Beowulf - Chapter 39: The Dead Foes - Wiglaf's Bitter Taunts lyrics

It had wofully chanced then the youthful retainer To behold on earth the most ardent-belovèd At his life-days' limit, lying there helpless. The slayer too lay there, of life all bereavèd, Horrible earth-drake, hara**ed with sorrow: The round-twisted monster was permitted no longer To govern the ring-hoards, but edges of war-swords Mightily seized him, battle-sharp, sturdy Leavings of hammers, that still from his wounds The flier-from-farland fell to the earth Hard by his hoard-house, hopped he at midnight Not e'er through the air, nor exulting in j**els Suffered them to see him: but he sank then to earthward Through the hero-chief's handwork. I heard sure it throve then But few in the land of liegemen of valor, Though of every achievement bold he had proved him, To run 'gainst the breath of the venomous scather, Or the hall of the treasure to trouble with hand-blows, If he watching had found the ward of the hoard-hall On the barrow abiding. Beowulf's part of The treasure of j**els was paid for with d**h; Each of the twain had attained to the end of Life so unlasting. Not long was the time till The tardy-at-battle returned from the thicket, The timid truce-breakers ten all together, Who durst not before play with the lances In the prince of the people's pressing emergency; But blushing with shame, with shields they betook them, With arms and armor where the old one was lying: They gazed upon Wiglaf. He was sitting exhausted, Foot-going fighter, not far from the shoulders Of the lord of the people, would rouse him with water; No whit did it help him; though he hoped for it keenly, He was able on earth not at all in the leader Life to retain, and nowise to alter The will of the Wielder; the World-Ruler's power Would govern the actions of each one of heroes, As yet He is doing. From the young one forthwith then Could grim-worded greeting be got for him quickly Whose courage had failed him. Wiglaf discoursed then, Weohstan his son, sad-mooded hero, Looked on the hated: “He who soothness will utter Can say that the liegelord who gave you the j**els, The ornament-armor wherein ye are standing, When on ale-bench often he offered to hall-men Helmet and burnie, the prince to his liegemen, As best upon earth he was able to find him,— That he wildly wasted his war-gear undoubtedly When battle o'ertook him. The troop-king no need had To glory in comrades; yet God permitted him, Victory-Wielder, with weapon unaided Himself to avenge, when vigor was needed. I life-protection but little was able To give him in battle, and I 'gan, notwithstanding, Helping my kinsman (my strength overtaxing): He waxed the weaker when with weapon I smote on My mortal opponent, the fire less strongly Flamed from his bosom. Too few of protectors Came round the king at the critical moment. Now must ornament-taking and weapon-bestowing, Home-joyance all, cease for your kindred, Food for the people; each of your warriors Must needs be bereavèd of rights that he holdeth In landed possessions, when faraway nobles Shall learn of your leaving your lord so basely, The dastardly deed. d**h is more pleasant To every earlman than infamous life is!”