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THE TALE OF BEOWULF
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A thane good at need. Now that to the king was
The last victory-while, by the deeds of himself,
Of his work of the world. Sithence fell the wound,2710
That the earth-drake to him had wrought but erewhile,
To swell and to sweal; and this soon he found out,
That down in the breast of him bale-evil welled,
The venom withinward; then the Atheling wended,
So that he by the wall, bethinking him wisdom,
Sat on seat there and saw on the works of the giants,
How that the stone-bows fast stood on pillars,
The earth-house everlasting upheld withinward.
Then with his hand him the sword-gory,
That great king his thane, the good beyond measure,2720
His friend-lord with water washed full well,
The sated of battle, and unspann'd his war-helm.
Forth then spake Beowulf, and over his wound said,
His wound piteous deadly; wist he full well,
That now of his day-whiles all had he dreed,
Of the joy of the earth; all was shaken asunder
The tale of his days; death without measure nigh:
The last victory-while, by the deeds of himself,
Of his work of the world. Sithence fell the wound,2710
That the earth-drake to him had wrought but erewhile,
To swell and to sweal; and this soon he found out,
That down in the breast of him bale-evil welled,
The venom withinward; then the Atheling wended,
So that he by the wall, bethinking him wisdom,
Sat on seat there and saw on the works of the giants,
How that the stone-bows fast stood on pillars,
The earth-house everlasting upheld withinward.
Then with his hand him the sword-gory,
That great king his thane, the good beyond measure,2720
His friend-lord with water washed full well,
The sated of battle, and unspann'd his war-helm.
Forth then spake Beowulf, and over his wound said,
His wound piteous deadly; wist he full well,
That now of his day-whiles all had he dreed,
Of the joy of the earth; all was shaken asunder
The tale of his days; death without measure nigh:
