Toward the good one. And now shall the gleed fret away, The wan flame a-waxing, the strong one of warriors, Him who oft-times abided the shower of iron When the storm of the shafts driven on by the strings Shook over the shield-wall, and the shaft held its service, And eager with feather-gear follow'd the barb. Now then the wise one, that son was of Weohstan, Forth from the throng then call'd of the king's thanes 3120 A seven together, the best to be gotten, And himself went the eighth in under the foe-roof; One man of the battlers in hand there he bare A gleam of the fire, of the first went he inward. It was nowise allotted who that hoard should despoil, Sithence without warden some deal that there was The men now beheld in the hall there a-wonning, Lying there fleeting; little mourn'd any, That they in all haste outward should ferry The dear treasures. But forthwith the drake did they shove, 3130 The Worm, o'er the cliff-wall, and let the wave take him, The flood fathom about the fretted works' herd. There then was wounden gold on the wain laden Untold of each kind, and the Atheling borne, The hoary of warriors, out on to Whale-ness. XLIII. OF THE BURIAL OF BEOWULF. For him then they geared, the folk of the Geats, A pile on the earth all unweaklike that was, With war-helms behung, and with boards of the battle, And bright byrnies, e'en after the boon that he bade. Laid down then amidmost their king mighty-famous 3140 The warriors lamenting, the lief lord of them. Began on the burg of bale-fires the biggest The warriors to waken: the wood-reek went up Swart over the smoky glow, sound of the flame Bewound with the weeping (the wind-blending stilled), Until it at last the bone-house had broken Hot at the heart. All unglad of mind With mood-care they mourned their own liege lord's quelling. Likewise a sad lay the wife of aforetime For Beowulf the king, with her hair all upbounden, 3150 Sang sorrow-careful; said oft and over That harm-days for herself in hard wise she dreaded, The slaughter-falls many, much fear of the warrior, The shaming and bondage. Heaven swallow'd the reek. Wrought there and fashion'd the folk of the Weders A howe on the lithe, that high was and broad. Unto the wave-farers wide to be seen: Then it they betimber'd in time of ten days, The battle-strong's beacon; the brands' very-leavings They bewrought with a wall in the worthiest of ways, 3160 That men of all wisdom might find how to work. Into burg then they did the rings and bright sun-gems, And all such adornments as in the hoard there The war-minded men had taken e'en now; The earls' treasures let they the earth to be holding, Gold in the grit, wherein yet it liveth, As useless to men-folk as ever it erst was. Then round the howe rode the deer of the battle,