'er-thrown. But the host-gear befretted he held many seasons, The bill and the byrny, until his own boy might 2620 Do him the earlship as did his ere-father. Amidst of the Geats then he gave him the war-weed Of all kinds unnumber'd, whenas he from life wended Old on the forth-way. Then was the first time For that champion the young that he the war-race With his high lord the famed e'er he should frame: Naught melted his mood, naught the loom of his kinsman Weaken'd in war-tide; that found out the Worm When they two together had gotten to come. Now spake out Wiglaf many words rightwise, 2630 And said to his fellows: all sad was his soul: I remember that while when we gat us the mead, And whenas we behight to the high lord of us In the beer-hall, e'en he who gave us these rings, That we for the war-gear one while would pay, If unto him thislike need e'er should befall, For these helms and hard swords. So he chose us from host To this faring of war by his very own will, Of glories he minded us, and gave me these gems here, Whereas us of gar-warriors he counted for good, 2640 And bold bearers of helms. Though our lord e'en for us This work of all might was of mind all alone Himself to be framing, the herd of the folk, Whereas most of all men he hath mightiness framed. Of deeds of all daring, yet now is the day come Whereon to our man-lord behoveth the main Of good battle-warriors; so thereunto wend we, And help we the host-chief, whiles that the heat be, The gleed-terror grim. Now of me wotteth God That to me is much liefer that that, my lyke-body, 2650 With my giver of gold the gleed should engrip. Unmeet it methinketh that we shields should bear Back unto our own home, unless we may erst The foe fell adown and the life-days defend Of the king of the Weders. Well wot I hereof That his old deserts naught such were, that he only