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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=346006" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Episode 38</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I HAVE heard that swiftly the son of Weohstan<br>at wish and word of his wounded king, --<br>war-sick warrior, -- woven mail-coat,<br>battle-sark, bore 'neath the barrow's roof.<br>Then the clansman keen, of conquest proud,<br>passing the seat, saw store of jewels<br>and glistening gold the ground along;<br>by the wall were marvels, and many a vessel<br>in the den of the dragon, the dawn-flier old:<br>unburnished bowls of bygone men<br>reft of richness; rusty helms<br>of the olden age; and arm-rings many<br>wondrously woven. -- Such wealth of gold,<br>booty from barrow, can burden with pride<br>each human wight: let him hide it who will! --<br>His glance too fell on a gold-wove banner<br>high o'er the hoard, of handiwork noblest,<br>brilliantly broidered; so bright its gleam,<br>all the earth-floor he easily saw<br>and viewed all these vessels. No vestige now<br>was seen of the serpent: the sword had ta'en him.<br>Then, I heard, the hill of its hoard was reft,<br>old work of giants, by one alone;<br>he burdened his bosom with beakers and plate<br>at his own good will, and the ensign took,<br>brightest of beacons. -- The blade of his lord<br>-- its edge was iron -- had injured deep<br>one that guarded the golden hoard<br>many a year and its murder-fire<br>spread hot round the barrow in horror-billows<br>at midnight hour, till it met its doom.<br>Hasted the herald, the hoard so spurred him<br>his track to retrace; he was troubled by doubt,<br>high-souled hero, if haply he'd find<br>alive, where he left him, the lord of Weders,<br>weakening fast by the wall of the cave.<br>So he carried the load. His lord and king<br>he found all bleeding, famous chief<br>at the lapse of life. The liegeman again<br>plashed him with water, till point of word<br>broke through the breast-hoard. Beowulf spake,<br>sage and sad, as he stared at the gold. --<br>&quot;For the gold and treasure, to God my thanks,<br>to the Wielder-of-Wonders, with words I say,<br>for what I behold, to Heaven's Lord,<br>for the grace that I give such gifts to my folk<br>or ever the day of my death be run!<br>Now I've bartered here for booty of treasure<br>the last of my life, so look ye well<br>to the needs of my land! No longer I tarry.<br>A barrow bid ye the battle-fanned raise<br>for my ashes. 'Twill shine by the shore of the flood,<br>to folk of mine memorial fair<br>on Hrones Headland high uplifted,<br>that ocean-wanderers oft may hail<br>Beowulf's Barrow, as back from far<br>they drive their keels o'er the darkling wave.&quot;<br>From his neck he unclasped the collar of gold,<br>valorous king, to his vassal gave it<br>with bright-gold helmet, breastplate, and ring,<br>to the youthful thane: bade him use them in joy.<br>&quot;Thou art end and remnant of all our race<br>the Waegmunding name. For Wyrd hath swept them,<br>all my line, to the land of doom,<br>earls in their glory: I after them go.&quot;<br>This word was the last which the wise old man<br>harbored in heart ere hot death-waves<br>of balefire he chose. From his bosom fled<br>his soul to seek the saints' reward.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Anonymous+Olde+English">Anonymous Olde English</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=346006" data-title="Episode 38 de Anonymous Olde English" data-description="I HAVE heard that swiftly the son of Weohstan
at wish and word of his wounded king, --
war-sick warrior, -- woven mail-coat,
battle-sark, bore 'neath the barrow's roof.
Then the clansman keen, of conquest proud,
passing the seat, saw store of jewe..."></div>
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