less stout in struggle. Thyself hast now
fulfilled such deeds, that thy fame shall endure
955through all the ages. As ever he did,
well may the Wielder reward thee still!”
Beowulf spake, bairn of Ecgtheow:—
“This work of war most willingly
we have fought, this fight, and fearlessly dared
960force of the foe. Fain, too, were I
hadst thou but seen himself, what time
the fiend in his trappings tottered to fall!
Swiftly, I thought, in strongest gripe
on his bed of death to bind him down,
965that he in the hent of this hand of mine
should breathe his last: but he broke away.[1]
Him I might not—the Maker willed not—
hinder from flight, and firm enough hold
the life-destroyer: too sturdy was he,
970the ruthless, in running! For rescue, however,
he left behind him his hand in pledge,
arm and shoulder; nor aught of help
could the curséd one thus procure at all.
None the longer liveth he, loathsome fiend,
975sunk in his sins, but sorrow holds him
tightly grasped in gripe of anguish,
in baleful bonds, where bide he must,
evil outlaw, such awful doom
as the Mighty Maker shall mete him out.”
980More silent seemed the son of Ecglaf[2]
in boastful speech of his battle-deeds,
