THAT way he went with no will of his own,in danger of life, to the dragon's hoard,but for pressure of peril, some prince's thane.He fled in fear the fatal scourge,seeking shelter, a sinful man,and entered in. At the awful sighttottered that guest, and terror seized him;yet the wretched fugitive rallied anonfrom fright and fear ere he fled away,and took the cup from that treasure-hoard.Of such besides there was store enough,heirlooms old, the earth below,which some earl forgotten, in ancient years,left the last of his lofty race,heedfully there had hidden away,dearest treasure. For death of yorehad hurried all hence; and he aloneleft to live, the last of the clan,weeping his friends, yet wished to bidewarding the treasure, his one delight,though brief his respite. The barrow, new-ready,to strand and sea-waves stood anear,hard by the headland, hidden and closed;there laid within it his lordly heirloomsand heaped hoard of heavy goldthat warden of rings. Few words he spake:"Now hold thou, earth, since heroes may not,what earls have owned! Lo, erst from theebrave men brought it! But battle-death seizedand cruel killing my clansmen all,robbed them of life and a liegeman's joys.None have I left to lift the sword,or to cleanse the carven cup of price,beaker bright. My brave are gone.And the helmet hard, all haughty with gold,shall part from its plating. Polishers sleepwho could brighten and burnish the battle-mask;and those weeds of war that were wont to braveover bicker of shields the bite of steelrust with their bearer. The ringed mailfares not far with famous chieftain,at side of hero! No harp's delight,no glee-wood's gladness! No good hawk nowflies through the hall! Nor horses fleetstamp in the burgstead! Battle and deaththe flower of my race have reft away."Mournful of mood, thus he moaned his woe,alone, for them all, and unblithe weptby day and by night, till death's fell waveo'erwhelmed his heart. His hoard-of-blissthat old ill-doer open found,who, blazing at twilight the barrows haunteth,naked foe-dragon flying by nightfolded in fire: the folk of earthdread him sore. 'Tis his doom to seekhoard in the graves, and heathen goldto watch, many-wintered: nor wins he thereby!Powerful this plague-of-the-people thusheld the house of the hoard in earththree hundred winters; till One arousedwrath in his breast, to the ruler bearingthat costly cup, and the king imploredfor bond of peace. So the barrow was plundered,borne off was booty. His boon was grantedthat wretched man; and his ruler sawfirst time what was fashioned in far-off days.When the dragon awoke, new woe was kindled.O'er the stone he snuffed. The stark-heart foundfootprint of foe who so far had gonein his hidden craft by the creature's head. --So may the undoomed easily fleeevils and exile, if only he gainthe grace of The Wielder! -- That warden of goldo'er the ground went seeking, greedy to findthe man who wrought him such wrong in sleep.Savage and burning, the barrow he circledall without; nor was any there,none in the waste.... Yet war he desired,was eager for battle. The barrow he entered,sought the cup, and discovered soonthat some one of mortals had searched his treasure,his lordly gold. The guardian waitedill-enduring till evening came;boiling with wrath was the barrow's keeper,and fain with flame the foe to payfor the dear cup's loss. -- Now day was fledas the worm had wished. By its wall no morewas it glad to bide, but burning flewfolded in flame: a fearful beginningfor sons of the soil; and soon it came,in the doom of their lord, to a dreadful end.
Beowulf · Anonymous (translated by Francis Barton Gummere)