Beowulf's Howe, e'en they that the high-ships Over the flood-mists drive from afar. Did off from his halse then a ring was all golden, The king the great-hearted, and gave to his thane, To the spear-warrior young his war-helm gold-brindled, 2810 The ring and the byrny, and bade him well brook them: Thou art the end-leaving of all of our kindred, The Waegmundings; Weird now hath swept all away Of my kinsmen, and unto the doom of the Maker The earls in their might; now after them shall I. That was to the aged lord youngest of words Of his breast-thoughts, ere ever he chose him the bale, The hot battle-wellings; from his heart now departed His soul, to seek out the doom of the soothfast. XXXIX. WIGLAF CASTETH SHAME ON THOSE FLEERS. But gone was it then with the unaged man 2820 Full hard that there he beheld on the earth The liefest of friends at the ending of life, Of bearing most piteous. And likewise lay his bane The Earth-drake, the loathly fear, reft of his life, By bale laid undone: the ring-hoards no longer The Worm, the crook-bowed, ever might wield; For soothly the edges of the irons him bare off, The hard battle-sharded leavings of hammers, So that the wide-flier stilled with wounding Fell onto earth anigh to his hoard-hall, 2830 Nor along the lift ever more playing he turned At middle-nights, proud of the owning of treasure, Show'd the face of him forth, but to earth there he fell Because of the host-leader's work of the hand. This forsooth on the land hath thriven to few, Of men might and main bearing, by hearsay of mine, Though in each of all deeds full daring he were, That against venom-scather's fell breathing he set on, Or the hall of his rings with hand be a-stirring, If so be that he waking the warder had found 2840 Abiding in burg. By Beowulf was His deal of the king-treasure paid for by death; There either had they fared on to the end Of this loaned life. Long it was not until Those laggards of battle the holt were a-leaving, Unwarlike troth-liars, the ten there together, Who durst not e'en now with darts to be playing E'en in their man-lord's most mickle need. But shamefully now their shields were they bearing, Their weed of the battle, there where lay the aged; 2850 They gazed on Wiglaf where weary'd he sat, The foot-champion, hard by his very lord's shoulder, And wak'd him with water: but no whit it sped him; Never might he on earth howsoe'er well he will'd it In that leader of spears hold the life any more, Nor the will of the Wielder change ever a whit; But still should God's doom of deeds rule the rede For each man of men, as yet ever it doth. Then from out of the youngling an answer full grim Easy got was for him who had lost heart erewhile, 2860 And word gave out Wiglaf, Weohstan's son