{"collection":"Northern European Mythology","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/browse/neu/beo/beo31.htm","path":"neu/beo/beo31.htm","source_url":"https://sacred-texts.com/neu/beo/beo31.htm","text":"THAT way he went with no will of his own,\nin danger of life, to the dragon's hoard,\nbut for pressure of peril, some prince's thane.\nHe fled in fear the fatal scourge,\nseeking shelter, a sinful man,\nand entered in. At the awful sight\ntottered that guest, and terror seized him;\nyet the wretched fugitive rallied anon\nfrom fright and fear ere he fled away,\nand took the cup from that treasure-hoard.\nOf such besides there was store enough,\nheirlooms old, the earth below,\nwhich some earl forgotten, in ancient years,\nleft the last of his lofty race,\nheedfully there had hidden away,\ndearest treasure. For death of yore\nhad hurried all hence; and he alone\nleft to live, the last of the clan,\nweeping his friends, yet wished to bide\nwarding the treasure, his one delight,\nthough brief his respite. The barrow, new-ready,\nto strand and sea-waves stood anear,\nhard by the headland, hidden and closed;\nthere laid within it his lordly heirlooms\nand heaped hoard of heavy gold\nthat warden of rings. Few words he spake:\n\"Now hold thou, earth, since heroes may not,\nwhat earls have owned! Lo, erst from thee\nbrave men brought it! But battle-death seized\nand cruel killing my clansmen all,\nrobbed them of life and a liegeman's joys.\nNone have I left to lift the sword,\nor to cleanse the carven cup of price,\nbeaker bright. My brave are gone.\nAnd the helmet hard, all haughty with gold,\nshall part from its plating. Polishers sleep\nwho could brighten and burnish the battle-mask;\nand those weeds of war that were wont to brave\nover bicker of shields the bite of steel\nrust with their bearer. The ringed mail\nfares not far with famous chieftain,\nat side of hero! No harp's delight,\nno glee-wood's gladness! No good hawk now\nflies through the hall! Nor horses fleet\nstamp in the burgstead! Battle and death\nthe flower of my race have reft away.\"\nMournful of mood, thus he moaned his woe,\nalone, for them all, and unblithe wept\nby day and by night, till death's fell wave\no'erwhelmed his heart. His hoard-of-bliss\nthat old ill-doer open found,\nwho, blazing at twilight the barrows haunteth,\nnaked foe-dragon flying by night\nfolded in fire: the folk of earth\ndread him sore. 'Tis his doom to seek\nhoard in the graves, and heathen gold\nto watch, many-wintered: nor wins he thereby!\nPowerful this plague-of-the-people thus\nheld the house of the hoard in earth\nthree hundred winters; till One aroused\nwrath in his breast, to the ruler bearing\nthat costly cup, and the king implored\nfor bond of peace. So the barrow was plundered,\nborne off was booty. His boon was granted\nthat wretched man; and his ruler saw\nfirst time what was fashioned in far-off days.\nWhen the dragon awoke, new woe was kindled.\nO'er the stone he snuffed. The stark-heart found\nfootprint of foe who so far had gone\nin his hidden craft by the creature's head. --\nSo may the undoomed easily flee\nevils and exile, if only he gain\nthe grace of The Wielder! -- That warden of gold\no'er the ground went seeking, greedy to find\nthe man who wrought him such wrong in sleep.\nSavage and burning, the barrow he circled\nall without; nor was any there,\nnone in the waste.... Yet war he desired,\nwas eager for battle. The barrow he entered,\nsought the cup, and discovered soon\nthat some one of mortals had searched his treasure,\nhis lordly gold. The guardian waited\nill-enduring till evening came;\nboiling with wrath was the barrow's keeper,\nand fain with flame the foe to pay\nfor the dear cup's loss. -- Now day was fled\nas the worm had wished. By its wall no more\nwas it glad to bide, but burning flew\nfolded in flame: a fearful beginning\nfor sons of the soil; and soon it came,\nin the doom of their lord, to a dreadful end.","title":"Beowulf: Part XXXII","type":"page"}