Wait ye the finish. The fight is not yours, nor meet for any but me alone to measure might with this monster here and play the hero. Hardily Ishall win that wealth, or war shall seize, cruel killing, your king and lord!"Up stood then with shield the sturdy champion, stayed by the strength of his single manhood, and hardy 'neath helmet his harness bore under cleft of the cliffs: no coward's path!
Soon spied by the wall that warrior chief, survivor of many a victory-field where foemen fought with furious clashings, an arch of stone; and within, a stream that broke from the barrow. The brooklet's wave was hot with fire. The hoard that way he never could hope unharmed to near, or endure those deeps,[4] for the dragon's flame.
Then let from his breast, for he burst with rage, the Weder-Geat prince a word outgo;stormed the stark-heart; stern went ringing and clear his cry 'neath the cliff-rocks gray.
The hoard-guard heard a human voice;
his rage was enkindled. No respite now for pact of peace! The poison-breath of that foul worm first came forth from the cave, hot reek-of-fight: the rocks resounded.
Stout by the stone-way his shield he raised, lord of the Geats, against the loathed-one;while with courage keen that coiled foe came seeking strife. The sturdy king had drawn his sword, not dull of edge, heirloom old; and each of the two felt fear of his foe, though fierce their mood.
Stoutly stood with his shield high-raised the warrior king, as the worm now coiled together amain: the mailed-one waited.
Now, spire by spire, fast sped and glided that blazing serpent. The shield protected, soul and body a shorter while for the hero-king than his heart desired, could his will have wielded the welcome respite but once in his life! But Wyrd denied it, and victory's honors. -- His arm he lifted lord of the Geats, the grim foe smote with atheling's heirloom. Its edge was turned brown blade, on the bone, and bit more feebly than its noble master had need of then in his baleful stress. -- Then the barrow's keeper waxed full wild for that weighty blow, cast deadly flames; wide drove and far those vicious fires. No victor's glory the Geats' lord boasted; his brand had failed, naked in battle, as never it should, excellent iron! -- 'Twas no easy path that Ecgtheow's honored heir must tread over the plain to the place of the foe;for against his will he must win a home elsewhere far, as must all men, leaving this lapsing life! -- Not long it was ere those champions grimly closed again.
The hoard-guard was heartened; high heaved hisbreast once more; and by peril was pressed again, enfolded in flames, the folk-commander!
Nor yet about him his band of comrades, sons of athelings, armed stood with warlike front: to the woods they bent them, their lives to save. But the soul of one with care was cumbered. Kinship true can never be marred in a noble mind!
[1] Eofor for Wulf. -- The immediate provocation for Eofor in killing "the hoary Scylfing," Ongentheow, is that the latter has just struck Wulf down; but the king, Haethcyn, is also avenged by the blow. See the detailed deion below. [2] Hygelac. [3]
Shield. [4] The hollow passage.
