Beowulf Fights the Dragon

Beowulf Fights the Dragon

Fame and Immortality

Bid the battle-famed warriors build me a fair mound after the burning on the sea-headland. It shall lift itself, for a reminder to my people, high on the Whale's Ness, that seafarers hereafter, that drive their deep ships afar o'er the mist of the floods, shall call it Beowulf's Barrow. The brave-hearted prince took from his neck a golden circlet, gave to his thane, the young spearsman, his gold-decked helm, his ring, and his burnie, and bade him have his joy of them; Thou art the last of the Weagmundings, our kindred; Wyrd hath taken away all my kinsmen, the earls in their might to their fate. I must after them. That was the last thought of the old king's heart, ere he made choice of the pyre, the hot death-surges. His soul went forth from his bosom to find the award of the steadfast in right.

Wiglaf's Reward

Now would I give my war-weeds to my son, had but any heir belonging to my body been given to follow me. I have ruled the people fifty years; no folk-king was there of them that dwelt about me durst touch me with his sword or cow me through terror. I bided at home the hours of destiny, guarded well mine own, sought not feuds with guile, swore not many an oath unjustly. Therefore, though sick now unto death with my wounds, I may have joy of it all, in that the Ruler of Men may not blame me for murder of kinsmen, when life leaveth my body. Now go thou quickly, dear Wiglaf, to look on the hoard under the hoar rock, now that the worm lieth slain, sleepeth sore wounded, bereft of his treasure. Be in haste now, so I may see the old wealth-holdings, the treasure of gold, and behold with gladness the bright jewels curiously set; so may I, because of this wealth of treasure, the softlier yield up my life and lordship I have held for long.

The Fight

The shield of the young spearsman burned to the boss in the waves of fire, and his burnie might yield him no aid. But the young retainer went him speedily under his kinsman's shield, for his own was consumed utterly by the fire. Then once more the war-king bethought him of the meeds of glory, and in the might of his strength struck with his war-sword, so that it drave into the dragon's head, urged by hate. Naegling was broken; the sword of Beowulf, old and gray-hued, betrayed him in the strife; it was not given him that edge of steel might help him in the battle. His hand was too strong, as I have heard tell, trying overmuch any sword by its blow; when he bore to the fight a weapon wondrous hard, no whit was he the better for it.

Then the spoiler of the people, the fell fire-drake, was of mind a third time for the strife, rushed, hot and battle grim, upon the valiant one, when he gave him ground, and with his bitter fangs took in all the throat of the hero. Beowulf was bloodied with his life-blood; the blood welled forth in waves.

Wiglaf

Wiglaf spake many a righteous word, for his spirit was sorrowful, and said to his comrades: I mind me, the time we drank the mead, we vowed then to our lord in the beer-hall, who gave us these rings, that we would requite him for our war-gear, the helmets and swords of temper, if this-like need should befall him. He chose us for this venture of his own will from his host, roused us to deeds of glory, and gave me these treasures, because he held us to be good wagers of war with the spear, brave wearers of helmet, even though he, our lord, guardian of his people, thought to achieve this deed of might alone, for that he among all men hath wrought the most of feats of prowess and daring deeds. Now is the day come that our liege-lord hath need of the might of good warriors. Let us go to him, help our leader in battle, whilst the heat endure, the grim terror of the flame.

The Fight

Then came moving on the fiery one, bowed together, hastening to his fate. Inasmuch as Wyrd had not dealt the great king triumph in the strife, his shield guarded well life and body less long than his desire to be let conquer at that time there in the days prime had looked for. The Lord of

the Geats lifted up his hand and struck the fell foe with his mighty sword, so the shining edge weakened on the bone, bit with less might than the folk king, encompassed with evils, had need of. Savage of heart then was the warden of the barrow because of the battle-stroke, and cast forth deadly fire; the fierce flamings of it sprang far and wide. The friend of the Geats was not to boast a far-famed victory. His naked war-sword, his blade passing good, had weakened in the strife as it ought not. No easy journey was it for the son of Ecgtheow to leave the earth-plain; willing he must make his home in a dwelling-place elsewhere, for so must every man lay aside the days that pass from him.

Beowulf Gets Involved

Wiglaf

Wiglaf was he named, the son of Weohstan, prince of the

Scylfings, kinsman of lfhere, a loved shield-warrior. He saw his lord beneath the battle-mask laboring from the heat. He bethought him then of all the honors the prince had in former days bestowed upon him, the wealthy homestead of the Waegmundings and every folkright his father owned. He might not then hold back, grasped his shield, the yellow linden, with his hand, and drew his old sword.

Beowulf spake, gave forth word of vaunting for the last time: In my youth I came safe from many a battle; yet, if the fell spoiler seek me out from his earth-hall, will I, the old warden of my people, seek the strife, do deeds worthy praise. He greeted then for the last time each of his men, he, the bold helmet-bearer, his dear comrades: I would bear no sword or other weapon against the dragon, even as I once did with Grendel, wist I how I might else make good my vaunt against the monster. But I may look for hot battle-fire there, for reek and for poison; for this cause I have upon me shield and burnie.

The Battle

First there came forth from the stone the breath of the monster, the hot fuming of battle. The earth resounded. The warrior beneath the barrow, the lord of the Geats, swung round his battle-shield against the grisly foe. Then was the heart of the coiling one made eager to seek the strife. The good war-king had ere then drawn his sword, handed down from of old, not slow of edge. Terror came to those plotters of harm, each of the other. The ruler o'er friends stood, steadfast of heart, against

his broad shield whilst the dragon coiled quickly; in his war gear he waited.