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Support the Monkey! Tell All your Friends and Teachers |
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Support the Monkey! Tell All your Friends and Teachers |
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94 CHAPTER XXXIX The Scop chants how the Dragon was surely dead too; and how the cowardly deserters emerged shame-faced from the woods, and how Wiglaf upbraided them as ingrates and poltroons. (The simple men of those days thought there was no crime more shameful than disloyalty; and some wise philosophers of today have told me those simplemen were right.) Then it went O sorely with the young Friend, When he saw his dearest at his life’s end, Faring so pitiful- his King upon the ground. But lay the Slayer likewise, wasted with a wound, Of his life bereaved, Earth-Drake vile No longer crook-bow worm could lord o’er the treasure-pile, Since the edge of iron, forged by hammer’s play, Blade so hard and battle-scarred, had ta’en him far away. Thus the Wide-Flier, from his wound so still, Sprawled upon the mould there, nigh his hoard-hill. Nevermore o’ midnights would he disport in air, Or, proud of his prizes, show his shadow there. But he to earth had fallen, by the work of hands Of a Battle-Leader. Forsooth, in all the lands But few, however hardy and dauntless of deed, Have thriven when they braved the breath of Poison-Breed, Or when they laid their hands on a drake’s ring-hall, If once they found the Warden watching by the wall, Crouching at the barrow- few, as I recall. This deal of lordly goods was bought by Beowulf’s own death; And each from out this fleeting life yielded up his breath. Ere long the battle-laggards, the troth-breaking men, The woodland abandoned, together the ten, That durst not there awhile ago put their spears in play For Beowulf, their Liege-Lord, in his mickle needs; But each one bore his buckler and his battle-weeds, Shambling and shame-faced, to where the Old One lay. And they looked on Wiglaf. He o’erwearied kneeled At his Master’s shoulder, he, so brave with shield; Would waken him with water. But help was none thereby, And the Youth he might not, though yearned he so to try, Hold on earth the life of him whom God had willed should die. God, the mighty Deemster, wielded his will Then o’er deeds of human kind as he doeth still. There was in the young Thane an answer grim withal, Nor hard of understanding, to those cowards all. Wiglaf made a speech then, son of Weohstan, Gazing broken-hearted at each hated man: |
